“That’s his way. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though.” Margaret smiled again. “The two of you will be all right. That connection you spoke of will see you through. Just be patient with him. When he’s ready to open up, you’ll see the wonderful man he is inside.”
“I’ve caught plenty of glimpses, enough to know that I want to see more,” Helen replied. “It just seems so unfair—the accident happened so quickly, and now his entire life is changed because of it.”
“The word ‘fair’ is an interesting concept, isn’t it? So often, when people use it, they mean, ‘whatever works out in my own best interest.’ If life were fair, we’d quickly discover how little we have actually earned and how many things we’ve taken for granted.”
Helen nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I know I have far more than I’ve ever merited. I was taking an inventory of myself earlier and not liking what I found—how does anyone even stand me?”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. I’m so waspish and opinionated—if Wynonna wasn’t the kindest girl on earth, I never would have ended up here with the others. I’d be sewing shirts in a factory or something, except even they wouldn’t hire me on. I asked.”
“You’re being awfully critical of yourself.”
“I’m tired. So very tired.”
“Go lie down for a while, Helen. Yes, Zeke needs rest, but so do you. We’ll figure it out—every last bit of it. No matter what happens with Zeke’s eyesight, he’ll be able to create a happy life for himself—that’s the kind of resilience he has. The rest of us will be hard put to keep up with him.”
“I certainly hope so.” Helen stood up. “Do you need help back to your room?”
Margaret held up a hand. “Oh, gracious, no! I’m staying out here as long as I possibly can. This is where all the action is.”
Helen laughed. “All right. I’ll see you later. And thanks for the talk. I think I need to mull things over a bit more and get my thinking straight.”
“That’s a good idea, and I know you’ll feel a lot better after you’ve had more sleep. Just remember not to be so hard on yourself.”
Helen thanked her new friend again, then walked down the hall and into the room she was borrowing. She needed to learn not to be so hard on herself. How, exactly, did one go about that? She had no idea.
***
Helen didn’t allow herself to sleep for long. She needed to get her days and nights back in the right order as soon as possible, so she napped for an hour and then got up again. Fiona had brought some food from the bunkhouse kitchen, so she ate dinner and washed her few dishes, then went over to Mike’s cabin to see if Zeke was awake.
Sully met her halfway across the yard. “Miss Helen, I know you like havin’ things worked out, so I know you’ll appreciate this. I’ve been thinkin’ it over, see. You’ve been stayin’ in Mike’s cabin, but now Zeke’s there, so you’ve moved over to Wade’s cabin, which is how it should be—you and Zeke shouldn’t be roomin’ together in the same buildin’, seein’ as how . . . well, you know.”
“Seein’ as how . . . what, Sully?”
He looked a little shy. “Seein’ as how you’re fallin’ for each other, Miss Helen. You should keep things proper-like and stay in two different cabins. So that means that you’ll stay where you are, in Wade’s cabin. Miss Fiona and Miss Cora can stay in the other room of Mike’s cabin because neither of them are in love with Zeke—at least, as far as I know—and there are enough people comin’ and goin’ to be with Zeke that everythin’ will stay on the up-and-up. But that does put Miss Wynonna out of a room, so she’ll bunk with Miss Margaret, and Wade will move out to the bunkhouse for the time bein’. Just temporary—just until the cabin’s built. But first we have to get the cabin built, see.”
“Hold on a minute, Sully. I’m confused.” Helen rubbed her forehead. “I’m taking Wynonna’s bed, so she’s moving in with Margaret, and Wade’s moving into the bunkhouse? That’s not fair to Margaret or to Wade, and doesn’t Wynonna deserve to have her own bed back? I’m the odd one here—I could sleep on the sofa, couldn’t I, and save all this hassle?”
Sully scratched his chin. “Well now, I suppose that would make things a mite easier . . .”
“Or we could put a straw tick for me on the floor of Rowena and Wynonna’s room.”
“Hmm. You’re right again, Miss Helen. I was just tryin’ to put all the ladies in a proper bed.”
“And that’s so kind of you, but it’s not necessary. I really can sleep wherever—I don’t need a proper bed to be happy.”
Sully gave her a toothy—and also somewhat toothless—smile. “Why, Miss Helen, you’re a true saint, pushin’ your own comfort to the side like that. I’m flabbergasted that you’re willin’ to sleep on the floor rather than put someone else out.”
“I’m no stranger to floors, Sully. It’s all right.”
“Well then, I’ll stop frettin’ about who goes where and I’ll find you a fresh tick. How’s that?”
“That’s perfect, Sully. Thank you.”
She continued on her way across the yard, shaking her head and smiling. Bless Sully’s heart. He was so eager to make sure that everyone was comfortable that he was going to turn the entire ranch on its head—what a sweet man. Misguided, but sweet.
When she stepped inside Mike’s cabin, she was pleasantly surprised to see Zeke sitting in the front room, visiting with Fiona and Cora. His head was still bandaged, of course, but his eyes looked clear, and even though they weren’t functioning as they should, they seemed bright. She hadn’t noticed until that moment just how blue they were. Blue like deep water under cloudless skies.
