by Gordon, Rose
“Not to worry, m’dear, when Wes comes to bring us lunch today, I’ll ask him to send George by so I can ask why he hasn’t talked to Jack,” Mrs. Lewis said as she sewed a strand of fine lace around the cuff of a sleeve.
“No, that’s all right,” Ella blurted out, more to save her own pride. “He probably needs more time.”
Mrs. Lewis shrugged and a companionable silence filled the air as the three went about sewing. Mrs. Lewis and Sarah were making dresses, but Ella couldn’t tell what Allison was doing.
“Does Wes know to find you here for lunch, Allison?” Ella asked a few minutes later.
“He always joins me for lunch on Mondays and Thursdays at the Lewises. When he gets there and sees we’re not there, he’ll come over here.”
“Oh.”
The sewing continued.
“That’s a beautiful dress, Mrs. Lewis, is it for a niece?”
The color in Mrs. Lewis’ cheeks heightened. “Yes. Umm, I plan to send it to my niece back in...er...Richmond. Surely she’ll need a new dress for a ball, I should think.”
Allison fought to hide her smile. How strange.
“I’m sure she’ll love it and in such a beautiful, shimmery pink fabric, she’ll command the attention of all the beaus there.” She looked at the one Sarah was working on. It was simpler. Something one might wear every day, rather than to a special event. “Yours is a lovely color, too, Sarah. It’ll look beautiful on you.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said with a slight hitch in her voice.
Once again, Allison had a little smile on her lips.
“Don’t you think she’ll look beautiful in her dress, Allison?” Ella asked, not to make her uncomfortable, but to find out what on earth was going on between these three ladies.
“I think it would look very lovely on Sarah. It’s too bad she made it too small. Again.”
Sarah gasped, then giggled. “I didn’t realize I’d been so obvious.”
“Six such dresses in the past year?” She turned her attention to Mrs. Lewis. “I suspect the first ball that dress will be worn to is the one that will be hosted here in a few weeks.”
Mrs. Lewis started to laugh. “I suppose our secrets are out.”
“What secrets?” Ella asked, confused.
“I cannot sew,” Allison declared proudly. She held up the large piece of cloth in her hands. “This, is a tablecloth. Or it will be once I finish sewing the edges so it doesn’t fray. Even with the patient instruction of these two, this is still all I can master, and when Wes thinks I need a new dress, he bribes one of them to make it for me.” She smiled. “Wes might not know that I know this already, but I think the dress Sarah is working on is supposed to be a new summer dress for me; and the one in Mrs. Lewis’ lap isn’t for her niece to wear to a ball, but what I’ll be wearing to one.”
Ella laughed. “He truly doesn’t know that you know?”
“If he does, he pretends he doesn’t, otherwise I’d have to wear this—” she lifted the tablecloth in her hands— “to the ball or around the fort, and he certainly doesn’t want me to do that.”
“At least not outside of their room,” Mrs. Lewis commented with a wink, causing Allison and Ella to blush and Sarah to giggle.
“Soon, it will be your day,” Mrs. Lewis said to Ella.
“You mean to sew a dress for Allison?”
“No, I meant...er...you’ll know once you’re feeling better and Jack initiates intimacies again,” Mrs. Lewis explained.
A slight level of discomfort came over the room. Ella had a basic idea of what Mrs. Lewis meant, not all of the details, of course, but enough. However, she doubted very much with how things stood between them that he’d ever wish to initiate intimacies with her. She swallowed and sent a pleading glance to Allison to say something to change the subject.
“So do you?” Allison burst out. “Know how to sew, that is?”
“Of course! I can even try to teach you, if you’d like.”
“That’s all right. I think Wes has resigned himself to the fact that I will never learn to sew anything more complex than a lopsided skirt, which is why he continues to ask these ladies to help me.” She flashed a rueful grin. “I did learn to cook, however.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime, I don’t suppose any of you have any spare fabric in a color Allison would like to wear, do you?”
