by Naomi Musch
"He got the whole field turned over. He'll give it a second round tomorrow before he harrows."
"That's good to hear. I suppose we'll be picking potato bugs in a couple months."
"Maybe not. The first year usually isn't bad."
Marilla hoped not. She didn't favor the idea of bending over rows and rows of potato plants in the summer heat. "How about if I warm you some wash water?"
"Thank you. That would be nice. I'll take a long bath tonight, but I don't want to grace your supper table looking like this."
Marilla picked up her water pail for fetching and headed back toward the door, but Delia stopped her. "I'll do that myself. You take a break or start your dinner."
An hour later, with the smell of fried chicken wafting through the cabin, the sounds of Emmett playing on a rag rug on the floor, and Delia looking as fresh and pretty as ever without having had an entire bath, the sound of another automobile pulling in the yard reached them.
"I suppose that's Lang. He'll be tired."
A moment later, the door rattled with a hardy knock.
"Does he always knock?" Delia set the last of their three plates on the table and moved to open the door.
Rilla turned around with a fork in her hand as Delia swung the door open. A man she didn't recognize stood looking back at Delia. Auburn waves fell over his brow though the rest of his hair was short. A thin, handsome face widened with a smile that turned his eyes down at the corners, and he doffed his hat. "Good evening, ma'am. Is this the home of Langdon Prescott, or have I taken a wrong turn?"
"This is Lang's house," Delia answered.
The man's eyes lit with mischief, and he let out a long whistle. "Well, my goodness gracious. Then I am at the right place, and you are the absolute picture of the sort of girl Langdon would marry. I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Prescott. I'm an old friend of Langdon's. My name is Archie. Archie Bristow."
Delia glanced back at Marilla with a quirk of her brow. Marilla stepped into his view, forgetting to put down the greasy fork. "You're Archie Bristow?"
"That I am. Is Langdon home?"
Delia found her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm not Mrs. Prescott." She stepped back, and Marilla approached their guest.
"I'm Lang's wife, Marilla."
"Oh—" He looked between them, and Marilla couldn't help thinking there was a hint of dismay on his face. She envisioned herself as he must see her, pregnant, dowdy, wearing her old work dress she'd put on to do the laundry, her hair stringy and pulled up in a too-tight bun. She should have brushed it out and fixed it. She should have changed clothes while Delia spruced up. Side by side, they didn't even resemble sisters, and least of all—how had Archie Bristow expressed it? Like the absolute picture of the sort of girl Langdon would marry.
She flushed, the heat of the cook stove exacerbating her embarrassment, and bent her head, directing him in. "Please, come inside Mr. Bristow. Lang will be home shortly."
His eyes gave a quick perusal of their modest dwelling as he stepped through the door. His presence seemed to fill the small room. "Thank you. I know I'm a perfect stranger and all—"
"No, not at all Mr. Bristow. Lang's spoken of you many times."
"That's a relief."
"He has?" Delia asked.
"You remember, Delia. Mr. Bristow is Lang's friend, the one he came to Wisconsin with when he was a boy."
"A boy." Her guest shook his head. "That's the truth. We were just a couple of kids. Seems like a lifetime ago. Ten years already."
"Have a seat, Mr. Bristow."
"Thank you, ma'am, if you'll just call me Archie."
"Have a seat, Archie." She pointed to a chair at the table. Delia reached for another plate off the shelf and finished setting their places for the evening meal. Marilla didn't miss the way Archie perused her sister. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"
"I would be much obliged." He chuckled as Marilla removed the last cup off the shelf and set it in front of him. "I apologize for the presumption earlier," he said as she poured.
She met his gaze and offered a small smile. "No apology required. This is Delia, my sister. Her husband left for the 128th in Eau Claire today."
He leaned back. "So, you're married to an army man."
"Yes. Here, Marilla, let me do that for you." She took the fork which Marilla had picked up again and began lifting pieces of chicken onto a platter.
"I respect him. I hope to avoid the responsibility myself." Archie lifted the steaming cup and blew on it, his eyes a cheerful squint over the rim.
