by Becky Lower
Saffron’s gaze darted up from her book, as Grace’s statement startled her. The book fell from her fingers and landed on the floor. “Why would you assume Zeke would leave?”
“He has a farm to run upstate, does he not?”
“Yes, but his father can run it for a while longer. He hasn’t yet brought home his brothers.”
“Things might be different once he gets back home. We may have seen the last of him. I’m only mentioning it as a possibility. Running a farm is a huge undertaking for one man, and Zeke’s help may be needed.”
Saffron’s stomach, which she had settled a few minutes ago, now tied itself up in knots. She had not even considered he would not return.
“Do you agree with Halwyn, then? Do you assume Zeke is not a good match for me?”
Grace leaned between the two seats and clasped Saffron’s hands in hers. “He’s a fine boy, Saffron, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know him. However, he is completely unsuitable for you. He’s used to manual labor, and you are not. Consider what life on a farm would involve for a moment. Take away the fact he’s a good looking man and try to concern yourself with what your daily life would involve if you were to marry him and move upstate.”
Tears filled Saffron’s eyes as she stared at Grace. She’d not given much attention to her life if she were to marry Zeke. She had been far too busy trying to ensure his attention, keeping him away from Suzanne, and enjoying being in the moment with no idea of the future. Their future.
“It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Saffron blinked her tears away.
“Sweetheart, you’d have a very hard life ahead of you if you choose to marry Zeke. Halwyn and I will endeavor to find you someone more suitable in the next few months. Perhaps we can invite some of the single officers to our dinner table, let you get to know them.”
“I have no interest in any men other than Zeke. I think he’s more than suitable, don’t you see?”
Grace shook her head. “Zeke is a handsome man, I’ll agree, but he’s not for you. There’s more to finding a compatible partner than physical appearance.”
“He’s got a good heart. Doesn’t that count?”
Grace squeezed Saffron’s hands. “Of course it does. But it’s not enough to negate the negative aspects of what a life with him would hold. This is different from Ginger and Joseph. They live on a ranch and deal with horses. They have a lot of hands to help them, and I’ve never once in all my visits seen Ginger mucking out a stall.”
Grace released Saffron’s hands and leaned back in her seat. Saffron glanced at her, hoping she was finished. From the gleam in Grace’s eyes, though, Saffron realized she was only getting started. Saffron bounced the back of her head against the seat of the train, closed her eyes and waited for Grace to continue.
“From my limited knowledge of farming, it’s no picnic. You’ll be up at dawn, cooking his breakfast, milking the cows, churning the butter. When he leaves for the fields, you’ll have to get the house clean or do the laundry before you carry lunch to him in whatever part of the farm he’ll be.”
Saffron glanced up. “Surely we can hire someone to help out, can’t we? That’s what Mother does. And Ginger. There’s no reason we can’t.”
“There will be no servants or field hands to help you out. Unless I miss my guess, his farm is totally run by his family. The household, the cooking, the cleaning, laundry, and other chores will be on your shoulders.”
Saffron fisted her hands against her quivering stomach.
“But I can’t cook or milk a cow. Or any of the rest of what you said.”
“Which proves my point, dear. Halwyn is only looking out for you when he says Zeke is not a good fit.”
“But surely, if you love someone, you can make it work, can’t you?”
Grace nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell you what. If you can spend this holiday in the kitchen, helping your mother’s staff put together the big Christmas dinner, I’ll talk to Halwyn about letting you continue to spend time with Zeke.”
“I’ll have to cook?” Saffron had been relishing her upcoming days off from her work with the program. She longed to sleep in a few mornings.
“If Zeke is worth it to you, yes. Learning how to cook will be the first step.”
So it would be a test. And if it would prove to Halwyn and Grace she could handle life as a farmwife, so be it. They’d have the grandest Christmas dinner ever. She clenched her jaw, lifted her chin, and stared straight ahead. She’d enjoy proving them wrong. If only she’d paid better attention when she’d snuck into the kitchen during her childhood, stealing cookies before they were cooled off.
