Irene

by Linda Ford

  The table was soon covered by an abundance of food which the women had set out in order—sandwiches and pickles at one end, cakes and desserts at the other. Nearby, a barrel of water awaited the thirsty picnickers.

  The announcer called for people to gather around. He asked Reverend Williams to return thanks and then lines formed to go down the table.

  Zach and Harry appeared at her side.

  “It looks like enough to feed an army,” she whispered.

  Zach looked at her long and hard. “You can’t get used to how much we have, can you?”

  “And to spare,” she whispered. “How blessed we are.”

  “Amen.” The word came from several directions, and Irene jerked around in surprise that so many had overheard and voiced agreement.

  An older couple came up to her. “We lost our son overseas, as did many. May we never see war again.” Somehow they seemed to think that because she was from England, she shared their loss. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Satisfied, they stepped back in line.

  Irene filled her hands with sandwiches, as did Zach and the boys.

  “We’ll come back for cake,” he said.

  Irene grinned. “Or you could stand right here and eat.”

  He grinned. “I tried that one year, but Mrs. Good had her husband remove me. She said it was only fair to give everyone a chance.”

  “How old were you? And don’t tell me it was two years ago.”

  “No. It was probably ten years ago. I wasn’t married yet, and I thought I was a pretty sharp young fellow.”

  They left the table and settled on a grassy spot by themselves. She turned to him, her eyes wide with shock. “You mean you’ve changed your mind?”

  He gave her a wide-eyed look. “I said nothing of the sort.”

  “Ahh. So, still thinking you’re a sharp young man?” She tucked into a roast beef sandwich, suddenly very hungry.

  “Of course not. No, I’m a wise, older fellow.”

  She almost choked on her mouthful as she chortled.

  Pointedly ignoring her, he bit into a thick egg salad sandwich.

  Addie and Pete and several other families joined them, and the conversation turned to other things.

  They lingered over the food, enjoying the company of the others. Irene found the variety of their backgrounds fascinating and the spirit of unity heartwarming.

  As soon as he finished, Harry raced off to join his friends.

  Donald sat between Irene and Zach for a spell, then saw a bug a few feet away and went to investigate. Zach and Irene exchanged warm glances, acknowledging their delight in the bit of independence the move indicated.

  Donald followed the bug a minute then began collecting tiny stones into a pile.

  Another little boy joined him. “Here.” He handed a stone to Donald. Donald pointed at the pile. With the wordless understanding children often had, the other boy nodded and located more stones.

  “Johnny!” a voice screeched.

  The little boy looked up, his face contorted in alarm.

  A large woman plowed toward the pair. Knowing only that she must protect Donald, Irene leapt to her feet.

  The woman reached for Johnny, wrenching his arm as she jerked him to his feet. “You stay away from him. He’s crazy.” She glared at Irene, who stood between her and Donald. “There’s something wrong with the whole family, if you ask me.”

  Irene drew her lips together, facing the large, angry woman without so much as a flicker of her eyelids. “Thank you very much for sharing that, but I don’t remember anyone asking for your opinion.” Donald huddled against her, and she pressed her hands to his shoulders. “I can’t speak for anyone else here, but I for one don’t care for your twisted opinion.”

  The woman blinked furiously, little Johnny still dangling from her grasp. “Well,” she huffed, “what would you expect from someone who would marry a complete stranger?” She churned away. “Probably the only way she could find a husband.”

  “I don’t hear any of those concerned complaining,” Irene murmured in the hollow silence.

  She could feel all eyes on her, but stood ramrod straight, chin high, determined no one would ever guess how the woman’s words had torn at her soul.

  Zach grabbed her by the shoulder and led her back to her place, keeping one arm around her. She pulled Donald into her lap, hugging him tight. “Don’t ever listen to people like that,” she whispered.

  Addie sat on Irene’s other side, her arm joining Zach’s across her shoulder. “Don’t you listen, either. She never says anything nice about people. Besides, she certainly doesn’t speak for the rest of us.”

  Several murmurs of agreement acknowledged Addie’s statement.

  “Thank you.” But Irene kept her face buried in Donald’s hair, wishing she could disappear into the heavens. Or at least return to the sanctuary of home.

  As if reading her thoughts, Zach leaned close and whispered, “We won’t let her think she won by chasing us away.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right. She sat with Addie and her friends and watched the men play a game of baseball, but she had no heart for the activities and was grateful when the sun dipped toward the mountain peaks and Zach called Harry to say they were going home.

  Two tired little boys settled in the back of the wagon, content to lie on their backs and watch the clouds.

  Irene turned inward to her own thoughts.

  Suddenly Zach burst out laughing.

  Irene shot him a startled look.

  “I ’spect that’s the first time anyone has stood up to Mrs. Mould.”

  Irene drew her lips in and turned to stare down the road, but Zach’s laughter was hard to ignore.

  “Boy, did you tell her off.” He laughed some more.

  Irene choked back her annoyance. “Is that all that matters? That someone stood up to old—what’s her name? How about how I felt standing up there to be ridiculed by everyone?”

  He wiped his eyes. “Not everyone,” he said, his voice deep with meaning.

