Ivy slowly rose and trailed behind him with the hand tools, wondering at his change of mood. What was it about gardening that put that stiffness in his demeanor? No, not stiffness exactly. More like a deep sadness.
There was obviously something in his past eating at him, shadowing his happiness in the here and now. Such a kind, generous man didn’t deserve to be robbed of joy that way. She ached to ask him about it, so she could help him get past whatever it was. But she didn’t have that right. Not yet, anyway.
Something inside her stirred. She might only be here for three more weeks, but she planned to do everything she could in that time to discover his secret pain and help him through it.
Whether he wanted her to or not.
She owed him that much and so much more.
After they stowed the tools back in the shed, they made their way to the porch, where they poured water into a chipped basin and washed their hands and faces.
When they were done, Mitch handed her a cloth to dry her face and took a second one for himself. “I’ll help you move your things.”
“Thank you, but don’t feel obliged. I can manage on my own.”
“Obligation has nothing to do with this,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m merely one friend helping another.”
So he thought of them as friends now. That lightened her mood. She hadn’t had many friends since Lester had made everyone believe the worst of her. “Then I accept your offer.”
“Good. Before we head out, though, perhaps we should find something to eat. Mrs. Pierce did say you were responsible for your own meals.”
Ivy knew if they went back to Daisy’s he’d insist on paying again and she wasn’t really comfortable with getting deeper in his debt. “Why don’t I fix us up something from your pantry?”
“I hadn’t intended for you to start working for me today.”
“It’ll be a practice run of sorts. I can get used to your stove and figure out what supplies I’ll need.” She gave a little smirk. “Besides, it’ll just be one friend cooking for another.”
His lips twitched. “Very well. I’ll stoke the stove while you gather the ingredients.”
Ivy stepped over to the pantry and studied the contents. Without access to perishables she’d have to get creative. And she’d definitely need to do some shopping before she fixed breakfast in the morning.
There were several jars of various vegetable preserves—had he purchased these or had friends such as Reggie and Daisy given them to him? She studied the jars and identified several kinds of beans, carrots, squash and pickled tomatoes and cucumbers. There were a few she couldn’t identify without further scrutiny and she decided to ignore them for now.
On another shelf, she found sweet ingredients such as honey, jams, preserves and syrups. So he possessed a sweet tooth—good. It gave her hope that he was still open to a bit of frivolity in his life.
Then she spotted the cornmeal. Did he have molasses? Yes, there it was. She turned to him. “Do you like corn bread?”
He nodded without looking up from the stove.
“Nana Dovie has a recipe she uses for when the hens aren’t laying. It looks like you have everything I need if you want me to fix up a batch.”
Mitch straightened. “As long as you’re eating with me, I’m game to give it a try.”
She grinned. “You just want to make sure I won’t feed you something I wouldn’t eat myself.”
“Something like that.”
His tone was dry, but she saw that half smile tease his lips again.
“Fair enough.” Ivy began pulling ingredients from the pantry. He crossed the room and took the sack of cornmeal and the jar of molasses from her and carried them to the table. When she had everything else she needed for the corn bread, she started looking for a mixing bowl.
He moved to help, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “You take a seat and leave me to figure things out. Like I said, consider this a dry run.” She looked around. “I don’t suppose you own an apron?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Never mind. I can do without.”
Ivy went to work. Mitch stayed in the kitchen with her, watching while she worked. He said it was so he’d be on hand if she had questions, but she got the strangest feeling he had other motives, as well.
Not that she’d let herself think on what those motives might be. That would involve a bit of wishful thinking. And a woman who was leaving town in three weeks couldn’t afford to do such a thing.
* * *
Mitch watched as Ivy busied herself in his kitchen. Her movements were confident and sure, and in very little time she had the pan of corn bread in the oven.
“Now, let’s see what we can fix to go with that.” She moved back to the pantry, still talking to herself as she considered and discarded several options.
It was fascinating to listen to her one-sided conversation, so full of whimsy and humor. Did she have any idea how revealing of her unique outlook on life it was?
She cast a glance over her shoulder. “You must like bland food—I don’t see much in the way of herbs or seasonings.”
“As I said, I’m a man of simple tastes.”
“Simple doesn’t have to be tasteless.” She turned back to his pantry and finally pulled out two jars. “Field peas and pickled tomatoes—I might be able to do something with these.”
