by Joyce Alec
That seemed to stop him in his tracks, his finger still pointed directly at her. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed and still he said nothing.
“You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Hazel finished, her back now pressed against the wall. “I won’t live that way. I can’t.”
His lip curled. “You’re not the kind of wife I wanted, Hazel,” he spat, his eyes fixed on hers. “I expected a biddable, quiet wife, not some free-spirited, unruly child!”
Hazel swallowed the lump in her throat, desperate to prove that his harsh words weren’t hurting her. “I guess we don’t always get what we want, do we?”
He stepped forward, and she reacted at once, wincing and turning away from him. Her eyes closed tight, her hands reaching up to cover her face—but nothing came.
“What are you doing?”
Stephen’s voice was quiet now, every single trace of anger gone entirely. When she opened one eye, she saw that he was staring at her in horror, his eyes wide.
“Did you think I was going to hit you, Hazel?”
She dropped her hands, fighting the inexplicable urge to burst into tears. “I don’t know you very well yet, Stephen. I didn’t know what you’d do.”
His hand reached for hers, his fingers pressing hers gently. “I might have a temper, but I’d never lay a hand on you,” he promised, a look of grief in his expression that she thought so little of him. “I’m not that kind of man.”
Hazel looked down at their joined hands, something like relief spiraling all through her. “I’m glad to hear that,” she whispered, not quite sure what else to say. “I-I guess we’d better eat dinner now.”
Stephen held onto her hand for a moment longer before dropping it with a sigh. “I guess this means you’re still going to head to town whenever you need something, don’t it?”
She nodded, moving away from him as quickly as she could. “I’ve told you I won’t be caged,” she answered, trying to calm the quaking of her heart. “I meant it, Stephen. I’m sorry if I’m not the kind of woman you think you need, but I won’t be anyone but myself. I can’t let you change me. I won’t.”
She saw him sigh heavily, passing a hand over his eyes, before he came to sit across from her at the kitchen table. The meal was eaten in silence, with neither of them finding anything to say. Then, once the dishes were done, the table cleared, and the floor swept, he said goodnight and made his way to bed.
It was only once he’d closed the door behind him that Hazel felt safe enough to let her emotions come to the surface. Leaning back in her rocking chair, she couldn’t help but let the tears fall, although whether it was from fear or from relief, she couldn’t quite say.
Who would have thought that going to town on her own would have caused so much strife?
12
Two weeks into his marriage and Stephen was still not sure about the woman he’d married. He certainly wasn’t happy about her heading off into town on her own, given that he’d wanted to be the one to accompany her there. However, she was determined to get her own way, and he couldn’t do anything to stop her, other than stay home all day to prevent her from leaving. Even then, he didn’t think she’d listen to him.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted; it wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He’d expected a quiet, sweet-natured wife, who did as he asked and nothing more. His house would be kept neat and tidy, just as he liked it, and food would be on the table, morning, noon, and night.
Instead, he’d come home to find Hazel had rearranged some of his things or had made some alterations to something or other. In fact, one day he’d come home to discover that she’d removed the drapes in the lower part of the house and had replaced them entirely with a much brighter fabric in a pattern he didn’t much like.
He’d told her as much, but she’d just tossed her head and told him he’d get used it. When he argued that he ought to have a say in things, she’d reminded him that he wasn’t the one at home all day, as though her choice trumped his in some way.
It was infuriating.
And yet, there was something about her that he was growing to appreciate. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it made living with her a little more bearable. Maybe it was the way she hummed to herself when she cleaned up after dinner, or the way her hair tumbled down her back when she was busy making breakfast. Whatever it was, it certainly soothed his angst. And on top of that, she’d managed to make more progress with his shy mare than he’d done in months. That said something about her, didn’t it?
They were such different creatures, the two of them. He was orderly and focused, determined to have things his way and in a set fashion. Hazel liked to do things on the spur of the moment, suddenly deciding to ride into town after dinner just so she could see Mary. The first time she’d ridden to town when it was growing dark, he’d tried to stop her—to the point of walking all the way to the barn with her and making his voice heard. In the end, she’d looked back at him with fear in her eyes, shrinking away from him in the way she’d done before. His drive to win the disagreement died. He’d gone back to the house, his heart in his boots as he heard the horse ride away into the distance.
He hated that she had been so afraid of him. He couldn’t understand why either, for he’d never once given her any suggestion that he’d be physical with her. There was no chance of him ever hurting his wife. He wasn’t that kind of man, so what was it about him that made her think he was?
Shaking his head, Stephen rode up to the house alone, wondering whether or not to speak to her about it. Would she ever tell him about her past? He didn’t even know why she’d offered to be his mail order bride, why she’d wanted to move away from her family. He knew, at least, that she had the rest of her family back home, he’d seen her write to them already. However, it did strike him as a little strange that she’d been so willing just to forget them all and head out to his ranch. It didn’t seem as though there was some kind of strain between them, since she’d written such a long letter to them all—unless there was something he didn’t know.