"I believe Lang shares your sentiment, though only because he has a family to care for now," Marilla said.
He sobered and looked at Emmett crawling toward a toy on the rug. "Say...that isn't..."
Marilla scooped up her son and settled him against her burgeoning belly, her joy returning at being able to introduce Lang's son to his friend. "This is Emmett. Yes, Lang has a boy. Come fall he'll have another."
He looked at her anew. She couldn't tell if it was wonderment or simple curiosity in his eyes. Again, she flushed. He probably wondered what Lang saw in a girl like her.
"I must be a sight," she said softly. "I'm sorry to meet you at my worst. It's been a long day."
His gaze flicked to Delia mashing potatoes on the stove and back. A big smile spread across his face. "What are you talking about? You look lovely Mrs. Prescott."
She shouldn't feel better, because she knew it wasn't true, but she did. "Thank you, Archie. You're too kind. Please call me Marilla or just Rilla. Everyone else does."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'm happy to meet you. When I heard Lang had gotten married, I could hardly believe it. But it seems he's created quite a cozy situation for himself."
Delia emptied the potatoes into a bowl and set them in the center of the table. She turned to fetch the platter of chicken. "I suppose Lang didn't seem old enough to marry last you saw him."
"No ma'am. I guess he's still twenty in my mind."
"Well, he's not twenty anymore." She settled the platter between the potatoes and their guest with a smile. He beamed back at her. Who wouldn't return one of Delia's smiles?
The familiar rattle of Marilla and Lang's motorcar called their attention. "That must be Lang now." Marilla settled Emmett in his chair as the door fell open and Lang stepped through.
His glance tripped past Marilla to their guests, and a brief confusion gave way to a smile such as Marilla hadn't seen on Lang in a long, long time. Archie leapt to his feet, and the two men fell into each other with a back-pounding hug, as their voices batted back and forth.
"Archie, what are you doing here?"
"What does it look like?"
"You didn't send word."
"Since when do I do that kind of thing? Mind if I drop my bags and stay for a while?"
"Our house is yours."
The talking and laughter rose and died away as Archie returned to his seat. Lang tossed off his hat and went to the wash pan in the dry sink to wash his hands. "You quit your job or something?"
Archie dipped his chin. "That I did. Figured I'd take a little tour up north, see some sights before the government catches up to me."
Delia passed Marilla a glance as both of them understood he was referring to a possible draft.
Lang dried his hands and pulled out a chair at the table. "You've no plans to enlist I take it."
Archie smirked. "Not on your life. I'll go if I have to, but if they don't make me..." He shrugged.
Delia passed him a bowl of vegetables, and Marilla watched beneath her lowered lashes as Archie accepted it from her hand with curiosity in his gaze.
"In the meantime, I thought it was time I got a better look around the state. It felt like the right time to come up here and see just what it was that had you so enamored." He threw a careless grin at Marilla's husband and then moved his gaze between them one by one. "Apparently I should have come a lot sooner. It's clear you made the wise decision when you got on that train and came north."
~~~~~
Archie stood in the soft dirt of the overturned field with Lang, his hands on his hips as his gaze encompassed the farm. He shook his head. "I've got to hand it to you, pal. You've really gotten yourself into a sweet spot."
Lang looked outward as well, and for a moment he saw the whole place with fresh eyes. "Yeah, I guess."
Archie let out a harsh laugh. "You guess! Take a look, man." He gave a sweep of his hand. "You've probably got this place sewn up in your pocket. You're the old man's right-hand man and his son-in-law. You're the father of his grandson. You think you aren't going to get this whole potato someday? Pardon my pun. You'll have your dream come true, my friend, and it isn't going to cost you much. Gravy, man, you're getting paid! In more ways than one, if I might say so." He gave Lang a long look and shoved his hands in his pants pockets.
"Married to the farmer's daughter, you mean?" Lang went back to work.
"She cleaned up all right. I have to admit, I wasn't sure what you saw in her at first. I thought maybe you got her into trouble and didn't have a choice." When Lang didn't answer right away or even look at him, Archie said, "Did you?"