It was an unusual combination but he didn’t question her. To his surprise, she poured the beans into a pot, then poured about half the jar of pickled tomatoes into the same pot, adding a bit of molasses to go with it.
Well, he’d said he was game to try anything she would eat herself. He supposed she was taking him at his word.
And to his surprise, the unusual mix of sweet and tangy turned out to be quite satisfying when taken as a whole.
Much like the woman herself.
Once the meal was over, Mitch insisted on helping her clean up.
“That’s my job,” she insisted.
But he was having none of that. “Not until Monday. Now, why don’t you scrape these plates into that bowl on the back porch for your dog while I fill the basin with water.”
Without giving her a chance to argue further, he turned and headed for the counter.
He allowed himself a small smile at the sound of her grumbling about stubborn, bossy know-it-alls, but there were no further arguments. She washed and he dried, and in no time they had the kitchen set back to rights.
As he rolled down his sleeves, he had another thought and went to the pantry. Quickly scanning the contents, he pulled out a jar of fig preserves and a tin of crackers, and held them out to Ivy. “Take these, please.”
She took them with a puzzled frown. “What do you want me to do with them?”
“Since you haven’t had time to do any shopping yet, you’ll need something for breakfast in the morning.”
She held them out to him. “That’s very kind, but—”
He raised his hands palms out. “You’ll be doing me a favor—Mrs. Peavy gave me the preserves, but I’m not overly fond of figs.”
And without waiting for her response, he turned and moved to the door.
Why did she have to be so all-fired stubborn about accepting his help? Her constant questioning of his offers was making him have to think about the reasons he was doing this.
And that was making him decidedly uncomfortable.
* * *
Ivy walked beside Mitch as they headed for the hotel and tried to decide whether to be angry with his I-know-best attitude or not. One part of her wanted to just relax and enjoy the flattering attention. But the other part of her, the one that knew she would be leaving Turnabout soon, warned her not to grow accustomed to such gallantry.
She left Mitch in the hotel lobby while she went up to her room to pack her things. It didn’t take long, but when she came back down she discovered Mitch had already settled her bill. And that was taking matters too far.
“Mr. Parker, I thought I made it clear to you that I didn’t want to accept any charity.”
“This is just a loan. I intend to hold the amount out of your first week’s pay.”
“Even so, you should have discussed this with me first. You can’t keep going around making all these decisions on my behalf, no matter how kindly it’s meant.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have the money to pay Mrs. Pierce?”
Was this how he discussed matters with her? Thankfully she could answer yes to his question, even though paying Mrs. Pierce would take just about all she had left.
He nodded and reached for her bags, but she didn’t relinquish them. “Thank you, but I can manage.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He gave her a don’t-argue-with-me look as he plucked the saddlebag from her shoulder. “Nevertheless, I insist.”
She rolled her eyes at him but surrendered the items. “You are the most stubbornly polite man I ever did meet.”
He slung the saddlebag over his shoulder and took firmer hold of the handle of her carpetbag. “Then you either haven’t met many men, or they were the wrong kind of men.” And with a wave of his hand, he indicated she was to precede him out of the hotel.
When they reached Mrs. Pierce’s home, Ivy paused on the front porch. “I can take my bags now.”
Mitch stepped up to ring the doorbell. “I’ve carried them this far—I can take them up the stairs for you.”
“But Mrs. Pierce has asked me not to bring guests inside her home.”
The door opened just then and Mitch turned to the woman in question. “I’m certain Mrs. Pierce won’t mind if I come inside just long enough to deliver these things to your room. Would you, ma’am?”
Mrs. Pierce stepped aside for them to enter. “I suppose that will be acceptable,” she said with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
The widow moved to the staircase, then paused. “As I said earlier, I require a week’s payment, in advance.”
Ivy reddened at this pointed reminder. She should have offered that up immediately. She quickly loosened the strings on her purse and carefully counted out the amount they had agreed on. Looking at her woefully depleted coin purse, she wondered once again if she was making the right choice in staying here.
Mrs. Pierce accepted the money with a regal nod, then started up the stairs. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
As Ivy climbed, she noted the elaborately carved banisters and beautiful stained-glass window on the landing. The widow certainly had a beautiful home.
Topping the stairs, Ivy counted seven doors facing the U-shaped landing. Like those on the first floor, they were all closed. Was Mrs. Pierce hiding something? Or just keeping her new tenant out?
Mrs. Pierce led them to the door at the far end of the landing. “This will be your room. I assume it will meet your needs.”