Taking his horse into the stables, Stephen quickly rubbed him down and let him out to the corral before heading indoors. He was looking forward to eating, which, he had to admit, was one good thing about Hazel; she really was an excellent cook.
The house was quiet when he stepped inside. From the appetizing aromas coming from the stove, he guessed that something was going to be ready real soon, but there was no sign of Hazel. A memory came flooding back to his mind, the scene in front of him reminding him of what had happened to him once before.
Frowning, he stuck his hat back on his head and strode out of the house, blinking in the sunshine. “Hazel?” he called, looking all about him. “Hazel? Where are you?”
A coil of worry formed in his stomach. Ned and Joe had been back for an hour or so already, but he didn’t think she’d have gone to see them, not unless she was delivering another pie. Moving around to the back of the house, he tipped his hat back and scanned the horizon, only to see something moving down by the creek.
He broke into a run, suddenly terrified that she was struggling in the water, but soon came to a stop, arrested by the sight. Hazel was sitting on an old, overturned log that stretched out across the creek. Her feet were bare, and her skirts were pulled up high on her legs, showing her calves and ankles. She was humming to herself, bending forward to trail one finger in the flowing water. Something was so beautiful about the sight, it made something break open inside him, something that hadn’t been a part of him for a real long time.
Stephen felt heat creep up his neck as he watched her, feeling as though he was intruding on something incredibly private—even though she was right out in the open.
Has she always been this lovely?
The thought had him frozen to the spot, blood roaring in his ears. Where had that come from? He wasn’t meant to be thinking about his wife in that kind of way, not when he’d vowed never to even think about a woman that way. He’d be
en made a fool of once before, had his heart torn apart and scattered to the wind. When he’d finally put it all back together again, he’d built a cage around it and thrown away the key. No one was getting in there, not even his wife.
“Stephen!”
Jerking, he saw Hazel standing in the water, her cheeks brushed with pink.
“Sorry, I was just coming to look for you,” he stammered, suddenly feeling a little out of his depth. “I came back home a little early this afternoon.”
She smiled and sat back down on the log, her face tipped towards the sunshine. “Do you want to come sit by me?”
He cleared his throat, not liking the idea in the least. “Isn’t dinner going to be ready soon?”
“Not yet,” she replied, with a quick smile in his direction. “I only put it in just before I came out here. I had to wash my apron.” She gestured to dripping garment just across from him, hanging from a nearby tree branch. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit with me for a while? We are husband and wife after all. I think it’s expected that we spend a little time with each other.”
The twinkle in her eye and the small smile tugging at her lips made him flush and look away. “I don’t think so.”
For a moment, he wondered if she was lonely. After all, most evenings they spent in silence, each sitting in their own chair either out on the porch or in front of the stove if it was a cooler night. She was usually sewing or reading, and he just sat there, struggling to know what to do or to say to his rather difficult wife. That was what he hated the most, the fact that he truly wanted to find something to say. He wanted to talk to her without giving too much of himself away. He’d spent years building up a wall around himself and his past, and it wasn’t one he intended to let her scale any time soon, if ever. Some things were meant to stay buried in the past.
“Sorry, Hazel. I don’t’ fancy joining you.” Even if you do make a rather alluring picture.
“Why not, Stephen?”
Getting frustrated with her persistence, he stuck his hands in his pockets and shot her a dark look. “Because that would mean getting wet.”
“And why is that so troublesome?”
Stephen opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came. He had nothing to say. Getting over to where she sat would mean walking directly into the creek, and he didn’t particularly want to get wet.
“If you’re going to worry about your boots getting wet, you know full well you can take them off,” she continued, almost lazily. “I’m still waiting to hear a good excuse.”
“I just don’t want to get wet.” His excuse sounded ridiculous, even to him, and yet he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Here was his wife, offering him a chance to come sit by her and try and build on a relationship that was still fresh and new to them both, and he was turning her down just because he didn’t want to get wet.
A look of disappointment came over her expression for just a moment, before she shrugged and looked away, wiping the displeasure from her face. “I’ll be in real soon,” she said, no longer even glancing at him. “I just want a few more minutes out here. The water’s real nice.”
Stephen couldn’t move, his legs fixed to the ground. Why was he being so straight laced? Why couldn’t he just do as she suggested, take off his boots and walk over to her?
Bowing his head for a moment, he let out a long, frustrated breath. He liked things in order and Hazel disrupted that part of his life. She was the kind of person to go wading in the creek just because she felt like it, whereas he struggled with the idea that dinner wasn’t already on the table, same as it always was when he came home.
“Stephen?” Her voice was softer, practically forcing him to look up at her. “Is something wrong?” Her eyes were worried, a slight frown on her face. Was she worried he was about to reprimand her for something again? He couldn’t blame her for that, considering that was almost all he ever did.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he muttered, finally managing to turn away from her. “I’ll see you inside.”
