“You march right back to the house after school and carry on as if nothing happened.”
“I do?” Even after all these years, Amanda was stunned by her friend’s audacity. “But he dismissed me.”
“No, he didn’t. You said yourself that he simply told you that you wouldn’t make the same mistake, which of course you won’t, since you’re going to stock the larder and learn to cook something simple.”
Pearl made it sound so simple, but she wasn’t taking into account Garrett’s animosity toward Amanda.
“What if he shouts at me? What if he tells me to leave and never come back?”
“Then you’ll have your answer.” Pearl jabbed a hairpin into her topknot. “His loss, if you ask me. He’ll have a difficult time finding anyone else for the job, and there’s no one in all of Singapore who can compare to you when it comes to keeping house.”
“But I still don’t know how to cook.”
“That’s why you are going to stay here through the midday meal so you can learn from Mrs. Calloway. She’s promised to take more time showing you how to do everything.”
“Don’t you need me at school?”
Pearl laughed. “I think I can manage for half a day.”
“I’m sorry.” Amanda blanched. “I didn’t mean to imply that I’m indispensable.”
“But you are.” Pearl gently tugged her to her feet. “I couldn’t manage more than a few hours without your help.” She grinned. “Don’t tell the school committee members, though, or they’ll hire you instead of me next year.”
Pearl always managed to lift her spirits. “Don’t be silly. You’re the one doing the teaching. I just help keep everyone occupied.”
“So they can learn.” Pearl opened the door to their room. “Let’s go down to breakfast. It smells like Mrs. Calloway fried bacon this morning.”
* * *
That morning Garrett’s men made great progress cutting the timbers for the launching ways and cradle. Before they could put them in place, the land by the river would have to be cleared. Since Roland owned that land, it meant getting his brother’s permission.
With the weather holding fair, Garrett decided they’d best get the location ready before a storm rolled in and blanketed the ground with snow or the temperatures dropped and froze the ground.
During the lunch break, he stopped in the mercantile. His brother stood at the counter, writing in one of the ledgers.
“Roland, I need to talk to you about something.”
Roland looked up. “You don’t have to use the front door like a customer just because you’re living down the street now.”
The grin told Garrett that his brother was teasing. That’s the way they communicated. Each tried to best the other. Roland won most battles of wit, while Garrett could take his brother in a physical challenge any day. That didn’t mean he couldn’t throw back a decent retort.
“Last I checked, I am a customer here. And I expect to be treated like one.”
Roland’s grin broadened. “Then you arrived at just the right time. You can sign for the purchases Amanda is making.”
“The what?” Garrett had left early this morning without quite figuring out what he was going to do about that situation. After the way he’d reacted last night, he figured she would never return to work for him.
“Purchases.” Roland motioned toward a large basket beside the ledger. Garrett recognized that basket. It was the one Amanda had used to bring the delicious beef stew last night. Every bite had stuck in his throat. He owed her an apology, but...
“Purchases? What kind of purchases?”
“Food, Mr. Decker.” The formerly gentle and quiet Amanda Porter placed some tins in the basket. “Your children need more than crackers and porridge to eat.” She looked him in the eye, more like Pearl than the shy beauty he was used to seeing.
He opened his mouth and then clapped it shut. What could he say to that? His children did need to eat, and he had neglected to fully stock the kitchen, a fact that he’d noticed at breakfast this morning. He cleared his throat and hoped Amanda didn’t see the heat creeping up his neck. “Of course. Well done, Miss Porter.”
The faintest smile graced her lips and sent his spirits catapulting upward just as quickly as they’d gone down.
Her attention returned to the basket of food. “I can only cook plain food. I hope that will be good enough.”
But the stew hadn’t been plain, it had been delicious. With a start, he realized she must not have cooked it. She must have gotten it from someone else, most likely the boardinghouse.
“The stew.” He halted, unsure what to say.
She did not look up at him. “Mrs. Calloway’s efforts.”
“I owe her then.”
Amanda shook her head. “It was left over.”
“But how, when there are a half dozen guests and the Calloways?” Before he finished saying the words, he knew.
The portion he and his children had eaten was hers. She had gone hungry last night while he dined. Moreover, he’d accused her of neglect, when he was the one who had neglected his family. He owed her more than an apology, but at the moment he couldn’t think of what to say.
He walked to her side. Roland scooted out from behind the counter on the pretense of checking for some cornmeal in the back. Anyone could see that the bin was half-full.
Garrett waited until his brother was gone.
Amanda fidgeted with the handle of the basket. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”
“No.” He cleared his throat again. “Not at all. I did. I’m sorry. For last night. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. The wrong ones.”
Her head bobbed, as if she was gathering her composure, and the ribbons caught in her dark curls. He had to fight the impulse to lift them free.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I should go. I promised to help Pearl at school this afternoon. If you can sign...”
He turned the ledger and scrawled his signature on the line. But that didn’t get rid of the aching guilt. “I’m sorry. I hope we can start over again.”