***
The morning passed quickly with sewing and female banter. As lunch neared, Allison helped Ella change her chemise and put on a gown. Her leg was still weak and it was hard for her to stand unsupported, but she was tired of just lying in bed and letting everyone gaze at her buried under the covers.
Though she’d never admit it, she was slightly disappointed when Wes arrived for lunch and Jack wasn’t with him. She shouldn’t have been disappointed. She knew he wasn’t coming, but there was still the touch of sadness that he hadn’t.
The afternoon seemed to go as fast as it took for a cotton plant to bloom. Or in other words: slow.
Around two, Colonel Lewis came to collect his wife and Sarah to escort them back to the cabins of the commanding officers so they could begin dinner for their husbands. Allison had taken that time to run next door and gather the ingredients she’d need for her dinner and offered to make enough for the four of them to dine together. Ella wanted to protest and make dinner for her and Jack herself, but knew she didn’t have either the strength or the ingredients.
Ella looked over at the large bowl of apples which were positioned on the far end of the table. “Do you think it would be too late to make apple pastries?”
“I suppose not,” Allison said. “I’ll have to start on them first, so they’ll have plenty of time to cool.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that I expected you to make them. You’re making dinner. I’ll make the pastries.”
Allison bit her lip. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“Of course.” Ella placed her hands on the back of the chair for support and stood. She stilled a moment to find her balance. Though her leg didn’t throb or cripple her with sharp pain, there was still a dull ache that surrounded her wound and was especially strong when she tried to use her leg. She assumed that was from the damaged muscles trying to work.
“Why don’t you sit and I’ll gather the supplies,” Allison offered.
Ella blushed but didn’t argue. She sat down at the table and rattled off a list of things she’d need.
“You chose well,” Allison murmured.
“Oh, you mean because of the apples that grow around here this time of the year?”
“No, I mean with Jack,” Allison clarified, laying all of Ella’s desired ingredients on the table. “He had every single thing you needed.”
Ella paused in her reach for the flour. Allison was right. She had chosen well, but more than anything, she wished he felt the same way about his choice. She dipped her measuring cup into the flour and willed those black thoughts from her mind. It was her own fault that he regretted his choice, and it was now up to her to convince him he hadn’t been wrong to choose her.
~Chapter Twenty-Four~
If Jack’s stomach had a mind of its own, it would undoubtedly believe that Jack’s throat had been closed off, making it impossible to eat. Breakfast had consisted of a handful of nuts and an apple, and he’d missed lunch entirely when a scuffle between his men had to be settled. Such a small amount of breakfast wasn’t enough sustenance for a man of his size or physical exertion.
Unfortunately, he had another hour before he’d be off work and could go have a snack before dinner.
Conjuring up thoughts of the most vile, inedible dishes he’d ever been served to stave off his hunger, he began to fill out the last bit of paperwork on his desk.
The distinct sound of a metal fork scraping against a tin plate rent the air, sending the hair on the back of Jack’s neck straight up and making his stomach clench.
“Mmmm,” Gray sa
id, licking his lips.
Jack stared at the infuriating man from across his desk. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying an afternoon treat,” he said in a tone that would suggest innocence, though they both knew Gray was never innocent of anything. He took another slow, agonizing bite.
“Why must you torture me?”
“I’m not. I’m just enjoying a pastry. Apple, your favorite.” Gray took another bite. One so small, he’d bet a mouse could have consumed more in one such nibble. “Last piece, too.”
“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
Gray shrugged and kept eating. “I’d offer you some, but since you ate all of mine last time—” He shrugged again.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to hold a grudge?” Jack mumbled then returned to his work.
For some reason, the room suddenly seemed very quiet. While Gray had no problem teasing and joking and saying whatever comment first entered his mind, the more absurd and taboo, the better, there were several things about himself he never spoke of. Ever. One such topic was his past. There was speculation, of course, but that’s all it was, because nobody dared asked, and he never seemed to volunteer anything.
