How could she know?
Ike came in bearing a bushel of apples. “From Uncle Ed,” he announced, setting down the basket and then sprawling into a chair. He laughed. “I got away easy this time.”
Ellie tilted her head, wondering about this Uncle Ed. From people’s comments, he seemed rather fond of apples. “Should we make a pie?” she asked. “I’ve never done that.”
Never done it particularly successfully, she amended.
Ike nodded. “We could at that. Make a fine finale for a dinner tonight—and it’s my turn.”
“I’ll help you,” Ellie said, then added suddenly, “…if you’ll help me.”
Ike’s eyes widened with interest. Especially when Ellie pulled up a chair close to him. “What do you need?”
“I’m trying to find out something about a woman I saw in town…a woman named Clara Trilby.”
At the mention of the name, Ike flapped his hands for her to lower her voice. “Shhhh! You want to bring the roof down over our heads?” He leaned closer to her, his grizzled face tensed in warning. “Whatever you do, don’t mention that name around here!”
Ellie was shocked. “Why on earth not?”
“Because that gal’s been the source of misery here for a year! And it’s especially bad with winter coming on.” Ike’s voice dropped in volume until it was barely audible. “Haven’t you heard the moaning?”
So that was it! Ellie straightened, shocked. That strange, heartrending sound that she’d been hearing wasn’t just her imagination. And no wonder Parker had looked so sour when she’d asked him about Clara Trilby. The woman had broken his heart, no doubt…betrayed him with his own brother. And no wonder Roy had seemed so long-suffering as the woman had clung to him.
She frowned. But Roy…why was he kissing her one day and then running off to meet Clara Trilby two days later?
She cleared her throat, daring only to ask one question more of Ike. “Roy…?”
His face clouded in warning. “Roy especially doesn’t want her name spoken here.”
Ellie’s heart wrenched painfully. That was it, then. She’d stepped into a gothic novel worthy of the Brontë sisters, complete with tragic love affairs, jealousy, and a mysterious mother who vanished and then reappeared. And at the center of it all was a brooding, handsome man who, despite everything, seemed to have her completely enthralled.
Chapter Nine
It was Roy’s night to sleep out in the barn with Ike, and as if the cold and Ike’s earsplitting snoring weren’t enough to contend with, he just plain couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress in an agony of wakefulness till he was exhausted.
But even though he was exhausted, he still couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Ellie as she’d been that afternoon, practically sitting on Parker’s lap! The second she’d heard the door open and seen him standing there, she’d vaulted away from his brother and gaped up at Roy like a child who’d been caught with her finger in the pie. If guilt had a face, it could have been either hers or Parker’s.
What had they been doing? Talking lovey-dovey?
Kissing? Ellie hadn’t seemed so pleased to be kissed by him the day before yesterday!
The thought provoked him more than it should have. Here he’d been out doing his level best to get Parker sidetracked, and all he’d actually wound up doing was giving Parker more time alone with Ellie.
Now Roy was stuck with more aggravation than one man could dig himself out of—a big lump of it coming from Clara Trilby. That infernal woman had nearly suffered a nervous collapse when Parker didn’t show up at the pond today, and she’d spent a half-hour crying into Roy’s lapels, which in his estimation was about twenty-nine minutes too many.
What was the matter with his brother? Couldn’t he see that there was a woman eating her heart out for him? Granted, she was an annoying woman, but heck, last winter Parker had been eating his heart out for her. Not to mention the moaning had started up again. He didn’t know how a man could moan about one woman at the same time he was kissing another.
He needed to do more than keep an eye on Parker. He needed to make certain that Parker and Ellie weren’t left alone in a room again. If anyone was going to be kissing Ellie in this house, it was going to be him.
He flopped over on his stiff bed, suddenly consumed with another worry. What if Ellie preferred Parker? What if companionability had turned into something very serious in the short time it had taken him to be mauled by Clara at the lake?
