by Carla Kelly
Nebraska Territory—June 1865
How does a man go about introducing himself to the woman of his dreams without making the situation excruciatingly awkward? Gregory Reeves had pondered that question across five states. As near as he could tell, the feat was impossible.
He’d begun tackling the problem by rehearsing a direct approach. “Good day, Miss Bowen. I am Gregory Reeves, and I am relatively sure I am in love with you.” Somehow that was both awkward and unintentionally insulting.
He’d practiced a more subtle approach as well. “I am Gregory Reeves, and I know you rather well, though we have never met.” That had far too ominous a ring to it.
“Your late brother was a friend of mine who read me your letters. I grew quite fond of you and have now come to fulfill a promise I made to him before he died. Also, I’ve come to care for you deeply.” That speech had the benefit of being truthful with the enormous drawback of dredging up her very personal loss, his nosiness at having read her letters, and the decidedly uncomfortable revelation that he’d fallen in love with her without having ever met her.
He stood on a dirt path running past the humble farm he’d been told belonged to the Bowen family, feeling like a complete fool. He’d had a month to sort out what he meant to say but still didn’t know. Yet he couldn’t simply turn around and leave.
“Gregory, I need you to promise me,” Josiah Bowen had said the night before the Battle of Antietam, “that if I don’t live to see the end of this war and you do, that you’ll look in on Ma and Helene. They’re on their own, you know. I’m afraid for them.”
Josiah had very nearly survived. Only one more month, and he would have been on his way home to his family. Instead, Gregory stood on the road in his place.
“I could always tell her the bit about her brother and the promise I made without admitting to all the rest.”
He’d taken to talking with himself during the arduous journey to Nebraska. There’d been no one else to keep company with. He’d actually found himself to be decent company, which made him suspect he’d spent too much time alone.
Gregory brushed at the dust covering his Union uniform. He wished he’d had the time or money to purchase some new clothes. He looked as tired and raggedy as he felt, and that likely wouldn’t do his cause a bit of good. He was a stranger to these people, and he was showing up at their door looking like a vagabond. They might simply bolt the door and pretend they’d never seen him.
Putting off the inevitable was the coward’s way out. Gregory was a lot of things, not all of them positive, but he was no coward. He marched up to the porch and rapped soundly on the door. As he waited, he took a moment to look things over. The house didn’t appear neglected, but it clearly could use a bit of work. The porch posts needed sanding. A few of the floorboards appeared loose. The whole place needed a fresh coat of paint. Gregory could see to all of that, though without money in his pocket, he’d have to find creative ways to pay for the improvements.
He raised his fist to knock again but stopped with his hand midair when the door pulled open. The sight that met him drained the air from his lungs— a woman stood, watching him. Her golden hair sat in a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her light-blue eyes shone with intelligence. She had Josiah’s fair coloring and assessing air, with an undeniable femininity. For a moment, he forgot how shabby he looked and simply stared. This was Helene, the woman whose letters had captured his heart.
“Well, now, it’s past time for you to have shown up,” Helene declared firmly.
“It is?” Gregory could hardly have been more confused. He hadn’t sent word ahead. She couldn’t possibly have been expecting him.
“Come on, then.” She stepped through the door and out onto the porch. “I’ll show you where to get started.”
“Where to get started?” He watched her continue past him and down to the ground out front. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined over the past two years. Coming face to face with her tied his tongue hopelessly.
She looked back, a bit of impatience in her expression. “There’s plenty to be done, and you’re late.”
Gregory couldn’t manage any words. Something in the firmness of her tone and the unyielding nature of her posture had him simply following after her.
“The ladder is just inside the barn,” Helene said, motioning toward that very building. “The gutters need cleaning out. When you’ve finished with that, several of the eaves have come loose and need to be nailed back in place. You’ll find a hammer and a bag of nails in the barn as well.”
He was happy to help, but he couldn’t at all make sense of the situation. She seemed to have been anticipating his arrival, which wasn’t at all possible. Only Josiah would have guessed at his destination, but neither of them had discussed the agreement since that long-ago battle. Gregory doubted Josiah had mentioned it to his family.
“That ought to keep you busy for the remainder of the day,” Helene said. “I’ll call you in when it’s time for dinner.”
“I think there’s been a mistake, Miss—”
“The only mistake I am worried about is hiring you to do work around here, as you don’t seem inclined to get at it.” She held his gaze without a hint of uncertainty. She was clearly no wilting flower in need of rescuing. “Must I find someone else?”
He shook his head mutely. He didn’t at all want to be sent off when he’d only just arrived.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
Somehow his name emerged almost as a question. “Gregory.” She’d thrown him so entirely for a loop, he couldn’t quite piece words together.
She gave a quick nod. “Do your work quickly and well and you’ll have plenty of time to settle in after dinner before it grows dark.”
“Yes’m.”
Helene’s determination, combined with his own fumbling feelings, rendered him rather useless. He really ought to explain who he was and why he’d come, but his heart was pounding too hard in his mind for any thoughts to form. He’d kept his wits through some of the worst battles of the Civil War but had fallen apart under the assessing gaze of Helene Bowen.