  She looked at him, blinking before the warmth in his eyes.

  He wrapped his hand over her tight fist. “Not me,” he murmured, his gaze reaching into her thoughts and twisting them into a tangle.

  “I know,” she whispered, turning her hand to grasp his. She clung to the look in his eyes, letting him draw her into his world, into his heart.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Suddenly Mrs. Mould’s opinion mattered not a dash.

  He seemed content to hold her hand, and she was ever so glad to let him.

  The boys had fallen asleep by the time they got home. Zach carried Harry, Irene carried Donald, and they tucked them into bed without either of them stirring. Zach and Irene stood between the two cots. She ached for the right to lean back against him. Her nerves knotted when he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I think they had a good time.”

  She nodded, barely able to find her words. “So did I.”

  “Me, too.” His words whispered past her ear. She could taste his breath, and she buried a moan deep inside as the ache to be in his arms choked her.

  She looked down at the boys, afraid to move, wanting this moment to last forever but wanting so much more. She longed to turn into his arms. But she was afraid. What would happen if she ignored her fears and listened to her dreams? She clenched her fists, forcing courage upward. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. She readied herself to turn. Before she could move, he stepped back, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

  “I guess it’s time for us to go to bed, too.”

  Disappointment scraped along her nerves. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of the hard things she’d faced in her life. If I can help amputate a leg or clean gangrenous flesh, I can certainly face this man without pouring my heart out. She forced her rigid self-control into place.

  “Yes. It’s about time.” She waited until he strode into the kitchen before she slippe
d across to the bedroom and hurriedly prepared for bed.

  The room had been dark for an unbearably long time before Zach entered and crawled under the covers. They lay side by side without speaking.

  One thing bothered Irene. “I wish I could have stopped that woman from saying such awful things about Donald. He never misses anything. How must he feel after hearing that?”

  Zach didn’t answer at first. “I don’t know. Just like I don’t know why he’s quit talking.”

  Irene had thought of it often. “Did something unusual happen to him?” She rushed on before he could answer. “I mean besides losing his mother?”

  “Don’t think so.” His voice grew thick with laughter. “And now no one or nothing would dare threaten him. You’d stand up to a she bear to defend him.” He chuckled. “Or Mrs. Mould, the old she bear.”

  “It’s not funny. Children should not have to suffer.” Especially these two whom she loved so much. Her words choked past a clogged throat, ending on a sob.

  “Poor Irene. Hurting for everyone else.” He reached for her in the dark and pulled her into his arms.

  She sniffled, letting him hold her, but not letting herself to melt into his embrace although the ache to do so consumed her insides.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his breath tickling her hair. “It will be all buttons and bows.”

  She giggled as he quoted her and lay her cheek against his arm.

  A cry came from the other bedroom. Zach and Irene leapt to their feet and raced across the hall.

  Harry sat up in bed, breathing in little gulps.

  Irene dropped down beside him, Zach at her side, each wrapping their arms around him. “What’s the matter?” Irene whispered.

  “I had a bad dream,” he gulped.

  “Poor Harry,” she crooned. “What was your dream about?”

  He shuddered. “I kept hearing that mean lady shouting at Donald.” Irene glanced at Zach, barely able to make out his eyes in the darkness. She thought Harry had been too busy playing to notice what had happened with Mrs. Mould.

  “Is it true?” Harry demanded.

  “What, Dear?”

  “Is Donald crazy? Is he?”

  “I certainly don’t think so,” Irene said, her anger against the woman stirring to life.

  “Nor do I,” Zach said.

  “What do you think?” she asked Harry, then felt the tension leave his body.

  “He’s a man of few words.”

  Irene chuckled. “I’m to be quoted by all of you, aren’t I?” She hugged him. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes.” His voice trembled.

  “You go back to bed,” Zach said to Irene. “I’ll lay down with Harry until he settles.”

  She returned to a cold, lonely bed, but she couldn’t be too unhappy about it. After all, Harry needed his father tonight.

  The next morning, Harry trundled out to the kitchen, Donald in tow. Both boys smiled cheerily, seemingly none the worse for the events of the previous day.

  Zach sidled up to her in the pretext of filling his cup with coffee. “What did I say? All buttons and bows.” He gave her a smug grin.

  “I’m glad.” But she turned back to the stove, her thoughts troubled. If only it would be all buttons and bows for her. But every time she felt she and Zach were getting close to some sort of intimacy, they were interrupted. Perhaps Zach preferred it that way. He’d certainly never done or said anything to suggest he’d changed his mind about their marriage of convenience.

  She slammed the lid on the pan unnecessarily hard. There were times she hated that phrase—marriage of convenience. Convenience indeed. It was anything but convenient to be troubled by these longings day and night.

  Lord God, she prayed silently, help me be strong. Help me love without need for it to be returned.

  9

  Spring had blazed into summer. It seemed Zach had no sooner finished the plowing and the seeding than he announced he was taking the mower out to cut hay. Donald and Harry were instructed to stay close to the house.

  “I’ll be in the garden,” Irene said. “There’s a mat of weeds like a carpet out there. I could use a couple of boys to help.”

