by Cassie Hayes
“You didn’t even do the dishes before you left, not to mention the laundry. When I sent away for a wife, I expected her to take her duties seriously, not go gallivanting around the countryside drawing stuff!”
“I’m sorry about dinner,” she said through clenched teeth. “The long days this far north make it easy to lose track of time. But you have plenty of clean clothes to last another day.”
He kicked off a boot and held his foot up for her to see, wiggling the big toe that poked all the way out of his sock. “Look at that. The rest of my socks have holes in them too. Instead of sketching all day, maybe you should have been home, darning my socks!”
“Put that thing away!” She batted his foot out of her face and advanced on him. “I’m not your mother, Curtis Lange. I’m not your servant either. I’m your wife, and I refuse to be told what I can and cannot do! But do you want to guess what I won’t do?”
Why did he suddenly feel as if he’d done something wrong? This woman confused and confounded him like no other! But there was one thing he wasn’t confused about at all. Hanging his head, he sighed in defeat.
“Make dinner?”
She harumphed, and left Curtis staring after her as she stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. He scratched his head, then rubbed his aching back. That love seat was going to be the death of him — if Caitlyn didn’t kill him first.
6
Curtis groaned as he stretched. His back cramped in protest and his legs were numb from dangling over the arm of the love seat all night. All night long, he’d wondered what Caitlyn would do if he just crawled into bed with her — not expecting anything romantic, just for the sake of his sore back. But judging from the lack of sound in the house, not to mention the lack of bacon smells, he guessed it wouldn’t have gone over well.
Peeking over the back of the couch, he confirmed his suspicions. Caitlyn was nowhere to be seen. The place looked almost exactly as it had when she’d stormed off to the bedroom the night before, yet…something was different. He hauled himself upright and promptly stubbed the toe sticking out of his sock on the leg of the love seat.
Hobbling to the window at the back of the house, he spotted her kneeling in the garden, working as if the weeds had personally insulted her. She yanked each one harder than the last and threw it off to the side with a fury that frightened him. There he stood, a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police, and he was afraid of a tiny little redhead.
His shoulders slumped as he shuffled back into the main room. It took a minute for his brain to understand what his eyes were seeing. His muddy bootprints, which Caitlyn would normally have cleaned up, were still tracked all over the floor, but the few prints she’d made when she came home the night before had been cleaned up. The pan and dish he’d used to fry up a slab of smoked ham for dinner still sat exactly where he’d left them, drawing flies. Yet a coffee cup sat upside down, drying next to the sink, as if she’d already had a cup and washed it. The coffee pot, while still warm, was dead empty.
Slamming it down, he stomped toward the back of the house again. He’d bang on the window until she came inside so they could have a conversation. But before he reached the window, he spotted the laundry basket. The day before, it had been almost full, but now it was only half-full. He pawed through the pile and discovered they were all his clothes, none of hers. He glanced out the window to see her clothes drying in the early morning sun.
Curtis dragged a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. Even as thick-headed as he obviously was, he knew enough not to go talk to her at that moment. He’d be flayed from top to tails, and he certainly didn’t want to subject himself to that.
With a heavy sigh, he lumbered over to the table and dropped into a chair to just think for a minute. He’d been so sure his life would be complete once he took a wife, but everything had turned into a mess. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he had an inkling all of it — or at least most of it — was his fault.
Caitlyn’s sketch pad sat on the table, exactly where it had landed when he’d thrown it. His cheeks burned with shame at his rude comments from the night before, so he pulled it over to have a better look. He remembered they’d been quite good for a novice, but he’d been too hungry and angry to care.
He quickly flipped past the practice pages, but as he went further, he couldn’t help being impressed by her talent. If she’d truly never sketched before in her life, the examples in the tablet were amazing. She’d even managed to capture Bob the beavers’s missing ear.
The next few pages were blank, and he was about to close the tablet when he came upon one more page with markings on it. Except these weren’t sketches. The page was filled with hearts and smiley faces and ‘Mrs. Curtis Lange’ scribbled all over it. His heart swelled at the sight of “CH+CL” encased in a heart. And then it broke.
He’d messed things up terribly, and worst of all, he had no idea how. Talking to Caitlyn without knowing how to fix things would be an even bigger mistake than the ones he’d unknowingly committed. There was only one person who could help him.
George.
As he trudged to the station, Curtis thought maybe he shouldn’t have behaved so irrationally the night before. Maybe if he’d remained calm… But he’d been so worried. And then she’d acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. By the time he arrived at the station, he was just as confused as when he’d left home.
“Boy, you look as down as a feather pillow,” George said.
Thankfully the rest of the men hadn’t arrived for work, so Curtis dropped into the chair across from George’s desk, cracked his gum, and looked the older man in the eye.
“What do women want, George?”
George laughed heartily for far too long. When he finally answered, he sniffled and wiped tears from his eyes.
“Curtis, men have been trying to figure out the mystery of women for time immemorial. Now tell me, what’s the trouble?”
Curtis heaved a sigh that came up all the way from his holey-toed socks. “I don’t honestly know.”
