Mail Order Meals

by Kirsten Osbourne

  After all that, she sat down at the table for a minute, looking around her at the windows. They were as naked as she’d been that morning. She wanted curtains and a tablecloth done by Monday, and she knew she could do it. She was used to cooking two meals a day for sixty people. How hard could it be to cook three meals a day for one man?

  When Doug walked into the house a short while later, he found her sitting, looking around the room. “Is something wrong with the house?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at all. I just think it would look better with curtains. And a matching tablecloth of course. I don’t know why you don’t already have them.”

  “Because I’m a man, and we don’t much care about curtains or tablecloths.”

  “That’s probably it. Sit down, and I’ll get lunch.” Taking the bread out of the oven, she dumped it out of the pans onto the counter to cool for a moment. She ladled some stew into two bowls, and then she cut the bread. There was store bought butter in the fridge, but she’d seen a churn earlier. They wouldn’t be eating store bought butter for long, because she’d always preferred to make her own.

  Once they were seated, and he’d prayed over the meal, they began the whole process of him eating a bite and closing his eyes to savor the taste once more. She had to wonder if he would still be that appreciative of her cooking after fifty years of marriage.

  Chapter 4

  Trudie’s afternoon was just as busy as her morning, preparing the evening meal and working in the garden. It was going to take her a couple of days to get all the plants put in, and she wondered if she should do any laundry before she was done. There wasn’t really a way to not get dirt on yourself while gardening.

  She was happy with her day’s work when she went into the house to finish up supper. Doug came in just as she was taking the pot roast out of the oven. “Wash up, and I’ll put supper on the table.” She needed to remember to spend some time that evening writing letters to all of her friends she’d promised them to as well as her sisters and her mother.

  He washed his hands quickly, and saw that she already had a huge pot of water on the stove for the dishes that evening. He found it impressive how efficient she was with everything she did.

  His eyes were wide as she carried a platter full of roast beef to the table, and then she added a bowl of potatoes, and a bowl of carrots, following it up with bread, butter, and gravy. “You made all this just for supper?”

  Trudie put her hands on her hips. “I got a letter from a man who told me repeatedly he was hungry. I’m feeding that man.”

  “That man has had three good meals in a row, and he finds himself very appreciative of his pretty new wife who can cook, and apparently knows how to plant a garden.” His gaze was on the roast, and he couldn’t seem to stop looking at it. She was mesmerizing him with her cooking.

  She shrugged. “I’m a farm girl. Of course, I can plant a garden. I can also take a slingshot and shoot a crow from thirty feet away, so be on your best behavior, Mr. Charleston.” Trudie had always been proud of her skills with a slingshot. Well, anything that needed to be shot actually. She could use a gun and a bow and arrow very well too.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Can you really do that?” He’d never seen a woman who could shoot anything, and he found himself very impressed.

  She nodded emphatically. “I can also knock an apple off a brother’s head with my slingshot, but after my ma caught me doing that, I had my slingshot taken away for a week. Then I had to throw apples at people as they drove past my farm. It wasn’t nearly as fun.” Her brothers had actually fought to decide who could put the apple on their head to have her shoot it off. Her mother had not been at all impressed with her.

  He paused serving his food. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. And I helped put a snake in a teacher’s desk, tied another teacher in an outhouse and dismissed school...I’m not a woman to be trifled with.” Many teachers had left in the middle of the semesters, and she and her siblings had always been blamed. To be fair, it was usually their fault.

  “I can see that. Why did you do all those things?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was expected.” She smiled sweetly. “Would you like to pray for us?”

  “Uh, sure.” The look he gave her thrilled her. He knew now she wasn’t some mild little housewife. She had a spirit, and she was good with weapons. Perfect. Now he knew what to expect a little better. He’d seen the sass, but this was way beyond having a sassy wife.

  After the prayer, he looked at her questioningly. “Why was it expected?” he asked.

  “I was raised a Miller, and in my town, that means being a hellion. The whole town referred to us as the demon horde. That’s why I couldn’t find a husband back east. Didn’t you wonder why you got a wife who wasn’t old, ugly, or fat, who could cook in a way that made you want to sing?”

  “Well, yeah, but...”

  She grinned. “Just know that how you treat me is how I will treat you. Plain and simple. You want good meals and a sweet wife? She’s easy to get. You want burned food while you watch her eat a perfect meal? You can have her too.”

  “Umm...Can you just keep being the wife you’ve been so far?” Doug was almost nervous that he would bring out the person she was describing to him. He wasn’t the easiest person in the world to live with.

  “If you can keep being a good husband, I certainly can. Just remember. What you give is what you get from me. Pass the bread, please.”

  He handed her the bread, realizing only then that the food was getting cold on his plate. “I will do my best to be on good behavior.”

  “I got a lot planted today,” she said, acting as if she’d never threatened him. “I had lots of seeds from my mother’s garden in my trunk, and it was fun to make little rows with them. I can’t wait to get out there and weed the garden and really get my hands dirty.”

