His Convenient Wife Page 9

  “I don’t mind carrying that in for you,” he said.

  “I got it,” she mumbled.

  Then she went to Maggie, took her hand, and practically fled out of the barn. Stan thought about following her and asking what he could do to make things right. But something warned him to stay in the barn and give her more time. He honestly didn’t know what was bothering her. Sure, some of it was the fact that he gave Maggie the biscuit, but he sensed something more was going on. But what?

  He shook his head and turned his attention to unhitching the horse from the buggy. Women were so confusing. Rose had always confounded him. He never knew what to say to her, and in the end, she’d married someone else. And now with Harriett, he couldn’t seem to do anything right. He thought a few weeks into the marriage would smooth things out, that they might find a common ground. But it only seemed that things got worse.

  Maybe he should invite her to his parents’ place for supper. Maybe he should offer to go to her parents’ place for supper. Maybe if they did something with other people, it would help ease things.

  Deciding it was a good plan, he put the horse in the pasture then went to the house. Harriett was in the kitchen, rolling out dough on the worktable.

  “Is Maggie taking a nap?” he asked, praying it was a safe question.

  She didn’t glance in his direction but nodded. “She was tired.”

  “Good,” he replied. “I’m glad she’s getting her rest.” Staying close to the doorway, he thought over how he wanted to phrase what he wanted to say next. “I was wondering…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That is, my ma thinks very highly of you.”

  After a long moment, she finally gave him an “Oh?” while continuing to roll out the dough.

  Well, it wasn’t an enthusiastic response, but at least she was talking to him. “Yes. She said she’d like to have us over sometime for supper. You know, to talk to you and get to know you better.” When she didn’t reply, he cleared his throat. “I told her I’d mention it, but I also told her we’d wait until it was a good time. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, of course, but I was wondering if you’d like to go over there.”

  He stopped talking and released his breath. That was harder than he thought it was going to be.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her.

  Alright, that wasn’t what he hoped to hear, but he couldn’t be surprised. He warned his ma Harriett might not want to go out there. And he was right. She didn’t.

  “Well,” he ventured, “if you wanted to go to your parents’ house instead, I wouldn’t mind having supper with them sometime. I know you didn’t mention it or anything, but just in case you wondered, I’m willing. Your pa mentioned going out there on our wedding day.”

  She shook her head, and even before she spoke, he knew what was coming. “I think it’s best if we keep things separate. You will stay with your side, and I’ll stay with mine. Obviously, I will take Maggie to my side, and you’ll take Maggie to yours. But it’s easier if we don’t do things together as if we’re a…a…”

  “Married couple?” he filled in for her, surprised her words should sting as much as they did.

  “This marriage was a necessity, Stan. Both of us know that.”

  He chose his words carefully, once again figuring no matter what he said, he’d say the wrong thing. But he had to say something. If not for Harriett’s sake, then for his mother’s and for what she went through in her first marriage. “Just because a marriage starts out as a necessity, it doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”

  Harriett blinked, as if that was the last thing she expected him to say. Then she turned back to the dough. He waited for several seconds to see if she would reply, but she didn’t. And since he couldn’t think of anything to add that might help the situation, he left the kitchen.

  ***

  Harriett wiped the tears from her eyes as Stan left, willing herself to stop crying. Only Stan could break through her defenses. She had to get supper on the table. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she blinked back more tears and focused on the dough in front of her.

  A knock at the front door was a very welcome distraction. She wiped her hands on her apron and headed to answer it when it occurred to her that someone from his side of the family might be making a visit. She slipped around the side of the parlor and peeked through the curtain in the window. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was her mother.

  She hurried over to the door but took a moment to wipe her face with the clean part of her apron, drying the remaining tears away. After a moment, she opened it and offered what she hoped was a convincing smile.

  “Hi, Ma. What are you doing here?” she asked as she motioned for her mother to come in.

  Her mother stepped through the doorway and smiled. “I wanted to see how things are going and to give you this.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “It’s from Rose. I didn’t read it.”

  Harriett glanced at the missive and shut the door. Knowing she had no choice, she took it. “Thank you.”

  Tapping the letter in her hand, she listened for any sounds that would notify her Stan was still in the house. But all was quiet.

  “Is Maggie napping or is she with Stan?” her mother asked.

  “She’s asleep. I took her to the mercantile today to collect some things.” She led her mother into the kitchen and looked out the window, scanning the area for any signs of Stan.

  “Did I come at a bad time?”

  “No, no you didn’t.” She smiled at her mother but quickly turned her gaze back to the window. When she saw Stan carrying a bucket to the pigpen, she relaxed and faced her mother. “I was working on supper. Maggie loves bread, so I thought I’d make a fresh loaf.”

  “Would you like some help?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Nonsense. I’m your ma, and you’ve done a lot to help me with meals in the past. It’s only fair I return the favor. Besides, I love to cook.”

