Mail Order Melody (3 page)

He stopped short, the pail of milk dangling from one hand.

"What happened?" he asked.

Eliza looked up with a blank look, not realizing what he was asking. The bread smelled good. Dinner was on the table. What could be wrong? "I made dinner," she told him, her voice filled with obvious pride.

"I can see that." He walked to her, set the milk pail on the work table, and brushed some flour from her forehead with his thumb. "Did you roll in the flour?" The confusion on his face was apparent.

She looked down at the front of her and realized she was covered in flour. She blushed slightly as she became aware that she hadn't even thought to don an apron before she began her chores. She didn't even have an apron to put on. She'd have to work on that first thing in the morning. The one skill she'd kept up over the years had been her sewing, because she was constantly making herself new costumes or new clothes. Sebastian hadn't been willing for her to wear anything but her stage clothes, so she'd had to make day clothes for herself. "I guess I forgot to wear an apron."

He shook his head with a slight laugh. "I guess you did." Of course, an apron wouldn't have begun to take care of the mess she made, but he was too polite to point that out to her.

"I also forgot to bring an apron," she admitted in a soft voice,
wondering what on earth he'd think of her.

"Well, you'll just have to make one then, won't you?" He couldn't see her ruining all her dresses by making such a huge mess when she cooked. How could someone make a mess that big when they cooked? He'd honestly never seen anything like it.

Eliza looked around at the flour all over the kitchen floor. "Maybe I should make one for the kitchen as well," she suggested.

He grinned. "Maybe you should." Leaning down, he kissed a part of her cheek that had been missed in the great flour explosion before sitting down at the table. "Pork roast?" he asked.
"One of my favorites."

She smiled, rushing to get the loaf of bread from the oven. "I couldn't find any butter."

"I was almost out, and didn't get any from the store the last time I was in town. We have a churn." He looked at her, wondering for the first time if she was capable of being a good wife. Yes, she was pleasant to look at, and his body reacted very strongly to her presence, but did she know
how to
work? Despite what she'd done that day, he couldn't help but wonder.

She hurried to the table and put the bread on it. "I'll make butter tomorrow then." She'd helped chum butter many times as a child. She knew she could make butter without a problem.
With as
cold as the cellar was, it would keep there for some time. "I found the cream in the cellar, so there should be more than enough to make butter."

She sat down across from him and watched as he bowed his head. She was thankful to be with a man who prayed. Sebastian had always laughed at her for insisting they pray before every meal. It had seemed odd to her that he hadn't found it necessary, but she hadn't been able to talk him into changing his ways. She bowed her head and waited while he said a simple prayer.

Eliza cut the bread and put a piece on each plate, wincing a
little
at how hard the crust was as she tried to slice through it. She put a piece of the roast on her plate and waited while he took some potatoes and carrots.

He looked around. "No gravy?" He'd never had a pork roast without gravy before.

"I didn't have time to make it," she told him, which was the truth, but she also didn't know how. She'd look through the short stack of recipes he had and see if she could do it from something there. If not, she'd have to ask someone to help her learn to make gravy, but that would require an explanation of why she hadn't learned. Oh, she hoped there was a recipe.

"All right. Next time I'd like gravy with my potatoes."

Eliza nodded, embarrassed that she hadn't done the right thing and hoping fervently she'd figure out how. She wasn't certain why she didn't want him to know that she was an opera singer, but she desperately wanted to keep that knowledge from him as long as possible. She knew it would come out eventually, of course, but the longer he was kept in the dark,
the better to her way of think
ing.

While they ate, she asked him about his day, and he talked about mending fences. "It's a never ending job. In the spring we're dealing with the calves, in the fall, we have round up. Year round, we're riding fences making certain that they're all in good repair so the cattle can't escape."

"Do the men ride around with you?"

He shrugged. "I usually have one man out riding fences with me, and another team of two men will work on them as well. The other three men will make sure the cattle are all right, or work on different things around the ranch yard. None of us do the same things all day every day. The work is diverse."

She smiled, liking that aspect of things. "I'd like to go with you onto the range on occasion if I may." She wanted to
understand
him better and seeing him work would help her do that. She couldn't be a good wife if she didn't know her husband, could
she?

He looked at her in surprise. She seemed much too feminine to work with him, and that was a fact. "Maybe in the spring when the weather is nicer, and you've done what you want to do around the house."