  “I didn’t think women liked to dirty their hands that way?” He was realizing quickly that everything he’d expected of a wife was very different than what he’d gotten. This woman...well, she was a bit awe-inspiring.

  “I don’t mind a bit. As I said, I was a farmer’s daughter.” She poured gravy on her potatoes and ate a big bite. “Tomorrow I’m going to plant a few other crops, and then I’ll be done for the season. We can buy canned goods in town, but I prefer to can my own when I have the time. I had to cook with canned goods in the diner, and it was never quite as good as it was from my own garden.”

  “Did you help your mother with gardens in the summers?” He liked the picture in his head of a little girl following along behind her mother and dropping seeds into holes.

  “Of course. It’s part of being a good farm girl. Ma would section off her kitchen garden and there would be contests to see who could grow the biggest vegetables. Usually worked for about a month before we started to paint the cows and roll around in the dirt fighting each other.”

  “Paint the cows?” Doug was getting a little more worried about her by the minute.

  “Sure. Our cow must have been painted four times. I never painted her but several of my siblings did. It was cause for celebration when she was brown for a whole summer.”

  “You do realize that’s strange, don’t you? We never did things like that at the orphanage. We were all well-behaved.” Of course, being well-behaved was enforced with a razer strap to the backside.

  Trudie shrugged. “Strange for some people. Normal for my family. So, you see, it was expected that I behave that way, and I’m one who always lives up to expectations.”

  “I’m not even sure what to say to that.” Doug took a bite of the food and let the flavors wash over his tongue. “But I don’t care, because you are the best cook in all of Colorado.”

  “Not all of the United States? Because you did say you were the hungriest man in all the country.”

  He grinned at her. “You read my letter!” It made him feel good to know she remembered the things he’d asked for when he’d first sent for a bride.
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  “Of course, I read your letter, you daft man. Why would I be here otherwise? Did you think I was just going to show up on any man’s doorstep and offer to cook for him in exchange for marriage?” She shook her head at him. “I worry about you sometimes, Doug.”

  “You probably should,” he said with a shrug.

  “I need to write some letters after supper,” she told him. “I made a couple of friends on the train, and I have to write to my mother, my sister, and a former co-worker.”

  “Do you plan to write all those letters tonight?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll do a couple per night until I’m finished, and then I’ll start sewing curtains and a tablecloth. Do you have a preference which I do first?” She hadn’t given him a choice when she’d picked out the fabric for them, but she could give him a choice of what he wanted her to make first.

  “Not at all. I care if you cook and nothing else.”

  She sighed. “Is there anything you don’t like? That I should avoid making?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’ll eat anything anyone puts on the table in front of me. Except when I cook. I do have some standards.”

  She wondered for a moment why he hadn’t just taught himself to cook, but dismissed the idea. “All right. I’ll make food every night.” As she finished eating, she carried her plate to the sink and poured the hot water in. “Are you finished?”

  He gave her a look of alarm. “No! I’ll need to eat lots more!”

  Trudie shook her head. “Let me know when you’re finished so I can take care of the dishes then.” The way he acted made it seem like he hadn’t eaten in years. She knew he’d had good meals at least once a week at the potluck. Why hadn’t he eaten with his ranch hands? Certainly someone must have been able to cook.

  “I’ll try.” Doug refilled his plate twice more, finally leaning back in his chair and patting his belly. “I think I’m done.” He wanted to add, “for now,” but he had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that. “What’s for breakfast in the morning?”

  “I thought I’d make French toast with some sausage.” It was odd how she had to think ahead to every meal for him. He seemed to have a need to know what his next meal would always be.

  “Sounds wonderful. You can cook anything you want, and I’ll eat it happily.”

  “I’m getting that impression. Do you have something that’s a favorite for breakfast?” she asked.

  “I’m a fan of eggs, bacon, and toast. And pancakes. And French toast. And I really like omelets. And oatmeal on cold days.”

  Trudie cleaned off the table and quickly washed the rest of the dishes. He’d managed to eat everything on the table except half a loaf of bread. She wasn’t exactly sure where he put it all, but it was gone. “I’ll just make whatever I’m hungry for, and I’ll assume you’ll like it.”

  “That’s a good plan.” He watched her as she finished the dishes and then wiped them dry. “What all did you do today?” He kept having flashes of her when she’d stood up from the bath tub that morning, and he wanted to drag her off to bed, but he knew she wasn’t ready yet.

  “I planted, baked bread, made three meals, took a bath, and did some general cleaning. I think I’m going to wait on laundry until I’m finished with the planting, because I’ve never figured out how to work in the garden without being covered with dirt when I’m finished.” Her ma had been able to work outside and stay clean. Well, when her children hadn’t been throwing tomatoes at one another.

  Doug nodded. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I’m not in any kind of hurry for you to wash.”

  “Good, I’ll wait then.” Trudie took the paper, pen, and inkwell she had set on the counter earlier and sat at the table to write. “I’m going to write a couple of letters now.”