Horrible thought.
What he needed to do, and soon, was make his intentions clear to Ellie.
As far as he could tell, he had two choices. He could plan a shameful immoral seduction that would be wonderful but nevertheless would end up ruining both their reputations because Paradise was a small town and people’s more interesting deeds never did remain secret for long. The second option was, he could marry her.
At the mere thought of the word, he shivered.
How could he even be considering contemplating such a move? He wasn’t even certain Ellie liked him! In fact, the one time he’d kissed her, she’d seemed shocked.
Hell, he’d been shocked. Never had he been so obsessed with a woman—and such an unlikely woman. A pregnant widow who in all likelihood preferred his brother’s company!
“Damnation!” he cried out loud.
Ike bolted up to sitting. “What goes on, Roy?”
“I can’t sleep, that’s all.”
Ike chuckled. “You’re just spoiled by feather beds and such. Why, I can remember a time when everyone lived simple. Just like that uncle of yours. I was over at his place today, and Ed was still the same as ever. No frills. Dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, he is.”
Uncle Ed.
Suddenly, Roy glimpsed a glimmer of sanity on the horizon. Uncle Ed would get his head back on straight! Ed would look once into his lovelorn eyes and tell Roy to get to work and forget all about female foolishness. The McMillan bachelor tradition would continue.
“Good old Uncle Ed,” he said, breathing more easily. He’d go visit for a few days. Set out first thing in the morning.
That way he wouldn’t see Ellie and forget all about his bachelor credo again.
“Gone?” Ellie blinked into her coffee cup. “When did he leave?”
“This morning,” Ike replied. “He’s gonna visit his Uncle Ed for a few days.”
The idea of Roy’s being five miles away made her feel unaccountably sad. There was no reason for her to miss Roy, particularly, and maybe now that he was gone she could stop thinking about him so much. Why, last night she’d barely slept a wink for wondering about him and that girl, Clara Trilby.
But out of sight, out of mind, the old saying went, and now perhaps she would be able to consider more important things.
Namely, her immediate future.
“How’s the weather?” she asked Ike. “Could I walk into town?” She wanted to make some discreet inquiries about families who might be looking for a hired girl. If someone were desperate enough, they might take her. And she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of staying at the McMillans’ much longer. It was good that they had taught her so much, but given her confused feelings for Roy, it was wrong to stay on. She should have left long ago.
Ike’s eyes rounded as if she’d just asked him if she could walk to the moon. “Lordy, no! Looks like snow, as a matter of fact.”
“When?”
“Soon,” he answered, the authority in his tone counterbalancing the vagueness of his answer. “’Sides, if you’d wanted to go to town, you should have gotten yourself out of bed early and hitched a ride with Parker.”
“Parker’s gone, too?” Good heavens—she’d slept until eight-thirty, and now she felt as if she’d missed an entire day’s worth of activity.
“Gone at the crack of dawn. I don’t know what for.” He leaned toward her and commented in a confidential tone, “There’s strange doings in this house, if’n you ask me. The whole of last night
, Roy tossed and turned and cursed and complained till I thought I was gonna have to pour some liquor down him to get him settled.”
“What happened?”
Ike shrugged, grinning. “Durn if I didn’t finally mention his uncle, and suddenly Roy was sleeping like a baby.”
The old farmhand, mindful of just having spoken the word baby in front of a pregnant woman, and still keeping up the ruse of pretending that he knew nothing of her condition, went pink in the face and looked quickly away. “Anyways, it looks like you’ve got the house to yourself today.”
“Where are you going to be?”
“Oh, I’ve got a fence to mend, then I thought I’d start breaking sod for a winter cover crop out in the vegetable garden.”
She smiled. “I’d be glad to help, if you’d show me what to do.”
“It’s fieldwork, not for you.”
