The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, except for in the kitchen, where two candles were lit, and, although the house was larger than she had expected it to be, it was nowhere near the spacious size to which she was accustomed. Still, while the cabin may have failed to meet her expectations, the aromas of whatever Rosemary had prepared for dinner offered hope. When the men came in from outside, everyone took a seat, leaving a chair for McKenzie between Zach and Rosemary.
Zach pulled McKenzie’s chair out for her, which she hadn’t exactly expected. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She sat down and listened as Zach blessed the meal, and she was struck by how personal it sounded. Her father’s prayers were always short and simple: “Dear Lord, bless this food. Amen.” In contrast, Zach’s prayer was longer and more conversational, as if he knew God intimately. “Dear Lord, we thank You for this day and for all the blessings You have given us. Thank You for this food. Please bless the hands that prepared it. We also thank You for McKenzie’s safe travel to Pine Haven. We pray that You will help each of us to make her feel welcome in her new home. Please bless our wedding tomorrow and guide us in our marriage so that it may be pleasing to You. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”
As the other voices chimed in with an amen, McKenzie thought about how Zach had thanked God for her safe travel to Pine Haven and asked Him to bless their marriage. McKenzie had never heard such an intricate prayer. She wondered if her parents had ever prayed for her specific needs or offered praise for acknowledged blessings. Somehow, she doubted it.
“Would you please pass the potatoes?” Jonah asked. McKenzie watched as the potatoes went from Asa to Jonah. In her own home, Nellie would arrange each table setting with the food Cook had prepared. No one passed any food on the table. If something was needed, Nellie or Cook would fetch it. McKenzie was unsure of how to go about preparing her own plate.
“Would you care for some potatoes?” Rosemary asked her.
“Potatoes?” McKenzie asked.
“Yes. They’re mashed with butter—quite tasty. I guess you’d say that they’re an important staple in this family.” Rosemary smiled.
This family? McKenzie thought. This wasn’t a family—not when only two of the six were related.
“There’re also biscuits and turkey. Almost like Thanksgiving with all these trimmings.” Rosemary was now staring at McKenzie, awaiting her response.
“Pardon me, yes. I’ll take a biscuit, a spoonful of potatoes, and a few slices of turkey. I’d also like some tea to drink, please,” McKenzie answered.
Rosemary raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, I would like one biscuit, a spoonful of potatoes, and a few slices of turkey on my plate. I’d also like tea to drink.” McKenzie’s voice rose to a higher pitch at her annoyance of having to repeat herself. She never had to do such a thing at home.
Rosemary looked dumbfounded, and McKenzie noticed that the room had gone completely silent. Finally, Rosemary stood to her feet and began arranging food on McKenzie’s plate to McKenzie’s specifications. When she was finished, she placed it in front of her guest.
“I don’t have any tea to offer you,” she said, sitting down again. “Perhaps, Zach could pick some up for you the next time he’s in town. We have fresh milk or water.”
“Thank you,” said McKenzie. She could feel the stares of the others on her face and wondered why they seemed displeased. She took a bite and was thankful when the conversation around the table resumed.
After McKenzie had cleaned her plate, she said, “Rosemary, I’d like another biscuit, please. I’m finding that my appetite is quite large after that long trip.” With that, she placed her hands in her lap and waited for Rosemary to serve her.
Rosemary reached for a biscuit and placed it on McKenzie’s plate.
“You don’t, by chance, have any honey, do you?” McKenzie asked. “We have the most delicious honey in Boston.”
“I’m sorry,” said Rosemary. “We don’t have any honey, but we do have some strawberry preserves.”
“That would be lovely,” McKenzie said with a smile. “Cook used to make homemade preserves, and strawberry is among my favorites.” She handed Rosemary her biscuit, then watched as the woman stood up and walked over to one of the shelves in the kitchen. She retrieved a jar of preserves, opened it, and smoothed the jelly onto the biscuit.
“That was delicious,” McKenzie said when she was finished eating. “My, how that lengthy train ride and dirty trip on the stagecoach have taken a toll on me. Would you mind drawing a warm bath for me, Rosemary?”
***
“Zach?” Rosemary said, looking down the table, her eyebrows arched in disbelief.
Zach had debated how to handle McKenzie’s treating Rosemary like a lowly servant, and his first inclination had been to take a stand for Rosemary against McKenzie. But, then, he’d thought better of it—he didn’t want to upset McKenzie on her first night here. He’d seesawed back and forth in his mind and prayed for wisdom throughout the meal. Now, he knew what he must do.
“McKenzie, may I speak to you in private for a minute?” he asked. She looked surprised but nodded, and so he pulled out her chair for her, then led her out to the front porch.
“McKenzie…” Zach started. He wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to say. He knew that every marriage had its conflicts, but he hadn’t expected them to encounter one so early.
“Yes?” McKenzie said, seeming oblivious to anything amiss.
“McKenzie, did your family have servants?” he asked her.
“Yes, of course. We have Biddie, who does all the cleaning and washing; Nellie, who helps serve the food and does many odd jobs; Cook, who prepares the food; Lawrence, our butler and chauffeur; and Manuel, our gardener. Why do you ask?”
