by Cassie Hayes
She crossed over to the table and carefully replaced the old bouquet with the new bundle. Stepping back, she looked at them, readjusted a few and nodded. He wasn’t sure what she’d fiddled with — they looked exactly the same as before — but whatever made her happy.
“Why don’t you take off your jacket and have some bread and cheese,” she said, hurrying back into the kitchen.
Curtis smiled as he shrugged out of his red serge, pleased with performing his husbandly duty with such aplomb. He cut off a huge hunk of bread and slathered some soft white stuff on it. He gave it a sniff. It had a slight sour hint to it, but otherwise smelled pretty mild.
“This is cheese?” he asked.
“Uh huh.” Caitlyn was back in the kitchen, busily finishing whatever she’d been doing when he’d walked in and not paying particularly close attention to him.
He took a small nibble, and when his stomach didn’t revolt, he took a bigger bite. The stuff was good! He wolfed down his first slice, and made himself another as he waited for his dinner to be served.
“Hey, this is pretty good,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Did Charlie order it in for you?”
Charlie Dandy was fair with his prices, but the man did have to make a profit. If the specialty cheese cost too much, Curtis would have to tell Caitlyn to not order any more. A Mountie’s salary was enough to live comfortably, but without extravagances.
“No,” she said, placing a steaming bowl of stew in front of him before sitting across from him. “I traded a farmer some vegetables for it.”
“Good idea! Who was the farmer?”
She cut herself a slice of bread and smoothed on a much smaller serving of cheese. “Jacob Witherspoon. Do you know him?”
Curtis frowned. “Sure, I know him. I pretty much know everyone in and around Flying Squirrel. But…” He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever seen cows on Jacob’s farm. “Does he have cows?”
“No. Goats.”
Curtis swallowed hard, the taste of the cheese lingering on his tongue. “Goat? This is goat cheese?”
Caitlyn gave him a heart-stopping smile. “Yup. It’s some of the best I’ve ever had. Can’t get this kind of freshness in Ottawa.”
He sat in stunned silence as she prattled on about Sutter’s garden and how it would keep them fed through the winter, if she put up enough of the yield, plus have some left over for more bartering. Through it all, he couldn’t get over the fact that the delicious white stuff he’d just eaten had come from a goat!
“Maybe we could figure out a trade with Mr. Witherspoon so we could get one of his kids.”
Curtis had barely been paying attention but this brought him back to the conversation in a hurry. “You want one of his children?!”
She laughed. “No, silly! I want a baby goat. They’re called kids.”
“Oh,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Before he could respond, she changed the topic.
“Did you know Mrs. Witherspoon is quite a talented artist?”
“Um, no.”
He still couldn’t quite form words, after the shock of the goat’s cheese. To keep himself from looking like a fool — or more of a fool — he took a bite of the stew and moaned in ecstasy. It tasted just as good as it smelled!
“Watercolors mostly, and she offered to teach me. I’ve always dreamed of learning how to paint. What do you think?”
He’d been so focused on his food, he hadn’t really been paying attention. Dipping a slice of bread — no cheese, thank you very much — into the stew, he glanced up. “About what?”
“About learning how to paint,” she said, smiling at his ravenous appetite.
Curtis shrugged and shoveled more stew into his mouth. “Sounds like a waste of time to me.”
When he looked up from his nearly empty bowl, he realized she was no longer smiling. In fact, if he hadn’t know any better, he’d say she was on the verge of tears.
Uh oh. He must have said the wrong thing, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. She’d asked his opinion on learning how to paint, and he’d told the truth. She couldn’t fault him for that.
Could she?
Rather than continue looking into her hurt eyes, he dropped his to his bowl again. Him and his stupid mouth, always getting in trouble! He stabbed a potato with his spoon and used it to knock around the other vegetables in his bowl as he tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong. But as he poked and prodded, he realized with a start something truly horrifying.
“There’s no meat in here!” he cried.
Caitlyn sniffled and stood, taking her own bowl into the kitchen and keeping her back turned to him. “I thought you’d like it.”
“Like it?! I like meat!”
“I know, I just thought—“
“If you just thought you could turn me into a vegetarian, you’re wrong,” he grumbled as he chewed another mouthful.
4
After a fitful night of sleep, Caitlyn rose early to make Curtis a special breakfast. He’d cottoned on to her attempt to trick him into liking vegetarian meals and she wanted to make it up to him, no matter how hard her stomach lurched at the thought of the sweet little pigs who’d died for the cause.
“Mmm, do I smell bacon?” he groaned from the vicinity of the love seat.
He’d been sleeping there since their wedding day, and though she wasn’t sure she was ready to welcome him into their marriage bed, guilt over her failure as a wife consumed her. Not only did her husband dislike everything that made her heart sing, but she couldn’t seem to push past her own pride to become a proper wife.
Whatever that meant.
“It’s your favorite, and after last night, I wanted to apologize.”
She hummed happily as she poured three beaten eggs into the cast iron skillet and allowed them to start bubbling before she stirred the cracklings into them. While Curtis dressed out by the fireplace, she kept her eyes on the eggs, doing her best not to notice the little hunks of meat mixing in with the eggs.
