Irene (War Brides Book 3)

by Linda Ford

  “Got to watch out for those loose nuts,” Irene muttered.

  Zach gaped at her, a slow smile spreading, deepening until he chuckled low in his chest.

  The glow inside Irene’s chest felt as if she had swallowed the moon.

  He sobered. “I feel bad making you do so much work right off the start.”

  Her smiled dipped a bit at the corners. “I love doing laundry. The steam off the wash water, the smell of soap, hanging out the things, and letting the wind iron them… Then all those clean, sweet piles of clothes.” She sighed. “It’s a satisfying job.”

  He shook his head. “You sure you don’t have a loose nut?”

  She laughed so hard the three of them stared at her. “You think I’m crazy because I like work? Did you not say how much you liked work?”

  His eyebrows questioned her.

  “When I asked you about your likes, you said something about work.”

  “But I’m a man. Work is what I do.”

  “A man.” She choked. “Seems to me work is what most women do as well. What sort of idea do you have about women and work?”

  He turned to look out the window and mumbled, “I thought women preferred other stuff. Like handwork or reading.”

  “I’m sure we do, but that doesn’t mean there’s no enjoyment in plain hard work. Like I said, it’s satisfying.”

  He nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced.

  After breakfast, Irene gathered up mounds of clothes and bedding. She filled the tubs with water.

  “Now, I need someone to churn the washing.”

  “I can.” Harry grabbed the handle. “Aunt Addie let me do this before.”

  “Good. We’ll get a system going. Harry, you do that. I’ll run them through the wringer. Donald, you get a chair, and you can swish the clothes in the rinse water.

  Donald shoved a chair close.

  “We’ll wait until we’re sure these clothes are really clean.”

  Harry churned the clothes, soap frothing the top of the water.

  “Do you think that’s good enough?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Then I’ll wring them.” She used a long wooden spoon to scoop the articles from the hot water to the wringer, grunting as she turned the handle. “Donald, swirl them around good. We’ve got to get all the soapy water out.” Donald plunged his arms in to his elbows, attacking the clothes with the gusto of a baker kneading dough.

  “He’s all wet.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Irene laughed at the pure pleasure on Donald’s face. She would have let him walk in the water with his shoes on for a chance to see that look. “But that’s easy to fix.” She touched the small boy’s shoulder. “Wait a minute, Donald.” He withdrew sharply as if ashamed of his pleasure. “You’re doing a fine job, but it will be more fun if you don’t have to worry about your clothes. Let’s take them off.”

  He lifted his arms immediately.

  Irene gaped. It was the first time she’d seen him actively cooperate in any aspect of dressing or undressing. Complying quickly, she pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the pile. He put one hand on her shoulder to balance as she removed each shoe and sock then pulled his legs out of his trousers. “Now you can splash all you want.”

  He gave her a look as if checking to see if she meant it, then turned back to pumping his arms up and down in the water.

  Irene put more clothes in the washer, and Harry pumped the handle back and forth. Irene slipped away one article at a time from the rinse tub and ran it through the wringer then dropped it into the creaky yellowed basket.

  They settled into a comfortable rhythm.

  “I think it must be time for a song.”

  Harry nodded.

  Donald kept his attention on his task.

  “She’ll be coming round the mountain, she’ll be coming round the mountain…” She sang several verses then stopped. “I need some help with this song. Harry, you must know it. Sing along.”

  He gave her a startled look. At first, she thought he would refuse, then as she sang with loud gusto, his quavering thin voice joined hers.

  Donald paused, a puzzled look on his face as he studied his brother.

  Irene was almost certain she saw the flicker of a smile before Donald turned his attention back to rinsing the clothes.

  “What is this?”

  Irene broke off in the middle of a verse, so startled by Zach’s voice that she almost choked.

  “It looks like you’re trying to drown each other.”

