by Danni Roan
The whole conversation was making Rebecca's head hurt. "All I know is that I failed in my duty," she finally said in frustration. "I was too weak. My faith was too small."
"You look tired," Grady offered, leaning an elbow on the table and pushing a wisp of hair behind her ear with the other. "You get some rest and we'll talk again sometime."
Nodding, Rebecca rose and turned toward the hall. "Thank you for everything," she said, looking back as Grady gathered up the dishes. Once again, she had failed, and the one person she was assigned to look after was looking after her.
Grady smiled sadly as he watched a tear slide down Rebecca's lovely face. He was starting to understand why she was so down on herself, why she felt she was not living up to expectations.
Why was it that some people always felt they had to do more, had to be perfect to be accepted? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Give me wisdom, Lord," he sighed, then turned for his own bed.
Chapter 8
Rebecca was surprised that she felt almost normal the next day except for the lingering headache. Quietly she dressed and headed for the kitchen.
She smiled when she saw Grady already stoking the fire and he returned the grin when he saw her. “You’re feeling better,” he offered, moving the large coffee pot into place on the hob.
“Yes, thank you.” Her eyes lingered on his for a moment, their pale blue gaze thoughtful.
“Oh, you’re already up.” Sara came through the back door with a bucket of milk in her hand. “You must be starving/ I’ll get breakfast started.” She moved to the large milk container in the corner and poured the contents of the bucket through a cheesecloth and strainer.
“I can help,” Rebecca offered.
“No I think today will be your day off,” Sara said pertly. “Perhaps we’ll even go to the Grist Mill for lunch. The men can settle for their dusty old sandwiches.”
Rebecca smiled despite herself. Sara was so full of life, it was somehow uplifting.
“Someone mention breakfast?” Rafe asked, clomping down the hall already dressed in his work clothes.
Rebecca felt silly sitting at the table and being waited on, but she sat drinking her tea meekly after the other three shouted her down when she tried to help.
“I really am fine,” she whispered across the table to Grady while Rafe went to fetch the eggs.
“I can see that,” he answered, back leaning toward her conspiratorially, “but it will make them feel better. Sometimes people like to do things for their friends.”
Breakfast was over so quickly it seemed no time at all until the house was quiet.
“Hello?” a tentative voice called down the hall from the front of the house a little while later.
“Oh, Janine!” Sara rose to her feet, hustling to the door. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You are?” The young woman sounded truly startled.
“Yes, Rebecca and I are going to the Grist Mill for lunch today and you can come with us.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“Hello Janine,” Rebecca offered as together the two women arrived in the kitchen. “I’ve never eaten at the Grist Mill yet. Is it good?”
“Yes it is,” Janine replied. “They don’t have a huge selection but the food is good. I especially like the new baked goods. I wish I could make bread like that man.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Sara stated.
“What idea?” Rebecca and Janine answered as one.
“We’ll make bread today. I’ll teach you how.”
Janine looked almost panicked at the idea. “But I can’t even make biscuits yet. How can ever make bread?”
Rebecca placed a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “We all have to learn new things as we move through life. There always seems to be something new to learn.”
“Alright, I’ll try.” Janine smiled.
“We’ll need to build up the fire first.” Sara offered. “Put your things down and I’ll show you.”
“I know how to build a fire,” Janine replied. “Bruno showed me that right away.”
“Yes, but do you know how to check that it’s the right temperature?” Sara’s green eyes twinkled knowingly.
“Oh, I see.” Janine smiled. “Let’s get started.”
While the fire blazed in the stove box heating the oven to just the right temperature, the three women settled at the table to visit.
“There always seems to be so many things to do around a house,” Janine said. “I had no idea.” Her pretty face looked slightly perplexed.
“Yes, having a house is work no matter what,” Sara agreed.
“I like it in some ways, though,” Janine continued. “I might not be a very good housekeeper but I feel that at least it’s mine and I have the freedom to do things for myself.”
“I have to admit I’m looking forward to having my own place soon,” Sara said, her gaze drifting off toward the far hills. “It’s easy enough staying with Rafe’s Pa - he even has a woman who comes in to cook for the hands and clean, but I’m looking forward to it being just the two of us.”
Janine smiled knowingly. “For the first few weeks it was always just Bruno, me and the sheep.” She admitted, “It was lovely, but the food wasn’t very good, then Pa started calling.”
“You weren’t happy that your father came to visit?” Rebecca was a little surprised.
“No, that’s not it really.” Janine chewed her bottom lip for a moment as she thought. “You see my father can be rather bossy.” She blushed then continued, “I’ve been known to be bossy as well, but this was different.”
“Why?” Sara prompted, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in interestedly.
“Pa never thinks anything is good enough and he didn’t think I should live out at Bruno’s house. He wanted us to move in with him.”
“Is there something wrong with the house?” Rebecca’s voice was concerned.
“No, it’s much smaller than the one I grew up in, and it’s not what you might call fancy, but it’s a pretty little home. I even planted flowers last week.” She beamed.
“What did you do?” Sara asked, her eyes glinting.