• • •
Tears filled Saffron’s eyes as the carriage ride from the train station came to an end and she stared up at the family brownstone.
“I’ve missed being at home, Mother,” she admitted as she laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “And I’ve missed you.”
“The house has been very lonely without you in it, dear. I’m glad you’re home, even if it’s only for a few days. But let’s not stand here in the cold air. Come, let’s head inside.”
Charlotte Fitzpatrick put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, as if afraid to relinquish her hold on her youngest child. “Halwyn and Grace will take the carriage and head to their own home, but we’ll see them soon. Right now, it’s just your Papa and us. I need to hear everything that’s been going on with you.”
George Fitzpatrick issued some directions to the carriage driver after the servants retrieved Saffron’s bags. He turned to the ladies.
“May I escort the two most beautiful women in New York into the house?”
Saffron giggled as she wrapped her hand around her father’s arm. “We’d love to be escorted by the most handsome man in New York, Papa.”
Within minutes, they were settled into the parlor with cups of hot tea in front of them. Saffron sank into her favorite chair. Nothing had changed in the room–the walls still had the deep burgundy-on-cream flocked wallpaper, the chairs matched the rich red color, the hardwood floors were polished to a shine, capable of reflecting the glow of an evening’s oil lamp.
Her parents were the same as always. Her father’s dark hair might have some more flecks of gray, but he was still a man in command of his environment, and her mother’s blonde curls were askew, as usual. All was familiar, and comforting. If she were to marry Zeke and move to his farm, would she ever see her home or her parents again? The idea of not ever being able to do so brought the tears back into her eyes, and she blinked them away.
Of course she would be able to return! All her other siblings had married and moved away from the family brownstone, yet they all returned when they could. And she’d be able to stay in the same state, at least. The idea cheered her up, and she turned to face her parents.
“It’s so good to be home again, although Washington, DC, has proved to be an exciting place.”
Her mother blinked back her own tears. “I had so hoped you’d be disillusioned by now and tell us you were giving up your job and returning home for good.”
“Now, Charlotte, you can’t hang onto Saffron forever.” George turned his gaze toward Saffron. “Why don’t you tell us about the work you’ve been doing?”
“We got to spend a couple days at one of the battlefields, in Manassas, and were able to test our theories on how best to retrieve the bodies. It was fun to be out in the field, even though our reason for being there was pretty grim.”
Saffron caught her mother’s shudder at the mention of the work, and decided to change the subject.
“I’ve met a boy, Mother.”
Charlotte’s gaze quickly moved from misty to focused. “Really? I had hoped you’d find someone. Tell me about him. Does he live in DC? How old is he?”
Saffron laughed. This was the mother she was used to, not some weepy woman. She was glad she had Zeke to talk about, rather than merely her somewhat gruesome work.
“He lives in upstate New York on his family’s farm. But he los
t four brothers in the war, and he needs to bring their bodies home to bury them on family land.”
“What a horrible chore for the young man.”
“No more horrible than when he had to bury them for the first time.”
“Oh, so he’s a military man? Is he very much older than you? Has Halwyn not been doing his duty in keeping you safe?”
Saffron flipped a hand in the air. “Halwyn’s been doing too good a job of keeping me safe. Zeke is only a year older than me, and he escorted me to my very first dance, right before we left. What should have been a pleasant memory got spoiled by Halwyn’s show of bravado. He threatened to send Zeke home after we’d only been there for one dance.”
Charlotte rose to fill her empty teacup. When she turned back to them, Saffron caught the darted gaze between her mother and father, and her mood sunk. Their conversation would not be as lighthearted as she had anticipated. It was running off into a ditch before her eyes. When her father cleared his throat and glanced at her, she cringed a bit.
“Halwyn wrote to us about your young man and expressed his concerns for you. I somehow got the impression Zeke is older than you are saying he is. But regardless of his age, Halwyn has determined he’s an inappropriate suitor for you. He had hoped we’d be able to talk you out of spending any more time with this young man.”