Ivy stepped inside and took everything in at a glance. The curtains on the windows were a pretty shade of green. The room was a little smaller than the one at the hotel and the furnishings were obviously odds and ends, but it was nice nevertheless. “I’m sure I’ll be quite comfortable here.”
Mitch set the luggage down.
Before he straightened fully, Mrs. Pierce gave him a stern look. “I believe your delivery duties are complete.”
Mitch sketched a short bow. “Of course.” He turned to Ivy. “I’ll wait for you outside.” Then he unhurriedly made his exit.
The widow turned back to Ivy. “Since you’ve agreed to do my wash, allow me to show you where the laundry equipment is stored.”
Ivy nodded and followed her back downstairs. Laundry was actually her least favorite chore. But it was a task she had to do for herself anyway so doing it for her landlady wouldn’t be much extra work.
Later, as she and Mitch walked toward the Barrs’ home, Ivy reflected on how fast things were changing. She’d only met Mitch four and a half days ago, but now it felt as if he was a dear friend. She’d planned on being away from Nettles Gap for a week, and now it looked like it would be a month. In just the past few hours, she’d attended a stranger’s funeral, confronted a rival for her inheritance, taken a room and a job, found a new plot of ground to cultivate and made several new friends.
“You’re quiet. Is something wrong?”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “I was just counting my blessings.”
“And what might these blessings be?”
“Well, you, for one.”
He frowned, seemingly uncomfortable with her statement, and she felt compelled to explain.
“I could have fallen out there in the woods without help close by. Or I could have arrived in town and had to confront Mr. Mosley on my own. Instead the Good Lord sent someone—you—to help me through both situations.”
Mitch shook his head. “You seem to forget, I’m the one who caused your accident in the first place. And it was Adam who did most of the talking with Carter, not me.”
She tossed her head. “I stand by what I said.” The man obviously didn’t know how to accept a compliment. Maybe he just hadn’t received enough of them. Well, she could certainly do her part to fix that.
Mitch opened the gate to the Barrs’ front walk without responding.
Reggie was in her front yard, cutting blossoms from her rose bushes. After they exchanged greetings, she gave Ivy a sympathetic smile. “Adam told me things didn’t go as smoothly as you’d hoped. I’m sorry for the trouble this will cause you, but I’m glad it gives you a reason to stay awhile.” Then she tilted her head slightly in question. “You are staying, aren’t you?”
Ivy nodded and smiled at Mitch. “I am. Thanks to Mr. Parker.”
Reggie raised a brow in Mitch’s direction. “Oh?”
“Yes, indeed.” Ivy enjoyed Mitch’s attempt to look bored with her bragging on him. “I was worried about making my money stretch to cover an extended stay. But Mr. Parker introduced me to Mrs. Pierce, who had a room to let, and then he offered me a housekeeping job so I’ll have a way to earn some money while I’m here.”
Reggie gave Mitch an assessing look. “Well, now, wasn’t that nice of Mr. Parker?”
“It was much more than nice—it was providential. I’ve been thanking the Good Lord for putting him in my path ever since we met.” Mitch gave her a stern look, and Ivy decided to relent and stop teasing him. “Which brings me to why we’ve intruded on your afternoon.”
“I assure you it’s no intrusion. You’re welcome to drop by anytime—with or without Mitch.” Reggie started tugging at her gardening gloves. “Is there something I can do to help you get settled in?”
“Maybe. It turns out Mr. Parker doesn’t have a garden, which I view as a tragedy. So I’ve offered to put one in while I’m here. And I’m looking for some cuttings that will work for a late planting.”
“Say no more. I can fix you right up.” Reggie linked arms with her. “Come on out to my garden—I’m sure we can find what you need.” She sent Mitch an airy wave. “You’ll find Adam in the parlor.”
* * *
Mitch was still mulling over what Ivy had said as he went to find Adam. She considered their meeting providential? He’d have thought she would’ve seen it as the disaster that had kept her from arriving in time to talk to Drum.
“I thought I heard your voice,” Adam said, finding him standing in the hallway, lost in thought.
Hiding his embarrassment at having been caught woolgathering, Mitch pulled his thoughts back to the present. He quickly explained why he was there and the two men moved to the back porch.
“So putting in a garden was Miss Feagan’s idea?” Adam kept his eyes focused on the two women as they sat.