She looked around her, not certain what he was talking about. The house looked good to her. She needed to make a female friend quickly to come over and look at things and tell her what she needed to change to make things better. Maybe Abigail, the closest woman, would be able to come over and tell her what needed to be done. "That sounds good." Wouldn't she need to be putting in her kitchen garden in the spring as well? She wished there was some sort of manual for how to survive on a ranch. She could read it when he wasn't looking and figure out exactly what she was supposed to be doing.

After supper, while she did the dishes and swept up the flour from the floor, he sat at the table with a knife and a block of wood in his hand and sang while he whittled. When he sang the first note, Eliza was thrilled, because he had a clear strong baritone voice. The second and third notes sent chills down her spine. He had a nice voice, but he couldn't carry a tune. He was just singing a folk song, but still, he should stay on tune. She hoped he didn't
like to sing much, because she knew he would make her crazy if he did. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the inner strength to listen to him without yelling.

Calvin smiled as he saw her eyes close. She was enjoying his singing. He'd hoped that would be the case. He'd have to sing more often.

After she'd finished with the dishes, Eliza escaped to their bedroom for a moment with a pitcher and a bowl to clean up. She wanted a full bath, but that would have to wait until he was on the range the following day. She wasn't nearly bold enough to bathe in front of her new husband.

She undressed quickly and washed her face, arms and chest, pulling a nightgown over her head. She wished she had something prettier than her plain white utilitarian nightgown, but she didn't, and she wasn't going to waste what little money she had left on something she'd sleep in.

Once she was wearing her nightgown, she crawled between the sheets and pulled the covers clean up to her neck. She didn't want him to see her. What was she thinking? She was in bed
waiting
for her new husband to join her, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to her body. She barely knew the man, and he was soon going to be touching her like
tha
t.

Her sister had been kind enough to explain the ways of men and women to her, so she'd know what she needed to avoid if a
man made advances. She knew what he would do. She also knew she wasn't ready for any man to do that to her. Could she tell him that she wanted to wait without making him hate her?

By the time Calvin entered the room, Eliza had worked herself into a state of panic. Just the idea of him touching her arm made her want to run off screaming into the night. How would she be able to lie there and let him put his...thing inside her?

He turned out the light before undressing, seeing that his new wife was shy. He didn't want to shock her when he undressed and he was already fully erect. She was too inexperienced for that. So was he when it came right down to it.

All afternoon, since the moment he'd met her, he'd thought of nothing but the moment when he'd
be able to sink inside her wel
coming flesh. Yes, tonight was the night. He was going to make love to his wife and find out how it felt once and for all.

He slipped between the sheets and reached out to her, pulling her against him. She was stiff a
nd obviously very nervous. Hope
fully he could make her forget her nervousness and enjoy what they'd do together.

He moved his hand over the covers until he found her face and moved his thumb over her soft lips. He hadn't kissed her mouth since the wedding. He was afraid that once he started he

wouldn't be able to stop. Slowly, he lowered his head toward hers and kissed her, his tongue coming out to trace her lips.

She stayed stiff against him, wanting nothing more than to put her hands on his chest and push him away. She had to get out of the bed. She'd seen another bed down the hall that was all made up as if for company. Surely he'd understand if she told him she needed to sleep there for a while. "Calvin?" she asked, turning her head from his kiss.

His lips went to her neck, biting and suckling as he asked, "Yeah?"

"I can't do this." She knew she was being blunt and should probably soften the blow, but she really didn't know how. She
didn’t
want him touching her. How could she submit to him without knowing anything about him except that he sang off key?

Calvin lifted his head and looked down at her in the darkness. "Are you denying me?"

She sighed, feeling the tears coming to her eyes. "I'm just not ready yet. I've only known you for a few hours." She sucked in a breath. "A month. Can you give me a month to get used to the idea
of this
?"

Calvin rolled to his back, more than a little offended by her
request
. She'd come out there to be his bride and now she wasn't
willing to have intercourse with him? "A month? I'm not waiting a month. I've waited my entire life for tonight, and you're telling me that you don't want me to make love to my wife on our wedding night?"

Eliza leaned onto her elbow beside him, trying to find a good way to explain what she was feeling. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I've never done this with a man before. I just don't know you well enough to let you do
that
to me yet. If you give me a month, I promise, I'll be ready."

He frowned. He hated it, but he did see her point. They didn't really know one another, and she had the right to say she didn't want him touching her yet. He hated it though, because he'd
already
waited. Why did he have to wait even longer? "I'll give you a week."

