by Janet Dean
“I’m sure you have more to do than watch me make an idiot of myself,” she said.
“I tried to tell—”
“I’m tired of you telling me what to do and how to do it.” Her eyes stung. She would not let Ted see how overwhelmed she felt. “I’ll learn. Maybe the hard way, but I’ll learn.”
“Fine with me.” Ted stomped off in the direction of the barn.
Fine with her, too. She didn’t need Ted. Or his help.
By the time Elizabeth reached the pump, the tally favored the hens. Twelve eggs broken, four intact and one very rattled egg gatherer badly in need of a bath.
At this rate, she’d never get Robby here.
As she turned to rinse out the mess in the basket, she caught sight of a wagon pulling into the barnyard. A little girl cuddled against the woman driver. She had company. Until that moment, Elizabeth hadn’t realized how lonely she was for female companionship.
From the other side of the screen door, Anna came running.
Elizabeth looked down at her attire. Men’s pants and a cast-off, frayed shirt. Too late now. This woman had seen her unusual outfit and still waved a greeting.
By the time she reached the wagon the girls chattered away. Holding a tiny bundle, the visitor dropped her gaze to Elizabeth’s attire but the smile never left her face. “I’m Rebecca Harper, your nearest neighbor. Hope you don’t mind us dropping in.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I’m glad for the company.”
“This is our Grace.” Rebecca nudged her daughter forward. “Say hello to Mrs. Logan.” Grace mumbled a greeting. Rebecca motioned to the baby. “And this is our Faith—eight weeks today.”
“How nice of you to pay a visit.” Elizabeth reached out a hand, spotted the slime from the broken eggs and pulled it back. “Sorry. The hens and I got off on the wrong foot.”
Rebecca grinned, leaned over and pulled a piece of straw out of Elizabeth’s hair. “They can be nasty little boogers. Though I’m sure that red head scarf didn’t help.”
Elizabeth’s gaze darted to the barn. “What?”
“Chickens are easily frightened. Red promotes turmoil.”
Ted had warned her to not wear the scarf. If only she wasn’t as easily riled as the hens whenever he gave her an order, maybe more eggs would’ve survived.
Anna scooted to her side and peered into the basket. “You broke the eggs? Papa’s going to be mad.”
“A hen flew right into my face and I dropped the basket.”
“You musta upset the hens. I’m going to tell—”
Elizabeth sighed. “Your father knows. He was with me.”
“No point in tattling, now is there?” Rebecca gave Ted’s daughter a stern look. “I would’ve expected better of you.”
Anna toed the ground with her shoe. “Sorry.”
Rebecca turned back to Elizabeth. They exchanged the smiles of conspirators and Elizabeth knew she’d found a friend.
“You’re forgiven.” Rebecca ruffled Anna’s hair. “Now you girls go play while we have a visit.”
“Do I still have to watch Henry?” Anna tugged at Elizabeth’s shirt. “Me and Grace wanna make a clothespin doll.”
Two days ago Elizabeth didn’t even know what clothespins were. “Go ahead. I’ll listen for Henry.”
The girls raced across the yard to the line.
Rebecca smiled. “I’m embarrassed I didn’t get over sooner, but Dan didn’t finish planting until yesterday. He agreed to keep the boys so we could chat in peace. That is, if you’ve got the time.”
Elizabeth glanced down at her clothes. “Being caught wearing these, I’m the one who’s red faced.”
“Are those Ted’s pants?” Rebecca asked.
Elizabeth hitched up the rolled waistline. “I’m afraid so.”
“Are they comfortable?”
“They’re too long and wide but until I get something else to wear, I’m stuck with them.”
Rebecca chuckled. “Since I had Faith, I can’t even button my dress at the middle.” She flapped the skirt of her apron. “This covers the worst of it.”
“Oh, I think you look beautiful.” And she did. Rebecca all but glowed with happiness. “Go on in. I’ll just be a minute.”
Elizabeth pumped water over the eggs, picked out the broken shells and tossed them behind the lilac bush, her thoughts scrambling like crabs at the beach.