  All three of them stood stock-still, Harry with his hands on the handle, Donald with his arms in water, Irene sure her face registered guilt and shock. Water slopped on the floor, dripping from the tubs.

  They’d been having such a good time she hadn’t given it a thought.

  “We’re doing the laundry,” she announced in a deadpan voice.

  “And singing,” Harry added, equally serious.

  “I noticed. In fact that’s why I’m here. I came to see what the racket was all about.”

  “Racket?” she sputtered. She jammed her hands on her hips, forgetting they dripped. “How do you like that? He calls our singing ‘racket.’ ” She spun on Harry, her lips twitching. “I say, how do you like that?” But she could contain her amusement no longer. She laughed so hard she had to sit down.

  Zach shook his head, looking uncertainly at her. “Sometimes I wonder.”

  “Wonder what?” But she could barely get the words out for the laughter choking her.

  He muttered something about a crazy woman.

  She sobered enough to say, “It’s not crazy to have fun. And we were having a lot of fun. You should hear Harry’s ‘hee-haw’ when she comes round the mountain.” She gave Harry a wink. “Best ‘hee-haw’ I ever heard.”

  “Look at the mess.”

  “It’s water. Besides, the floor could do with a good scrubbing.”

  He continued to give her a measuring look. “Most women would have a fit if someone made such a mess.”

  “I’m guess I’m not most women.”

  “I guess not.”

  She squeezed the last pair of trousers through the wringer. “While you’re here, you might as well help carry the water out.”

  He carried the rinse tub out and dumped it down the hill. She watched the water trail down the grassy slope, wishing there was a rosebush there to enjoy the moisture.

  He drained the washer for her and dumped the water while she hung the clothes, filling the lines. She stepped back, enjoying the way the clothes billowed in the breeze and turned to see Zach watching her with a puzzled look on his face.

  She laughed. “Maybe I’m a bit daft, but I do like to see lines full of clean laundry.”

  He continued to stare.

  “It’s not a crime, you know.”

  He smiled tightly. “I guess not.”

  She snorted. “One would think you’d prefer me to sit and moan about all the work rather than taking pleasure in it.”

  “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “That’s a fact.” She recalled Addie’s words: “Even Zach doesn’t know what Zach wants.” “Thanks for emptying the tubs.”

  He nodded. “Guess I better get back to work. I want to get to the fields by Monday.”

  “And I’d like to get the floor cleaned up before someone comes in and complains about the mess.” She gave him a cheeky grin.

  His smile was lopsided, his expression uncertain. “I wasn’t complaining.” He hesitated. She knew he wanted to say more and waited.

  “I was thinking you would be upset at the boys for making a mess.”

  She touched his arm, wanting nothing more than to chase away his endless worry about the boys. “Zach, if this is going to work, you need to get one thing straight in your mind.” She waited until his dark eyes met hers. “Our marriage included being a mother to these boys. Now I will perhaps never love them as much as their own mother did, but I care about them with my whole heart. I
will never intentionally do anything to hurt them. Indeed, I will do whatever lies within my power to see that they have a good and happy life.”

  She waited as he contemplated her words.

  Finally, he nodded. “I know that. You’ve already proved it.”

  Pleased at his acknowledgment, she smiled. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  His dark gaze drew her in, letting her venture close to his heart, and then he jerked away. “I best be getting back to work.”

  Her thoughts unsettled by his lightning-quick changes, she hurried back to the kitchen.

  She found clean, albeit too small, clothes for Donald. “Now, I want you two to go play outside while I clean up the floor.”

  Donald took Harry’s hand.

  “What things do you like to do outside?”

  “We could go see the kittens.”

  “Your father would approve?”

  Harry nodded. “As long as there are no animals in the barn, we may go out there.”

  “Good.” She had been about to remind Harry to watch his little brother but stopped herself. The warning was as unnecessary as reminding the sun to rise in the east.