Eliza blinked, thrilled to have a week, but knowing she needed a bit more. "Three weeks."

"Two weeks, and I get to kiss you and try to convince you to change your mind whenever I feel like it." He was certain he could convince her if he tried hard enough.

Eliza thought over his words for a moment before finally
nodding
. "Two weeks."

Calvin reached up and cupped the back of her neck, bringing
her down to kiss him. His hands roamed over her body, moving all the way from her bottom to her shoulders. "I won't lie and say I like it, but I do understand. Two weeks from tonight, we're making love. Put it on your calendar."

She laughed softly. "I'll do that." She felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she moved to the edge
of the
bed and sat up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to go sleep in the spare room down the hall. I'm sure you don't want me in bed with you when I won't let you..." She couldn't even finish her sentence.

Calvin caught her hand and pulled her back against him. "You're staying. You promised I could keep trying to convince you to make love, and I can't convince you if you're down the hall." He pulled her flush against him, feeling her unbound breasts press against him through the thin cotton of her nightgown. He
wondered
if it was too soon for him to touch one, just through the
fabric
, but he didn't want to frighten her
any more
than she already was.

Knowing that he wasn't going to try to force sex on her, Eliza responded to his touch, liking it. She leaned forward and kissed him, this time it was her tongue tracing his lips. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit it gently, enjoying his fingers against her.

Calvin sucked in a breath of surprise as he pulled her closer, his hand moving as if of its own volition to cup her breast in his palm. He deepened the kiss, his mouth opening for her tongue as his hand gently molded her soft breast.

Eliza moaned deep in her throat, wishing there was no
nightgown
between them. She unbuttoned the four buttons at the front of her nightgown, and moved his hand inside it so he could touch her bare skin.

He couldn't believe how bold she was in letting him touch her breast, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, immediately intrigued by how hard the small nub was. It was too dark to see the color, but in his mind it was a soft pink surrounded by a darker pink aureole. He couldn't wait to see if his imagination was
correct
.

Her arms moved around him, and she stroked his bare back, finding a small mole just above his waistline. Never in her life had she touched the bare skin of a man before, but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel him all over. She felt a tingling between her thighs. Knowing it was time to stop, she pulled back from his kiss. "We should go to sleep," she murmured, brushing her lips against his one last time.

Calvin wanted to scream in frustration, but he didn't. He pulled his hand from her nightgown and pressed his lips to her forehead. Two weeks couldn't pass quickly enough. He was hard and aching, and he had to make love to her soon. He was truly blessed to have found such a passionate woman for his wife.

*****

Years of staying up late to work and sleeping until late morning had taken a toll on Eliza. When she felt Calvin get out of bed beside her she pulled a pillow over her face, not wanting to wake up to the light he'd turned on.

"It's time to get up, Eliza." His voice was soft and gravelly with sleep, but insistent.

She wanted nothing more than to tell him to go away. "I hate mornings," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

He laughed, pulling the pillow from her face. "Wake up, sleepy head. You need to cook breakfast while I milk the cows and gather eggs."

She groaned but knew he was right. This is what she'd agreed to do when she married him. It was her job to cook breakfast every morning. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, not realizing she'd for- got- gotten to button her nightgown after their intimacy of the night before. "I'm up."

Calvin's eyes latched onto her nipple, as pink as he'd imagined it would be. He wondered how she'd react if he caught it between his lips, but he knew he didn't have time. The sun was about to rise, and he needed to get to work. He couldn't resist reaching out, catching her nipple between his fingers, and giving it a quick tug to watch it harden. "I'll be back in thirty."

Eliza watched him leave the room, more than a little startled by his actions. She looked down and saw that her nightgown was spread wide, with one nipple exposed to the morning air, and she quickly covered it. Blushing she got out of bed and dressed as fast as she could before hurrying down to the kitchen to start breakfast.

She had the fire going in moments, and put a skillet on the stove to heat, while she climbed down the cellar stairs to get bacon and yesterday's eggs.

By the time he returned from milking, she had a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon for each of them as well as toast with no butter. She'd found some strawberry preserves in the cellar that she'd put on the table with a spoon. If he wanted them he could add them to his dry toast.

He leaned around her to put the milk pail on the work table before grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her thoroughly. She stood on tiptoe, pressing her body against his as she kissed him back. "Good morning," she whispered.