As he walked away, something began to unfurl itself inside him. It was as though he wanted to go and do as she’d asked and sit by her. He liked routine and order, and she knew that full well, and still, she was trying to get him to do something out of the ordinary, something that he hadn’t ever thought to do before. He’d never thought about taking off his boots and wade in the creek, but the fact that Hazel had done it and had invited him to join her, meant that something in him wanted to do just that.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“She’s having an effect on me.”
Throwing his hat down on the table, Stephen went off into his room to change, growing frustrated with himself. Why was she getting him all worked up like this? It had been a simple thing she’d asked him, and he had every right to say no. So, why was he questioning what he’d done? Why was he going over and over it in his mind, frustrated with his own indecision? It just didn’t make sense.
Changing quickly, Stephen paused as he heard Hazel come on back into the house, the sound of her humming reaching his ears. She brightened the whole house by her presence, his heart jumping in his chest as he heard her break into song.
Groaning, he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands, running them through his hair. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t let it happen. What he couldn’t do was fall in love with his wife, especially after what had happened the last time he’d done that. It wasn’t worth the pain. Love meant allowing yourself to be vulnerable and open, giving up your own way for the sake of the one you loved.
Stephen didn’t want that. He needed Hazel to keep her distance in the same way he kept his. A marriage that was built on reliance and responsibility, yes, but not on love. That wasn’t the kind of life he wanted.
Once dinner was over, Stephen sat down in his chair by the fire and began to rock, listening to Hazel humming gently as she fixed the coffee. She knew just how he liked it and brought it over to him, her fingers brushing his as she handed it to him. Stephen felt his gut clench, as though aware of just how close she was to him, but he ignored it completely. After thanking her quickly, he lapsed into silence.
Hazel sat down next to him, rocking gently in her chair as she got on with some darning, apparently quite content with the silence between them. Stephen swallowed his coffee, thinking it tasted a little bitterer than usual. He didn’t like what was going on in his heart, didn’t like that she was making him question why he did things.
“I’m going to go to the quilting circle tomorrow night,” Hazel said quietly. “Some of the other husbands get together for a drink while their wives do their sewing.” She glanced at him, a smile on her face. “I wondered if you wanted to go.”
There she was again, trying to push him into doing something different. “No, I don’t want to go.”
“You sure?” she asked, rocking gently back and forth. “I never see you talking to anyone at church on Sundays, and out here, it’s only just me—as well as Ned and Joe, I suppose, but they ain’t really your friends.”
“Neither are you.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, shooting out from him like a bullet from a gun.
The light in Hazel’s eyes began to dim, and she looked away from him, not saying a single word. Stephen closed his eyes and bit down on his tongue, tasting blood. He hadn’t meant that, not really. He had just been upset with what she’d said, struggling against the way she was pushing at him to change his way of life. He was quite happy here. There was no reason for him to go to town, to drink with the other husbands. Friends weren’t necessary. Life had taught him that even the closest friend could do the most terrible of things.
“ Hazel, I—”
She cleared her throat, getting up from her chair and turning her back to him. Her back was straight, her head held high, and yet she didn’t turn to look at him. “I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said, her voice thick with whatever emotion she was trying t
o hide from him. “I’m feeling rather tired. Goodnight, Stephen. I hope you sleep well.”
He didn’t know what to say, his mind scrambling to find a way to apologize to her, to tell her that he hadn’t meant any of that, but it all came too late. The door was already closed behind her, the stairs creaking as she made her way up the stairs, leaving him alone with his tormented thoughts.
13
Over the next two weeks, Hazel found herself falling into some kind of a routine. She’d head into town twice a week, once for her goods and once for the quilting circle. On Sundays, of course, they’d head into town together for church, although they spent the rest of the day entirely apart from each other. He’d go off into the barn to do something, whereas she’d either read or go out for a ride on her own. She was quite used to riding alone now and had begun to get to know the land around her pretty well. The only thing she didn’t have was her own horse.
Not that it mattered, life was pretty good regardless. She had a house that was slowly becoming a home, a freedom that she had battled to keep, and a mind that was forgetting all about Christopher. Now that she knew for certain that Stephen wasn’t going to hurt her in any way, she began to trust him.
She still didn’t like it when he came too close, her stomach tightening with a strange mixture of worry and expectation, but that was slowly getting better. He clearly didn’t want any kind of affection from her, and she was happy not to give it. The words he’d spoken to her so harshly still gnawed at her mind, still dogged her thoughts. He’d muttered an apology the following morning, which she’d accepted, but she’d not stopped wondering why he’d said it in the first place. Was it to deliberately hurt her feelings? Or did he think she was getting too close, and now he was determined to push her away somehow?
One other thing still troubled her, too. He still seemed to be angry with her a lot of the time. In fact, practically all of the time. His jaw would jut out, his eyes darkening as he watched her, whether that was when she talked about the quilting circle or who she’d met in town that day. He’d come to find her paddling in the creek on more than one occasion, and every time, he refused her suggestion that he join her and stormed back into the house.
