Calvin sucked in a breath of surprise as he pulled her closer, his hand moving as if of its own volition to cup her breast in his palm. He deepened the kiss, his mouth opening for her tongue as his hand gently molded her soft breast.
Eliza moaned deep in her throat, wishing there was no nightgown between them. She unbuttoned the four buttons at the front of her nightgown, and moved his hand inside it so he could touch her bare skin.
He couldn't believe how bold she was in letting him touch her breast, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, immediately intrigued by how hard the small nub was. It was too dark to see the color, but in his mind it was a soft pink surrounded by a darker pink aureole. He couldn't wait to see if his imagination was correct.
Her arms moved around him, and she stroked his bare back, finding a small mole just above his waistline. Never in her life had she touched the bare skin of a man before, but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel him all over. She felt a tingling between her thighs. Knowing it was time to stop, she pulled back from his kiss. "We should go to sleep," she murmured, brushing her lips against his one last time.
Calvin wanted to scream in frustration, but he didn't. He pulled his hand from her nightgown and pressed his lips to her forehead. Two weeks couldn't pass quickly enough. He was hard and aching, and he had to make love to her soon. He was truly blessed to have found such a passionate woman for his wife.
*****
Years of staying up late to work and sleeping until late morning had taken a toll on Eliza. When she felt Calvin get out of bed beside her she pulled a pillow over her face, not wanting to wake up to the light he'd turned on.
"It's time to get up, Eliza." His voice was soft and gravelly with sleep, but insistent.
She wanted nothing more than to tell him to go away. "I hate mornings," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.
He laughed, pulling the pillow from her face. "Wake up, sleepy head. You need to cook breakfast while I milk the cows and gather eggs."
She groaned but knew he was right. This is what she'd agreed to do when she married him. It was her job to cook breakfast every morning. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, not realizing she'd for- got- gotten to button her nightgown after their intimacy of the night before. "I'm up."
Calvin's eyes latched onto her nipple, as pink as he'd imagined it would be. He wondered how she'd react if he caught it between his lips, but he knew he didn't have time. The sun was about to rise, and he needed to get to work. He couldn't resist reaching out, catching her nipple between his fingers, and giving it a quick tug to watch it harden. "I'll be back in thirty."
Eliza watched him leave the room, more than a little startled by his actions. She looked down and saw that her nightgown was spread wide, with one nipple exposed to the morning air, and she quickly covered it. Blushing she got out of bed and dressed as fast as she could before hurrying down to the kitchen to start breakfast.
She had the fire going in moments, and put a skillet on the stove to heat, while she climbed down the cellar stairs to get bacon and yesterday's eggs.
By the time he returned from milking, she had a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon for each of them as well as toast with no butter. She'd found some strawberry preserves in the cellar that she'd put on the table with a spoon. If he wanted them he could add them to his dry toast.
He leaned around her to put the milk pail on the work table before grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her thoroughly. She stood on tiptoe, pressing her body against his as she kissed him back. "Good morning," she whispered.
Calvin took his spot at the table, no longer as disappointed by the delay in their lovemaking. She was a passionate woman, and he was certain he could convince her to make love well before the two weeks were up. She enjoyed kissing and touching far too much to hold out for that long. He was certain of it.
*****
After breakfast, Eliza dug through the recipes in the pantry and found nothing that would help her to learn to make gravy. She knew he liked it and desperately wanted to make it, but it wasn't going to be possible unless she got her hands on a cookbook.
He'd told her he'd be home for lunch, so she knew she needed to get him to take her into town then. First, though, she needed to do the laundry, including her dress she'd worn the day before which was covered in flour. She'd seen her mother do laundry of course, but she'd never actually done it herself. She gathered the scrub board and took the clothes to the basin.
She boiled water. She didn't know why, but she'd seen her mother do it, so she did as well. The first thing she picked up to wash was one of Calvin's shirts. It was a thick flannel shirt that he obviously wore through the winter months. She carefully moved it against the scrubbing board with all of her strength. Pushing down on it to get it as clean as she could.
She spent ten minutes on that first shirt, and when she picked it up and looked at it, it was obvious that she had no idea what she was doing. She'd scrubbed three holes clean through the shirt. She looked and found another, and scrubbed it more gently this time, and the results seemed better. He only had his church shirt and three others, though, and she'd just destroyed one. She'd have to make him a new shirt. And how was she supposed to admit to her new husband that she'd put holes in his shirt?
When she'd finished with the scrubbing, she carried the wash to the line and took the bag of clothespins that was hooked to it. She carefully looked at them, and through the process of trial and error she was able to hang everything on the line.
Going back into the house, she churned the butter before making him a quick lunch of bacon sandwiches. She again toasted the bread because it hid how hard the bread she'd made the previous day was.
Calvin stepped into the house for lunch, and Eliza smiled at him brightly blinking the tears away. She was a disaster as a wife, and she knew it. How was she going to keep him happy when she couldn't do anything right?
"I made bacon sandwiches for lunch," she told him.