What should she do to entertain a visitor? Martha served tea and scones. Tea would be an easy task. Scones she didn’t have. But maybe she had something else Rebecca would find palatable. Biscuits. She had plenty of those.
Inside, Elizabeth set the egg basket on the floor and scrubbed her hands. “Henry is down for a nap so we can have some peace and quiet. Would you care for tea?”
“Love some.” Rebecca laid the sleeping baby in the rocker, pulling back the blanket from around her tiny face.
Elizabeth supposed it wouldn’t be polite to ignore the baby, not with her mother standing over her, proud and smiling. She walked over to take a peek. And promptly fell in love. Such a sweet little thing. With lots of dark hair, long black lashes and a bow-shaped mouth.
Elizabeth reached out a finger and traced a line along the sleeping baby’s cheek. “She’s gorgeous.”
How could she feel mushy over a baby when she knew perfectly well babies grew into messy toddlers who exhausted you, then older children who defied you?
No, babies weren’t for her. Nor marriage, either, and yet here she was married and drooling over a baby. She’d been cooped up too long. A feather drifted off her clothes to the floor. Cooped up in more ways than one.
Rebecca took a seat at the table. Elizabeth got out the teapot and prepared tea. “Would you care for a biscuit? There’s a few left from breakfast.”
“Thanks, I’d love one.”
“Really? That’s so nice of you.”
“And here I was thinking how nice it was of you to offer.”
“This batch is crumbly,” Elizabeth apologized as she set out a plate of biscuits and compote of jam.
Rebecca spread a layer of strawberry jam on top. Though a chunk of the biscuit fell away, she managed to take a bite. “This is delicious.”
Elizabeth beamed her thanks. Maybe she was making progress. She returned to the table with cups and saucers.
“So, has Anna declared war yet?”
“Well, if not war, definitely a skirmish.” Elizabeth went back for the pot, set it on a hot pad to steep then plopped down in her seat. “Anna resents me for usurping her mother’s place. Or so she sees it. She’s taken the role of little mommy to Henry and helper to Ted with no intention of giving up her territory.”
“Anna’s one determined little girl.”
Elizabeth poured the steaming amber liquid into their cups. “Kind of like me.” Her gaze slid beyond the living room to the children’s bedroom door. “Now Henry, he’s like a windup toy. Keeping up with him wears me out until he slows down. Thank goodness he takes a three-hour nap and goes to bed early. It’s the only time I can cook and clean.”
“Boys are more rambunctious, but all three of mine together are less trouble than Grace.”
Elizabeth added sugar to her tea. “How old are your boys?”
“Jason’s the oldest. He’s seven. Mark is four and Calvin, two. Enough about my children. I’m here to get to know you.” She took a sip from her cup. “So why did you give up dresses for pants? Is this some new French fashion that hasn’t made it to the cornfields?”
Elizabeth grinned. “The one dress I have isn’t comfortable to work in.”
“One dress? Shame on Ted.”
“It’s a long story and not at all Ted’s fault. He bought material to make three, but…”
“Let me guess. Between the baking, egg gathering and laundry, you haven’t had time to make them?”
Avoiding Rebecca’s eyes, Elizabeth toyed with her cup. “Truth is I don’t know how to make a dress.”
“Oh. Sounds like you could use some
help.”
“I doubt Ted’s thrilled with me wearing his clothes.”
Rebecca grinned. “From the way you look in those pants, I suspect Ted doesn’t mind.”
Glancing at Ted’s old jeans, all Elizabeth could see was rolled waist and cuffs, frayed ends of twine dangling from her makeshift belt and pieces of straw sticking here and there.
She plucked them off and tossed them into the stove. “I look like an old faded scarecrow.”
“Not from behind.” Rebecca laughed. “But, before you fall on your face, let’s cut some length off those pants.”
Ted might not like that, but then the hems were worn and he had more, so why not? In minutes, Rebecca had whacked the jeans down to fit using the large shears she’d found hanging in the pantry.
“There, now we can get started sewing up a dress.”
