by Linda Ford
Zach grinned. “Can’t argue with that. Our stomachs thank you. Don’t they, boys?” His warm words and equally warm smile played havoc with her determination to control the way her heart lurched when he looked at her like that.
The cookies had disappeared. The boys returned to digging in the dirt with sticks, but Zach seemed inclined to linger, twirling a blade of grass in his fingers.
Irene sat toying with her cup, so aware of his nearness that she was unable for the life of her to think of anything to say.
Finally, he pushed to his feet. “The plowing waits.” He paused, waiting until she lifted her face to meet his gaze. “Thank you. I appreciate it. My stomach appreciates it. See you at dinner.”
“Yes.” Even after he turned away, she felt the intensity of his gaze. She waited until he resumed plowing before she called the boys.
That night they lay in bed, Zach on his back, hands behind his head, his elbow tickling her hair. She sensed something bothered him and waited for him to speak.
Finally, he sighed. “I worry about the boys.”
She smiled into the gray light—not quite light, yet not dark enough to totally hide them from each other. She had only to shift her head slightly to see him stretched out beside her, his profile silhouetted against the window. His admission came as no great surprise. “I noticed.”
“Suppose you did. But I mean forever and ever.”
Startled by his words, she turned on her side so she could watch him. “What do you mean?”
“I wonder if they will ever be all right again.” In the darkness, she could not tell his expression, but felt his desperation.
“I remember once when I found a sparrow in the garden,” she said. “I thought it was injured, but perhaps it was more frightened than anything. At any rate, it didn’t have the strength to fly away, and I had no trouble catching the poor little thing.”
He listened intently.
“I took it to the house, wrapped it in cotton, and fed it sugar water with a dropper. Father told me it was wrong to try to tame it. He said to put it outside. The best thing I could do, he said, was put it in a safe place and leave it be so it would get the nerve to fly again. I, of course, would not be persuaded.”
He grunted. “Of course.”
“Just as Father said, the bird died.” She fell silent. After a moment, she sighed and added, “Maybe it would have lived if I’d done as Father suggested.”
“Who knows? But what has that to do with my boys?”
“I was thinking of Donald. I think once he feels safe, he will fly again. Harry, well, Harry I’d like to see a little less serious, but perhaps like father, like son.”
“I wasn’t always so serious.” Zach’s quiet admission startled Irene.
“How were you, then?” She tried to imagine a less serious Zach and failed.
“I liked a good joke. Still do.”
“Yes?”
“And I like to do fun things.”
This new side of Zach intrigued her. “Such as?”
“Things.” His voice turned cold.
She knew the conversation was over, but she wanted to ask what happened to that side of Zach. Only, of course, she knew the answer. Losing a wife had taken the fun from him.
“You’re good for the boys,” Zach mumbled.
“Zach, thank you for saying that.” Her throat tightened. “You don’t know how much it means to me.” She reached for his arm, finding it under the covers. “I want so much to make a difference in their lives.” Her voice dropping to a whisper, she added, “In your life.”
He grunted and turned away. Within moments his breathing deepened.
But Irene lay staring into the dusky shadows for a long time, hugging his words to her. Nothing else mattered but making these boys fly again. Except, a stubborn voice inside her argued, making Zach laugh. She refused to allow her thoughts to wander any further and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.
Zach plowed for several days then started seeding, the discer cutting neat finger tracks through the sod. He worked long hours, leaving as soon as it was light, returning in time for a late supper. Irene began to rise early in order to make his breakfast before he left. The time alone with him held a magical quality as they watched morning dawn.
“It will be a hot one,” Zach announced as the sky shifted from gray to hard blue. “I hope the weather holds until I get the crop in the ground.”
“How much longer?”
“Three more days if the weather holds and the discer doesn’t break.”
“I never realized before how hard a farmer works.” Zach spent long hours in the field no matter how hot or windy. He fell into bed so weary he barely sighed before he fell asleep.
“Got to take advantage of the good weather. Look, there they go.”
Every morning two deer with spotted fawns tiptoeing after them made their way across the valley floor, disappearing like the morning mists into the trees. She leaned forward to get a better view. “I can’t imagine life being much better than this.”
He sat back, studying her narrowly. “This is nothing to write home about.”
Stung by his hard tone, she sat back in her chair. “How can you say that? We have the best view in the world. You said so yourself. The air is sweet and pure. We live in blissful peace. The boys are well and healthy. The farm is productive. Seems to me everything is buttons and bows. What more could you want?”
His dark gaze bored into her. She felt the hunger of her heart answering his demanding look and bit her lower lip. She leaned toward him. His eyes darkened with purpose. He slid his elbows forward. Then as suddenly as slamming a door, his eyes shuttered, and he pushed back from the table. “There’s more,” he muttered, jerking to his feet. He slapped his hat on his head and left.
Irene dropped her head to her hands. How could she have been so naive to think she could marry a man, eat with him, talk with him, sleep beside him, and not end up wanting more from him? Did she think she could lock her emotions in a box?