  “Well, alright. Maggie enjoyed your tarts. Care to make those?”

  With a nod, her mother gathered the ingredients she needed and a large bowl. “So, how are things going with her? Is she still giving you problems?”

  “Unfortunately.” Harriett slipped the letter in her pocket and returned to the dough. She rolled it up and proceeded to knead it. “It seems the only way to get her to behave at all is to offer a treat like a cookie or licorice.”

  “So that’s why you have a jar of licorice.”

  “Yes, I got it when I was in town. Jacob gave her a piece, and she loved it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with giving a child a treat for being good.”

  “I know, but I’d like her to be good without having to always reward her.”

  “I understand.” Her mother mixed the ingredients into her bowl and glanced at her. “Some children have stronger wills than others. You and Rose might look alike, but you two are very different.”

  Harriett’s face warmed. She’d hoped her mother wouldn’t bring Rose up, but she supposed it couldn’t be avoided since she came with Rose’s letter.

  Her mother chuckled. “I love you both equally, but she has the strongest will of anyone I know. There’s no talking her out of anything once she sets her mind to something. I think Maggie might be like her in that respect. And while that can be very frustrating for a mother, it can also be a good quality. Once she decides to love you, there’ll be nothing anyone can do or say to change her mind.”

  “I don’t think that day is soon in coming. I feel like things are only getting worse.”

  “Sometimes things get worse before they get better.”

  “I know.”

  And Harriett couldn’t help but think of how much worse it could get. One thing was for sure, she didn’t relish finding out. She put the dough in a bowl and covered it, setting it aside so it would have time to rise.

  “I hope you
’ll read Rose’s missive,” her mother said. “She misses you.”

  Harriett sighed. Everything came so easily to Rose. She couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be stuck in a situation where nothing went as she hoped.

  “I’ll read it,” she assured her mother.

  And she would…when the time was right. That time wasn’t tonight. In all honesty, she didn’t know when it would come, but with everything else going on, the last thing she wanted to do was worry about it. She had enough on her mind already. Deciding to put Rose aside for the time being, she asked her ma what was going on at home, and her ma obliged her by changing the topic.

  ***

  Stan was milking a cow early the next morning when Harriett called out his name. Surprised since she’d never made it a habit of coming out here at dawn, much less initiating a conversation with him, he rose to his feet and peered around the stall.

  She stood in the doorway of the barn, and in the soft glow of the morning light, he couldn’t help but think she was very lovely, even with her hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. He’d caught a glimpse of her a couple nights ago after she put Maggie to bed. Her hair had hung in loose waves down her back. The image probably shouldn’t have aroused him as much as it did, but it’d taken all his willpower to shut his bedroom door before she realized he’d been watching her.

  And now as he looked at her, he couldn’t help but recall that night. She’d never let her hair down for him, of course, and he had no one to blame that on but himself. Forcing aside the memory, he waved to get her attention. “I’m over here.”

  Her gaze went to him, and, with a curt nod, she headed in his direction. Her expression was one of determination, and her tone firm when she asked, “Is this a good time to talk?”

  So she hadn’t come out here to have an enjoyable conversation before she had to get Maggie up. No. She came here for a purpose, and he had the nagging suspicion this wasn’t going to be in his favor.

  “Yes, it’s a good time to talk,” he finally said and waited for her to tell him what was on her mind.

  After a long moment, she clasped her hands in front of her, and he couldn’t be sure, but he thought she stared at his chin so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to eat at a different time than Maggie and I do.”

  “What?”

  “Well,” her gaze went to her hands, “it’s hard to work on getting her to behave when you’re there.”

  “Is this about the biscuit three days ago?”

  “Part of it is, yes.”

  “I promise I won’t interfere with you and Maggie again. I learned my lesson,” he assured her.

  But apparently, it wasn’t enough since she shook her head. “I think I can make better progress if Maggie and I are alone at mealtime. With you there, it distracts her.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t believe her for a minute. The two had no trouble ignoring him during every meal. He spent most of the time watching them. He could even count the number of times Maggie had said anything to him on one hand. The girl seemed much more interested in refusing to eat whatever Harriett set in front of her than paying attention to him.

  Clasping the edge of the stall door, he softly said, “I don’t want it to be like this, Harriett.”

  She jerked a bit, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of what he said or the fact that he called her by name.

  “I understand you don’t want us to be like a married couple, and I’ve honored that,” he continued. “But if we can’t be intimate, can’t we at least be friends?”

  “I didn’t marry you to be your friend,” she told him, looking at his chin once more. “I married you to be a mother to Maggie, and it’s easier for me to do that if you’re not there while I’m trying to get her to eat foods that are good for her.”

  “I don’t see any reason why I can’t be there. I’ll keep quiet and mind my own business. You don’t have to worry that I’ll interfere again.” By the way she sighed, he could tell she didn’t like his answer. “I’m sorry about the past. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

  “This has nothing to do with the past. It’s about Maggie and doing what’s best for her.”

