Amelia prepared a simple lunch of sliced ham, bread, and boiled eggs. She set three plates and cups of milk at the table, but she and Lucy ate alone. Mr. Early stomped in and out of the small room where Lucy would be sleeping, transporting items to a lean-to tacked on the back of the house. By the stern look on his face, she knew she’d irritated him by asking him to empty the room, but what else did he expect? Lucy needed a clean, furnished room if she was to stay in this small but cozy house.
While she ate, she examined her surroundings. Such a simple dwelling—unplastered walls empty of paint, raw beams overhead, not even a throw rug warming the unstained planked floor. Yet something about the structure appealed to her. It seemed a blank slate waiting for the touches that would make it a home, and deep inside she experienced an itch to perform the transformation. But Mr. Early would not appreciate her making changes in his house. Regardless of how he felt, she would change the room where Lucy would sleep. For the child’s sake. And Mr. Early would have to understand.
Mr. Early plopped a burlap sack on the stack in the lean-to and crossed to the table. He settled his unsmiling gaze on the plate and cup in front of the empty chair.
Amelia offered a hopeful smile. “One nice thing about a cold lunch—it’s ready whenever you are.” Would he sit? She wanted a chance to get to know him a bit before she left Lucy with him for the evening. She was a fairly good judge of character, and she wouldn’t brand him as unkind, but his standoffishness concerned her. Was the air of indifference a pretense to hide his mourning? Men were such odd creatures when it came to expressing their true feelings.
“I’m not hungry. Got work waitin’ in the field.”
She bit the corner of her lower lip, stung by his sharp tone.
He curled his hands over the back of the chair and kept his head low. “But thanks.” The words emerged gravelly, as if his throat was dry, but with no harshness. He flicked a glance at her, the hint of an apology glimmering in his unusual eyes. Then he turned and strode out the door. His long legs carried him quickly.
The moment the door closed behind him, Amelia released her breath in a whoosh, unaware she’d even been holding it. “My, that is a taciturn man.”
“A tackerter man,” Lucy echoed, emulating Amelia’s tone perfectly.
She turned to the child, who wore a circle of crumbs around her mouth. As always, the child’s innocence melted her. She used her napkin to clean the little girl’s face. “Now that we’re done eating, we have work to do, yes?”
Lucy bobbed her head, making her ringlets bounce. “Work to do, yes.”
“Then let’s get busy.”
If Lucy hadn’t helped, Amelia could have cleaned the room in less than an hour. But Lucy whacked the straw broom like a club against the floor, sending dust over the surfaces Amelia scrubbed. The child was so eager to help, so cheerful in her labors, Amelia couldn’t complain. However, she traded tasks long enough to thoroughly sweep the floor, then allowed Lucy to slap the broom against the now dust-free floorboards while she once again scrubbed windowsills, windows, and shutters.
When the room sparkled beneath its cleaning, Amelia put her hands on her hips and frowned at the empty space. “Hmm…”
Lucy imitated her stance. “Hummm…”
Amelia laughed and scooped the child into a hug. “Silly girl, we need to find you a bed. Where do you think we should look?”
Lucy giggled and slipped free of Amelia’s grasp. She darted into the slanted paths of sunshine streaming through the open windows and spun joyous circles, her arms outstretched and her face lifted. Giggles spilled from her throat.
Watching the little girl, Amelia experienced a stab of pain. How would she bear to leave Lucy behind when she departed from Kingsley? If only the adoption wasn’t final. If only she had a husband who loved Lucy as much as she did. If only—
She stomped her foot against the floor, sending the if-onlys away. What good would these thoughts accomplish? None whatsoever. Lucy belonged to Mr. Early now. Unless a judge overturned the adoption—in her experience, adoptions were only voided when the child was grossly mistreated, something she didn’t expect from the tall, solemn farmer—she would have to tell Lucy goodbye.
“But I have today,” she whispered. Today was a gift she shouldn’t squander.
Lucy ceased her spinning and gazed up at Amelia, her little face puckered. “We find a bed, Miss Meela?”
Amelia jolted. Evening would be upon them soon enough. She needed to finish readying Lucy’s room. But how? She didn’t want to rifle through Mr. Early’s cupboards and closets like a common snoop. Her gaze shifted to the open window, and in idea formed quickly.
She held out her hand, and Lucy caught hold. “Come, Lucy, I have an idea for your bed.”
Abe tugged the reins that stretched from the plow to Jerry’s broad back and brought the horse to a halt. He frowned across the landscape. Miss Emmett, the little one skipping along beside her, was heading for the barn. Was she leaving? And was she taking the child with her?
His heart pounding in half hope, half trepidation, he watched her and the little one disappear into the barn. He stared at the open doorway, frowning and counting off the seconds until they emerged. But not in the wagon. Still on foot. And they both carried armloads of straw. Puzzlement filled him. He and Jerry remained rooted in place while the woman and child made two more trips, each time carting more hay into his house.