She lifted her tremulous gaze to him, and he was struck again by the similarity of her eyes to those of Eva. If Eva had ever given him such a look, it had been an act so she could get her way. Not Amanda.
“I hope so, too.” Her faint smile wavered.
“I can help you carry that basket to the house.”
“Thank you, but I can manage. It sounded like you wanted to speak to your brother.”
Garrett was ashamed of himself. Amanda thought only of everyone else’s needs. He could kick himself for being such a fool yesterday. His children were hungry, and she’d responded the only way she knew how. Instead of thanking her, he’d accused and blamed her. He would change. Next time he would give her the benefit of doubt. He owed her that much.
* * *
Making hash looked easy when Mrs. Calloway demonstrated it. First Amanda needed to chop up everything. Then she needed to cook it in a big, heavy skillet. It took a bit of searching with Sadie and Isaac before she found the knives, a big wooden spoon and the skillet.
Peeling the potatoes had proved challenging, but she managed to get most of the skin off without cutting herself. The onion made her eyes water. The salt pork proved easiest of all.
It took a while for the stove to get hot enough. Apparently Garrett banked the fire before sending the children off to school and going to work. That meant an icy cold house and stove, but by the time she’d stowed all the purchases and chopped the ingredients for the hash, perspiration rolled off her forehead.
Now which went in the pan first? Amanda searched her memory but couldn’t remember. She took a guess. The potatoes were hardest. She seemed to remember Mrs. Calloway saying they’d take the longest to cook. She dump
ed them into the hot skillet first.
“It’s my turn,” Sadie cried out from the bearskin rug, where they were sitting to play jacks.
“No, it’s not,” Isaac retorted. “My turn isn’t over yet.”
“Yes, it is. Miss Mana, tell Isaac to let me play.”
“Everyone needs to have a turn,” Amanda said.
“She just had a turn,” Isaac insisted. “And now she wants my turn, too.”
At school, Pearl would send one student to one corner and the other to the opposite corner to think about how they ought to behave. At the Chatsworths’ house, a dispute had been settled with a few whacks of the strap on her behind. Amanda could not use either method. She wasn’t their teacher or their mother.
Instead she joined them and knelt so she could look each child in the eye. “Is this the way your father would want you to behave?”
“He doesn’t care about anything but work,” Isaac said, his little jaw stiff but his lip quivering.
Amanda’s heart about broke. She would have to speak to Garrett about spending more time with his children.
“Papa loves us,” Sadie cried out. She grabbed her old rag doll, the one Amanda had repaired soon after arriving, and hugged it tight.
“Of course he does,” Amanda said. “He’s a busy man. All fathers are.” At least Mr. Chatsworth had always seemed busy. He was gone long hours, sometimes until midnight. She couldn’t remember much about her real father. He and her mother had died when she was five, but the tiny fragments she could recall always teemed with their love for her and for her brother, Jacob. Jake. A pang shot through her at the thought of her missing brother. They were separated after their parents’ deaths. She went to their grandmother, while he was sent to their uncle’s farm. For reasons unknown, Jacob ran away and was never found. Someday she would find him. She must find him. No tragedy could break family bonds. That applied in her case and for Isaac and Sadie. “Your papa loves you both dearly. I know he does.”
“Then why doesn’t he listen to us?” Isaac demanded.
“I’m sure he does,” Amanda said.
“If he listened to us, he’d at least try to get married again.”
Oh, dear. Amanda had no idea how to answer that statement, especially since Sadie had named her as the preferred new mama.
She began carefully. “Marriage isn’t something to be rushed into.”
Isaac’s eyes widened, and his lips formed an O.
Amanda frowned. Her statement wasn’t that difficult to understand. “Your papa wants to find the right woman to, uh, be your mother.” Surely her cheeks were bright red.
Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, Isaac pointed toward the kitchen.
Amanda turned to see smoke pouring from the skillet.
Oh no! She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a towel and quickly pulled the skillet from the stove before the whole thing started on fire. She carried the smoking pan to the worktable and poked at the potatoes. Burned. And stuck to the pan.
Oh, dear. Her first attempt at cooking had come to ruin. She swallowed hard, trying to think of what to do. Did she have enough time to start over?
The door flew open.
“I’m home!” Garrett stepped inside and sniffed. “What’s on fire?”
Oh, dear. There was no hiding this fiasco.
Chapter Five
“Supper,” Isaac declared in answer to Garrett’s question.
It didn’t take long for him to confirm his son’s explanation. Amanda stood at the worktable with a smoking skillet of something burned. The contents were too charred to identify.
“Supper?” he echoed. “You mean the food you just...”
Amanda cringed, and he let the thought trail off. He had vowed earlier this afternoon to give her the benefit of doubt.
“Is it salvageable?” he asked instead.
She poked a wooden spoon at the incinerated contents. “I don’t think so.” She looked stricken yet determined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Decker. You can deduct the cost of the potatoes from my wages.”
“Potatoes.” He breathed out in relief. It was only potatoes, one of the least expensive items she could have burned.
