His Convenient Wife Page 10

  “No want.”

  “Whether or not you eat it is up to you. But you won’t get anything else tonight.”

  A long moment passed then she said, “No.”

  “Again, that’s your choice, but I don’t care how blue your face turns when you hold your breath. You won’t get anything from me this time. You will either do what your mother says or you won’t have anything tonight. The choice is yours.”

  Harriett didn’t hear anything for a couple minutes after that except for the familiar sound of Stan’s fork scraping across the plate as Stan finished his meal. And then, as Harriett suspected, the girl started crying.

  Curious to see how Stan handled it when she cried, Harriett got up from the chair and peeked into the kitchen. Stan collected all the dishes, leaving only the plate in front of Maggie in case she changed her mind.

  “You no love me,” Maggie sobbed, wiping large tears from her cheeks.

  “You’re wrong,” he told her. “I’m doing this because I do. I should have done it long ago. Now, I’m going to wash these dishes. By the time I’m done, if you haven’t eaten at least two things on your plate, you won’t get any licorice. I don’t care how much you cry or scream.”

  Harriett hadn’t thought he’d actually wash the dishes, but that’s exactly what he did. And during the whole time, Maggie’s cries turned into screams. But he ignored her.

  Harriett settled back in the chair. She had no idea he had such patience. It was painful to endure one of Maggie’s tantrums. The girl could hit a pitch so high even those hard of hearing would wince. But Stan gave no indication that she bothered him. He just kept working, refusing to give in. And Harriett couldn’t help but be touched. He was doing it not only for Maggie’s sake but for hers as well. He was supporting her by sticking with the rule she set down.

  After what seemed like a full hour but was really only fifteen minutes, Maggie calmed down. The pressure in Harriett’s head relented, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The absence of noise never felt so good.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. A cool breeze blew over her, reminding her April hadn’t brought spring quite yet, but it was close enough. The winter hadn’t been that long, and all the snow was gone.

  Even so, a chill lingered in the air, especially as the sun set. She shivered and considered going inside for her shawl. No. The last thing she wanted to do was disrupt the peace that had finally settled upon the place.

  The door from the kitchen opened, and she looked over in time to see Stan stepping onto the wraparound porch. When she realized he was heading over to her, she straightened in the chair.

  In a low voice, he said, “I sent Maggie to the parlor. She refused to eat anything on the plate.”

  She gathered as much from listening to them but decided not to say it.

  He knelt in front of her. “I took her to the parlor and told her to stay there, so I could talk to you. What do you want me to do about her?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never taken care of a child who was so stubborn before.”

  “I didn’t think she’d be that way with you when I asked you to marry me. Harriett, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I know you’re not happy. I’m going to do everything I can to change that.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll take Maggie to the barn with me to work on the evening chores then I’ll tuck her in bed. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to take her to my parents tomorrow.”

  She looked at him. She hated making eye contact with him because all it ever did was remind her of how much she wanted him. Even now, she wanted nothing more than to get lost in those amazing blue eyes, especially when he was being so nice to her. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced her gaze away from him so she could think clearly.

  “I think you’re a great mother,” he said. “I’m not saying you aren’t. I meant that sometimes I find it helps to get away from the problem, and I know Maggie and I aren’t making things easy for you. I just want to give you a chance to...to…”

  “I know what you mean. I didn’t take offense by anything you said.” There was no way she was going to tell him why she could never maintain eye contact with him for longer than two seconds. “Thank you. I could use a break.”

  He waited for a moment then said, “If there’s anything you want, you can tell me. I want to do my part to make things better for you.”

  She forced a nod in his direction. He was being nice to her, but she’d always wanted more than nice from him. She wanted what he’d been willing to give Rose. And it was something she’d never get.

  He went back into the house, and a minute later, he came out, holding Maggie.

  “Sorry,” the girl said.

  Harriett glanced up at her and saw her cheeks were red and splotchy from all the crying she’d done in the kitchen. Despite the fact that her head was still pounding from the girl’s screaming, Harriett felt her heart soften. With a smile, she thanked Maggie. Then, bracing herself, she forced her gaze higher and looked, once again, into Stan’s baby blue eyes.

  “Thank you, Stan.”

  She forced aside the urge to wince. She’d meant to say that clearly, but her voice faltered because of her accelerated heartbeat. It shouldn’t be harder to talk to him when he was going out of his way to be nice to her—when he was making an effort to support her—but it was.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied then carried Maggie to the barn.

  Harriett released a shaky breath. Thank goodness he hadn’t given any indication that he’d picked up on her weakness. He had to have detected it. It’d been no secret she’d spent a big part of her life pining for him. And now he had to know just how much he could make her weak, even after everything that had happened.

  After sitting in the chair for several minutes, she finally rose to her feet. From the barn, she caught sight of the lantern Stan had lit. Stan shook his head when Maggie tried to pet a horse. He pointed to the stool, and she sat on it, her shoulders slouched. It occurred to Harriett that Stan was trying to impress upon the girl how important it was she obey her mother, and she couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again.