Saffron rose and began to pace around the room. “Halwyn has no right to interfere with my relationship with Zeke. Nor does Grace. She actually set up some boundaries and hoops for me to jump through to test my seriousness about him. They’re both being most unfair. It should be my decision, and mine alone, as to with whom I choose to spend my time.”
Saffron’s pacing grew more agitated as she stomped around the room. “Grace is even talking about inviting some single military men acquainted with Halwyn over to dinner in the new year, so they can examine me and determine if I’m worthy of spending their precious time on. And all I want to do is spend time with Zeke.”
Charlotte followed her pacing daughter’s movements. “What kind of test measures would Grace impose, for mercy’s sake?”
Saffron turned to her mother. “She told me the life of a farmer’s wife would be a harsh one, and I can’t do any cooking, much less the rest of it. She thinks I should help in the kitchen during the Christmas meal to prove to her I’m serious about Zeke.”
“Well, I won’t have it. You’re family, we’ve missed you, and you’re certainly not spending the meal in the hot kitchen while we eat upstairs.”
“But if I don’t, Grace won’t be in my corner anymore against Halwyn. I’ll need to sit through one dreadful, boring meal after another with what they deem an ‘appropriate’ suitor when we return to DC. I must do as she asks, Mother.”
Charlotte shook her head and clicked her fingernails against her teeth. “And I say no. But maybe there’s a compromise solution. All the desserts and some of the dishes are prepared a day ahead of the actual dinner. You can help out the day before, maybe learn to make a pie. Cook claims your father would be happy with pie at every meal. Would such a plan satisfy Grace’s request?”
Saffron’s stomach unclenched for the first time since her father cleared his throat. She leaned down and hugged her mother. “Working in the kitchen the day before is a brilliant move. Thank you for thinking of it. Zeke loves pie, too. Maybe if I’m successful, Grace and Halwyn will back off and leave me to enjoy my relationship with Zeke.”
“So he works on the family farm upstate. What else can you tell us about him?”
“He’s tall, with broad shoulders, and his hair is darker than mine but still a light color. His eyes are the deepest green I’ve ever seen. And he is fond of me.”
George’s glance moved over his daughter’s face. “How could he not be fond of you? You’ve turned into a lovely young lady, Saffy. But Halwyn gave us the impression Zeke is in his mid-twenties, not just one year older than you. After all, he served in the army during the war, so he must be the age Halwyn says. It bothers me that you think otherwise. I’ll need to ponder it some more.”
Saffron stood and made a grand show of stretching. Then she yawned. “You’d assume a ride on a train wouldn’t wear me out, but I’m exhausted. May we finish our conversation later? I need to take a nap.”
Her mother stood and patted Saffron’s hair in a familiar gesture. “Of course, dear. I should have figured you’d be tired. Your room’s been freshened up for you. We’ll talk more later.”
Saffron kissed both parents before she escaped the room and made her way upstairs. For now, she had sidestepped answering the question about the disparity in Zeke’s age. She’d have to come up with a better answer than avoidance, though. She had a feeling the question wouldn’t go away anytime soon.
And the last thing she wanted was for her family to put together the fact Zeke had been the reason she dashed off on her wild ride, against their directives to stay indoors, on one wonderful, exciting afternoon when she was only fifteen. If they ever pieced together the whole story and realized the peril Zeke had placed her in, he would never be part of her future, only her past.
• • •
Immediately after breakfast the following morning, Saffron donned her oldest day dress and took the stairs to the basement kitchen. She paused at the landing to inhale the scent of bacon, cinnamon, and yeast still hanging in the air.
With a sense of urgency, she moved through the kitchen doors and into the bustling room. The Fitzpatricks’ long-time cook was the first to spy Saffron.
“Oh, it’s so good to have you home, little one.” She wrapped her arms around Saffron’s lithe form.
“It’s good to be home, for even a little while, and to enjoy your food again. You’re well, I take it?” She patted Cook’s broad back.