Ellie wanted to argue with him. Except for being a little tired at both ends of the day, Ellie had never felt better in her life. The queasiness she’d taken pains to hide at the Sternhagen house had subsided. Within her, especially in the mornings and at night as she settled into bed, she could feel the stirrings of the little one, which made both her pulse and her thoughts race feverishly. Occasionally the kicks filled her with hope; at other times she feared she would be eaten alive by worry. But she had far more energy during the day now than heretofore.
“It’s a job for one, anyhow,” Ike said.
“I think I’ll bake today while I wait for Parker to get back.”
The minute Ike left the house, Ellie marched into the kitchen and set about making bread. She was still a little unsure of how much to make, so she poured what she considered to be a generous amount of flour into the big mixing bowl.
While the bread was rising, she got out a dustrag and began to polish every wood surface available to her. From long practice, when she cleaned she was able to let her mind wander without detracting from the quality of her work. And so she spent the whole morning thinking about Roy, and what had really driven him to Uncle Ed’s.
After noon, bootsteps sounded at the door and Parker appeared, his cheeks flushed and his blue eyes shining from the cold. He took one look around the sparkling-clean parlor with a fresh fire crackling in the hearth, and smiled at Ellie.
“For a fine lady, you certainly do know how to dust.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that made her very uncomfortable.
“Well…I’ve been practicing lately,” she said lamely. “I’ve been baking bread, too.”
She hoped Parker wouldn’t go into the kitchen, though, and see that she’d actually baked enough to feed an entire army. She could dust with her eyes closed; baking, however, could still be a hazard.
“You shouldn’t be working so hard.” Parker frowned. “Where’s Roy? His horse wasn’t in the barn.”
“He’s gone to your uncle Ed’s.”
“So suddenly?”
She nodded. “Ike said he just decided to go in the middle of the night.”
Parker stared into the fire, his brow creased with worry.
Come to think of it, though Parker had been perfectly cordial, he had a distracted manner.
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, just tired, I suppose. I left early. I went to see my mother.”
The subject of Isabel was usually studiously avoided. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, in fact, she’s settled in quite nicely…right next to the mercantile. In fact, she said she saw Roy thereabouts Saturday. In the mercantile…”
His words trailed away, but his face looked pained.
“Anyway, Mother sent her regards.” He smiled. “And she gave me this message for you. She said, ‘Tell her I might have picked the wrong one for her.”’
Ellie paled, realizing that Isabel must be referring to having told her that Roy and she would make a good couple. Stricken at first by the assumption that Isabel now realized this to be impossible—no doubt from witnessing Roy in town with Clara Trilby—Ellie was soon flooded with embarrassment. Could Parker see through the transparent message?
The sympathy in those blue eyes told her he could.
Poor Parker—in love with his brother’s sweetheart!
Oh, she wanted to escape! She’d thought life would be so much easier, so much more straightforward here. But she seemed to have stepped into a situation much more complicated than anything ever dreamed of in New York!
But all she could think of was seeing Roy again, of looking into his eyes again and making certain that there wasn’t love in them…or if there was, that it wasn’t for her. Then she could go on with her life without a qualm or backward glance.
“I’d like to see your uncle’s farm,” she said.
Parker looked alarmed. “It’s a little late, and the weather’s bad.”
“But I could get there on horseback fairly quickly, couldn’t I?”
Parker thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose so. But I’m not sure…”
She smiled determinedly. “Whether Roy would want me there? I’ll just have to see about that when I get there!”
“Look at that snow comin’ down,” Uncle Ed said, peering up through the kitchen window.
The kitchen of Ed’s house felt like a basement, and was actually the original soddy that the McMillans had resided in in the first decade they’d lived in Paradise. When they’d added on to the house, the brothers had simply built a wood-frame structure atop the soddy, cemented the floor and plastered the sod walls. In the autumn and winter, when Ed used his stove nonstop, the whole room warmed up like an oven.
“Glad I got all the apples picked before this blew in!”