Janine tipped her head to the side like a little bird looking at something. “I might have lost my temper,” she finally admitted. “I told him that I was happy in my little house with my husband and that if he had a problem with that, he could leave us alone.”
Sara snorted, trying to repress a laugh. “How did he take it?”
“The way he always does.” Janine rolled her eyes. “First he tried demanding, then he tried bribing, then he gave up.”
“So doesn’t he come to visit anymore?” Rebecca thought it would be odd living in the same town as her father and not seeing him.
“For now we go to dinner with him every Sunday. He’s actually started listening to Bruno about a few things and even if he won’t admit it, I think he respects him.” Janine’s eyes glowed with pride.
“What a good compromise,” Sara offered.
“Yes, and I get at least one truly good meal each week,” she laughed.
“Bread,” Sara said, pushing herself to her feet.
“Bread,” Janine echoed determinedly.
By the time lunch rolled around Janine had flour in her hair, on her cuffs, and a dusting on her shoes, but ten crisp brown loaves of bread sat on the table, cooling.
“I declare, I don’t think I’ve ever worked that hard,” the girl said, brushing a lock of hair from her face with her arm and spreading more flour on her already pale skin.
“Time for lunch,” Sara stated brightly. “And I declare we’ve earned it,” she finished, setting everyone to laughing.
***
The first thing Sara saw as they entered the town’s only café was her sister, leaning over the baked goods counter, her head nearly touching that of the young English man who was explaining something to her in an intense whisper.
“Prissy, do you ever go
home?” Sara asked, stepping closer.
“As a matter of fact I do,” the blonde woman sassed, “but if Mama doesn’t fuss about how I spend my time, I don’t see why you should.”
“Oh, hel-lo,” Rupert offered, his slate blue eyes falling on the three ladies. “Aren’t you Ms. Pris’s sister?” his smile was welcoming as he eyed Sara confidently, but the other two with doubt.
“Miss Pris?” Sara almost choked, then hopped backward on one foot, glaring at her sister who glared right back, green fire sparking in her eyes.
“She stomped on my foot,” Sara whispered to Rebecca.
“Are you ladies having lunch?” Rupert grinned. “I’d recommend the soup. I just finished a fresh batch of bread and it’s hot right out of the oven.”
All three women laughed, making the young man blink.
“Don’t mind them, Rupert,” Prissy smiled brightly. “They were just going to find a table.” The glance she shot her sister was sizzling with ire.
“Sara just taught me to make bread this morning,” Janine offered, trying to understand the tension around her.
“Didn’t you know how?” the man’s clipped tones were baffled, making Janine blush.
“Janine is learning many new things,” Rebecca cut in softly. “She did so well, but it was funny that you should recommend fresh bread when we have nearly a dozen loaves cooling at home.”
“Well done, then,” Rupert offered kindly. “In that case, try the Quiche Lorraine.” His eyes twinkled. “Miss Pris helped me choose some of the local herbs for them.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Prissy asked unwelcomingly.
“I am,” Janine said seriously.
“Alright, alright I’m going,” Sara huffed, hobbling away to a nearby table.
“It’s very handy having a real bake shop in town now,” Janine said. “Nana says it saves her hours each week and of course we buy bread here most weeks,” she finished with a blush.
The three women finally settled at the table and placed their order with a waiter.
“Is Bruno going to fetch you this afternoon?” Sara asked Janine.
“Yes, he has something he wanted to show Mr. Bentley.”
Soon their meals came and they smiled at the simple pie full of eggs, cheese and herbs. It was the perfect dish for their day.
Behind them, the door opened again and Sara turned to see Aquila and Cameron enter. They were both smiling brightly.
“I’m surprised to see Quil and Cam in town today,” she commented, lifting her fork.
“They look very happy,” Janine offered politely.
As a server guided the couple toward a table, they caught sight of Sara and her friends and veered off, heading straight for the small party.
“Have you seen Mama?” Quil asked, her eyes sparkling with an inner light.
“No is she in town, too?”
“She was coming in to meet us for lunch,” Cam was still grinning while Aquila spoke. “We’ve just come from the doctor’s office.”
“Is someone ill?” Sara started.
Rebecca watched the interchange between the sisters and smiled before waving to capture the attention of Mr. Rupert, miming that he should send Priscilla to the table, which he did.
“Morning Prissy,” Cam offered the same bright smile still on his face.
“Oh Prissy,” Quil almost danced with excitement. “I can’t wait.” She continued looking up at Cam, who nodded encouragingly.
“We’ve just come from the doctor,” Quil finally gushed, grabbing her sisters’ hands. “I’m expecting!” her voice was an excited whisper but several people still heard and smiled.
Both sisters flew at Aquila, wrapping her in their arms.
Rebecca tried to choke back the giggle that gurgled in her throat with only some success, and Janine looked at her with big brown eyes.
“You knew, didn’t you?” The banker’s daughter leaned close, her whisper for Rebecca’s ears only.
“I suspected,” Rebecca admitted with a wink.
“How did you know?” Janine continued, still watching the Adams girls.
“The pickles, women sometimes crave them, and Sara said Quil had eaten a whole jar of pickled beets as a snack.”