“Actually,” Gray said in a low, nearly inaudible tone. “My ma taught me many things, but not holding a grudge wasn’t one of them.” He gave a careless shrug and grinned. “Neither was sharing.” He took another bite. “Besides, Ella didn’t say I had to share.”
Jack snapped his head up with such vigor he thought he pulled a muscle in his neck. “What did you just say?”
Gray stuffed another bite into his mouth and chewed with deliberate slowness; the corners of his eyes crinkling in merriment despite Jack’s stare. He finished his bite and brought his fork back to the pastry. “Ella gave it to me,” he said simply, breaking off another piece.
Jack reached out and grabbed Gray’s wrist, stopping him from eating any more of his pastry. “Why?”
Gray pulled his hand free of Jack’s grasp. “Because I was the one who was there.”
“Where?” Jack said between clenched teeth.
“Your room.” At Jack’s scowl, Gray’s smile grew. “One of my men sliced his leg open while being a fool with his bayonet. Wes suggested that I use some of the ointment from Dark Moon instead of sending him to the medic. When I went to your room to get it, I asked Ella about the pastries that were cooling in the window and she said I could have one.”
“Did she send one for me?” The words were out before he could stop them, and it had nothing to do with his stomach nearly eating itself. He wanted to know if she’d softened toward him any.
“Well,” Gray drawled. “That’s a funny story...” He put the fork to his mouth and licked off the apple filling. “She did give me two—and said one was for you. But, since you ate my last pastry, I thought I’d just eat yours this time and even up the score.”
Elation shot through Jack. He couldn’t care less that Gray had eaten both of their pastries, at least she’d thought to send one.
He jumped to his feet and quickly straightened the papers on his desk.
Across from him, Gray said something, but Jack didn’t bother to listen. His interest in Gray wasn’t very high at the moment. His interest in Ella, however, was. He finished tiding up, then snatched his plate from Gray’s hold and strode for the door.
He slowed his steps as he got close to his room so not to appear impatient. Then, with a light knock first to let them know he was about to enter, he unlocked the door and walked inside. Then froze.
The aroma of fresh baked bread, beefsteak, potatoes and apple pastries permeated the air so completely that he almost thought he’d get full just by breathing it all in. Almost. At the table, Allison and Ella sat looking at him.
He shifted uncomfortably and set the plate on the dresser. He hadn’t thought about how uncomfortable it’d be to enter after what had happened yesterday. He cleared his throat and removed his shako from his head. “It smells good, ladies.” He set his hat down and quickly removed his coatee.
“Let’s just hope it tastes good, too,” Allison said, getting up. “Here, why don’t you sit down here and I’ll go check on the food.”
Jack followed her order and sat down across from Ella, then grinned. “You have a bit of flour—” He reached forward and used his fingertips to brush off the flour that had gotten onto her forehead and cheeks, marveling at the way she blushed when he did so. “There.”
“Thank you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She reached for a lock of her fallen hair and twisted it around her forefinger. “How was work?”
“Good. Life in the west is hard for an army officer. Today I managed to get a paper cut on just about every one of my fingers.” He turned his hands over so he could examine the pads of his fingers. “All but two, it looks like.”
“Wes said you had a stack of paperwork on your desk as high as the watchtower,” Allison commented.
“I did,” Jack agreed. “Fortunately, I finished the last of it this afternoon, and tomorrow, my biggest threat of injury will be being stung by a bee or shot by one of my own men.”
Ella’s eyes went wide. “Surely they’re not all bad shots or careless.”
“No,” Jack agreed. “Not all of them are. But it only takes one.”
“Well, I don’t think—” She pursed her lips together.
“Don’t think what?” Jack prompted.
Ella flushed. “I was just thinking that I don’t think they should allow men who cannot properly handle their weapons to join the army. Or at least be given a post. It’s dangerous.”