Calvin took his spot at the table, no longer as disappointed by the delay in their lovemaking. She was a passionate woman, and he was certain he could convince her to make love well before the two weeks were up. She enjoyed kissing and touching far too much to hold out for that long. He was certain of it.

*****

After breakfast, Eliza dug through the recipes in the pantry and found nothing that would help her to learn to make gravy. She knew he liked it and desperately wanted to make it, but it wasn't going to be possible unless she got her hands on a cookbook.

He'd told her he'd be home for lunch, so she knew she
needed
to get him to take her into town then. First, though, she needed
to do the laundry, including her dress she'd worn the day before which was covered in flour. She'd seen her mother do laundry of course, but she'd never actually done it herself. She gathered the scrub board and took the clothes to the basin.

She boiled water. She didn't know why, but she'd seen her mother do it, so she did as well. The first thing she picked up to wash was one of Calvin's shirts. It was a thick flannel shirt that he obviously wore through the winter months. She carefully moved it against the scrubbing board with all of her strength. Pushing down on it to get it as clean as she could.

She spent ten minutes on that first shirt, and when she picked it up and looked at it, it was obvious that she had no idea what she was doing. She'd scrubbed three holes clean through the shirt. She looked and found another, and scrubbed it more gently this time, and the results seemed better. He only had his church shirt and three others, though, and she'd just destroyed one. She'd have to make him a new shirt. And how was she supposed to
admit
to her new husband that she'd put holes in his shirt?

When she'd finished with the scrubbing, she carried the wash to the line and took the bag of clothespins that was hooked to it. She carefully looked at them, and through the process of trial and error she was able to hang everything on the line.

Going back into the house, she churned the butter before making him a quick lunch of bacon sandwiches. She again toasted the bread because it hid how hard the bread she'd made the
previous
day was.

Calvin stepped into the house for lunch, and Eliza smiled at him brightly blinking the tears away. She was a disaster as a wife, and she knew it. How was she going to keep him happy when she couldn't do anything right?

"I made bacon sandwiches for lunch," she told him.

He nodded, not much caring what she'd cooked. He was
hungry
, and he'd eat anything at that point. "Sounds good." He kissed her before taking his seat at the table and waiting for her to join him.

After their prayer, he ate his three sandwiches quickly while she picked at hers. Finally she told him about the shirt. "I've never actually washed clothes before, so I didn't know what to do. I feel so stupid."

The tears filling her eyes told him that she wasn't kidding. "How can you be thirty-two and not know how to wash clothes?" he asked. "Did you always have a maid or something?"
He'd never heard tell of a woman who didn't know how to do basic household chores, but he'd apparently married one.

She nodded, not going into detail. "I need you to drive me to town for fabric and a cookbook. I need to make myself an apron and you a new shirt." She was covered with water from the
washing
. A good sturdy apron would be needed to save her clothes.

He nodded. "We'll go this afternoon. I need to ride out and let my men know, but I'll take you." He thought briefly about letting her go to town with one of his ranch hands so he could stay there and work, but he didn't want his new bride to go off with another man the day after they married. He wasn't really a jealous man, but he was going to keep his wife close.

When he returned from the range to drive her into town, she was waiting for him. She had made a short list of what she'd need. He hitched up the horses and helped her get into the wagon.

"I have some beans soaking for supper," she told him, letting him know that she was focusing on what he would eat. "I'll be able to cook them up after we get back from town."

He nodded briefly. "That's fine." He watched the road
carefully
as he drove toward town, excited to show his new bride off. There just weren't enough women in these parts, and a pretty one like Eliza was bound to turn heads.

"I'm sorry about your shirt. I'm trying really hard to do
everything
right." She hated that he knew she'd ruined something of
his. If she could have hidden it, she would have.

"I know you are. I 'm not angry about the shirt." He didn't ask more questions about her past, because she didn't seem to want to answer them. She seemed willing to talk about her childhood, but nothing about the adult years she'd spent since finishing school.

She smiled at him, holding his arm to her. "Thank you for not being upset with me."

He kissed her cheek before turning back to the road. "If there are things you don't know how to do, you can ask me. After you meet Abigail, I'm sure she'll help you."

"I know you were expecting a competent wife," she began, not sure
how to
continue.

"Not every woman is good at household chores. Obviously they weren't important to you." He didn't look at her as he made the statement, hoping she would volunteer information about her past.