Mail Order Meals

by Kirsten Osbourne

Trudie nodded, walking into the March house, a bit surprised by how dirty it was. She decided to just be bold and say what needed to be said. “Now, I’m here to help you, and I’m going to say whatever needs to be said to do that. All right?”

  “Sure.”

  “We need to clean before we can cook. The floor and counters are filthy, and so is the table. Has anyone ever showed you how to clean?” Trudie rolled up her sleeves in preparation for a big day of work. She loved to work!

  Mrs. March shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Never. I know it’s supposed to come naturally to people...”

  “No, it’s not. You should be taught to do it, and I was. So now we’re going to get started, and we’re going to clean as much as we can as quickly as we can. When the kitchen is clean, then we will start making bread.”

  Mrs. March nodded. “I have a broom and some old cloths.”

  “Perfect. Have you ever used a broom?”

  When her friend shook her head, Trudie explained what she was going to do before doing it, and then after demonstrating, she put the broom in her friend’s hands. “Now you do it.”

  It took them working together a little more than an hour to get the kitchen clean enough that Trudie felt like they could mix up the bread dough. Instead of doing it herself with Mrs. March watching, Trudie sat at the table and told her friend how much of everything to add to the dough, while she wrote down everything that needed to be done. “It’s best to follow step by step until you get used to making it. Of course, getting used to it won’t take long. You’ll be making it every day or every other day.”

  When Mrs. March had added everything, Trudie told her how to mix it, and then she showed her how to knead it on the table. They floured it and covered it with a cloth, and then they both washed their hands. “Don’t worry about the mess,” Trudie said. “We wear aprons when we cook for a reason.”

  “All right. What next?”

  “If you’ve been here three weeks and no laundry has been done, that needs to be next. I’ll tell you right now that laundry is my least favorite weekly chore. I absolutely hate it, but I certainly know how to do it, and I’ll teach you. Working with a friend makes tasks so much easier.”

  Mrs. March smiled. “I should do yours for a month after you teach me then. Just to thank you for all the help you’re giving me.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You’re giving me friendship and someone to be with while my husband is working.”

  By lunchtime, when Mr. March came back, there was bread in the oven, and soup on the stove. “I know soup isn’t the most refreshing thing in the summer,” Trudie told him, “but it was the easiest thing to teach her to make right off.”

  “I will never complain as long as the food I’m being served is cooked well.” He took a bite and smiled. “This is really good, Marion.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. March said as she took a bite of her own soup, a look of surprise on her face. “This really is good!”

  Trudie laughed. “Of course, it is. Don’t act so surprised. And it was easy enough that you could make it again without help, right?”

  Mrs. March nodded. “I’m sure you’re a sorceress to be able to make me able to cook so quickly.”

  Trudie laughed. “Not a sorceress, but I do love to cook. Hopefully that love is showing through.” She felt a little out of place eating with her friend and her husband, but it was the best way to teach her. Halfway through the meal, she got up to check the bread, and then apologized. “I really do need your wife for a moment,” she told Mr. March.

  Mrs. March joined her at the oven, and Trudie pointed out the color of the bread. “That’s how we know when it’s done. When it’s that color of golden brown.” Then she reached into the oven, using her apron to shield her hand from the heat, and pulled the loaves out of the oven. “We want to topple the loaves onto a clean cloth to cool.”

  Mr. March stared at the bread. “That looks wonderful.”

  Mrs. March frowned at him. “Well, I made it, so don’t be so sure, but I hope it’s as good as it looks. I can’t believe I made something that smells so good!”

  After lunch, the two women hung the clothes together, and they got dinner on the stove. “Chicken and dumplings is a favorite of mine. It’s hearty and easy to make, so that’s the first supper I’m teaching you to make. We’re making more than the two of you will eat for supper, so you’ll have lunch waiting for you in the ice box tomorrow.”

  “So really I only have to cook two meals a day?” Mrs. March asked, seeming excited at the prospect.

  “Most days, that will be enough,” Trudie told her. “Now, I want you to keep stirring this every few minutes until suppertime. I need to get home and start our supper, or I’d stay and help you.”

  “You’ve already done so much!” Mrs. March said.

  “Tomorrow, I’m going to show you how to dust and clean your windows. And you’ll learn a couple more meals, and maybe how to bake a pie, if you’d like.” Trudie had a good day teaching her new friend, and she was glad she’d spent time with her. Getting to know her was making her feel less lonely for her sisters.

  “I’d love that.” Mrs. March smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Charleston.”

  “If we’re going to spend this much time together, we need to be on a first name basis,” Trudie said. “I’m Trudie.”

  “I’m Marion, and I can’t tell you how pleased I am by your friendship. I think you may have saved my marriage.”

  Trudie left the March’s house that afternoon, feeling good about what she’d accomplished that day. Her friend had a lot more to learn, but at least she had some confidence after making a few meals that hadn’t burned.

  When Trudie got home, the house was quiet, and she hurried in and started supper. She’d had beans soaking all day, and she added a touch of ginger to help cut down on the effects of the beans before putting them on to boil. She wasn’t sure if the ginger really helped, but she felt like it did.