Once Curtis took his seat at the table, Caitlyn spooned all of the scrambles onto his plate, used a fork to drop the bacon next to them, and added two slices of pan-fried bread on top. Pouring them both fresh cups of black coffee, she sat across from him and faked a happy smile.
“You’re not eating?” he asked as he dived in.
After last night, on top of his general disapproval of her eating preferences, she didn’t dare tell him she’d lost her appetite while cooking his breakfast. She’d have to scour the skillet of all hints of meat before she could use it for her own eggs. She made a mental note to barter for someone’s old skillet that she could use for her own food.
“I’ll eat later. I wanted to make sure you got a hearty breakfast before going to work.”
He laid his fork down and gazed at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers, sending spasms of heat shooting up her arm.
“I’m sorry too, you know,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so rude about your dinner. I’m just not used to your way of doing things. Honestly, that stew was some of the best I’ve ever had. I would never have known there wasn’t any meat in it if I hadn’t been looking for it.”
Caitlyn couldn’t have felt more pleased. She’d flipped through her recipe box for just the right one, and she’d thought it had turned out beautifully. That’s why his criticism had cut so deeply.
“Thank you, Curtis. My mother created the recipe for me years ago. It’s become a family favorite.”
Curtis continued eating. “Is your whole family vegetarian?”
This was the first time he’d really asked her about her family. “No, but Mam eventually realized I wasn’t just going through a passing phase and adjusted the way she cooked so we could all enjoy our meals together. I love her for that.”
His face pinked up and she had to wonder what triggered it. Love, perhaps?
“I just feel like we’ve got off t
o a rocky start,” he said, shoveling the last bit of egg onto a piece of toast and wolfing it down. “Mraw frmph fr—“
He waved a hand for her to wait while he chewed quickly, swallowed hard and resumed.
“Sorry. I have an hour before work. I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk?”
Caitlyn couldn’t have been more pleased. She’d wanted to bring up the idea of wiping the slate clean and starting over, but couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject. Maybe she didn’t have to.
“I’d love that!”
The sun was high in the sky as they strolled down the road out of town, even though it was still quite early in the morning. Caitlyn wondered if she’d ever get used to it being light for twenty hours every day. When she commented on it, Curtis chuckled.
“Wait till winter.”
“What happens in the winter?”
“The exact opposite. Twenty hours of darkness.”
“Oh.”
“Plus, it’s cold. Beyond cold. Freezing doesn’t even begin to come close to how cold it is.”
Caitlyn laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t make it sound so appealing.”
Curtis joined in laughing. He had the nicest laugh. Warm, honest, open — just like him. The little time they’d spent together had confirmed that much. She might not like everything he had to say, but at least he spoke his mind. She admired that about him and wondered if it came naturally, or if his parents had taught him.
“So you know a bit about my family, Curtis, but you haven’t really mentioned anyone except your mother. Are you an only child?”
“Heck no. I have two older brothers, and of course a father.”
“That sounds nice. A lot nicer than fourteen brothers and sisters. I bet you never fought over who got the last piece of bread at dinnertime.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said, grinning down at her. “We were always hungry. Especially for Mom’s cooking. She’s the best!”
Caitlyn knew it was only natural he’d take up for his mother’s cooking over hers, but it didn’t cut any less deeply. She’d just have to work to fix that over time.
“Maybe she can share some recipes with me,” she ventured.
“That would be great! Her biscuits and sausage gravy can’t be beat. Oh, and her meatloaf. Wait, no, her pot roast. Shoot, I forgot about her—“
“What’s your father do for a living?” she asked, interrupting his gastronomical recitation.
“He worked as a traveling salesman and wasn’t home very much.”
That explained his strong bond with his mother. “You must have missed him.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt. “I suppose, but Mom was always there for us whenever we needed her.”
As they walked and talked, their hands bumped. Curtis’s fingers hooked hers gently, and when she didn’t pull away, he took her hand firmly in his. It was the first real connection between them since their wedding day, and Caitlyn’s heart warmed at the touching gesture.
He led her along the riverbank and she marveled at the beauty of the scene. They were in an emerald green valley, surrounded by towering trees and even taller mountains, with a gentle lake making the scene perfect. Birds flitted around, enjoying the sun and warmth while they could. Seemed wise, considering how long winter would be.
They became so engrossed in their conversation about their families, Caitlyn’s attention moved away from the landscape to Curtis’s rugged face. He had smile wrinkles around his eyes, proof of his jovial nature, and his blue eyes sparkled as brightly as the lake. His brown hair was cropped short, but it was long enough to tell it would turn into a wild mop if he missed a couple of haircuts. She’d just have to make sure he didn’t. He’d opted not to wear his red serge for their walk, but his broad shoulders filled out his plain brown coat just as nicely.
Caitlyn was jolted out of her assessment of her husband when she stepped into a puddle of very cold water. Crying out in surprise, she moved sideways and bumped right into Curtis, who — ever the gentleman — caught hold so she wouldn’t fall. As if her heart wasn’t beating quickly enough at his handsomeness, he got it really going by sweeping her up into his arms, as if she were a damsel in distress.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his concerned gaze scanning her face.