  He didn’t believe her for a minute. It was exactly about the past, specifically that day at the picnic. “Harriett, I truly am sorry. I wish I could go back to the auction and—”

  “It has nothing to do with that,” she snapped. “I don’t want you to bring it up again. All I want to do is be a good mother to Maggie. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”

  Alright, so she wasn’t going to forgive him. It was her right. If he’d been in her position, he was sure he wouldn’t feel very forgiving either. He ran his hands along the top of the stall door and tried to think of the best way to proceed.

  “Fine,” he consented. “We won’t talk about that day. But I am not going to eat meals at a different time. I already agreed I wouldn’t have anything to do with your family. When your ma came over the other day, I hurried on out of the house so you two could be alone. I’ll do that whenever any of them come over in the future. And I won’t bring you to see my family. But that’s as far as I’m willing to distance myself from you. We are still married. Granted, it’s in name only, but it does entitle me to at least have meals with you.”

  “Why are you making things so difficult for me?”

  “I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. I want to have a home. Sharing a meal as a family is part of that. You want to do what’s best for Maggie? She needs both of us. The only time we’re all together is when we eat. I’m not giving that up. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s how it’s going to be. I’ll stay out of your way the rest of the time.”

  He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw tears fill her eyes before she turned and headed out of the barn. It didn’t make any sense why his answer should make her cry. He’d spoken softly to her. And he pretty much told her he wanted to spend some time with her. What was so wrong with him wanting to be with her when they ate?

  He returned to the cow and resumed milking it. If he’d had any idea that one afternoon at a picnic where he acted like a fool would have such profound consequences, he would have stayed home.

  He couldn’t believe he assumed that in a month, they would establish a comfortable companionship. A companionship was the last thing they had. They were strangers who shared a house and nothing more, and he had no idea how he could make things better. But spending all of their time apart wasn’t the answer. No. It’d only make things worse. He had to do something to make things right. But what?

  Chapter Eleven

  A week later, Harriett was sitting at the kitchen table with Maggie and Stan, doing her best to ignore him. She kept hoping he would choose to eat at a separate time, but he hadn’t. And though she tried to get as close to Maggie—and as far from him—as possible, it was nearly impossible to concentrate when he was in the same room with her.

  “No,” Maggie said, pushing her plate with a biscuit, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, and chicken away.

  “If you don’t eat at least one thing on there, you won’t get a tart for dessert.”

  “No like your tarts.”

  Harriett rubbed her forehead. She already knew when she looked over at Stan, he wouldn’t be watching her. He kept his gaze on his plate and ate in silence. Which was why it made no sense to her when he insisted on sharing meals with them. What did he get out of it? All he was doing was bothering her. Couldn’t he see that?

  Lowering her hand, she directed her gaze to Maggie. The girl had her arms crossed, her eyebrows furrowed and her chin sticking out. “Want licowice.”

  Harriett pushed the plate back in her direction. “You’ll have to eat two things on your plate for that.”

  “No. Don’t want.”

  “But you like biscuits.”

  “No want biscuits.” After a moment, she said, “Wan
t licowice.”

  “Not until you eat two things on your plate.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No.”

  Harriett took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Between Stan and Maggie, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and picked up her plate. Rising to her feet, she looked at Maggie. “Are you telling me you’re not hungry?”

  “Want licowice,” Maggie said.

  “You know what you have to do to get licorice.”

  Why was Harriett arguing this? Maggie was smart. She knew what she wanted, and she knew what she had to do to get the licorice. Harriett hated all this fighting. Ever since she’d been in this house, it’d been one argument after another. If she wasn’t arguing with Maggie, she was arguing with Stan. There was seldom a moment’s peace, and she’d had enough. She was at the point where she was shaking, for goodness’ sakes.

  Harriett dumped her dishes in the sink, not bothering to clean them off first. Before she said something she’d regret, she hurried out of the house. She couldn’t recall ever being this upset. And as much as she hated it, a fresh wave of tears came to her eyes.

  She plopped down in a chair on the porch and put her face in her hands. She shouldn’t have married Stan. She shouldn’t have let a momentary weakness for a little girl stop her from using sound judgment. It’d been a mistake to marry him, and unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to get out of it.

  “Want cookie,” Maggie told Stan. “And licowice.”

  Harriett grimaced. She forgot she opened up the kitchen window because it got too hot while cooking. She should have sat further away from the house, but besides the barn, she couldn’t think of anywhere to go. She could leave right now, of course. Take a walk. Get away from the house and the barn. And she almost did, but then Stan spoke, and his answer to Maggie came as such a shock, she couldn’t budge from the spot if someone tried to pry her away.

  “No, Maggie,” he said, his tone firm but soft. “I’ve had enough of the way you’ve been treating your mother. She goes through a lot of work to give you a good meal, and you don’t appreciate it.”