  And so she set them digging between the potatoes while she hoed and picked along the rows. She straightened, arching her back to ease the kinks. The sun sucked at the ground, so bright it hurt her eyes and so hot the sweat rolled down her back. “Let’s get a cool drink,” she called to the boys. They had long since grown tired of pulling weeds and settled down to play in a shady corner. “Are you building another farm?” It seemed one of their favorite activities.

  Harry scrambled to his feet. “Maybe we should take Dad a drink.”

  “That’s a good idea. The water he took with him will be warm by now.”

  A few minutes later they walked past a wheat field, now green and lush, toward the field where Zach cut hay. The grass lay in a neat, flat carpet. Irene breathed deeply.

  Zach saw them coming and left the mower. “Am I glad to see you,” he called, wiping his face on his sleeve as he headed their direction. “It’s a hot one today.” He downed the water in large gulps. “Thank you.” His eyes reflected back the warmth of the bright sun.

  Irene held his gaze for a moment. Since the day of the picnic, she’d detected a change in his attitude toward her. It seemed he smiled more readily and met her eyes often, holding her gaze until she felt as if their souls were being forged into one. But what made her thoughts rattle about in her head like the boys had thrown in a handful of marbles was the way he casually dropped a hand to her arm, or draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “If I get this up dry, we’ll have plenty of feed for the winter.”

  “How much more do you have to cut?” She looked out over the hay field. How quickly she’d learned the farming routines. Almost as amazing as how quickly and thoroughly she’d fallen in love with him.

  “I should finish cutting tonight.” He picked up a handful from the swath at their feet, squeezed it, then sniffed it. “I’ll be able to start racking right away. See.” He shoved the handful of hay toward her. “Smell it.” Avoiding his eyes lest he guess her thoughts had been on him, she buried her nose in the fragrant grasses. “See how dry it is.” She squeezed it as she had seen him do, her fingers catching on his rough palm.

  He closed his hand around her fist. Startled, she lifted her face and met his luminous look. Her heart tripped into a race. Certain her eyes would give her away, she tried to pull away, but she was trapped. For the life of her she could not tear her gaze from his. “It is as you said one day, we are truly blessed.”

  She could not remember ever saying such, but she would have agreed with anything he said at that moment. “We certainly are,” she murmured, hoping her words didn’t sound as breathless as they felt.

  “You have a bit of hay in your hair.”

  She closed her eyes as he plucked something from above her right eye. The urge to turn her face into his palm and kiss it was so strong she groaned, not certain if she had been successful in restricting the sound to her insides.

  His hand moved.

  Her heart forgot to beat as she caught her breath and waited, but he only picked another blade of grass from behind her ear before he released his grasp on her hand and tossed the handful of hay on the ground.

  “Got to make hay while the sun shines,” he muttered and strode back to the patient horse.

  Irene grabbed up the jar of water and fled back to the house with the boys on her heels. She spent the afternoon tenaciously weeding under the hot sun, hoping the heat and discomfort would absolve her of a desperate longing for something more real from Zach.

  Zach finished the mowing and turned to racking. The long hours he put in away from the house provided Irene with a measure of relief from her errant emotions.

  And then he had to haul the hay home in a rack.

  “Harry can come and drive the horse while I fork up the hay.”

  Harry smiled s
o wide his eyes turned upward at the corners. “I get to help?” And when Zach said yes, Harry’s chest swelled.

  Irene studied the pleased boy. “You’ve been helping all the time, Harry.”

  He grew serious. “Yes, but this is man’s work.”

  Irene laughed. “I see. Of course that makes a vast difference.”

  He nodded. “I get to drive the horse.”

  “So I understand. Have you done so before?”

  “Dad let me drive lots of times, didn’t you, Dad?”

  “A time or two, Son.” Seeing the disappointment on Harry’s face, he added, “But you did just fine. I know you can handle it.”

  Harry strode out after his father, trying desperately to match his steps. Irene smiled.

  Zach took Harry with him several days after that.

  The weather changed abruptly, heavy clouds building over the mountains, a gray, cold wind shivering down the valley.

  Frowning, Zach studied the sky. “I hope I can beat the storm.”

  Harry rose from the supper table. “Not tonight, Son. I’ll manage without you.”

  Irene studied Zach’s face, wondering why he’d instructed Harry to remain at home this evening when he was under pressure to finish.

  Zach returned her look and muttered, “He’s put in a long day already. I don’t want to push the boy.”

  She nodded agreement. Harry seemed content to play with Donald after supper, and Irene settled down with some mending. She checked the sky often. As long as the clouds clung to the mountaintops, the storm would stay in the distance; but if the clouds hurried close, they could expect a drenching.

  A black cloud darkened the room. Lightning rent the skies. Thunder rolled down the valley.

  “Is it going to storm?” Harry asked.

  “It’s a long ways off yet. I’m sure your dad will be home before it gets this far.” Lightning danced back and forth; the noise of empty barrels rolling across the sky echoed through the room.

  A different noise filled the room. Harry’s eyes grew round as saucers; Donald’s face filled with fear. “What was that?”

  Irene shuddered. “I’m not sure.”