She didn’t know what she’d thought, but having given her word to enter into a marriage of convenience only, she had no right to ache for more. But all her arguing did not change the way she felt. Despite her promise, despite her resolve, she had grown to love this man. She understood her love would never be returned, would never find satisfaction in the tenderness she ached for.
“Please, God, help me turn my love into acts of service. Help me contain my emotions.”
A chill wind drove Irene and the boys indoors early. Zach had told her at dinner he would not return until he finished. He wanted to finish before the weather turned.
“It’s time for bed,” she told the boys as they hurried in out of the cold.
The boys ground to a halt and stared at her.
“Where’s Dad?” Harry demanded.
“You heard him say he wouldn’t be in until he finished,” she explained patiently.
“Do we have to go to bed before he comes in?”
“Yes, you do.”
Donald stuck his fingers in his mouth and watched his brother.
Harry sighed. “I suppose it’s all right.”
Irene grabbed them in a hug and tickled them. “I suppose it is.”
Donald squirmed out of her reach. She tickled Harry harder as he giggled. She knew he liked it. Often when she stopped, he sidled up to her begging for more. After a minute, she straightened. “If you hurry and get your pajamas on, I’ll read you a new story.”
Harry needed no second invitation and scampered for his room. Irene and Donald followed more slowly. As soon as they were ready, she went to her trunk and found the book she wanted.
“Harry, you climb into bed.” She waited while he obeyed then lay beside him, pulling Donald into the crook of her arm, covering him with a quilt. She paused to stuff some pillows under her head, then she opened the book.
“Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain.”
She read a whole chapter, but when she quit, Harry beg
ged for more. Donald had fallen asleep, and she pulled her arm out from under him, shifting about until she found a comfortable position between the boys.
She read until she was sure Harry had fallen asleep.
She startled when Zach shook her shoulder. She smiled up at him. “You’re back.”
“Shh,” he warned, pointing at the sleeping boys on either side of her. He slipped his arms under Donald and lifted him to his own cot.
She slipped from the bed and stood beside Zach looking down at the children. “So sweet,” she whispered.
He took her by the hand and led her from the room, across the hall to their bedroom where he turned to face her, his expression soft. “Were the boys upset because I wasn’t here to put them to bed?”
She shook her head. “They asked after you but didn’t fuss.”
His eyes grew hard. “Donald never sleeps anywhere but his own cot.”
Unsettled by his shift in mood, she attempted to explain. “He fell asleep while I was reading.”
“Get ready for bed.” He strode from the room.
She hurriedly pulled her clothes off and slipped into her nightgown, then climbed into bed. Knowing Zach would not come to bed until the room was dark, she turned off the lantern without reading her Bible.
He strode in, undressed in the dark, and slipped under the covers, his back to her as he clung to his side of the bed.
“Why are you angry with me?” she asked after a few minutes of stiff silence.
“I’m not.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you opposed Donald sleeping in Harry’s bed.” It seemed unusual, but it was his house and his children, which entitled him to make whatever rules he wished.
“I’m not against it.” He spoke slowly like she was a half-witted child. “But he has not fallen asleep anywhere but his own bed since…” He broke off. When he resumed, his voice was hard as iron. “Since their mother.”
“Oh, I see,” she whispered. And indeed she did. Again she had inadvertently upset the pattern laid down by his first wife. “I told you before I can’t take her place. I can only be me.” She despised the pleading in her voice. She didn’t want to plead. She wanted him to accept her as she was because… She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the truth. She wanted him to accept her because he cared about her. “I’m sorry,” she added, though she couldn’t say if she was sorry for him with his lost dreams, or herself with her hopeless longings. Or the boys who were stuck with two adults who couldn’t even sort their own lives out, let alone help two children do so.
“Leave it be,” he mumbled, already half asleep.
She nodded in the darkness. This was not the time to be trying to sort out the complexity of her role. As sleep claimed her she wondered if there was any way to sort things out so everyone was satisfied.
The next morning, black clouds scudded across the sky, driven before a wind that seemed to come directly from the snow-laden mountains.
“I’ll work the garden this morning,” Zach announced over breakfast. He had given her a measuring look when he first got up, then he settled into his easy, familiar behavior. “If it don’t rain, we might get it planted today.”
“I found a tin of seeds in the pantry, and I’ve brought some with me.” She was willing to let bygones be bygones. Life was too short to harbor ill will.
A little later she heard him behind the house and hurried to the bedroom to watch out the window. Donald and Harry crowded around her. “Now we’ll be able to eat like kings, won’t we?” Harry asked.
She chuckled. “In a little while. It takes time for plants to grow.” She ruffled his hair. “Just like it does boys.”
He stretched to his full height. “See how tall I’m getting.”
She studied him critically. “I believe you’ve grown an inch since I got here. Those pants are way too short for you. We’re going to have to see about finding you more clothes.”
Donald pressed into her leg and she smiled down at him. “Why, look how big you’re getting. And your pants are too small, too.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You two better slow down, or you’ll be right out of your clothes.”
Donald’s eyes sparkled.