“It is,” he agreed. “But, I didn’t know how to handle a weapon when I first started, either.” She bit her lip at his words, and he reached forward for her hand, hoping to assure her that he’d taken no offense at her observation. “It’s not always easy to handle some of the weapons we’re issued. The army decides on new weapons every few years, and while some of the old ones are still used, they want the men to learn to use the new ones. Their initial training only covers how to shoot the newest rifle at the time, which may or may not even be what we use out here.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you might remember how long it took for supplies to get to you when you were living at a fort, but I assure you, it takes much longer out here.”
She nodded her head, her eyes still slightly downcast and her teeth were still worrying her lip.
Regret stabbed at him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like a fool or belittle her opinion. He just wanted to explain it. “Your pastries look good,” he blurted with a grin.
She gave him a queer look. “Did you happen to see Gray this afternoon?”
Right. She’d sent him a pastry, too, likely expecting that he’d eaten it. “I did, but he ate mine for me.”
Her face fell slightly, and then she forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think that you might not like them.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you even like sweets?”
“I do. And I’m sure I’ll love your pastries.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Apple filling is my favorite.”
“Then why did you let Gray eat it?”
“I didn’t,” he said, twisting his lips into what he hoped she’d know was a lighthearted snarl. “Almost two weeks ago, we had pastries at dinner—a real rarity around here, believe me—and apparently Gray was saving his. But he picked the wrong place to store it...and well...I’m sure you can guess the rest.”
The left corner of her mouth tipped up into a hint of a smile. “So he ate yours today?”
“Yes.” Jack scowled. “Right in front of me, too.”
A peal of giggles filled the room and a broad grin, he’d only glimpsed once before, crossed her lips, making it worth the agony of watching Gray enjoy his wife’s pastry. “Well, then, I suppose that justice has been served and you shall get one of these.” She reached over where he was still holding her hand and picked up the platter of pastries, which were beckoning for him to
devour them. “But, not until you eat all of your dinner.” She licked her index finger, then pressed it to the plate and slid it around until she’d collected a good bit of crumbs from the flakey crust. Then the minx lifted it to her lips, and with a slowness that could be nothing other than deliberate, she slid it past her lips and sucked off the crumbs.
Desire coiled in his stomach and his rod hardened with an urgency he’d never experienced before. Wonderful. They were about to have dinner guests and he had a throbbing erection. He started. Dinner guests. He slowly moved his head to look over his shoulder to where Allison was tending to the food in the fire. “Wes should be joining us soon.” He winced at the raggedness of his voice, then turned back to face Ella. “I’ll just put these back over here so they’re out of the way.” He winked at her. “They’re very tempting so close.”
Ella nodded slowly but didn’t say anything.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Wes said as he entered the room. He walked over to where his wife stood and kissed her. “It looks good, Allison.”
“I can’t take full credit. Ella gave me the recipe and made pastries.”
“Those look heavenly,” Wes said, rubbing his stomach.
“Well, you’ll have to ask Jack if he’ll spare you one. Apparently, he’s had to sacrifice two already and he might not wish to let you have one when we leave.”
“When we leave?” Wes asked, taking the words straight from Jack’s mouth.
Allison removed the iron skillet from the fire and set it down on top of the folded rag in the middle of the table. “You didn’t think we were going to eat in here and get crumbs all over their bed did you?”
“Well, no, I’d planned to get them only on Jack’s side,” Wes said with a grin.
“Take the pastry,” Jack said, casting Allison a grateful look for her scheme to give him and Ella time alone. She didn’t have to. They had plenty of room if Wes went next door for two more chairs, and they all knew that.
Allison winked at him, quickly made up plates for her and Wes, and then they left, leaving Jack and Ella alone. Suddenly, it felt strangely similar to the time he’d asked Anna Marie if she’d meet him in the dining room of the Plaza hotel and they had dinner together. Except, this wasn’t some secret meeting between two people who were vaguely interested in each other and were trying to steal away to see the other by dressing up and pretending to already be married. He and Ella were married, and though he’d spent just as much time in her conscious company as he had in Anna Marie’s, he knew his interest in her was nowhere as mild as his interest in Anna Marie had been.