“I can’t let you do that.” Then Elizabeth held her breath, hoping Rebecca would do that very thing.
Rebecca drained her cup. “It’ll be fun. I haven’t made anything new in ages.”
Elizabeth sent a sidelong glance at Rebecca’s dress. The cuffs at her wrists had frayed, but it was pressed and clean. “All right, but only if you’ll accept material for making it.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Rebecca blushed. “I’m glad to help.” She carried her dishes to the sink. “I can’t let a neighbor of mine wear pants to the ice cream social.”
“A social?” Elizabeth clasped a hand to her chest. “Oh, that sounds like fun.”
“We hold sack races and horseshoe contests. The men crank freezers of ice cream. The women bring a favorite cake to share.”
Favorite cake? She had to bake a cake? Wouldn’t biscuits do? Oh my, she’d better get practicing.
Rebecca checked the baby, sleeping peacefully. “Time’s a-wastin’. Let’s make that dress while the younguns nap.”
In no time, Rebecca devised a pattern from newspaper. Satisfied it would fit, she cut out a dress and then ran it up on the sewing machine. As Rebecca guided the fabric beneath the metal foot, the soft whir of the wheel accompanied the thump of the treadle.
Hoping to learn something about sewing and her new husband, Elizabeth pulled up a chair. “How well do you know Ted?”
“The way he cared for Rose when she took sick and his kids tells me all I need to know about Ted.”
But Elizabeth had questions.
“Why do you ask?”
“No special reason. Ted doesn’t say much about his life before he came to New Harmony. Almost like he has no past.”
Or one he’s hiding.
“All I know is he and Rose showed up at church the Sunday after they moved in. We were mighty glad to see them bring life to this house.”
“Were you and Rose friends?”
Rebecca nodded. “She was a sweet woman. Quiet. Thoughtful.”
The exact opposite of Elizabeth.
“I recall Rose saying they married in her home church about twelve miles west of here. Their search for a farm brought them to New Harmony.”
“Wonder why New Harmony?”
“The Martin place sat empty after Paul died. Reckon the price was right. And close enough for Rose’s parents to visit. Often.”
Something about Rebecca’s tone didn’t flatter Rose’s parents. But that wasn’t her priority. “Does Ted have family?”
“None of his people came to the funeral. Why not ask him?”
Elizabeth forced a laugh. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
Rebecca stopped pedaling and snipped the thread. “What about you? You got any family?”
The question ended her speculation about Ted. She couldn’t lie, exactly…“Yes. My father lives in Chicago.”
“You must miss him.”
Elizabeth swallowed against the sudden knot in her throat, a result of her deceit. “Yes, I do.”
Rebecca lifted the skirt from the machine and held it and the bodice against Elizabeth. A dress. Something Elizabeth had taken for granted but now seemed a monumental achievement.
As Rebecca pinned the skirt to the bodice, she glanced at the clock. “Feel free to start supper. I’ll have to feed the baby soon.”
Perhaps Rebecca’s presence in the house renewed her energy or maybe she had finally figured out how to handle that black monster of a stove, but Elizabeth fried up a slab of pork with a minimum of difficulty, peeled potatoes, only nicking her finger once, and put on a pan of sauerkraut. The food bubbled away on the stove, filling the house with heady scents. For the first time, she felt optimistic about the meal.
Back in the bedroom, Rebecca still hunched over the sewing machine. She nodded toward a packet of buttons. “Found those in one of the sewing drawers. They’re perfect for this dress.”
Lovely mother-of-pearl buttons gleamed in the afternoon sun streaming in the window. Probably Rose had planned to put them on a dress. The thought dampened Elizabeth’s mood.
“How did you know how much material to buy?” Rebecca asked.
“Mrs. Sorenson told me.”
“The Sorensons are good-hearted. The best. Allow farmers to run up a bill till harvest. Poor Hubert can’t keep up with his accounts and his wife has no head for figures.”
“I love math.”
“Really! Well, God knows what He’s doing when He passes out our gifts.”
Elizabeth had never thought of her skill in math as a gift from God. How often had she ignored what God had done for her and instead focused on the disappointments?