“Is there a fire, Miss Mana?” Poor Sadie looked terrified.
The lady dropped to her knees, the burned potatoes forgotten. “No, there isn’t. I just scorched the potatoes, like holding an iron too long on a piece of fabric.”
Garrett wouldn’t call those quite the same, but his daughter accepted the explanation.
“You can hold Baby.” Sadie offered Amanda the doll.
“Thank you, Sadie, but she needs you more than I need her. A little hug will take care of everything.”
His daughter obliged, hugging Amanda an extra long time.
Amanda finally patted her back. “You did such a lovely job setting the table. Why don’t you tell your father what you learned in school while I take care of the mess and cook up some supper?”
Garrett had to admire the way Amanda directed Sadie’s attention away from the smoke and onto other topics. Nevertheless, while Sadie described her school day in minute detail, he watched Amanda carry the skillet outdoors to dump the ashes and then return and set the pan on the hot stove. She hesitated over two piles of chopped food. One looked like bacon or salt pork. The other appeared to be onions. She finally put one bit of onion in the skillet. It popped and hopped out.
The fire must have disconcerted her. He was about to suggest cooking the pork first when she began to add it to the skillet. While it cooked, she chopped a couple more potatoes and added them to the pork, finishing off with the onions.
Other than the smoke, which hadn’t yet cleared the room, it smelled good. When she placed the hot skillet on the table without a trivet or rag underneath, he grabbed a towel from the cupboard.
“Let’s put this under the pan,” he suggested. “To protect the tabletop.” He could imagine what a mark that pan had put in the varnish.
She blinked and then blushed while lifting the skillet. “I’m sorry. I got a bit discombobulated.”
“A little smoke can do that.” He glanced in the skillet and his stomach stopped rumbling. She hadn’t gotten all the burned potatoes out of the pan.
He took a deep breath. Give her a chance. Give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, Amanda was the only woman in town both available and willing to take the job, and she was good with the children.
“Shall we say grace?” He bowed his head.
Isaac followed, but Sadie stared at Amanda. “Aren’t you going to eat, too?”
Garrett didn’t realize she was still standing halfway between the kitchen and the table. He hadn’t considered how awkward it might be to have her watch them eat just so she could clean up afterward.
“Yes, please join us.” It was the least he could do after making her go hungry the night before.
She hesitated. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” He had to speak firmly so she wouldn’t back out of this. “Please sit before the food gets cold.”
She dropped into the fourth chair. “Let’s hold hands while praying.”
“Hold hands?” Garrett didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. “We’re asking blessing on the food, not playing a child’s game.”
Her color heightened. “I, well, it’s something Pearl and I liked to do back in the...” Her voice trailed off.
“Back where?” Isaac demanded.
Judging from the way she’d blanched, Garrett suspected she’d been about to say the orphanage. Roland had told him about Pearl, how she’d been raised in an orphanage. It made sense that her childhood friend had also grown up there.
“Back when we were your age,” she said.
Before his son could point out that she hadn’t exactly an
swered the question, Garrett told them to fold their hands and bow their heads for the blessing. By the time he finished the overly long list of things for which they were grateful, Isaac had forgotten to point out Amanda’s misdirected answer.
Amanda stood. “Allow me to dish up the food.”
“No, I can do it.” Garrett’s hand met hers on the spoon, and a peculiar sensation made him look up at her. The jolt reminded him of the stingers he sometimes got from the machinery. Except this wasn’t unpleasant. Judging from the way her eyes widened, she’d felt it, too.
She yanked back her hand. “Thank you.” It came out in a whisper.
Garrett cleared his throat. “Hand me your plate, Sadie. Ladies first.”
Sadie giggled. “I’m a girl, not a lady.”
“Of course you are,” Amanda said. “You don’t have to be as old as me to be a lady. Ladyship is more about one’s manners and grace.”
She proceeded to explain table manners to Sadie, though Garrett noticed that his son was listening, too. “Hold your fork like this.” She demonstrated.
Sadie attempted and dropped the fork. “I can’t.”
“It takes practice, like learning sums. Keep trying, and soon you’ll have it.”
“That’s not the way men eat,” Isaac insisted. “A real man holds on to his fork so no one can take it away from him. Right, Pa?”
Garrett quickly shifted the way he held the fork. Eva had always complained that he acted uncivilized at the table. He’d stubbornly refused to change, even saying that nonsense about needing to hold on to his fork. True, Roland had snatched a fork from him once when they were children and refused to give it back, but that had been roundly reprimanded by their mother. Garrett never dreamed his resistance to Eva’s attempts to change him would influence their son.
He cleared his throat. “A gentleman holds his fork like Miss Amanda is showing you.”
“I don’t want to be a gentleman. I want to be like you.”
Amanda’s eyebrows shot up.
Garrett felt both pleasure that his son wanted to emulate him and distress that he had set such a poor example. “Well, from now on, I’m going to eat like a gentleman.”
Mail Order Mommy Page 5