Janine smiled warmly. “I truly like you, Rebecca,” she offered as the door opened again and Maud Adams stepped in, tears immediately springing to her eyes as she saw her daughters huddled together.
"I'm going to be a grandma!" Maud gushed as she joined the girls. "Are you hungry? How are you feeling?" She pulled back, concern in her eyes.
"Mama, don't fuss," Quil said, blushing. "Let's find a table that's more private."
Sara cast a look over her shoulder at Janine and Rebecca, torn between her family and her friends.
"Go on,” Rebecca encouraged. “We'll be fine."
Janine nodded her agreement and a moment later, Sara and her family were settled on the far side of the restaurant chatting quietly.
"That's nice for Quil, isn't it?” Janine said. "Maybe she'll start writing about babies now as well."
Rebecca grinned, feeling more and more at home in the little town at the foot of the Rockies.
She and Janine spent another half hour chatting over their lunch. The girl seemed bright and able, only needing a chance to work toward her true potential.
Thinking of potential, Rebecca’s mind drifted back to the conversation she’d had with Grady so recently. Each person had something to offer if they would only try.
The old doubt and guilt of failure assailed her and she wondered if she would ever truly be of use again. She determined to do better, to work harder at being a person who lived up to the expectations of God.
Chapter 9
“Are you ready?” Grady Gatlin asked, looking down at Billy Stanley, who clutched a few wilting flowers in his small hand.
“Yes sir,” Billy piped, “I on’y wish Ma would of let me wear my Sunday clothes. A fella should look his best, ya know.”
“I think you look just fine the way you are,” Grady said. “I’m sure Ms. Rebecca will be happy to see you, no matter what.”
Together the two left the schoolyard and headed toward the boarding house, both immersed in their own thoughts.
As they crossed the front stoop, Grady reached for the door handle, prepared to let himself in.
“Ya can’t just walk in.” Billy’s voice was a loud whisper. “Ya gotta knock if you’re courtin’ a girl,” he said, his voice carrying a note of disbelief.
“I beg your pardon,” Grady said seriously, raising his hand and knocking soundly on the front door and waited.
Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and turned to the door, wondering who could be knocking at this time of day. The train had left hours before and no guests had come calling.
Pulling the door open, she grinned at the twinkle in Grady’s eye and looked down to see Billy offering a few wilted buttercups.
“Billy, how lovely,” she said, smiling brightly. “Won’t you come in?” She almost giggled when Grady winked.
“I took some cookies out of the oven only a minute ago.” She continued, “Perhaps we could have some cookies and tea.”
Billy wrinkled his nose at the tea. “Cookies are always a good idea.” He glanced up at Mr. Gatlin to see if the big man was in agreement.
“Oh, always a good idea,” the teacher agreed.
“Why don’t you gentleman go into the parlor and I’ll bring everything in.”
Billy looked at his teacher again, who only nodded solemnly as he turned toward the more formal room.
“Good company sits in the parlor,” he explained as they found a seat on the sofa.
“Alright.” Billy looked around him at the nicely appointed room, studying the mantle of the fireplace that was covered in an array of framed photos and other brik-a-brack.
“Are you sure Ms. Rebecca don’t need no help?” he puzzled.
“Doesn’t need any,” Grady corrected, “and no, I’m sure she�
��s fine without us interfering in the kitchen.”
“Does she make good cookies?” Billy asked. “I’d marry her anyway, but makin’ good cookies is pretty important.”
Grady chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve had any of her cookies yet,” he answered honestly, “but her other cooking is just fine.”
The rattle of a tray preceded Rebecca into the room. “Here we go,” she offered, placing the cookies, teapot and other necessities on the heavy coffee table before the settee. “I made a special cup for you, Billy,” she added.
Billy Stanley looked into the small cup placed before him and grinned at the cold milk lapping at its rim.
“Thank you, it looks perfect.”
Moments later, they sat quietly crunching cookies that were still warm from the oven.
“You make good cookies, Ms. Rebecca,” Billy commented, his attention largely taken up by the snack.
“They’re about the best I ever had,” Grady agreed. “If you decide she’s not the one for you Billy, maybe I’ll marry her just so she can make me cookies.”
The boy grinned, his bright blue eyes full of mischief. “We’d maybe have to arm wrestle over that,” he said.
“Did you have a good day today?” Rebecca asked, lifting her cup to her lips as her eyes fell on Grady.
“Pretty fair,” he mused. “Billy did all of his math work quick as a wink and then moved on to reading. The rest of the class was just relieved when I told them there would be no homework this weekend.”
“I don’t get homework,” the little boy piped up. “Mr. Gatlin says my homework is to play and be a kid.”
“Mr. Gatlin is very wise,” Rebecca replied, smiling.
A few moments of silence surrounded them. Grady’s dark eyes sparkled with glee at the situation as he noted the twinkle in Rebecca’s eye.
It was nice to have an excuse to sit with her and discuss the day’s events. He could no longer deny his attraction to for the woman who had come to look after the boarding house, or the burgeoning friendship they had begun to develop.
“Ms. Rebecca?” Billy’s voice sounded rough. “How old do ya ‘spose I should be before I could ask for yer hand?”