Rebecca grinned. “I’d sooner eat grubs than face the Sorenson ledger.”
“I’d rather swallow earthworms than take shears to fabric.”
Giggling, Rebecca taught Elizabeth how to do a blind hemstitch, the topic of math forgotten.
For the second time Elizabeth had heard the Sorensons needed help with their books. Soon as she could, she’d talk to Mr. Sorenson about a job.
Once she’d mastered the hemstitch, Rebecca showed her how to attach the buttons to the bodice. “I’ll come back to make the other dress,” she promised.
Elizabeth didn’t know why Rebecca had done all this for her, but her new friend waved away her thanks, saying it was the Christian thing to do. Elizabeth didn’t know much about Christians, but one wore the name Rebecca Harper.
After much convincing, Rebecca had agreed to take the fabric in exchange for making two dresses. When Rebecca, Grace and Faith pulled out the lane, the pink twill stretched across Grace’s lap.
Elizabeth hoped Ted wouldn’t be angry with her for giving away the material.
“Smells good in here.” Ted scooted past Elizabeth as she stood at the stove. Apparently his wife had gotten over the run-in with the hens, by the refreshed, even happy look on her face. “Did I see some familiar fabric in the living room? In the shape of a dress?”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit. “Rebecca made a pattern, cut out a dress and seamed it up all in one afternoon. It fits perfectly.”
“Rebecca’s a generous woman.”
“She is. I don’t know how she managed to get away from her brood long enough to help, but she did.”
“Probably has to be fast with five children under seven.”
“I like her.”
“Figured you would. She helped me out with Henry and Anna more times than I can count.”
“Ted, I gave Rebecca the pink material in exchange for making two dresses.”
He touched her cheek, smiling into her troubled eyes. “I’m glad.”
“I thought you might be upset.”
“For being generous? Never.” His hand fell away. “Rebecca and Dan are struggling right now. Keep them in your prayers.”
“I will.”
“Are two dresses enough?”
“Yes.” She cocked her head at him, a saucy look in her eyes. “I’ve decided I like wearing pants.”
“Now that, dear wife, is very good news.” He pulled her close, inhaled the scent of soap with the faintest hint of roses. Sweet Elizabeth.
Ted put himself in her line of vision. “So what did you two talk about?”
“Nothing really. Just the usual lady talk.”
But the wariness in her eyes told Ted the topic had likely been about him. Or perhaps Rose. Had she pumped Rebecca for information about his past? If so, she’d been disappointed.
No one knew his secrets.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday morning Pastor Sumner welcomed Elizabeth from the pulpit. The topic of his sermon wasn’t deceit, as she’d feared. He never mentioned she’d switched places with Ted’s mail-order bride and the lies that entailed. For that kindness Elizabeth paid close attention as he spoke on God’s love.
One verse in particular stuck in her mind. Love is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.
A love Elizabeth lacked.
Deep inside, she harbored a terrible anger toward her father. Papa only cared about gambling, putting his family at risk. Killing Mama. Not with a weapon, perhaps not even intentionally, but Elizabeth didn’t doubt for a moment that Papa had caused her mother’s death.
Her heart squeezed. Truth was she’d even been angry with Mama. For pretending all was well while their lives fell apart. For hiding in her bedroom rather than taking a stand with Papa. On the surface her family appeared typical, but Papa’s gambling whipped up wild waves of misery while underneath the surface, strong currents carried them further and further apart. All the while Mama never lost her smile. Papa never lost his bravado.
Until Mama’s failing health kept them home, Elizabeth had accompanied her mother to church. But most of Elizabeth’s attention centered on the latest fashions and liaisons of her peers, not on the sermon. Except for an occasional stab of fear that Papa would wind up in hell, Elizabeth had given little thought to pleasing God.
But now, during the altar call, a deep longing for such a love brought a lump to Elizabeth’s throat. A lump formed by the memories of withholding affection from her mother.
She wouldn’t find this Biblical love with Ted. Not when keeping up her end of the bargain they called their marriage was all that mattered.