He nodded, not much caring what she'd cooked. He was hungry, and he'd eat anything at that point. "Sounds good." He kissed her before taking his seat at the table and waiting for her to join him.
After their prayer, he ate his three sandwiches quickly while she picked at hers. Finally she told him about the shirt. "I've never actually washed clothes before, so I didn't know what to do. I feel so stupid."
The tears filling her eyes told him that she wasn't kidding. "How can you be thirty-two and not know how to wash clothes?" he asked. "Did you always have a maid or something?" He'd never heard tell of a woman who didn't know how to do basic household chores, but he'd apparently married one.
She nodded, not going into detail. "I need you to drive me to town for fabric and a cookbook. I need to make myself an apron and you a new shirt." She was covered with water from the washing. A good sturdy apron would be needed to save her clothes.
He nodded. "We'll go this afternoon. I need to ride out and let my men know, but I'll take you." He thought briefly about letting her go to town with one of his ranch hands so he could stay there and work, but he didn't want his new bride to go off with another man the day after they married. He wasn't really a jealous man, but he was going to keep his wife close.
When he returned from the range to drive her into town, she was waiting for him. She had made a short list of what she'd need. He hitched up the horses and helped her get into the wagon.
"I have some beans soaking for supper," she told him, letting him know that she was focusing on what he would eat. "I'll be able to cook them up after we get back from town."
He nodded briefly. "That's fine." He watched the road carefully as he drove toward town, excited to show his new bride off. There just weren't enough women in these parts, and a pretty one like Eliza was bound to turn heads.
"I'm sorry about your shirt. I'm trying really hard to do everything right." She hated that he knew she'd ru
ined something of his. If she could have hidden it, she would have.
"I know you are. I 'm not angry about the shirt." He didn't ask more questions about her past, because she didn't seem to want to answer them. She seemed willing to talk about her childhood, but nothing about the adult years she'd spent since finishing school.
She smiled at him, holding his arm to her. "Thank you for not being upset with me."
He kissed her cheek before turning back to the road. "If there are things you don't know how to do, you can ask me. After you meet Abigail, I'm sure she'll help you."
"I know you were expecting a competent wife," she began, not sure how to continue.
"Not every woman is good at household chores. Obviously they weren't important to you." He didn't look at her as he made the statement, hoping she would volunteer information about her past.
"My mother did her best to teach me everything I'd need to know," she said, not willing to say more.
He waited for a further explanation, but when he didn't get it, he changed the subject. "Were you an only child?"
"No, I have a sister. She's two years older than me. I have two nephews who are twelve and ten. They still live in the town where I grew up in Upstate New York." She hadn't seen her family in two years. She had last seen them for Christmas. She couldn't even begin to express how much she missed them. "My sister's a widow," she added as an afterthought.
"I bet you're a fun auntie."
She smiled. "I try to be. I'm not very good with children, though." It was something she wanted to improve before she had a chance to have children of her own.
"You're not?" He thought about that statement for a moment, before asking a question that occurred to him. "You want children, though, don't you?"
"Yes, I really do. I think I'll be better with my own. I want at least a dozen!"
He stared at her in surprise before letting out a bark of laughter. "A dozen? Is that all?"
She grinned. "I don't want to be greedy." She was glad he took her words for what they were which was a jest. She did want children and would gladly take as many as God gave her, but she'd be content with just two or three if that's all she was blessed with.
He put his lips against her ear and whispered, "I'll be happy to help you make them."
She blushed furiously. "You're not supposed to say that to me." Did he not understand anything about manners or propriety?
"You're my wife. I can talk about how much I like your body and how much I want you." His arm that was around her shoulders squeezed her tighter. He hadn't expected to enjoy being with his wife nearly as much as he did. She was fun to tease, though, and he was happy to know that he'd enjoy time with her both in and out of bed.
When she didn't respond, he started to sing to her, a folk song that he really enjoyed singing. He didn't notice her cringe at his singing, and sang loudly and happily the whole way.
Chapter Four
Eliza bought only the things she needed, and did her best to keep some of her face hidden by her bonnet so she wouldn't be recognized. She bought enough fabric for three aprons and two new flannel shirts for him. She also bought knitting needles and some yarn, planning to make him a scarf for Christmas. She had no idea what he really wanted or needed, and the holiday was only a few weeks away.
As they were loading their supplies, Calvin waved to a young couple in a farm wagon. When they stopped, he introduced her. 'This is my wife, Eliza. Eliza, these are our neighbors, Abigail and Stanley Bond."
Eliza smiled up at the other woman whose hand was resting on her swollen belly. She looked to be about midway through her pregnancy to Eliza's uneducated eyes. Eliza hurried forward. "It's so nice to meet you!"
Abigail smiled down at her shyly. "I'm happy to have a woman close by finally. We don't have many around these parts."
"That's what I hear." Eliza wondered how to request what she needed. "Why don't you come over tomorrow afternoon for tea? I'll make us an afternoon snack." She hadn't had time to just sit and talk to another woman for years. Her conversation with Elizabeth in Beckham was the longest she'd had in a long while.