  As she scrubbed the floor, her thoughts circled on the strangeness of her situation—married to a man who was not only a stranger, but one who had made it clear he didn’t need a wife as much as he needed a permanent housekeeper and substitute mother for his boys. She smiled as she thought of the boys. Already they had found their way into her heart and were winding themselves around it. Caring for and loving them—caring for the house and taking pleasure in her work should be enough to satisfy anyone.

  She sat back on her heels, pushing the hair from her face, and wondered if it would be enough for her. There was something about Zach that made her long for more. Her cheeks burned as her imagination suddenly landed in the bedroom with Zach beside her in the bed. She ached to be held in his arms.

  She hurried outside to dump the water, acknowledging her need—a need that would not be met. Yet it was better than being an old maid. And she could think of no place she’d rather be.

  After dinner, Zach said, “I’ll be riding over to see the Millers about getting seed wheat.”

  Harry surged forward.

  “There’s no need for you to go, Son. You stay home and have fun with Donald and your new mama.”

  Irene shot Zach a grateful look, knowing he had acknowledged his trust in her.

  Harry opened his mouth to argue, sat back, and nodded. “I ’spect she’ll need my help.”

  Zach met Irene’s gaze above the child’s head. Neither smiled, but something akin to shared joy passed between them. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  Zach paused before he left. “I’ll be back for supper.”

  “Thank you.”

  After he left, she studied the boys.

  They waited with sharp-eyed interest.

  “I can think of a lot of things I need help with, but of course first we have to clean up the dinner dishes.”

  Harry sprang up. “I can help.” He carried his dishes to the counter where hot, soapy dishwater waited.

  Nodding, Donald followed his big brother’s example.

  She washed, letting Donald dip the dishes in clear water to rinse them. Harry dried. And as they worked, she sang.

  “There. That didn’t take long.” She wiped the basin and took the towel from Harry and hung it to dry.

  They waited.

  “How about we do a surprise for your dad?”

  Two heads nodded.

  “Let’s clean all the weeds from the garden.”

  Harry looked doubtful.

  “I think we should pile them up, and then when your daddy comes home, maybe he’ll burn them. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a big bonfire?”

  One little boy smiled; the other looked pleased, his dark eyes gleaming.

  Out in the garden, she surveyed the ruin.

  “Lots of weeds,” Harry commented.

  “Yes, but we can do this if we work together.” She showed them how to break the stalks at the ground. Their piles at each end grew steadily.

  Irene talked as she worked. “When I was a little girl back in England, we had a little kitchen garden out back. A kitchen garden,” she explained, “is where we grew the vegetables and herbs we used in the house. It was a small garden,” she continued, “but I loved it. All the neat little rows… All the fresh little plants pushing upward… Father grew lovely roses in the rose garden. He could never understand how I preferred the kitchen garden to his rose garden. Not that I didn’t like the roses. I did.”

  She grunted as she pulled a tough stalk. “He didn’t understand how I like sturdy, practical things. I liked the idea of something being useful.” She surveyed their work. The bulk of the dried plants had been wrested from the ground. The soil looked rich and productive. “This is a lovely, big spot for a garden.”

  “What will you grow?” Harry asked.

  “Vegetables. Tons of vegetables. Rutabagas, parsnips, string beans, squash, onions, greens, and potatoes. And flowers.” She pointed to the bedroom window. “I’m going to plant sweet peas under the bedroom window so I can smell them every night when I go to sleep. And I’ll plant rows of marigolds and chrysanthemums.”

  She grinned down at the two little faces regarding her with open mouths. “We’ll eat like kings and queens. We’ll dine on the finest of food. And we shall be very happy.” She grabbed the boys’ hands and danced around in a circle, their feet scuffing the dried leaves into powdery dust. “Happy, happy, happy. We’ll be as happy as can be,” she sang as they danced round and round.

  Determined to prove she wasn’t quite crazy, she had the boys washed and dressed in clean clothes when Zach came home. The laundry had been folded, some set aside to iron, and a full meal waited to be served.