George’s bushy eyebrow shot up. “Lies won’t help the situation, son.”
“Fine. I got a little…testy last night when I came home after a long day doing my rounds and dinner wasn’t ready. Not only that, but she’d been gone all blasted day.”
“All day? Doing what?”
“Drawing! Can you believe that? She says she just lost track of time because of the long days, but…” He shook his head in frustration.
“Curtis, do you remember how long it took you to get used to long summer days and long winter nights? A full year, if my memory isn’t failing me. Your new wife has only been here a few days.”
Curtis had arrived in Flying Squirrel around the same time of year and it had taken at least a month for his body to adjust to going to sleep and waking up in full daylight. Winter had been a slightly easier adjustment since he knew what to expect, but he’d been eager for summer to return. A few hours of sunlight every day — and most of the time, the sun couldn’t penetrate the cloud cover — had worn on him.
“You ask me, you’ve got a smart gal on your hands,” George continued. “Drawing and painting are fine activities to while away the day when you’re snowed in. Keeps cabin fever at bay.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
George snorted. “Seems you haven’t thought of a lot.”
Now Curtis was getting abused by his own commander? He didn’t think he could stand much more.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. Why don’t you think a little more? Think about what she must be going through. Consider for a moment how she changed everything in her life and left all her loved ones behind to set out on a thrilling adventure, only to discover she’d married a man who merely wants a maid instead of a partner in life.”
Curtis frowned and thought about George’s words. Maybe he had been a little too simple-minded about the entire situation. One of t
he things he’d come to love about Caitlyn was her cheerful and adventurous spirit. Yet when she’d done what came naturally to her, he’d chastised her for it.
“I don’t want to crush her spirit or anything, George, I just want my supper.”
George narrowed his eyes and gave him a hard once-over. “You been cooking for yourself for a long time now, Curtis. What was stopping you from making your own meal?”
“That’s what I ended up doing after she stormed—“
He cut off, not wanting to reveal such shameful details about his relationship to his commander.
“Curtis, you’re not a stupid man. Use that brain of yours a little and you might just end up with a better marriage than you bargained for.”
“How?”
“Do for her what you want her to do for you. Last night you could have taken the lead and made the meal for her.”
“But she’s vegetarian!”
George rolled his eyes. “So? Just do what she does. Make a meal of vegetables and add meat to yours. Imagine for a moment how appreciative she would have been over such a simple, easy gesture.”
He probably wouldn’t have had to sleep on the love seat again, that much he knew. What an idiot!
“Show her that what’s important to her is also important to you,” George continued. “Be a good husband, not a dictator.”
Curtis had honestly never considered his role of husband. He’d only thought of his needs, not hers. Dropping his head into his hands, he sighed heavily.
“I just wanted a wife who liked chores as much as my mother does.”
George laughed again, this time with less amusement and more derision. Curtis wasn’t sure where his thinking had gone wrong, but he had no doubt George was about to tell him. And he did.
“Boy, your mother doesn’t like chores! She did them because she loved her family, not the chores. No one likes chores.”
That had never occurred to Curtis. With his face buried in his hands, he thought back to all the laundry, all the cooking, all the cleaning. His mother had done it all without complaint, at least to him. Of course he and his brothers had complained mightily about their own chores. For the very first time in his twenty-seven years, he wondered if, perhaps, his mother hadn’t loved doing chores after all.
“Oh George, I’m an idiot. I need to make things right.”
George gave him a wink. “No time like the present.”
Now he just need to figure out how.
A thick wall of green beans shielded Caitlyn as she watched Curtis leave without saying goodbye. She’d barely had an hour’s worth of sleep after their argument, and she’d quietly gone about her petty housecleaning long before he woke. The moment she’d heard him stirring, she hurried out to the garden to avoid talking to him.
So why did tears spring to her eyes as he walked away without a word passing between them? Part of her still fumed over his behavior the night before, but another part of her felt ashamed over her own. She’d fantasized he would come out to the garden and beg her forgiveness. Of course, she’d spent most of the night fantasizing he’d knock on the door to do the same, and that hadn’t come to pass either.
Sniffing hard, she tried to focus on the beans, but they kept blurring. Swiping furiously at her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried again. No good. Finally she let them flow, dipping her head into her hands as she sobbed.
“Caitlyn, dear, are you quite all right?”
Miss Hazel came huffing and puffing up the slight incline toward the garden. Caitlyn wiped her face and tried on a wooden smile. She held little hope it would fool the sharp old bird, and it didn’t.
“What’s happened?” the older woman asked as she stooped down to clutch Caitlyn’s shoulders, a worried look in her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
Pretending she was fine was of no use, so Caitlyn let her guard drop. If she couldn’t confide in Miss Hazel, who then?
“No, not like you think, anyway.”
Hazel sighed with relief and jostled herself until she plopped down next to Caitlyn. “Tell me.”
Caitlyn sniffled again, but at least the tears had stopped. “We’re just too different. We gave it a good shot, but it’s not working out. Maybe it would be best if I left Squirrel Ridge with you and petition for an annulment.”