Her gaze returned to Zach, her heart swelling with a now-familiar longing.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, unable to tear herself away from studying the man she loved. How many days would she watch him unobserved, loving the way he moved? She bit her bottom lip as she silently answered her question with another. How many days are there in a lifetime? A lifetime of longing and wanting. She straightened. Even though her love would never be returned, there was too much good in life to waste it pining for what could never be.
Zach finished and turned the horse toward the barn.
The house was suddenly small and hot. “Put on your coats,” she told the boys. “We’ll go have a look.”
At the garden, she scooped up a handful of earth and smelled it. So rich and moist. So full of promise. If only my relationship with Zach could be that way, she mused. Instead of written on a heart of stone.
“It worked up good.”
Zach’s voice behind her made her start. Her cheeks warmed to be caught thinking about him, but, she reminded herself, he couldn’t read her thoughts. She forced a deep breath into her trembling insides. “It’s a fine garden spot.”
He stood beside her. “I’m sorry about last night.” His words were low so the boys wouldn’t hear.
She stared straight ahead, not knowing quite what he meant.
“I don’t expect you to be Esther. I don’t even want you to be.”
His admission so surprised her that she spun around and stared at him. The look on his face made her wonder if his admission had shocked him as much as her.
“What do you want?” She hadn’t meant to sound so urgent.
He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and shrugged. “I told you. A housekeeper and someone to care for the boys.” But he sounded more confused than convinced.
She held his gaze, searching it for clues about his feelings and saw only a reflection of her own uncertainty and hesitation.
“If you don’t mind working in the cold—”
“I’ll get the seeds.” She rushed to the house.
A bit later, Irene bent over her row of carrots, sprinkling the seed carefully on the rich soil, raking a covering over. Donald followed her like a shadow.
On the other side of the garden, Zach and Harry planted potatoes.
Working had a leveling affect on her emotions, and she wondered why she worried herself with a desire for more when she already had so much; a lovely home with the best view in the world, two darling little boys, and a big, strong husband. Life was so good.
She began to sing, “I’m always chasing rainbows.” Quietly at first, then as her well-being returned, louder, not caring what Zach would think. When his deep voice joined in, she faltered and spun around to face him.
He leaned on his shovel, grinning as he sang, his eyes dark and teasing.
She remembered his words: I wasn’t always so serious. She faced him across the plowed garden, drinking in the expression in his eyes. She smiled so widely she could hardly sing, and by the time they’d finished the verse, they were both laughing.
Still grinning, he dug the shovel into the soil and waited for Harry to drop in a piece of potato.
Irene turned back to her carrots, feeling lighter in heart than she had in a long time.
By the time they were done, the sun had broken through.
Irene stood beside Zach, looking with satisfaction at the stakes at the end of each row. “We’ll soon be eating like kings,” she said.
When Zach didn’t answer, she turned to look at him, wondering what he was thinking. He stared at the garden, his expression troubled.
She followed his gaze, wondering if she’d forgotten something. But she could see nothing to give him concern. “What’s wrong?”
Slowly he b
rought his gaze to hers, and his expression smoothed. “Nothing,” he muttered.
But she wasn’t convinced. She’d caught a glimpse of something dark and distant in his eyes and guessed he was remembering. Her throat grew tight. It was like fighting a ghost.
At the rattle of an approaching wagon, they both turned toward the house.
“Sounds like company,” he muttered.
“Who could it be?” She looked at her soiled hands and wrinkled her nose. “Is there dirt on my face?”
Zach turned and looked her over. “Here, I’ll get it.” He brushed her cheek.
She pressed her lips together and prayed her eyes wouldn’t give her away.
A slow grin spread across his face. “I’ve made it worse.”
“Fix it,” she urged.
He bent his arm and rubbed at her cheek with his sleeve. His eyes were dark and gleaming. A pulse thudded along his cheekbone.
He lowered his arm, trailing his hand along her cheek, leaving his fingertips resting on her jaw.
She couldn’t move. His touch sent long fingers into her heart and unlocked longings she was trying so hard to suppress.
“Irene, I—”
“Hello, there! The boys said you were out here.” An unfamiliar voice shattered the moment.
Muffling a grunt, Zach spun to face the visitor. “Hello, Fred. How nice of you to visit.”
Irene gathered her exploding senses together and stepped to Zach’s side as he introduced Fred and Dorothy Spinks. “Neighbors to the east,” he explained.
She nodded to the couple, studiously avoiding Zach’s eyes. “Do come in for tea.”
7
“How are you getting on?” Dorothy Spinks perched on the edge of her chair, holding the teacup daintily.
“Fine, thank you.” Irene wondered if someone had told Dorothy extending the little finger as she drank proved her a refined person. She stuck it out with the doggedness of a stubborn argument.
“The boys must be quite a handful.”
Irene smiled. “Harry and Donald? No. They’re both dears.”
Dorothy gave her a narrow-eyed look. “I heard tell Donald doesn’t talk.”
Irene’s smile never faltered though her patience was growing thinner by the minute. “He’s a man of few words.” She wished Zach would come back, but Fred had asked to borrow a piece of leather to fix something or other.