  She carefully fried up strips of bacon, and she added the bacon to the pot with the beans in it, washing the extra dishes she used as she went.

  By the time Doug returned from his day of work, the beans were ready to serve, and she poured them over the rice she’d made in a separate pot.

  While he washed his hands, she set the food on the table.

  Looking around, he couldn’t see what had been neglected in his house. “When did you get back?” he asked.

  “About an hour and a half ago. She didn’t know how to do laundry or how to even sweep her house. I showed her so much, and I plan to go back tomorrow, if that’s all right with you.” Trudie asked, but she would go either way. He didn’t need her there during the day.

  He frowned, but nodded. “That’s fine.”

  “Do you not like me going to help her?” she asked.

  “I feel like my wife should be doing things for me and my home. Not off running around with a friend.”

  Trudie wanted to get angry with him for his answer, but she’d asked the question. “If I’m ever injured or sick and can’t work, I’m sure she’ll be the first one to come over and help us. She’ll have to use the skills I’m teaching her to help. Or what if I have a baby and I’m sick while I’m with child? She’ll help. It’s what neighbors do for each other.”

  He sighed. “I guess it is. I just want my wife in my home.”

  “I’ll be in your home as soon as she’s able to cook well. I taught her to make chicken and dumplings today.”

  “That’s probably good. Your chicken and dumplings are tasty.” He took a bite of his beans. “These are good. I wish we had cornbread to go with them, though.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time I make beans for you then.”

  That was the last of the conversation during their meal. After, he got his whittling out, and she cleaned the kitchen, and then wrote a couple of letters. If he’d wanted to talk, she would have happily sewed, but since he didn’t seem to ever want to talk to her again, writing was the answer.
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  THE WEEK WENT BY QUICKLY with Trudie going to Marion’s every day to teach her more things. Finally, the two of them went for a long walk one afternoon, and Trudie found a cherry tree on her friend’s property. She clapped her hands excitedly. “We’ll make a cherry pie for dessert tonight. Well, two of them. Doug is starting to feel neglected with as much time as I’m spending with you.”

  “How are we going to pick them?” Marion asked. She carried a basket over her arm, and when she’d questioned why she needed to, Trudie just smiled.

  “Give me the basket, and I’ll show you.”

  While Marion watched, Trudie quickly climbed the tree and started picking the cherries. “How did you do that?” Marion asked.

  Trudie shrugged. “I’ve been climbing trees my whole life.” She plucked as many cherries as she could just as quickly as she could. When the basket was full, she carefully dropped it into her friend’s hands, and then she shimmied down the tree. “We probably won’t have time to make the pies for supper tonight, but we can make them tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I was hoping I could make one for church. Thomas has never let me take any food to the potluck, because he said nothing I made was worth eating.”

  Trudie shook her head. “I should have thought of it earlier in the week. I’m sorry. It’s already Saturday. You could make the fried chicken I showed you for the potluck. Yours turned out very well.”

  Marion pursed her lips and then nodded. “I’ll do that. Thank you for the suggestion. It’s so hard for me to remember I actually know how to make a few things now. What will you take to the potluck?”

  Trudie hadn’t thought about that yet, but she needed to. “I have to take something good. All those women gather around Doug, trying to get him to say their food is the best. Did you know he would pay whoever brought the best tasting meal to the potluck? So, all the women are thinking of him when they cook.” She shook her head.

  Marion laughed. “I wondered why the woman gathered around him that way.”

  Trudie sighed. “I guess I will make a cornbread casserole. Doug will love it, and so will everyone else.”

  “What do you put in it?” Marion asked.

  “I have no idea. I’ll make it up as I go tonight. I’m thinking some sausage, corn, cornbread, and I have a little cheese I could use. It’ll be good, whatever I decide to put in it.” Trudie loved experimenting as she cooked.

  Marion shook her head. “I wish I could just throw ingredients together and come up with something delicious.”

  “You’ll get there. We’ll work on that next week.”

  Marion laughed. “Sounds good to me. Is Doug working again tomorrow?”

  “I think so. Why don’t you two come over for supper? We’ll make something a little more complicated together. I love chicken pot pie, and that would be fun to make with you. Or maybe I should take that to the potluck.”

  “No, invent something for the potluck, because I want to learn to make chicken pot pie.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  When they arrived back at Marion’s house, they sat down and worked on pitting the cherries. “You know what? I think I’ll take a cherry pie to the pot luck,” Trudie said while they worked on the fruit. She wanted it to be something Doug would love.

  “I think that will go over well,” Marion said.

  As soon as they were done with the cherries, Trudie got to her feet. “I need to head home to fix supper. You remember how to make the gravy for your pot roast, right?”

  Marion nodded. “I have your instructions written down. I’ll let you know tomorrow how it turned out.”

  “Sounds good.” Trudie went outside, mounted her horse, and headed back to her house. It had been a wonderful week, filled with camaraderie, even though Doug was still acting strangely. She was just glad he wasn’t the only person she had to talk to.