Abigail nodded, her face lighting up. "I'd like that a lot. What time would you like me to come?"
Eliza thought about that for a moment. "Let's say two? Would that be all right?" That would give her time to clean up after lunch and start dinner before the other woman arrived. She could also bake some kind of treat if she could find a recipe for one in her cookbook.
"I'll be there."
Stanley raised his hand in farewell as he drove off down the street.
Eliza turned to Calvin and smiled. "I haven't had a female friend in so long, I barely remember what it's like." She was all but bouncing up and down in her excitement.
Calvin couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't been around women, but he didn't ask. When she wanted him to know more about her past, she'd tell him. "You'll really like Abigail. I've never met a sweeter woman."
For a moment, Eliza wondered if he wished he'd been the one to marry the younger woman, but she realized that he probably just admired her. He didn't seem the type to stray from his wife, even in his thoughts.
The whole drive home, Eliza thought about how she'd broach the subject of getting help with her chores from Abigail. She didn't really need the other woman to help her do them, of course, she just needed to be shown the correct way to do many of them. She was very excited to think about having a friend.
When Eliza didn't talk on the way home, Calvin again sang to her, obviously enjoying the sound of his own voice. She couldn't believe he couldn't hear just how bad he was. Maybe after supper she'd give him a treat and let him hear some real singing.
She fixed cornbread to go with the beans, finding a recipe for it in her new cookbook. While she cooked, she thought about how she'd sing for him that evening. Maybe while she was sewing his shirt, she'd break into song and let him hear her. She knew he'd admire her songs. He loved to sing so much how could he not?
He ate the supper she fixed wholeheartedly, obviously enjoying her cooking. She felt more comfortable with the meal she'd fixed today than the one from yesterday. She'd spend some time with the cookbook, learning how to make gravy and everything else she could. She certainly wanted him to be able to eat his fill every night without worrying that her food was disgusting.
He started singing while she was doing dishes, and she wanted to tell him to stop because he was hurting her ears. She didn't, though. When he finished his first song, she broke into an aria from Carmen called "Habanera." Carmen was a relatively new opera, only twelve years old, so she was certain he wouldn't have heard it yet.
She continued to wash the dishes as she sang, her vocal range shown off beautifully by the French song. When she finished, she stood waiting for his reaction, expecting him to do as many other men had done and tell her he loved her on the spot.
Calvin waited a moment after she finished singing. "That was right pretty, but I don't know whatever that language was. Do you know 'Yankee Doodle?' That's one of my favorites."
Eliza gaped at him in shock for a moment. Had he really just asked her, one of the most well-known mezzo sopranos in the country, to sing "Yankee Doodle?" It took her a moment to find her voice. "No, I don't believe I know that one."
"Here, I'll teach it to you." He broke into song once more. Somehow she didn't run from the house with her ears covered screaming into the night. It was close, but she managed to control herself.
After the dishes, she sank into a chair and carefully took apart the shirt she'd ruined, knowing it would be the easiest way to get his size and make the shirt like the other had been. She didn't say anything as he continued to regale her with folk songs, making her wish she had something, anything, to wad up in her ears to block out the sound.
*****
When Abigail arrived the following afternoon, Eliza had tea and cookies made for the two of them to share. After they were seated, Eliza brought up
the real reason she'd invited her over. "I am really hopeless when it comes to some of the household chores. I was hoping you'd be willing to help me learn to do some things. I'm making a stew for dinner, and I have no idea how to thicken it." She'd scoured the cookbook, but she couldn't find anything that would teach her what she needed to do.
Abigail smiled. "Oh, I'd be happy to help you." She took a sip of her tea, reaching for a third cookie. "I'm not always so greedy for sweets, but apparently the little one likes them."
Eliza smiled, happy to know the younger woman was willing to talk a bit about her pregnancy. "When are you due?" she asked, eyeing the huge mound that was the other woman's stomach.
"Oh, not until March. I'm ready, though." Abigail patted her stomach lovingly. "I'm really hoping fora boy."
"That would be nice. Is there a midwife in the area to help you?"
Abigail shrugged. "Not really a midwife, but there's a woman who helps people have babies. She just hasn't had any formal training."
"Does that scare you?" Eliza couldn't imagine having a baby without a doctor or midwife right beside her.
"Not really. She's delivered over a hundred babies. I'm sure I'll do fine."
Eliza nodded. She'd still be frightened, but she didn't want to say that. She quickly changed the subject so she wouldn't blurt anything out about it. "Calvin seems to think I'm going to want to fix up the house somehow, but I can't see anything wrong with it. Do you know what he meant?"
Abigail gaped at her in surprise. "I'm sure he meant things like curtains and a table cloth. Your house would be so much prettier that way."
Eliza looked around and noticed for the first time those things weren't there. "Oh. I never thought of that." She'd been surrounded by fine things for so long, she honestly didn't realize they were missing. Traveling from one hotel to another had taught her to appreciate wherever she was for the good qualities, but not to dwell on what was lacking. "I guess I'll need more fabric then, won't I?"
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