She turned toward the house but didn’t take more than a few steps before stopping and looking at him once more. Though her shoulders remained squared and her expression stayed every bit as firm, something in her eyes had softened.
“I can see by your uniform that you served during our long years of war.”
“I did, ma’am,” he answered.
“I know this job won’t pay anything beyond a place in the barn and food to eat, and I’m sorry for that,” she said. “Those who fought to keep our union strong deserve better than that, and I hope you’ll find it.”
In that moment, he realized two things. She had mistaken him for a hired hand she’d apparently arranged for, and, beneath her demanding exterior, Helene was every bit as good as he’d believed her to be.
As it so often did, embarrassment paralyzed his mouth. Only a nod emerged in response to her kind words. She gave him a quick, small smile, sending his heart soaring.
Quick as that, she returned to the house, and he was left standing in the yard, trying to decide what to do. He couldn’t simply leave. He’d not yet fulfilled his promise to Josiah. More compelling still, he wasn’t ready to give up on his goal of getting to know Helene better.
He’d vowed to help the Bowens, so he’d do just that, starting with the gutters and eaves. Then he’d find out what else needed doing and do it. Should the man originally hired come around, Gregory would simply send him off. If Helene needed a hand around the place, he’d offer his own. And somehow along the way, he’d find the means of making a good impression on the woman who’d long since found her way into his heart.
Chapter Two
Helene pushed the kitchen door closed and stood there a moment, attempting to catch her breath. The man whom her neighbor’s aunt’s neighbor had recommended had been described as a hard worker and a trustworthy one, a man she needn’t feel ner
vous to have about the place. She’d known little else about him.
This Gregory was tall. His shoulders filled out his uniform. Though his thick, unkempt whiskers and dirty, heavily worn clothes gave him the look of a drifter, his eyes were sharp, with unmistakable intelligence, and his posture was anything but threatening. And, yet, there was something about him that made her just a bit jumpy, though not in a fearful way.
She looked out the curtained window, eying Gregory as he stepped from the barn with the ladder under his arm. He’d set straight to his chores, which was a good sign. He might not have looked the way she’d expected, but he was doing the work. By the look of his uniform, he’d seen a great deal of battle. Josiah’s clothes had likely been just as stained and ragged. Helene’s heart dropped at the thought of her dear brother. She hoped his passing had been quick, that he’d not suffered long.
But it wasn’t her sadness over Josiah that still had her worried most, but her mother’s. Helene pulled the curtains closed, then moved from room to room doing the same in each. After two months of supporting her mother against the weight of grief and loss, she didn’t dare risk the sight of an army uniform sending Mother right back to the pit of despair.
“Who’s that man behind the house, Miss Helene?” Bianca asked as she stepped into the kitchen. The girl fiddled with the ribbon tied in a bow on the end of her long braid. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“His name is Gregory, and he’s been hired on to do a bit of work.”
Bianca was apparently satisfied with that answer. She climbed onto the stool at the counter and began peeling carrots. In the six months since Bianca and her brother Liam had come to live with them after the death of their parents, both children had done any work asked of them without complaint. Helene was grateful for that. It was no secret that she and Mother had taken the orphans in because the house was in need of some extra hands. She despised how heartless it sounded, but she couldn’t deny the truth of the reasoning. Had the children resented the motivation behind their acceptance, her guilt would have grown tenfold.
“Is Liam still pulling weeds in the garden?” she asked Bianca.
“Yes, Miss Helene. And once he’s done, he’ll bring in the string beans from the cellar like you asked.”
She watched Bianca work, wondering for perhaps the hundredth time if there was something she might do to help the children feel a little more at home. Their parents had died only a half year earlier, and grief still hung heavy in the children’s eyes. She didn’t mean to replace their family by any means, but neither did she want them to feel like mere guests or worse yet, hired hands.
Pounding echoed from outside the house, no doubt Gregory beginning the repairs.
Bianca paused in her peeling. “What’s Mr. Gregory doing out there?”
“Cleaning gutters and securing the loose eaves.” She dropped the sliced carrots into the pot of simmering broth then fetched a few potatoes and set to peeling them. “Tomorrow we’ll find something else for him to do.”
“He’s coming back?”
Helene nodded. “We’ve hired him on for the rest of the summer.”
“I didn’t see him ’cept at a fair distance,” Bianca said. “Is he handsome?”
Helene gave the question a moment’s thought. “I couldn’t really tell, honestly. He has such thick whiskers…”
“And such thick dirt,” Bianca added with a dimpled grin.
“Exactly. Perhaps underneath all of that, he is quite devastatingly handsome.”
Bianca sighed. “Wouldn’t that be quite the thing? A handsome prince in disguise.”
Helene remembered all too well the tendency she’d had at Bianca’s age to dream of such things. She was grateful Bianca had retained that innocence despite the difficulties she’d already endured in her life. “Mr. Gregory may very well be handsome, but I am almost certain he isn’t a prince.”