“It certainly wasn’t mine,” Mitch said dryly. “Apparently Ivy’s not only a skilled gardener, but she loves it, as well.” He suppressed a smile. “And because I don’t share her belief that every household with a yard should also contain a garden, she thinks me little better than a heathen.”
Adam was grinning now. “And she feels it’s her duty to convert you?”
Mitch nodded. “With a fervent, missionary zeal.” Then he sobered. “So what about Carter? He seemed dead set on fighting her claim. Is there anything she should be worried about?”
Reggie apparently said something amusing because Ivy let out a boisterous laugh, which he found enjoyably distracting. It appeared the two women were becoming fast friends.
Adam rubbed his jaw. “As long as her proof of identity is solid, there’s really not anything Carter can do to negate her claim.”
Mitch nodded. But he still had a nagging worry that they shouldn’t rest easy just yet. Even if Ivy’s case was strong, Carter could still make things very unpleasant for her. He intended to be at her side to support her, come what may.
Jack stepped out onto the porch and asked Adam to help him with a tangled string on his yo-yo. Looking at them with their heads bent over the task, Mitch felt a sharp pang of jealousy.
He turned back toward the garden, but this time he didn’t see Ivy and Reggie there. He saw Gretchen, smiling as she went about her work, quietly joyful with the knowledge of the new life she carried inside her. A new life that never had a chance to flourish. It took him a long moment to pull himself together, but when Jack wanted to show him a trick with the now untangled yo-yo, he was able to respond with appropriate interest.
Twenty minutes later, Ivy and Reggie strolled back to the porch, still chattering away. Mitch smiled—chattering away seemed to be Ivy’s natural state.
When the women drew close, Mitch stood. “Did you two work it all out?”
Ivy nodded. “Reggie has a marvelous garden and she’s generously sharing it with us.”
Mitch wasn’t quite certain how he felt about that familiar use of “us.” Especially with those thoughts of Gretchen and his unborn child still lingering in his mind.
“Fiddlesticks,” Reggie said. “The garden needed thinning anyway and I was happy to do it. Mitch, you’re lucky to have Ivy putting in your garden for you. She really understands plants—gave me a few tips for how to improve my own harvest.”
Ivy’s cheeks turned pink, and she smiled happily. “You have a fine garden—I just pointed out one or two things that have worked for me.” Then she tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “When will it be most convenient for me to come by and collect the cuttings?”
“Since tomorrow is Sunday,” Reggie answered, “how does Monday morning sound?”
“Perfect.” Ivy nodded in satisfaction. “I can stop by here on my way to Mi— Mr. Parker’s place Monday morning.”
Mitch hoped his involuntary wince went unnoticed. Had anyone else caught her stumble over his name?
“Nonsense.” Reggie waved away her offer. “Mrs. Peavy and I can harvest the cuttings and shoots Monday morning and load them up in Jack’s wagon. Then Jack and Ira can pull the wagon over to Mitch’s place.” She turned to her son. “Can’t you, Jack?”
“Yes, ma’am. My wagon can hold a whole lot.”
“Why, thank you, Jack,” Ivy said. “I’d be mighty beholden to you.”
Then Reggie raised a finger. “That reminds me. You must join our gathering for lunch tomorrow.”
Ivy’s brow wrinkled. “Gathering?”
Reggie waved the question away. “Mitch can explain, but I won’t accept no for an answer.” She turned to Mitch. “Don’t forget, it’s now June so we’ll be meeting at Eve and Chance’s place.”
“I remember.”
“Of course you do—you’re always so on top of things.” She climbed the porch steps. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Patricia.”
Mitch and Ivy took their leave. They were barely back on the sidewalk when Ivy turned to Mitch. “What is this mysterious gathering that Reggie insisted I should attend?”
“Remember I told you I traveled here from Philadelphia with three other men, and that it was Reggie’s grandfather who introduced us to each other before we set out?”
She nodded.
Mitch chose his next words carefully, not wanting to reveal any secrets that weren’t his to tell—Reggie’s grandfather had sent them to Turnabout with a very specific purpose in mind, one his granddaughter had been furious to learn about.
“When we arrived here, Reggie opened her home to us and we got in the habit of taking our meals together.” He suppressed a grin as he remembered what a little tyrant Reggie had been as she insisted they do so to put a good face on a difficult situation.
“Once we all settled into our new lives here,” he continued, “it gradually became a once-a-week event—Sunday lunch. It’s a tradition that’s survived to this day—as members of the group marry and have children, or other relatives come to town, the circle has expanded, but that hasn’t stopped us.”