Caitlyn almost told him she was fine, that her toes were a little damp, but that was it. Then she thought better of it. He would just set her down on her wet feet and then she’d be denied the bliss of his warmth mixed with the smell of his favorite soap.
“I-I think so…” she said, allowing her voice to quaver just a bit and twining her arms around his neck.
He froze and stared down at her. She smiled up at him. For that brief moment in time, all of their differences were forgotten. All that mattered was the other. Then something splashed in the water and the spell was broken.
Curtis wheeled around and together they watched as a big, rough-looking beaver carried a stick between his buck teeth and placed it on an impressive dam. The critter had but one ear, causing Caitlyn to gasp in recognition.
“That’s Bob!”
Curtis tore his gaze from the beaver to give her a strange look. “Bob?”
“Bob the Beaver. Miss Hazel named him.”
As Bob laid down his stick, another beaver, this one a little smaller, joined him. Caitlyn decided it was Bob’s mate, because she was soon followed by three tiny, brown furballs.
“Awwww,” Caitlyn cried in joy. “Bob’s building a home for his little family!”
Curtis turned and carried her a ways before setting her back on her feet. As they walked back to their own home, hand-in-hand, he mumbled, “I need to take care of those beavers.”
In that moment, Caitlyn realized how badly she’d misjudged her husband. He might have been a devoted meat-eater, but he had quite a soft spot in his heart, if he wanted to take care of the cute beaver family.
How sweet!
For a devoted animal lover, Caitlyn certainly took his intent to kill the beavers blocking the river quite well. She looked up at Curtis as if the sun and moon set in his eyes, and her fingers squeezed his tightly. Maybe she was getting over her odd obsession with animals. Either that or maybe George’s advice was working and wooing his own wife was making her fall in love with him.
That pleased him more than he would ever admit.
“You mentioned your mother changed the way she cooked when you decided to not eat meat. How?”
Caitlyn pulled her hand from his and wrapped both hands around his bicep. He flexed a little.
“She started cooking most of our meals without meat. She’d set aside some for me, and then add meat for the rest of the family, just like I’ve been doing. And she never, ever made rabbit stew again.”
“Huh?”
She grew quiet for a few steps before launching into her story. “When I was young, I never gave much thought to where our food came from. Honestly, considering our large family, I was mostly happy to just have food. I can still remember a number of nights when leftover soup had been watered down to feed us and our bellies grumbled all night.”
Curtis couldn’t ever remember going to bed hungry — unless he was being punished for something. Whatever his father’s faults, he’d always made sure to put food on the table. Of course it must have been much easier to feed a family of five than one of seventeen.
“During one particularly lean time, when we’d barely had more than cabbage soup for a week, Mam set a steaming pot of stew on the table. We were all so excited! Then one of my twin brothers, Connor, asked what kind of stew it was.”
Her grip on his arm tightened. She didn’t need to tell him it had been rabbit stew, but he still didn’t understand the significance.
“Rabbit?” he asked gently, not wanting to upset her more, but also wanting to learn what made her tick.
Caitlyn sighed. “Not just any rabbit. Flopsy. I’d raised Flopsy from a baby bunny. He was a beautiful little brown boy who loved to
snuggle and eat bits of lettuce from my fingers. Every morning before school, I’d feed him, clean out his cage and give him some love. I did the same every night after dinner, because then I could give him some of what was left over from dinner. Sometimes I wouldn’t eat my fill on purpose.”
Her voice thickened with emotion and Curtis wrapped his arm around her shoulders. His family had adopted a stray dog when he was a boy, and he wondered how he would have reacted if his mother had boiled old Rex up in a stewpot. He shuddered with horror.
“I’m sorry, Caitlyn.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wasn’t a little bit sorry about that. Maybe they really were growing closer.
“I…well, I didn’t handle the news well. You have to know, I was seven at the time. I didn’t really understand the pressures my parents were under. There were eight of us kids at the time, and father was out of work. As an adult, I can see why she did it, but when I was seven…”
She sniffled a bit and Curtis wondered if she was crying. Before he could figure out how to ask, she continued.
“Mam tried everything to make me eat my dinner. She scolded, yelled, cajoled, threatened, cried. I’m sure it hurt her heart to kill Flopsy, but not as much as it hurt mine to think of eating him. I refused. Mam made me sit there at the table all night, staring into a bowl filled with bits of Flopsy. If I’d had anything in my stomach, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to keep it down.”
“What happened in the morning?”
“Nothing, really. I’d spent the night crying, and judging by Mam’s red eyes, so had she. She took my bowl away and told me to get ready for school. We never spoke of it again.”
“And you stopped eating meat after that?”
She nodded. “For the most part. It took a bit of time for the family — especially Mam — to adjust, but we were all so much happier afterward. As it turns out, not eating meat is also cheaper. Mam was able to stretch her food budget much farther after that.”
“I’m impressed you stuck with it for so long,” Curtis said. “I can’t imagine giving up bacon. Or chicken. Or moose.”