“Hush now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Miss Hazel said. “Tell me something, and be honest. Do you like Curtis?”
Just thinking of Curtis — his handsome face, his quick wit, his unexpected tenderness — pinked up her cheeks. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t.
“I do. Very much.” She looked up at Hazel with watery, but very serious, eyes. “Except his gum popping. That drives me to distraction.”
Hazel broke out laughing. She laughed so hard, Caitlyn worried she might topple over into the cabbages. Finally, she caught her breath and grinned at Caitlyn.
“I can’t blame you there, my dear. Husbands have been killed for less irritating habits.”
“Miss Hazel!” The shock of the woman’s statement brought Caitlyn out of her funk, just a little.
“What? It’s true! I once read a news item about a woman who poisoned her husband because he snored too loudly. Can you believe that? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating murder. I simply understand your frustration.”
The tension in Caitlyn eased tremendously, and she shifted so she could sit next to Hazel.
“It’s good that you like him,” Hazel said, peering down at her with a sly expression. “More than like, judging by your reaction whenever I say his name.”
Caitlyn blushed. “Regardless of how I feel about him, I still don’t think he likes me very much.”
“Oh, not that again. You’re an absolute delight!”
“I think he was looking for a different kind of wife. I don’t mean to sound insubordinate, Miss Hazel, but I think you may have got this match wrong.”
“Nonsense! I’ve never made a bad match yet.” Hazel looked thoughtful for a moment and corrected herself. “Well, everyone has lived happily ever after in the long run, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t be someone’s servant, and that’s all he seems to want. He doesn’t care that I might have other things I want to do with my time.”
Hazel frowned. “Such as?”
“Art. Mrs. Dandy is teaching me to draw, you see, and yesterday I lost track of time during our lessons and didn’t get home in time to make dinner.”
“Ah,” Hazel said, nodding sagely.
Caitlyn took it as a sign her mentor was on her side. “I can’t be married to a man who doesn’t want me to pursue my own interests.”
“But I thought you wanted to be a wife.”
“I did! I mean, I do. But I didn’t think that would mean I’d be a glorified maid. I could have taken my sister Colleen’s job at the Ottawa Grand Hotel, if that’s the life I’d wanted.”
Hazel studied her for a long moment. “Tell me, Caitlyn. What kind of life do you want?”
She blinked in surprise. Truth be told, she’d never really given it a thought before.
“Um…I…”
“Go on, what’s your deepest desire?”
That she could answer without hesitation. “A big family.”
Miss Hazel looked surprised. “I see. But coming from a large family, surely you understand how much work is involved.”
“Of course I do,” Caitlyn protested. “But in my family, Mam didn’t do all the work. We all pitched in on chores so it would all get done faster.”
“That’s wonderful, but I’m sure when you and your sisters were very young, you couldn’t have helped much.”
That was true. They’d had simple chores as youngsters, and as more Hennessy children joined the family, the more complicated Caitlyn’s chores had become. And as she thought about it, Mam had never taken time for herself to simply have fun. All her fun had come from family time — or so Caitlyn had always assumed. Shaking the thoughts away, Caitlyn defended her p
osition.
“I only chose this path because I didn’t have any other choice, Miss Hazel. I couldn’t find another job quickly enough to pay the rent and I didn’t want to become a nun. I’m a modern woman! I didn’t think my new husband would only want a maid!”
Hazel pursed her lips and gave Caitlyn one of her no-nonsense scowls. “It might be time to change the way you’re thinking about the situation. You’re no longer an independent young woman. You’re not a secretary, Caitlyn, you’re a wife. And like it or not, part of your ‘job’, if you will, is taking care of the home while your husband works to support you both.”
Caitlyn felt as if her birthday balloon had just been popped. “But…but…but…”
“Your ‘buts’ are showing, dear.”
“But don’t I deserve to have a little fun now and then?”
“Of course you do,” Hazel said. “We all do. But you do need to make sure you honor your commitments as well. Do your work first, then play after — just as Curtis does.”
Guilt settled on Caitlyn’s heart. Curtis did his duty to his country every day, working long hours to ensure the law of the land was upheld. Yet, even though she’d promised him a special dinner the night before — plus other things — she’d put her own desire to spend the day learning to sketch above those of her marriage.
What an idiot!
Seeing Caitlyn’s obvious distress, Miss Hazel patted her knee and smiled. “Don’t get too upset with yourself. It takes time to learn how to navigate a new marriage. A new life, really.”
“I wish I knew how,” Caitlyn moaned, leaning her head on Hazel’s shoulder.
“Marriage is a give and take. You each make sacrifices, but the key is communication. Always remember that. Talk to him, Caitlyn. Tell him what you want and need. Then find out what he wants and needs. Together you can figure out how to meet somewhere in the middle so you both live happy and fulfilled lives.”
Caitlyn couldn’t have expected better advice from her own mother. She’d be forever grateful to Miss Hazel for not only helping her find a good husband — and despite his faults, Curtis was a very good man — but for guiding her over the rocky beginnings of her marriage.
