It was nearly suppertime when Jo finished scrubbing the floors, surfaces, dishes, and every bit of clothing with the sliver of lye she found next to the sink. Thank goodness for the pump in the kitchen. She didn't know what she'd do if she had to cart water to and from the well every day.
Tomorrow she'd ask Ruby how to make more lye so the house would stay clean. The general store in town might sell it, but Jo didn't know how to drive a wagon, and six miles was too far to walk one way into town.
Her back ached from the manual labor, and Jo sat at the kitchen table. She needed a short break before she finished fixing supper. The smell of sweet cornbread and roasted potatoes circled the kitchen. The bread continued to bake, but the meat and vegetables sat in the oven, keeping warm until Mr. Harrington returned from the fields. Ruby was tending to her garden, and Tommy had been Jo's shadow most of the day, helping her with the chores.
Mostly she had to go over the work he did, but he was trying, and it was sweet having a helper keen on making her stay pleasant. He was an eager boy, with hope in his eyes every time he looked at her. She wanted to tell him it wasn't up to her if she stayed, but Mr. Harrington wouldn't have appreciated Jo pitting his son against him.
The house was sparkling clean, but the walls and surfaces were bare. Surely Mrs. Harrington, when she'd been alive, had some nice quilts and lace and candlesticks. There were bare nails in the walls and faint outlines where pictures once hung. Where did everything go?
Jo went to her trunk and pulled out her sketchpad and colored pencils. She sat at the kitchen table and flipped through the book. She loved painting most of all, but this was all she could transport across the country. If she stayed, she'd buy an easel and paints and brushes.
"What is that?" Tommy climbed into the chair next to her and rested his head on her shoulder. She patted the mop of unruly chestnut hair.
"Drawings of people and places from where I'm from. Would you like to see?"
His head bopped up and down. She moved through the pages, showing him Central Park, the Brooklyn Bridge, Trinity Church, and the fashionable ladies walking along Fifth Avenue.
"Is that what the women wear in New York?" Ruby entered the kitchen and leaned over Jo's shoulder. "Won't they get their dresses dirty when they work?"
"Oh these types of women don't work. They meet for tea and gossip and raise money for charities." Jo remembered her mother leading a similar life. Not quite as rich or fashionable as these ladies, but her time had mainly been spent calling on friends and hosting dinner parties.
"But they must cook and clean."
"No. They have house servants for that. They don't even dress themselves."
Ruby was shocked. "They don't know how to get dressed?"
"I'm sure they do. But some of the corsets are near impossible to do up without the help of their maids. I used to have a maid. When I was younger. But after my parents died, I had to learn to do it myself. We could no longer afford such luxuries."
Ruby's finger traced the line of one of the skirts on a lady wearing a red evening gown and cape. "Your outfits aren't this fancy, but they’re nicer than anything here. We used to have pretty things in the house, though. Momma loved lace. It was an excessive expense, Daddy said, but he'd buy it for her whenever we had a good year with the crops. He loved to make her smile."
The porch door slammed behind them, and Ruby jumped.
"Pretty things have no use for us out here. They'd only get dirty." Mr. Harrington kicked off his boots.
"Sir!" Alarmed, Jo waved her hands at his muddy boots. "I've spent hours scrubbing this floor. Please, take your boots and place them out on the porch from now on."
Mr. Harrington's jaw tightened under the tan skin of his face. "I'll do as I please in my house. Ruby, honey, fetch my supper."
Jo marched to his shoes and dropped them outside. Then she took the broom and swept the floor clean again.
"I made dinner tonight," Jo announced, ignoring Mr. Harrington’s boiling scowl.
The children hacked the meat off the bone and dished the cornbread and roasted potatoes onto their plates. Jo made a plate for Mr. Harrington and then herself and sat between the children.
She watched Mr. Harrington's sharp features as he bit into the bread and then chewed on a slice of ham. His eyes lit up in delight, and he scarfed the whole plate down and asked for seconds. He didn't say thank you, but his fervor was thanks enough.
Her mother used to say the way to a man's heart was through food. But if that were true, Jo's father would've been sleeping with Cook. Which he certainly was not, as Cook was a wrinkled prune of a woman with hair so thin you could see her pink scalp.