“No. He’s a soldier.” Bianca’s brow pulled in thought. “I hope Mrs. Bowen don’t see his uniform. Soldiers always make her cry.”
“Let us hold our breath and cross our fingers and pray a bit that Mrs. Bowen doesn’t peek outside.” Helene had been doing all three ever since opening the front door and finding a soldier standing there.
“I don’t want her to be sad,” Bianca said. “She is always so kind to me.”
Helene gave the girl a grateful smile, having learned early on that Bianca didn’t care to be hugged.
Liam came in the back door. “There’s a man pounding nails into the eaves,” he announced as he set a small basket of string beans on the counter near Helene.
“He’s Mr. Gregory,” Bianca said. “He’s been hired on to do chores around here.”
Liam turned accusatory eyes on Helene. “I done the chores you asked me, and I can do more, too. You needn’t pay someone to do work; you’ve got me.”
“And I am infinitely grateful for both you and Bianca,” Helene assured him. “You are already working very hard and doing so very much. And I will need your help, along with his, in the fields as harvest grows nearer. Having a hired man is in no way a sign that I don’t think you capable, only that this farm is larger than you and I can work on our own.”
Liam’s pride still appeared to be a bit wounded. Helene didn’t know how to convince him that his tireless labor over the past six months was enough.
“I’ve not given any of your chores to Mr. Gregory,” Helene said, “as I know you’ll see to them. He’s taking on the odd handful of things neither you nor I are responsible for but that need doing.”
Liam nodded and looked at least somewhat appeased. “He’s a soldier, you know. Mrs. Bowen won’t like that.”
Helene stirred the simmering soup. “I’ll ask him to wear something other than his uniform tomorrow. With any luck, Mrs. Bowen won’t spot him today.”
Liam returned to his chores shortly after that. Bianca remained in the kitchen helping Helene with dinner preparations. Bianca had been quiet and withdrawn when she’d first come to live with them, but she’d since grown more comfortable. She was a regular chatterbox now.
The remainder of the late afternoon passed against a backdrop of pounding nails. Helene looked out the windows now and then, and never once saw Gregory lazing about.
Not long before dinner time, Mother descended the stairs. “Liam has been nonstop at whatever he’s pounding on out there.” She rubbed at her temples as she spoke.
Helene regretted her mother’s headache but breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that she hadn’t peeked outside and seen the soldier working on the house.
“The work will be done in but a moment,” she promised her mother. “And most of it is being done at the back of the house. The front parlor will be relatively quiet.”
Mother nodded and moved in that direction.
“Go see if you can lift her spirits a bit,” Helene said to Bianca. “She looks a bit frazzled.”
Bianca hopped off the stool in front of the sink and dried her hands on a rag. “And I won’t tell her the man’s a soldier,” she promised.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
Mother was exceptionally fond of Bianca, and the dear girl rather idolized Mother. Helene needn’t worry about either one when they were in each other’s company. She slipped out the back door to the porch, looking around for Gregory. He was not far off, standing atop the ladder, sweeping out a gutter.
“Mr. Gregory,” she called out.
He came down the rungs as she approached. “Just ‘Gregory’ will be fine, Miss Bowen,” he said.
She nodded her agreement. “Dinner is ready. I’ll dish some out for you while you put the ladder and such away.”
He hesitated. “I haven’t finished all the work you gave me. Not for lack of trying, I promise you. There were a great many more loose eaves than you likely realized.”
She waved off his apologetic declaration. “I know you worked hard. You can pick up where you left off tomorrow.”
“Yes’m.”
She met his gaze and was struck by how very fine his eyes were. Beyond that, there was a sincerity in them that put her instantly at ease, something she was not at all accustomed to. Living alone, other than her mother, had taught her to treat strangers with wariness and to watch closely for any signs they weren’t trustworthy. But Gregory gave her no such worries.
“I hope this request won’t sound too presumptuous.” She pulled her shawl more closely around her shoulders, trying to block the fierce wind.
“You won’t know if you don’t ask.” The response was both teasing and entirely sincere.
“I wondered if you might be willing to not wear your uniform tomorrow.”
He looked surprised but not offended. What a relief to know he didn’t immediately assume the worst. “It’s all the clothing I have.”
“Well, that does leave us with something of a predicament. You see, my brother fought for the Union, and he did not survive the war.” She made the explanation quickly, not entirely trusting the steadiness of her emotions connected to Josiah’s death. “My mother’s grief is still very raw, and I worry that her seeing your uniform would be a painful reminder for her.”
Even beneath his thick whiskers and dirt, she could see empathy pulling at his features. “If I am making difficulties for you, I will understand. If you’d rather I go—”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” She set her hand on his arm, intending to add emphasis to her words. But the connection set her heart to a quick staccato rhythm. She snatched her hand back, confused at the unexpected frisson of awareness. After all, she didn’t even know this man.
“Then I’ll try to think of a way to not upset your mother with my appearance,” Gregory said. “And I’ll put these things away as you requested, as well as thank you for the meal.”
She smiled a bit. “Perhaps you ought to hold off thanking me until you’ve tasted it. You may consider yourself ill paid for your labor.”