  He nodded, not moving. Instead, he sat at the table and watched her write her letters. Trudie had enough brothers that she wasn’t even bothered. They would watch her do whatever she was doing just to annoy her. It certainly felt differently when Doug did it, but she had learned to concentrate on what she was doing and ignore her brothers. She could do the same thing with Doug.

  She wrote to Elizabeth, telling her how she’d found Doug and about the pleasant ride on the train. She told her sister that she had come to a truly starving man who would eat anything and everything put before him.

  And then she wrote to her mother and told her how happy she was there in Colorado and how there was no need to worry.

  Once she’d finished both letters, she set them aside, and hid a yawn behind her hand. “I’m going to use the outhouse and then go to sleep. I don’t think I’m fully recovered from that long train ride yet.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Doug said. “I’ll wait down here until you’ve changed.”

  “Thank you for giving me a little time.” She was truly surprised he was being so considerate while waiting for her to ready herself for bed at night. She knew he didn’t want to be, and he had seen her unclothed now.

  Trudie used the outhouse and then passed him again. He was still sitting at the table. She wasn’t sure what was on his mind, but whatever it was, it certainly seemed to occupy him well. She had a hard time sitting idle, and he seemed to have no issue with it at all.

  She changed into her nightgown and got into bed, closing her eyes and praying that sleep would come swiftly as it had the night before, but instead, she was still awake when Doug came to bed. She thought about feigning sleep, but she didn’t like to be dishonest, so instead, she waited for him.

  Doug walked into the room and shed his clothes on the floor, getting into bed with her while wearing nothing.

  “Aren’t you going to wear a nightshirt?” she asked, a little startled.

  “Nah. I can’t feel you against me if I wear a nightshirt, and I sure wish I could talk you out of your nightgown. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in your altogether.” He tried to be persuasive with his tone, but he had so little experience with women, he wasn’t sure he was doing it correctly.

  “You’re going to have to wait for that part of our marriage. I’ve told you that.”

  “But that was yesterday. I thought maybe I’d convinced you by being such a considerate husband today.”

  She laughed softly. “You’re going to have to work harder than that. I’m not that easily swayed when I set my mind to something.”

  “Well, then I’ll just have to kiss you a little.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly, wanting to do so much more than he knew she’d allow.

  She turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and enjoyed the feel of his lips on hers. She was no stranger to the male anatomy having had to take her turns changing diapers of her younger siblings, but she hadn’t really thought a man would feel like Doug did.

  Her fingers toyed with the muscles in his broad shoulders, and she sank into the kiss.

  Doug pulled her closer, pressing himself against her. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to lose the nightgown?” he asked, feeling a bit desperate with her so close to him.

  She sighed. “Not tonight. I really want to know you a little better. Perhaps we could go for a walk after supper tomorrow.” She knew he didn’t want to take the time to really get to know her, but it was the one thing she wanted from him.

  He groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me, Trudie. Just as you fatten me up, I’m going to die of frustration.”

  She kissed his chin. “I’m sure you’ll live. I did suggest you put on a nightshirt.”

  “I’m not wearing a nightshirt in bed with my wife. It goes against everything I believe as a man.”

  “I don’t believe there’s anything in the Bible that would suggest a man shouldn’t wear a nightshirt when he’s in bed with his wife.”

  Doug shook his head. “Will you always get the best of me verbally?”

  She nodded emphatically. “Always. It’s one of the lasting benefits to being a member of the demon horde.”

  He wasn’t sure how t
o respond to her, so he simply closed his eyes. She made him tired anyway.

  Trudie watched him by the light of the full moon, enjoying watching him fall asleep. Everything about Doug was perfect to her. Except maybe his warped sense of humor. She might be able to get beyond that, though.

  TRUDIE WAS ABLE TO finish her planting the following day. Doug came home for lunch, but when he saw how busy she was, he headed back out as soon as he’d finished his meal. When he came home for supper, she had fried chicken waiting on a platter, along with a mountain of mashed potatoes, green beans, and a cream gravy.

  “I think I’m going to like having a wife,” he said as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. “It looks like you finished your planting.” Making small talk about things was difficult for Doug, because he’d been raised to speak only when he had something important to say. But having a wife meant talking to her.

  “I did. I’ll do the wash tomorrow, and then I’ll give the house a good scrubbing. I’m just pleased I got it in, so I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get everything planted in time to have a good harvest this year.”

  “I hope you planted some pumpkins. One of my favorite things in the world is pumpkin pie!” He could talk to her about food all day. He could talk to anyone about food. It was so much easier than trying to find something else to say.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I thought I’d take a basket when we walk tonight, and I hope to find some strawberries.”

  “There are some wild raspberries near here, and some wild cherries as well.”

  “No strawberries? I was thinking of making a strawberry shortcake. I guess I’ll try to gather both. I can make a cherry pie and maybe a raspberry pie.”

  “With homemade whipped cream?” he asked as he sat down at the table.

  “Of course. What would pie be without homemade whipped cream.”

  Doug smiled as she put the chicken on the table. “That looks wonderful. Have you ever burned anything in your life?”