“Hello, Helen,” Fiona greeted her. “We were just talking about you.”
Helen felt a little heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m not sure if I want to know what you were saying. It could go either way.”
“All good things,” Zeke replied. He waved his hand toward the other girls. “Come join us.”
“I was actually hoping to go start some bread for tomorrow,” Fiona said, standing up. “Cora, do you think you could help me?”
“Of course. Bread for so many people—that’s hard work,” Cora replied a bit obviously. They each waved at Helen and headed out the door, big grins on their faces. Subtlety was apparently not on the menu that day.
“I’m glad you came over, Helen,” Zeke said. “I . . . I wanted to thank you for earlier.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t need to ask for a reminder—she clearly remembered the moment when the reality of his situation had crashed down on him. She’d never felt someone else’s vulnerability so keenly, and she knew it had bonded them in a way that nothing else could. No matter what happened to them for the rest of their lives, there would be that little thread of someone falling and someone else pulling them back up. It was a small thing, something that had happened in just an instant, but it was significant.
“Sully came by a few minutes ago and was telling the girls some convoluted plan for where everyone should sleep,” Zeke went on.
Helen laughed. “He told me about it just now before I got here. Poor fellow put a lot of work into it, but I told him I’d sleep on a straw tick in Wynonna’s room. Solved the whole thing with very little rearranging.”
Zeke grinned. “I figured you’d come up with a better plan. What it made me realize, though, is how badly we need to get your cabin built.”
“Oh. I haven’t even thought about that since we got back. Things have been a little busy.”
“Yes, they have, but the need is still there, and we might as well take care of it.”
Helen noticed how easily he was speaking to her now, how his reticence seemed to have dropped away. Maybe that was one benefit of getting kicked in the head. “Do the other men build things as well as you do?”
“Not quite as well as I do, but passable.”
She grinned when she realized he was making a joke. She liked thi
s side of him—this free and easy side, with all the barriers down. “You could show them the plans, then, and hope they don’t mess things up too badly.”
He smiled, then paused. “The only problem is, there aren’t any actual plans.”
“What?” Helen raised an eyebrow. “How can you build a house without plans?”
“They’re all in my head. I wrote the dimensions down on that piece of paper we took to town with us, but that was it.”
Helen sat back in her chair with a thump. “So . . . what happens now?”
“Well, first off, we need to find that piece of paper. Do you know what the men did with my wet clothes when we got back? Did they put them in the laundry?”
“I have no idea at all. I was asleep.” A flash of irritation raced through her. As if she’d have any knowledge about his clothes. It’s not like she would have been there when they changed him. That was indecent. Just as she was about to retort, though, she realized why he was asking—she and the other girls had been trying to catch up on the laundry, and he might have thought his clothes had come through already. “I haven’t seen them,” she continued, speaking without anger because of her new realization.
“Then they might still be here. Would you mind checking?”
“Of course not.” She stood up and went into the room he was using, looking around. Sure enough, there was a pile of clothing on the floor in the corner, and she shook her head. Those should have been washed immediately, but there was nothing to be done about it now except to get them done as soon as possible.
She remembered seeing him put the paper in his pocket, so she looked through the clothes until she found it. She also found a soggy sack of nearly dissolved licorice—oh, dear. What a mess.
She gathered everything up and carried it to the front door, where she tossed it outside without feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. Then she brought the paper back to the front room and sat down again. “I found it,” she replied.
“I heard the door open and close. Did someone come in?” he asked.
“No. I was just throwing your clothes outside so they wouldn’t stink up your bedroom anymore,” she said casually. “I have your notes right here.”
He seemed a little taken aback, but didn’t reply to her first comment. “Good. I’m glad you were able to find them.”
“I can see what you mean about them not being very complete.” Helen smoothed the sheet of paper on her knee. She had the length and height of each wall, and that was about it. “If I got more paper, do you think you could tell me what’s in your head, and I could write it down?”
“That might work,” he said slowly. “I’ve never tried anything like that before . . .”
“Well, neither have I, and I know absolutely nothing about building a cabin. In fact, I might be the worst possible choice for this task. Are any of the other men artists or architects or . . .?”
“I’m afraid not. You might be my worst choice, or you might be my best.” He smiled. “I’m not sure if Mike has any paper. I do, but it’s out in the bunkhouse—I’d never send you in there to get it. I’ll ask one of the men.”
“Thank you. If your pile of clothes is any indication of what the bunkhouse might smell like, I’ll keep my distance.”
He reached out, and this time she took his hand without any hesitation. The same tingles ran up her arm as before, but they didn’t catch her off guard or make her want to pull away. Instead, she smiled, appreciating the shift that had taken place in their relationship and wondering what it might mean.
“I wonder . . . May I ask you something?” Her voice came out sounding smaller than she intended, likely reflecting her nervousness about her question. She’d meant to sound confident.
“Of course,” he replied. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know if anything’s actually the matter, but . . .” She swallowed. “Alice Appleby’s a very pretty girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And I noticed her talking to you, and you talking to her . . . and then when we were at the hotel, I heard you telling Jack that you wanted to pay a call on her.” She rushed on. “I understand—I really do. She’s very pretty.”