When the family was done, they scurried from the table and left the mess for Jo, but she didn't mind. She liked that they already accepted her as part of their routine. After she cleared and wiped down the table, there was a knock on the doorframe. A tall man with thick blond hair stood on the porch. His eyes widened in delight as he took her in.
"Why hello."
"Hello." Jo smiled politely.
"I'm James Lucas. And you're . . ."
"Miss Taylor. I'm a . . . friend of Mr. Harrington's." So this was Ruby’s beau. He was tall and handsome with hair several shades blonder than her own, and had a strong build and tanned skin that suggested he spent most of his day handling hard labor outside.
He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. The floorboards creaked, and Jo turned to see Mr. Harrington enter the kitchen.
"I see you've met Miss Taylor." Mr. Harrington ushered James out to the porch. "She'll be staying here a few days helping out."
"I thought you were meant to adopt a boy?"
"There was a mix-up."
Jo placed a pitcher of tea she'd made earlier on a small table outside and poured them both a glass. "I'm trying to prove my worth to Mr. Harrington."
James’s eyebrows raised. "Well, I'd say he's lucky to have you."
"Ruby!" Mr. Harrington yelled into the house, and she appeared. When she saw James, her hands fluttered to her hair, tucking loose strands into her braid.
"Evening, James." She smiled, her eyes cast downward.
James smiled, but his eyes skipped over Ruby and landed on Jo. "And do you plan to be adopted, too? If you prove your value?"
Jo laughed. "Goodness no. I'm eighteen."
"A lady then." James’s smile widened, and Jo shifted uncomfortably at the way he leaned in to her.
They sat in silence for a moment, Ruby glaring at Jo, Mr. Harrington glaring at James, James smiling at Jo, and Jo inching backwards, wanting to escape.
"Mr. Lucas!" Tommy ran into the strong arms of James, who lifted Tommy up onto his shoulders.
"You're getting so big, Tommy. I won't be able to lift you much longer." James tickled Tommy, and he buckled over in giggles and slid off James’s shoulders and into his lap. "I came to ask . . ." James paused a moment, his eyes moving between Ruby and Jo. "If I could escort Ruby to the picnic? But it seems your new guest may need an escort, too. I'd be happy to escort both ladies."
Jo didn't need to look at Ruby to feel her scorn. Damn this James! Jo had made it over a small hurdle toward Ruby's affections that day, but James was undoing all her work. He didn't mean to stir trouble, but stirring trouble was exactly what he was doing.
"Jo won't be here for the picnic," Mr. Harrington spoke.
"When is it?" Jo asked, ignoring the punch in her gut.
"This Saturday," James said. "It's where all us farmers gather to hire workers for the harvest."
"I'd love to go," Jo said. "If I'm still here. But I'm afraid I would have to be escorted by Mr. Harrington, as I’m his guest." Jo smiled at Mr. Harrington, whose dark eyes studied her, trying to guess her game. "Would you do me the honor?"
"Please, Daddy. Please!" Tommy slid off James’s lap and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Mr. Harrington softened into his son's embrace.
"Come on, Jack," James said. "I'll be disappointed to miss the opportunity to escort such a pretty lady, but I'd rather have her there with you than not at all."
"It's only a few more days," Jo said, folding her hands in front of her skirt.
Mr. Harrington caught Ruby's eyes, a silent question, Do you approve?
Ruby shrugged, demurring in front of James.
"Okay," Mr. Harrington said. "I wouldn't mind more of that cornbread for a few more days."
Jo audibly exhaled. That bought her four extra days at least with the Harringtons.
"Well, I best be heading home. The clouds are rolling in and if I lose the moon, I may lose my way home." James stood and nodded.
Tommy laughed. "You could find your way home blindfolded. That's what you always say, Mr. Lucas."
"You are correct, young sir."
After James left, Mr. Harrington banged his way back inside, but the children and Jo stayed out, enjoying the cool night air. Tommy sat on Jo's lap in a rocking chair, and she breathed in his sweet scent.
"Momma used to do that," Ruby said. "She'd press her nose into my hair and breathe in and say I was so sweet she could eat me."
Holding Tommy in her arms made Jo's insides warm and her heart grow with love, but she pressed it down, reminding herself she was not there to be their mother. She was there to work hard and make their lives a little easier.