The stuff coming down was thick and fluffy—the first snow. “It’s too early for this. Hope it doesn’t mean a cold winter,” Roy muttered.
“They’re all cold,” Ed observed.
But for some reason, Roy couldn’t help linking the early snow to Ellie’s arrival. The woman seemed to have brought trouble with her—and this troublesome weather had followed. “Anyhow,” he said with a sigh, “I hope this snow doesn’t bury the roads.”
Only half a day into Roy’s open-ended visit to his uncle, he was already considering escape. Only, with Ellie at home and his mother in Paradise, it was hard to know where to run. That’s why he’d come here, thinking he would feel at home in his uncle’s solitary bachelor existence.
But as he began to peel his third bushel of apples for the day, Roy began taking a hard look at the McMillan bachelor credo. And he also took his first solid gander at Uncle Ed, trying to see him through the new perspective he seemed to have acquired since Ellie came to town. What he saw surprised him. All these years, he’d thought his uncle was a gloriously happy, solitary character, but now he just seemed like an eccentric.
Ed still had his tall, lean figure; more than one source had told Roy that in his heyday, Ed had been considered quite a gent by the ladies—even back in the time when women were as scarce on the prairie as waterfalls. He still had a handsome patrician face, with dark brown eyes the color of rich chocolate, and he wore the long mustache he’d sported in his younger days, only now his mustache drooped on him in the same manner his clothes hung on his lanky frame. His blond hair had turned gray and retreated down his skull, leaving him bald on top. His movements weren’t as spry as they used to be; he now seemed awkward and slightly bent, as if his body, so often hunched in work, had forgotten how to move freely.
He wasn’t his old self; but for that matter, how young and normal could any man seem when he ran around in an apron most of the time talking nonstop about apples?
The fact of the matter was, Roy perceived with sudden clarity, his uncle wasn’t just an eccentric, he was a nut. For apples. Apples were his vocation. A self-proclaimed Johnny Appleseed of Nebraska, Ed McMillan had dedicated his life to the apple when he was young, planting and replanting, cross-pollinating and grafting, always battling bugs, rabbits and the elements. Now he was literally
reaping that harvest of his life. In fact, the little seedlings the bachelor had cared for so tenderly and vigilantly in his youth and had pampered through drought, blizzard, and flood had flourished more than anyone, including Ed, could have imagined. Now the trees produced far more than other orchards in the area; in fact, the orchard put forth more than Ed could comfortably handle even after he had sold part of his crop, sending him into a fruit-induced frenzy every year. The strain of picking then selling, preserving, and storing his crop lent him the frantic demeanor of a man who was always a few bushels behind.
“Where’d I put my knife?” he asked now, pivoting on his heel and inspecting every surface of the kitchen.
But every surface was already devoted to apple business, and so the place was loaded with peels and cores waiting to be thrown into slop buckets for the hogs, jars awaiting sauce, and piles of peeled fruit awaiting their destiny. The kitchen probably looked this way from September through December every year, but Ed always managed to seem confounded by the chaos.
Roy sighed. “It’s in your left hand.”
His uncle’s eyes bugged in surprise to see the utensil precisely where Roy said it was. “Aha!” he cried with the shock of Columbus discovering the New World. “It might have hidden there for years. See what a help to me you are, Roy?”
Roy grinned, trying to make his uncle feel better, but the truth was, he suspected Ed was never more absentminded and fluttery than when he had company. Ed moved and worked in the way of a man accustomed to being alone and doing things his own way, so that the mere sight of a stranger in his kitchen threw him off his stride completely.
He was even more distracted than usual today, but that might have had something to do with the fact that he’d had another visit from Ike just yesterday. Two different people two days in a row would be a novelty. Though Ed usually went into Paradise every two weeks, he rarely spoke to anyone except to conduct his business at the mercantile and the feed and seed warehouse. He never socialized, claiming that all the noise of people caterwauling made him nervous now that he was a solitary old bachelor.
Liz Ireland Page 12