“You said that already.” Zeke sounded amused.
“Yes, and it’s still true. I have to wonder, though . . . why did you send for a mail-order bride if you’re sweet on Alice?”
“That’s just it. I’m not sweet on Alice. In fact, I’ve never even spoken to her much until now.”
“You? Not speaking? That’s hard to believe,” Helen teased. Her heart gave an extra skip. He didn’t care for Alice after all? Then why was he going to see her?
Zeke acted as though he hadn’t heard her jibe. “The fact is, I have someone else in mind, and while Alice is, as you say, a very pretty girl, she’s not the girl for me.”
“Then why were you making plans to go see her?”
“So I could tell her about you.”
“Oh.” His simple answer knocked the wind clean out of her, and she sat back. “To tell her about me?”
“That’s right.”
“But . . . we were in the middle of an argument. What could you possibly want to tell her?”
He didn’t answer for a minute, and she wondered if he’d slipped back into his old uncommunicative ways. But then he said, “Helen, from the moment I first saw you, I’ve known you were the one woman in the entire world who could make me happy. Even if we never did anythin’ but fight, even if you left Kansas as soon as you had your train ticket, I could never love Alice Appleby because I’m in love with you. And I needed to make sure she knew that because it wouldn’t be fair for her to think otherwise. Not with so many other men who could make her happy.”
Helen opened and closed her mouth a few times, so astonished, she couldn’t find words. “You’re in love with me? Even though . . . even though you never spoke to me or answered my questions or spent time with me?”
“The thing is, Helen . . .” He paused again. “I didn’t want to chase you away, and I was afraid that if I said somethin’ wrong or did somethin’ wrong, you’d never look at me twice.”
“Because I’m so critical.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry, Zeke. I’m working to overcome it—I really am. These last twenty-four hours have shown me just how much I need to change.”
He held up a finger. “I never said you were critical.”
“But you were thinking it.”
His lips twitched. “I might have been thinkin’ it . . . but I never said it.” He lowered his hand. “I’m not like the other men you’ve known in your life. I’m not educated or proper or dashing—I’m a handyman on a ranch. I didn’t want to scare you away with my . . . my roughness.”
“And how do you know what other men I’ve known in my life? You’re making an awful lot of assumptions, aren’t you?”
“I guess I am, but you come from Philadelphia—doesn’t that mean you’re used to better society than this?”
“Yes, Philadelphia’s a big city, but that doesn’t mean I was part of society. I’ve worked hard my whole life, Zeke—I haven’t had it easy. I’ve done washing and ironing and mending, I’ve scrubbed floors, I’ve wiped snotty noses—and I’m sorry if I’ve given the impression that I’m somehow above all those sorts of things. I don’t mean to seem condescending—it’s just that I was raised to have a certain level of pride no matter what I was doing, and that, sadly, translated into arrogance.”
Zeke took her hand and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “I’m glad you told me. I love you all the better knowin’ this about you.”
“And you don’t think I’m arrogant?”
“Oh, I never said that.” He smirked. “You’re just a little bit arrogant. How about, the right amount of arrogant.”
“I don’t think there’s any such thing.”
The door opened just then, and Tenny came inside. “Evenin’, folks. It’s my turn to give Zeke a hand, and it’s bedtime. Sorry, Miss Helen, but I’m suppos
ed to send you back to the main house.”
“I guess it is getting late.” Helen stood up. “Thanks, Tenny. Zeke, I’ll find some paper and we’ll work on the plans tomorrow, all right?”
“All right. Sleep well.”
Helen gave his shoulder a little squeeze, then moved past Tenny to leave the cabin. He touched her elbow and spoke to her in a low voice. “I don’t know what you did, Miss Helen, but I’ve never seen Zeke so happy, even when he had his eyesight. I can’t help but think you’re good for him.”
She grinned. “I hope so, Tenny. I really hope so.”
Chapter Seven
Zeke fell asleep without too much trouble, but he woke up some time later with his head splitting. He’d had an ache ever since the accident—that was to be expected when one had been kicked by a horse—but it seemed worse than it had all day. He sat up, pressing his hands to the sides of his head, trying to ease the pressure.
“You all right?” Tenny’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Just an ache in my head. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Oh, I was just thinkin’, and thinkin’s never good for sleepin’.”
“Thinkin’ about what?”
“Mostly about Miss Cora. She and Miss Fiona came in shortly after you went to bed, and Miss Fiona was plenty friendly, but I can’t make sense out of Miss Cora. One minute she’s all smiles, and the next, she’s like a scared rabbit.”
“The only thing I know about women is that they’re strange creatures,” Zeke said. “We can hope to understand ’em someday, but we’d best not count on it or we’ll be disappointed.”
“You and Miss Helen seem to be gettin’ along all right.”
“I think we are, but again, that’s hard to say.” Zeke shook his head, then regretted it as pain shot through it from one side to the other. “I . . . I might have told her I’m in love with her.”
A Handyman for Helen Page 7