  Irene heard the wagon approaching. She checked her reflection in the picture hanging by the pantry. She paid scant attention to the lush English garden beneath the glass, seeking only to assure herself that her hair lay tidy. Her brown hair looked red and green and pink, reflecting back the colors of the garden but she could see the outline well enough to determine she was tidy. In the silver foil edging of the picture, she caught the sight of her eyes, their light brown turned to gray in the silver reflection. She sighed. No point in trying to fool oneself. She had always been plain. All she could aim for now was tidy. Satisfied, she turned away and hustled the boys outside.

  By the time Zach came back from the barn, the three of them waited in a line. Irene checked the boys out of the corner of her eye. They were spotless, straight as soldiers, joined as always by their clasped hands.

  Zach ground to a halt.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Marshall.” She curtsied demurely, keeping her eyes down with what she hoped was the right amount of modesty.

  “Hi, Dad,” Harry said. “She said we should give you a proper welcome to make up for the mess the last couple times you’ve come in.”

  Irene moaned. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that. You were supposed to let him think we could always be like this.”

  “I was? We can?” Harry sounded so deflated that Irene laughed.

  “We could try. I think your father would like that.” She met Zach’s look then, his expression both bemused and bewildered.

  “Could we just do things halfway?” he murmured.

  “Halfway what?”

  “Forget it. I’m beginning to think you wouldn’t know what I mean.”

  She tossed her head back in an airy fashion. “You’re quite right. I don’t intend to live life halfway.”

  “Forget it,” he muttered. “Only the word ‘sedate’ springs to mind.”

  She curtsied again. “But sir, how much more sedate could I be?”

  He relented and grinned. “I think it must have to start on the inside to be truly effective.”

  Harry pushed close to his father. “What’s sedate?”

  Zach gave Ire
ne a long, steady look. “Something I think we have seen the last of.”

  For a heartbeat—a very long, hard, heartbeat—Irene and Zach took stock of each other. Irene, wanting to please, yet only knowing her way of doing things, tried to determine if Zach was truly displeased with her or only feeling a little unsettled by her behavior. But she could not tell what he was thinking. All she knew was his dark, steady gaze had a very unsettling affect on her. Her cheeks grew warm. A tiny pulse beneath her jaw beat with totally unfamiliar strength.

  She turned away, her bearing upright and steady, her emotions under firm control. “Your meal awaits you, kind sir.” She didn’t wait to see if he followed but walked slowly to the house, her steps firm and measured. She had lied to him. She’d said she didn’t intend to live life halfway, but that’s exactly what she was doing. She was half a wife with a heart that didn’t know what it wanted.

  Over supper, Zach turned to the boys and asked, “What did you do all afternoon?”

  Donald turned to Harry. “We cleaned out the garden,” said the older boy.

  Zach dropped his hand to the table. “You what?”

  “Yup,” Harry nodded. “We piled up all the weeds. She says you would let us burn it. We could have a big bonfire.”

  Irene’s heart sank at the dark look on Zach’s face. “I said maybe you’d let them have a fire.”

  His expression did not soften. “I told you I would get to the garden.”

  She stared. “Was I to understand that I was forbidden to do it?”

  “You were not forbidden. But you didn’t need to do it. I would have gotten it cleaned up in plenty of time.” His voice was hard.

  She bowed her head, praying for wisdom. After a second, she lifted her head and faced him squarely. “I’m not sure I know what the problem is. Is it that I did the work? Or that I’ve made you feel guilty?” She rushed on before he could answer. “You need to make clear what things you don’t want me tampering with. I don’t know the rules if you don’t tell me.” She filled her lungs and hurried on. “If I’ve made you feel guilty for some reason, I didn’t intend to. I liked working in the garden. I think the boys enjoyed helping me.” She held up her hands helplessly. “I don’t understand.”