Lang tightened the bolt on the harrow and straightened. "No."
"So it was the farm then."
"No." He tugged Cinnamon's bridle. The harrow jerked behind.
"Love? I admit she seems like a great gal. She's pretty in her way. Just not the type I would've thought you'd marry. She has the eyes though. Kind of hypnotizing."
Lang threw him a look, but didn't want to say what was on his mind, that he'd married Rilla out of unsated lust for her sister. The act was callous and cold and filled him with self-hatred. Yet, if anyone would understand him, it would be Archie. "Yeah, she hooked me with a few looks cast my way." He clicked his tongue at the horse and led her on.
"Now, that sister of hers with the legs and everything else..." Archie kicked at the sod. "She's a bird I wouldn't mind a shot at."
Lang's head came up, and he had to fight for normalcy in his response. "She's married."
"Yeah, so she said. Married to a soldier boy. So what? He's gone."
Lang stopped and looked at Archie over the muzzle of the mare leaning over his shoulder. "No, Archie. I mean she's that married."
"She'll get lonely though, don't you think?"
He shrugged.
"I'll have to stick around and find out."
Best not let Archie see how the idea gored him. Lang urged Cinnamon along again.
"Where does she live anyway? Here on the farm?"
"No." He waved his hand vaguely toward the north. "Her husband built her a house."
"Seems a shame, a girl like that rambling around a house of her own without a man." He strolled beside Lang, whistling a tune as they made their way along the furrow.
"How long you staying?" Lang asked.
"I dunno. I quit my job down in the mine. Lost interest."
"You must've been making good money."
He nodded. "Sure. It was good. But the work gets mighty old. I didn't have any wife tying me down to stay there. Not like you," he added with a laugh.
"I like it pretty well."
"I guess I would too."
"Rilla is hoping I'll build her a house too."
"You do have your work cut out for you then."
Lang shrugged. "I don't mind. I've got nothing else to do while I wait."
"While you wait for what?"
Lang startled. He hadn't meant to say that. His mind had begun to drift. "Oh...for...for the baby. I'll be working on building this summer."
"Maybe I'll stick around and give you a hand."
"Awe, you don't have to do that. I'm not even sure how far I'll get on it." He hadn't really thought about it at all. Building a house was Rilla's dream, not his. Not without Delia. Maybe if Theo doesn't come back... He squashed the thought. It was wrong, but it grew back like a weed in a rainstorm. If Theo doesn't come back, Delia might finally turn to me. It wouldn't be the worst thing for Rilla to have a nice house for her and the kids to live in once I've gone away with Delia. He pulled his thoughts from the daydream. He'd think more about that later. He looked to Archie again. "You must have some plans."
Archie shrugged. "I was thinking of getting a job on the railroad. Might get to see more country that way."
"You could probably get one right here on the Omaha." Now why had he suggested that?
Archie wrinkled his nose. "You think? Kind of a small town."
"Yeah. Kind of."
"But if it suits you, it might suit me too."
They turned at the end of the field and started making their way back in the other direction. "Say, you ever get back east?"
Archie shook his head. "Nah. I guess my old man died a couple years back. My mother remarried. She sounds happy."
"What about your sister and brothers?"
"I don't really know. I hear they all either married or ran off. Except Cyd. Cyd is doing pretty well I guess. Ma wrote he still lives in the neighborhood, same as her and her husband Ed. Cyd goes over there to visit. Brings her nice things."
"I haven't written home in a long time either. I should, I suppose."
Archie didn't seem to care one way or another. Lang wasn't surprised. They'd both left their families behind so long ago, it seemed almost as though they had never had them. Except for Bethia. It would be nice to see his sister again. Mother, too, if he were honest.
The field was fully harrowed by noon and ready for planting. Tomorrow, if the rain held off, Lang hoped to get his seed potatoes in the ground, a little earlier than last year. He wouldn't mind getting a hand from Archie. Arch was a hard worker. He'd been making a living for himself as long as Lang. With the extra help, he could have the field seeded in no time.