“Still as plump as a Christmas goose and as sassy as molasses,” Cook replied. “Did you get enough breakfast? Or have you come down here to steal another of your favorite cinnamon rolls?”
Saffron laughed. “I had two of them for breakfast, so no, I don’t need another.” She inhaled a deep breath and continued. “What I do need is some cooking lessons. I hope to work with you today and help you prepare some of the dishes for tomorrow’s feast.”
Cook stared at her for a long moment. “It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”
Saffron could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She’d blame her rise in color on the kitchen’s warmth but the real reason was because Cook had seen through her so quickly. She grabbed a slice of bacon, which was cooling on the counter, and stuffed it into her mouth so she could take a minute before answering.
She glanced at the short, rotund woman beside her, who had been with the household since before Saffron’s birth. Why try to hide the facts from her? She giggled.
“Yes, you’ve cut right to the core of my problem. There is a boy involved, and where he’s from, they don’t employ cooks to get the meals together. So, if I’m to stand a chance with him, I need to learn at least the basics. Can you help me?”
Cook wrapped an ample arm around Saffron’s shoulders. “Yes, of course I can. Anything to help. But while we work, you must tell me about this boy who’s captured your heart.”
“I’ll have no problem talking about Zeke. But can we make a pie?”
“Does your young man have a favorite?”
Saffron pondered the question. “Well, he devoured a slice of pumpkin pie in three bites a few weeks ago. And I’ve seen him gobble up apple pie without seeming to taste it.”
“It so happens we’re making both kinds for tomorrow’s big feast. I’ll teach you how to make pie crust first. I have a secret way of making it so it melts in your mouth. I’ve never shared my recipe with anyone outside the staff here, though, so you must guard it with your life.”
Saffron bounced from one foot to the other. She did so love secrets. “Yes, ma’am. I can’t wait. Tell me the secret!”
“Most folks make their crusts using either lard or butter, but never both. Lard keeps the crust fla
ky, but butter makes it taste divine. I’ve come up with a way to combine butter and lard into one recipe and keep them as cold as they can be while I’m blending the ingredients. Then, when I pop the crust into the oven, the butter and lard melt to create a flaky, tasty crust.”
Saffron’s first tries at rolling a crust were a failure. The dough fell apart in her hands or came out lumpy instead of smooth, and was tossed to the trash bucket. But, on her third attempt, and with Cook checking each step of the process, she succeeded in making the crust for the pumpkin pie. As Cook showed her how to flute the edges of the crust, Saffron laughed. If she could make a pie, she could keep Zeke happy. But, to be on the safe side, she also helped trim the edges from the green beans and snapped them into bite sizes, and cut up and seasoned the day-old bread to use for stuffing the bird.
By the time the day was ended, Saffron had a bit of flour on her cheeks and happy tears in her eyes. She had succeeded and passed the first hurdle Grace had set up for her in her quest to prove Zeke was a good match for her. She’d be certain to point out, after Grace ate the beans, stuffing, and pie, her role in bringing those dishes to the table.
• • •
Zeke couldn’t fathom how quickly his life had changed. The night before Zeke arrived home for the Christmas holiday, his father had been killed in an accident. He’d been struck in the head by a horse’s hoof and died instantly. So, instead of a festive holiday, Zeke and his brother had spent Christmas Eve building a casket for their father. Frederica’s new husband, Levi, helped them dig a grave in the hard, frozen ground. The burial happened the next morning, in a flurry of activity. Zeke hadn’t had time to catch his breath yet.
A few days after the funeral, his mother held a family meeting with Frederica and her husband, along with Gertrude, Hannah, and Isaiah, Zeke’s younger siblings. Zeke reflected a moment on how much the young ones had changed in the few short months he’d been gone. Frederica was now a woman instead of a coltish young thing. And judging from the way she and Levi couldn’t keep their hands off each other, Zeke figured she’d have a child before their one-year anniversary.