"What else happens at this picnic?" Jo asked and rested her chin lightly on Tommy's head.
"There's food and dancing and singing." Tommy stood and hopped around. "But I don't know how to dance."
"Do you, Ruby?"
"Momma taught me a little, and Lucy reminds me of the steps when Daddy isn't around, but we're not allowed to sing or dance. It makes Daddy angry."
Jo looked inside the house, where she could see the light from under Mr. Harrington's bedroom door.
"I think it makes him sad," Jo said. "It probably reminds him of your momma."
"They used to dance all the time. We all did," Ruby said.
Tommy frowned, his disappointment painted on his features. "Not me. I'm the reason Momma died."
"Oh no, honey," Jo said. "These things just happen sometimes. You live on a farm. You must see it all the time. It's no one's fault." Jo clapped her hands once. "You know what, Tommy? I'll show you a few dance steps. Come here."
Tommy placed his small hands in Jo's outstretched fingers. She moved his hand around her back and they swayed side to side. Then she showed him a simple waltz, chanting, one, two, three, one, two, three.
"Tommy! Get inside and get into your bed. Now!" At the roar of Mr. Harrington's voice, they jumped apart. Tommy quivered and ran inside, Ruby scurrying after him. Mr. Harrington snatched Jo into his arms. Before she knew what was happening, he sat on the steps and slung her over his knee. His hands pushed up the fabrics of her skirt in one swift movement and dragged her drawers to her ankles.
Jo barely had time to react before she felt the sharp burn of his hand hitting her naked flesh. Slap!
The shock stunned her into silence but when his palm struck her again she howled. It wasn’t the pain that made her cry out but the rush of humiliation. Her father had only took a strap to her a few times and that’s when she was a child as young as Tommy.
Slap! Her bottom clenched as Jack made contact again.
"Stop it!" She wiggled furiously under his grip.
Smack. Smack. Smack. In quick succession, he wacked her again and she screamed out, her voice thick with shameful tears.
"Please, Mr. Harrington." Her voice broke. “No more.”
The soft buzzing of the night encircled Jo and the quietness rang in her ears. Above her Jack’s breath came out in ragged bursts, and Jo tensed, waiting for the next blow. When his hand crested one of her cheeks, she flinched but he didn’t spank her. Instead his thumb rubbed over the raw skin, sending a rush of heat between Jo's legs.
Gooseflesh broke out across her bottom and the pain and humiliation twisted in her belly with something new . . . excitement. Heat skittered up her neck and warmed her cheeks as Jack continued the caress and a moan escaped her lips, unable to hold back as pleasure accosted her at the apex of her thighs.
The soft sound trickling out of Jo stirred Jack to attention. He snatched his hand away and yanked her skirts down her legs. When he abruptly stood, she rolled with an umph to the hard ground.
"I warned you." He towered above her on the steps. "I told you we don't dance or sing and I meant it. Do you hear me?"
Jo stayed sprawled on the ground, too shocked to answer, her drawers still wrapped around her ankles.
"Do you hear me?" He spoke more forcefully.
"Yes." Her voice caught in her throat. She cleared it and looked directly at him. "Yes." It was strong and clear. She didn’t want him to know how shaken she was.
"Good. Otherwise, I'll drag you to that train station myself and leave you there. I don't care how long you have to wait."
When she heard his bedroom door slam shut through the open front door, she pulled her drawers up and ran to her room. She fell on the bed, shame blanketing her body. Her hand gingerly moved under her clothes and she flinched as she touched her raw backside.
The slaps had been humiliating, but what had stunned her the most was her reaction when his thumb had caressed her backside. The unfamiliar sensation scared her and made her belly ache.
She flipped onto her back and breathed out loudly through her nose. The slaps had been demeaning and cruel. She hadn’t felt such vulnerability since she was a small girl. She wasn’t a child, he couldn’t just slap her!
But then that feeling...
She pushed the entire incident from her mind. It was a restless night of sleep as she vacillated between anger, shame, and the burning sensation that rippled between her thighs.
There were two types of people: those that grew weaker during hardships, and those that grew stronger. If Mr. Harrington had meant to tame her with his crude punishment, he was mistaken. It only hardened her resolve to stay.