  No. She was stronger than this. Yes, Stan was being nice. He was willing to do his part to help make her life with Maggie easier. But that didn’t mean she had to continue giving her heart to him. He simply wanted an amiable relationship with her. Even if it’d be difficult for her, she should at least be willing to meet him halfway.

  Releasing her breath, she went back inside the house and saw the kitchen was surprisingly clean. She knew he’d done the dishes, but she thought there might be a mess somewhere. But no. He’d been thorough. Her pa and brothers could never manage to get the kitchen, or any other room, so clean. Her mother would be shocked.

  Harriett climbed the staircase and made it to her bedroom. She hadn’t read her sister’s missive yet, but if she was going to, now was the right time. She shut the door, pulled the drawer of her dresser open, and took out Rose’s missive.

  She turned back to the room and studied it. Undoubtedly, this was the room Stan had intended for him and Rose to share when he built it. It was the largest bedroom in the house with the largest bed. He’d given it to her when they married and moved to the smaller one across from hers, and Maggie was in the room next to her.

  Yes, it was nice of him to give her the best bedroom in the house, but from time to time, it irked her that it was meant for Rose. But there was nothing she could do about it. And ignoring her sister wasn’t making things better.

  She sat on the bed and traced the fancy paper with her fingers. The parchment was trimmed in a gold line, and the quality of it spoke of someone who was affluent.

  It fit Rose so well. Rose always had grand dreams. She’d dreamt of princes and fairytales. And that was how her life played out. The man they all thought had nothing to his name turned out to be rich, and, just like in fairytales, he’d whisked her off to a mansion to b
e his wife.

  Harriett glanced up at the mirror above the dresser, catching sight of her reflection. It was ironic, really. She looked just like Rose, except she didn’t wear the latest fashion and her hair wasn’t pinned up in the most becoming style of the day.

  No. She wore a simple blue dress, which was faded with time. As for her hair… She blew aside the errant strands that had escaped the bun she pinned back in a hurry as soon as she woke up that day.

  Her life was so different from Rose’s, just as she was different from Rose. The only thing they had in common was their looks. Early on when she was trying to impress Stan, she’d let her hair down, choosing to pull it back with a couple barrettes or a ribbon, and she’d worn her better dresses. She’d thought it’d give her an advantage. But it never did.

  And that had never been more obvious than the day of the picnic where she’d been foolish enough to bid on him at an auction. The auction had been Rose’s idea, something she came up with in hopes of making Kent spend an afternoon with her. Harriett had been uncertain about going to it, but she thought it was time she took a chance. Perhaps if Stan got a chance to spend time with her, he’d realize she was the right one for him.

  Harriett traced the missive again as her mind went back to that summer day last year.

  This is foolish, she thought as her grip tightened on her picnic basket. Her stomach twisted in anticipation as her uncle called out for bids on Adam. Stan was next in line. It still surprised her that Adam agreed to be a part of the auction with the other men Uncle Joel had managed to gather together. All the proceeds would go to new medical supplies, something her uncle desperately needed. That was why Adam agreed to be up there with the other men.

  But that wasn’t why she was willing to part with her hard-earned five dollars and fifty-two cents. Her gaze kept going from the women, who were waiting to make their bids, to the men.

  Stan was especially handsome that day, choosing to wear a nice gray suit and a matching hat. She didn’t dare fancy he’d dressed up that way for her. He’d dressed up because he’d hoped to spend the day with Rose. But perhaps, he’d give her a chance and find she wasn’t so bad after all.

  When it came time for the women to bid on Stan, she had to go against two other women, neither one Rose. She won him, though, when the bid came to two dollars and sixty-three cents. Her stomach was twisted into a knot as Stan made his way over to her. He wasn’t happy she’d won him. That much was obvious, but she reminded herself she had a couple hours to show him she had some desirable traits.

  “Where would you like to sit?” she asked him, barely recognizing her voice over the rapid beating of her heart.

  He scanned the area. “Anywhere, I suppose.”

  She glanced around the park and couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for Rose, but she forced the question from her mind. “The spot by the flowers is pretty.”

  Without even looking at the section of lawn she motioned to, he nodded. “Alright. We’ll eat there.”

  She led him to the spot she wanted to sit and took out the blanket she’d carefully folded and placed in the picnic basket.

  “I can spread that out for you,” he offered.

  As she handed him the blanket, her fingers brushed his, and sparks of delight shot straight through her. Her face warmed as she watched him. Truly, if there was a finer man, she didn’t know who he could be.

  Once he was done, she settled on the blanket with him. Despite her shaky hands, she managed to collect their plates and forks. “I have fried chicken, cinnamon rolls, pickled beets and dainty cakes,” she told him, praying he didn’t notice the way her voice wavered. It was hard to focus when he was so close. “Which would you like first?”

  He snapped his head in her direction. “What?”

  “Um, I wondered what you want to eat first.”

  “Oh. What do you have?”

  She released her breath. He definitely wasn’t paying attention to her. “Fried chicken, cinnamon rolls, pickled beets and dainty cakes.”