"Ready for lunch?"
"I wouldn't turn down another good meal. Your wife's a good cook."
Lang pulled off his gloves, looked away from Archie, and sniffed. "I sometimes take lunch at Delia's. It's closer. Gives me a chance to check in on her—with her husband not being able to of course."
"Well now. I wouldn't say no to that. I thought her man just left."
"He worked on the railroad before. Switch operator, but out of town sometimes or just long days. She's my sister-in-law after all," Lang added.
"Lead the way."
First, they had to unharness the mare from the harrow and get her grained and brushed. They came into the barnyard and saw Delia's car was already there. "Looks like our lunch plans might have changed."
Delia stepped out the front door, looking fresh and pretty in a bright green and yellow gingham dress. "Hi, Lang, Mr. Bristow. I wanted to catch you before you headed to the house. I decided to come to the farm and help Mama plant the garden. She's fixed you boys up a kettle of soup."
Archie stepped ahead of him, his face a picture of charm and good looks. "Well, thank you so much, ma'am. My pal Langdon is likely to starve me to death, working me in that field. A meal at your mother's hand sounds like just the thing. There's nothing better than a mother's home cooking."
Delia blushed beneath Archie's smooth talk as though it was she he had complimented and not her mother. Probably just what Archie intended. She tucked a wave of golden hair off her cheek and pleasured him with a smile. For as often as Lang had wished she'd forget about her husband, for as long as Archie hung around—he hoped she'd remember her Theo well.
Chapter Eighteen
July 1917
"Any mail for me today, Mr. Berg?" Marilla leaned closer to the postmaster's window, one hand pressed to the small mound of her belly.
"I think I saw something. Let me see." The kind, gray haired postmaster turned to the cubicles behind him. "Did you have a nice Independence Day with your family?"
"Yes, very nice, though we missed Theodore."
"Ah! Here you are." He handed her several envelopes with a smile. "It looks like you have a special one there for your sister."
On the top lay an envelope marked from
Texas. "It's from Theo. I can't wait to give it to Delia."
"She doing all right with him away?"
"Well enough, but she misses him fiercely. She'll worry when he ships over."
"It's nice she has both your and Theodore's family to depend upon."
Marilla nodded, thinking Delia certainly had that. With Archie Bristow offering his help too, Delia didn't lack a thing but her husband's presence. "We try to be supportive. Thank you, Mr. Berg." She turned to leave.
"Have a nice day," he called behind her as she hurried out of the post office to the car where Emmett still slept on the rear seat.
Missing Theo as she did, the letter was just the thing her poor sister needed, and with Lang's friend Archie still living with them, it was important he see Theo's absence was temporary too. Marilla started up the car, thankful now she didn't have to drive a wagon home in the hot July sun. The speed allowed a breeze to wash over her and Emmett through the windows as she thought about their visitor and the previous holiday. Archie didn't seem to understand her sister was a married woman. He had pestered and pestered Delia until she danced with him in the town square, finally giving in just to make him stop. Lang had cut in to rescue her and had taken the next dance too, just so Delia would be able to make the excuse to Archie of being worn out.
They had looked good together. Lang was handsome. Even more so than his friend Archie, though Archie had a devil-may-care smile and a loose, reddish brown wave that tumbled over his forehead in a careless way suiting his lean face and masculine charm. Lang was dark and mysterious, even now, after almost two years of being together. Sometimes Marilla still felt like she didn't fully know him, like there was some part of himself he kept from her. Delia was as beautiful as ever. Her figure was perfect, her skin flawless, her features lovely. If anyone looking on didn't know them, they would think Delia and Langdon a perfectly matched couple, meant to be together. Light and dark, handsome and beautiful. Poised.
Marilla didn't dance. With the baby on the way and recurrent false pains that came and went, she didn't feel comfortable. Mostly, Lang didn't think she should risk the activity, and she wanted to do what he felt was right. It was more important he watch out for Delia with Archie around. She glanced at the letter from Theo on the seat. Yes, the letter was much needed right now.