  As soon as she got home, she washed three potatoes, poking them and putting them into the oven. And then she put three steaks on to fry. She’d eat only one of each, but she knew her husband’s appetite.

  While supper was cooking, she rolled out the dough for her pie crust, getting the pie she would take to the pot luck ready, and of course, a second one for Doug to eat most of. She already knew that Doug loved her pies, and that pleased her. She just wished she could please him more. He seemed more distant every day, and she didn’t know what was keeping him from talking to her.

  When he got home, she was just taking the potatoes out of the oven and slipping the pie in. She took the steaks off the stove and put them on plates, added the potatoes, and then she served them both. “How was your day?” she asked. It was the same thing she asked every day, and the same thing he never really answered for her.

  “It was hard,” he said quietly. “We lost three calves who got wrapped up in some fencing we were building and left out overnight.”

  “I’m so sorry.” It was the most he’d told her about his work all week.

  He nodded. “Me too. They were all heifers, and we would have kept them to breed next year. I hate that we lost them.” He bowed his head and said a prayer over the meal.

  “Is it going to hurt us financially?” Trudie asked, thinking of the money she still had stashed away. She was happy to give it to him if he needed it, but for now, it was nice to know she had a nest egg.

  “Not really, because we’ll make up for them, but I hate losing a heifer. They’re the foundation we build our entire herd on, and having even three die is always a blow.”

  She nodded, wishing she had the right words to say to him, but the real problem between them was she never had the right words. Gone were the days when their light-hearted teasing filled the house. Now they were barely talking. They had to get past that.

  Chapter 8

  On their way to church the next day, Trudie kept up a light-hearted chatter about her week and how spending time with Marion had gone. “I think she’s going to be fine on her own after another week. I hate it though, because I really enjoy spending time with her.” Perhaps she could teach Marion to do spring cleaning, and then they could do both houses together. It would be much nicer than working alone.

  When Doug didn’t really respond, she simply kept talking, growing uneasy with the constant silence between them.

  “I made a pie for the potluck today. You know you need to choose my dish as the best there.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Finally, they arrived at the church, and Trudie was happy to be able to escape to go and talk with the other women. One after another, they came to her and introduced themselves. “I didn’t expect Doug to marry so soon,” one young woman who had introduced herself as Carolyn said.

  “Why not?” Trudie asked. She genuinely didn’t understand the women of that town, all trying to outcook the other for Doug.

  “He never talks,” Carolyn said. “It must have been awful on your wedding day, trying to get him to talk.”

  Trudie shook her head. “Not at all. He talked nonstop for days.” And he had, but then he’d stopped.

  “Really?” Carolyn asked. “Several of the young ladies in town cooked for him and tried to capture his attention, but he didn’t speak enough to any of them. No one felt like she’d ever be special to him.”

  Trudie looked over at Doug, who was surrounded by a group of men. Everyone was again talking but him. Was it really possible that Doug just didn’t say much? It was hard to believe after their first few days together, but she supposed anything was a possibility. “How odd.”

  “I think it’s odd if you can get him to speak more than one or two words at a time,” Carolyn said.

  “Well, I can definitely do that,” Trudie said. She thought about the conversation she’d had with him that morning. She’d wanted him to say more, of course, but truly, he’d been down right eloquent compared to what the other women were saying. Maybe she needed to talk about things that interested him more. Food was at the top of the list. Since they’d quit talking about food al
l the time, he’d quit speaking. Perhaps she could get him to tell her about the orphanage where he’d grown up or about ranching. He obviously had a very deep interest in his ranch.

  All during the service, Trudie thought about what Carolyn had said. Other women had cooked for him and shown an interest in him and he hadn’t been willing to speak to them? It was crazy.

  As soon as the service was over and everyone divided up for the potluck, she cut a piece of her cherry pie and took it to Doug. He ignored all of the women with outstretched hands, holding plates toward him, and he took her pie. One bite was all it took.

  “Sorry, ladies. My wife is the best cook in all of Colorado. You need to stop trying, because she’ll always win.” The smile he gave her was reminiscent of their first couple of days of marriage, and she longed for the days right after she’d met him. She missed the man she’d first married, because he seemed to have disappeared from her.

  On their way home, she talked to him about making her chicken pot pie for supper. “I thought it would be a good thing to teach Marion how to make. And her husband said he’d love to go out on the range with you again.”

  Doug nodded. “They’re good people. I’m just ready to have my wife back in my house all the time.”

  She frowned. “I thought it would be easier to teach Marion to cook on her own stove, the one she’d be using to prepare meals. If you’d rather I had her come to our house every day, I’d be happy to do that.”

  “Thank you for being willing, but it’s all right. You’re almost done, right?”

  “I’ll be done teaching her by the end of this week. Does that work?” She really hated that she was displeasing him by being gone, but helping others made her very happy. They’d figure it out eventually, she was certain.

  He nodded. “It does. I am still calving right now, so there’s not much time I could spend with you anyway.”

  “Would you want to spend time with me if you could?” she asked. She had no idea where the words came from, and she regretted them immediately. They made her sound downright pitiful.