“What a lovely tradition. But if it’s for the four of you and your families, perhaps I shouldn’t—”
He didn’t let her finish. “You heard Reggie. She would skin me alive if I showed up without you. And don’t worry, the size of the group expands and contracts over time and it seems like every few weeks we seat a different number. Last Sunday we had ten adults, if you count Everett’s sister, Abigail, and four children. So one more will scarcely be noticed.”
“And so this Eve, who has the unlucky chore of cooking for your large gathering, is she the wife of the fourth member of your group?”
“That’s right—Chance Dawson. Eve runs that candy store you eyed when you first got to town. So you’ll finally get to sample her wares.”
“She must be quite a cook.”
“Reggie, Daisy and Eve take turns hosting, swapping up every month. This month is Eve’s turn. But they all contribute something to the meal.”
“Don’t you ever take a turn to host?”
“As a bachelor, I’m exempt. Besides, my dining room isn’t big enough.” He was tempted to explain further, but held his tongue.
They arrived at Mrs. Pierce’s, and Mitch opened the front gate. She stepped forward, but rather than following, he gave her a short bow. “It’s best I leave you here.”
She cast a quick glance toward the house and nodded. “Mrs. Pierce’s rules. Thank you again for all you’ve done to help me—and not just today.”
She looked suddenly small and alone, and he felt as if he were abandoning her. “You’re quite welcome. I’ll come by in the morning to escort you to church.”
She tilted her head in question. “Shouldn’t I come by to fix your breakfast?”
“Sunday is your day off,” he said firmly. “And I’m perfectly capable of preparing my own meals—just as I’ve done every day for the past two years.”
She grinned. “A man of simple tastes—I remember. Well, then.” She paused, as if drawing the moment out. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mitch waited until she’d stepped inside the house, then turned and started back toward home. It was getting on toward dusk and Tim would be out lighting the streetlamps in another few minutes.
It had been a very interesting day—several days, he should say. There’d been none of the peaceful solitude he’d planned to enjoy this week. And it looked like that would hold true for the next three weeks, as well.
But strangely, he didn’t feel the least bit cheated.
It was undoubtedly the stimulation of having something new and unexpected to focus on.
And Ivy was definitely unexpected.
She was chatty, stubborn and indifferent when it came to propriety. She was also warm, generous and altogether intriguing at the same time. He refused to feel guilty for thinking so—after all, he was merely acknowledging the facts.
When Mitch reached his front gate, Rufus ran to greet him. The dog, no respecter of propriety either, scampered enthusiastically around him, all but tripping him up, until he gave in and stooped down to scratch the animal’s neck. “Ivy spoils you. Don’t expect to get the same level of attention from me.” When Mitch stood, the dog raced off, then returned carrying a stick in his mouth. With a reluctant smile, Mitch accepted the offering and gave the stick a toss that sailed it across the yard.
Rufus quickly returned it to him and they repeated the game three more times until Rufus spied a squirrel and gave chase.
As Mitch entered his house, he thought again about just how much his life had been disrupted. Even when Ivy wasn’t here, her dog made sure his time was no longer wholly his own.
What surprised him, though, was how little it bothered him.
* * *
Not wanting to impose on Mrs. Pierce, Ivy had gone to her room almost immediately.
Opening her window to let in some air, she spotted Mrs. Pierce in her very lush vegetable garden, watering the rows.
Her heart went out to the woman. Though she was very serene and elegant on the surface, Ivy sensed a loneliness in her.
Would she welcome an overture of friendship from her tenant?
She began unpacking her few possessions and her thoughts naturally turned to Mitch. She found it strange that he had never taken on his share of the Sunday hosting duties. His comment about the size of his dining room seemed merely an excuse. But if he didn’t want to host his friends, she supposed it was none of her business.
But why did he hold himself so aloof from everyone?
His friends were nice people. Very nice people. And the fact that they had accepted her so quickly simply because she was his friend spoke volumes for the regard they held him in.
That feeling of being accepted was a gift—one she no longer took for granted.
Lord Jesus, I’m starting to believe You had more blessings in store for me than I ever imagined when You sent Mitch to me out in them woods. I know this won’t last forever, but I promise to cherish every minute of it. And when it’s time for me to return to Nettles Gap, I will lean on You to give me the strength not to mourn its loss.
But while she was here, she aimed to do what she could to make Mitch see how blessed he was.
Whether he welcomed her attempts or not.