  “The cinnamon rolls, I guess.”

  His lack of enthusiasm over her meal didn’t go unnoticed, but she decided not to let it bother her. He’d never eaten what she made before, and her family often told her that her meals were just as good as her mother’s.

  She put the cinnamon roll on his plate then gave it to him. Afterwards, she poured him a cup of punch. Then she collected a couple of dainty cakes. She couldn’t bring herself to eat the chicken since it was the messiest part of her meal, and she didn’t wish to get messy around him.

  “What do you like to eat?” she asked him. “Not now. I mean, what do you like to eat at other times? Do you have any favorite foods?” She forced a dainty cake in her mouth to shut up. The last thing she wanted to do was ramble like a fool.

  “Oh, let’s see…” He lowered his gaze to his plate. “This is good.”

  Good. She managed to make something he enjoyed.

  “You said you made fried chicken?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Want some?”

  “When I finish the roll.” He lifted it off the plate then gave a quick scan of the area until his gaze settled on a spot behind her.

  With a sinking feeling in her gut, she looked over her shoulder and saw Rose sitting by herself and eating one of her sandwiches. She turned her attention back to Stan, who was still watching her sister. “So, Stan.” She waited for him to look at her. “What do you enjoy?”

  “I enjoy this food.” He bit into the cinnamon roll.

  “No, I mean, what do you enjoy doing?”

  He swallowed his food then took a drink of the punch. “I never thought about it. I pretty much do whatever my parents need me to do.”

  “What do they need you to do?”

  “Things around the farm. We grow a couple crops, mainly corn and beans. But for the most part, we take care of cattle and breed horses, though we don’t often breed them.”

  “I noticed you and your pa came by with a couple cattle to sell my pa.”

  He nodded and finished his roll. “The cattle cooperated well that day.”

  Encouraged since he hadn’t glanced over at Rose during this time, Harriett asked, “Is it rare that they cooperate?”

  “I’d say they behave most of the time, but when they don’t, it seems like they never behave.”

  She pulled out the largest piece of chicken she made and set it on his plate. “I can understand that. What was the worst time you’ve had with getting them together to sell?”

  “Oh, well,” he picked up the chicken breast, “I’d say that was a year ago when one of the cows barged out of line. The rest of them started scattering in all directions, and we had to chase them down and bring them back to the line.”

  She imagined him in his denims with his Stetson hat and striped shirt as he chased a stray cow with a lasso in hand. She could think of few things more exciting than watching a man riding a horse, especially when he was wearing the kind of clothes Stan usually wore. He was probably incredibly attractive when he was working. Well, of course he was. He was attractive no matter what he did.

  “This is good chicken,” he told her. “Your cinnamon roll was really good, too.”

  Pleased, she smiled as he continued eating the chicken. “Thank you.” She turned to the basket and dug out some beets and dainty cakes. “Would you like to try either of these?”

  She held them up for him to look at, but once again, his gaze went to Rose.

  “Did your sister come here planning to eat by herself?” Stan asked.

  Her smile faltering, she said, “No.”

  “But she didn’t bid on anyone.”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer him. While she didn’t want to encourage him to keep pursuing her sister, she also hesitated to tell him Rose had planned to bid on someone else. She shouldn’t hesitate. It was silly. She should tell him Rose was interested in Kent. But if she did, he might think she was saying it in order to manipulate him into giving up on Ro
se. Then he’d hate her.

  “Maybe we should invite her over here,” he suggested. “It’s not right she’s all alone when everyone else has someone to eat with.”

  She glanced back at her sister. Why couldn’t Rose have picked somewhere else to eat? Why did she have to eat in a place where Stan could easily see her?

  “Rose will be fine,” Harriett told him.

  In the next instance, Kent walked over to Rose, and Rose smiled up at him and gestured for him to sit with her.

  “See? She’s fine,” she said, turning back to him. Pretending she didn’t notice his disappointment, she asked, “Did you want beets or dainty cakes?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. He just kept watching Rose and Kent. “Um, the beets.”

  With a sigh, she put some beets on his plate and added the dainty cakes since he probably wasn’t paying much attention to what she was doing or saying anyway.

  The rest of the picnic was much the same. He spent most of his time watching Rose and Kent, and he even asked her what he might say or do to impress Rose, to which she said, “I don’t know.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was encourage him. The rest of their meal was spent mostly in silence, and by the time it was finally over, she was so upset, she didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

  She’d spent almost an hour getting dressed that day. She’d worn her nicest green dress with a matching ribbon. Twice, she almost changed clothes, wondering if blue or pink might be more to his liking. In the end she’d chosen green because she heard that was his favorite color. But it did no good because she wasn’t Rose.

  Rose was exciting and fun. It was the same reason all the other young men had been interested in her. Harriett had always felt invisible next to her sister, but she hadn’t cared until it became clear Stan was never going to show any interest in her.

  Now as she stared at the missive in her hands, she wished she’d been Rose. If she’d been Rose, he would have wanted her, and he would have been more than happy to bring her to his home as his bride.