When they stayed inside, he clicked his tongue on his teeth and set Jerry in motion again. But while he guided the plow, folding back the rich Kansas soil to receive seeds, he couldn’t resist sending glances toward the house. What was she doing with that straw? Besides making a mess, that is. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the two of them in there alone.
Curiosity and nervousness drove him to end his day early. Besides, his empty stomach growled. For the first time since Ed’s house burned down, he thought he might be able to eat something. The hours of hard work had done their duty in restoring his appetite. Maybe the woman was in there using that straw to build a fire in the cookstove. A city gal likely wouldn’t know to look for a woodbox. Even if she was burning up his straw, he wouldn’t complain about having a hot meal on the table. It’d almost be like having Ruby back.
He released Jerry into the stall, saw to the horse’s needs, and then hurried to the house. Wisps of hay formed a trail to the back door, but not a single bit littered the floor inside. Soft voices carried from the spare room, and the cookstove was cold. Disappointment momentarily struck, but the lunch Miss Emmett had set out earlier waited on the corner of the dry sink with a checkered cloth covering the plate. He lifted the edge, snagged a piece of ham, and crossed slowly to the open doorway leading to the spare room, drawn by the cheerful sound of the mingled chatter and laughter.
Abe stopped in the doorway and peered in. The woman knelt, smoothing a blanket over a mound in the corner of the room, while the child paced back and forth, seeming to supervise. He swallowed the ham and then cleared his throat.
They both turned, the child shrinking against the woman’s frame. Miss Emmett curled her arm around the little one’s waist and smiled. “Mr. Early, I hope you don’t mind me helping myself to some of your sweet-smelling straw. I often slept on a straw mattress when I was a child, and I thought some straw and one of the blankets I found in the lean-to would make a fine bed for Lucy.”
He cringed. “That blanket’s wool. Plenty scratchy.”
The woman rose and brushed her hands against her skirt. “I presume you have some extra sheets somewhere, but I didn’t want to”—her cheeks blushed pink—“snoop.”
Except through the lean-to. She’d prowled plenty in there to find that blanket and a pair of crates which were now stacked one on top of the other against the wall and holding the child’s clothes. Sadness clawed at his midsection. Ruby wouldn’t let the little one sleep on a mound of straw on the floor or store her clothes in old crates.
He backed up a step. “Got some extra sheets in the bottom drawer of the chifforobe in my room.” Now why’d he tell her that? Did he want her going after it herself? “Wait here. I’ll fetch them.” He held the stack away from his sweaty, dust-smeared shirt as he carried them to the spare room and handed them to the woman.
She took them with a smile and knelt again to prepare the little one’s bed. While he watched the woman show the child how to smooth the sheets flat and tuck them under, a worry struck. Come Saturday, he’d need to switch out the sheets on his bed, and this was his only extra set. Who would wash his sheets and hang them to dry? He glanced down at his shirt and britches. Who would launder his work clothes? He’d come to depend on Ruby for so many things.
As his mother had taught him, his worries formed into a prayer. Lord, don’tcha think I’ll have enough trouble just takin’ care of myself? You can’t mean for this little one to stay here with me. Find her a good home with a ma an’ a pa who’ll love her the way Ed an’ Ruby would’ve done. An’ please show me how I’m gonna get along without Ruby doin’ for me all the things a wife would do. I can’t take care o’ things on my own.
The woman had the straw bed looking neat and tidy. She rose, swishing her palms together. “Well, now, that should do nicely.” She aimed her perky gaze at Abe. “Now that Lucy’s bed is ready, I’ll put a hot supper on the table for the two of you. Would fried potatoes and ham suffice, Mr. Early?”
His stomach growled. He nodded wordlessly.
A soft smile curved her lips and turned her cheeks into rosy apples. “I promise not to dally.” She scurried past him and out the door, little Lucy scampering after her the way the barn cats chased a mouse. On the other side of the threshold, she paused and looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows high. “There will be sufficient time for you to freshen up. I put water in your washbowl, so please make use of it.”
Heat filled his face. Not even Ruby had ever come right out and told him he needed to wash.
“And Mr. Early, while I was readying Lucy’s room, I made a decision.”
He drew a sharp breath, half afraid of what she’d say next. For a small woman, she had a big measure of spunk.
“Until the circuit judge comes, I will serve as your housekeeper as well as Lucy’s caretaker. This way you can plant your crop without worry, and you should have ample time to locate a woman to see to your household tasks when it’s time for me to move on.” For a moment, tears brightened her eyes. But she blinked several times, clearing the moisture. “Supper will be ready soon. Go wash up now.” She cupped her hand behind the child’s head and ushered her to the stove.
Abe angled a wry gaze toward the ceiling. You sure got a funny way of answerin’ a man’s prayers, God. Shaking his head, he made his way to the washstand to do as the woman had requested.