The stream of hired help McKenzie listed made Zach dizzy. No wonder she was unaccustomed to serving herself! The way things were done on the ranch would be quite a shock to her. “McKenzie, Rosemary is not a servant, and neither is Asa or Jonah,” he patiently explained. “Granted, they are hired help—they’re paid for what they do—but they’re more like family than employees. Rosemary doesn’t serve people, unless it’s assisting Davey with his food. She makes all the meals and cleans the kitchen afterward and takes care of the house, but she’s not a maid. It’s a lot of work to feed this many people, and she does a fine job, but, soon, you’ll be helping her with those duties. Everyone has to pull his own weight around the ranch in order for it to be successful. Does that make sense?” Zach tried to keep his voice low and gentle. He wanted to avoid embarrassing her at all costs. But it didn’t look like he’d succeeded, judging by the tears in McKenzie’s eyes and her quivering lower lip.
***
McKenzie felt the tears start. She’d been here for less than two hours, and, already, she was making an utter fool of herself. What must Zach and the others have thought when she kept asking Rosemary to serve her? They must think her to be such a spoiled brat. And why hadn’t Zach spoken up prior to this, instead of allowing her to carry on like a nincompoop? She sniffled. What she wouldn’t give to be back home again! The reminder that she must endure many hardships for Kaydie’s sake was the only thing that kept her from running from the house, going into town, and ordering a ticket for the earliest stagecoach heading east.
“McKenzie, please don’t cry,” Zach pleaded. But she couldn’t stop the sobs. She was so miserable, so alone, so far from home.
Zach took a step toward McKenzie. “Shh, McKenzie,” Zach said, his voice a whisper. “It’s all right. No one will think anything of what happened.” He reached his arms out and wrapped them loosely around her. “Everyone here knows things were different in Boston. Don’t worry about it.”
McKenzie looked up at Zach. Shouldn’t he be saving his kindness for a woman who would really love him? Shouldn’t he be concerned about the feelings of a woman who would make good on her vows to remain married to him forever? Instead, he held in his arms a woman who would leave in a few short months, after she’d finished the task she’d set out to accomplish. The thought made McKenzie feel even worse. “I’m sorry, Zach,” she said, apologizing for more than just the meal episode.
“No harm done,” Zach said. “It’ll take a little bit to get used to the way things are around here. I remember when I moved here from Chicago, and life was so different. In time, you’ll fit right in, and no one will be able to tell that you haven’t lived here your whole life.”
“I need to apologize to Rosemary,” McKenzie said. She doubted she’d ever come to like the woman who’d embarrassed her in this way, but she knew that the right and proper thing to do was to ask for forgiveness.
“I think Rosemary would appreciate that,” said Zach. “She’s a godly woman—one of the most loving, caring people I’ve ever met. She’s like a second mother to me, and I think you’ll come to see her that way, too, in time. If she knew you were upset, she’d feel badly, herself.” Zach paused for a moment, then said, “McKenzie, if you want, I’ll draw you a bath.”
All she wanted to do was escape to her room and sleep. “Thank you, Zach, but I think I’ll have a bath tomorrow, instead. I’m quite tired.”
“I imagine you are. I’d be happy to draw a bath for you tomorrow, then.”
As she stood in Zach’s arms, she wondered whether she should lift her arms to hug him back. Her stomach felt strange, and she figured it was due to the eventful day and the tumult of emotions it had brought. In the end, she decided to keep her arms where they were. Something about feeling secure in Zach’s arms made her decide against making even the slightest movement.
“Are you as nervous as I am about our wedding tomorrow?” Zach asked.
“Yes,” McKenzie admitted. If only he knew just how nervous she was! Of course, she was more concerned about what she needed to do when she found Kaydie than the ceremony itself.
Zach grinned. “I imagine everyone gets nervous before getting hitched.”
McKenzie nodded. He was right. But not everyone had as many things to be nervous about as McKenzie Worthington did.
That night, McKenzie sat on the bed in her new room, trying to block out her bleak surroundings and fight the tears that threatened to fall. Her shoulders sagged hopelessly as she longed for the life she left in Boston.
McKenzie thought of her bedroom at home—the same room she’d had ever since she’d been a little girl, and the same room she would keep until the day she entered into marriage with a suitable Bostonian bachelor. Her room was three times the size of this one, but it was cozier, too. She missed the fireplace, complete with a grandfather clock on the mantel, and the burgundy wing chair with its brass studs. How many times had she sat in that chair to lace up her boots in the morning or to brush her hair before turning in at night? The walls were papered with a rich, paisley print of burgundy and yellow hues, and the polished, wood floor was covered with a plush Oriental rug. She had a wide, comfortable bed with a wrought-iron headboard, a private bath area, and a spacious closet to house all of her frocks and gowns. Every week, Nellie or Biddie would fill the vase on her bureau with fresh flowers from the garden outside. In the wintertime, dried flowers replaced the fresh ones, and they were kept in perfect condition. Nellie and Biddie also took great pains to be sure McKenzie’s room was dusted and the furniture was polished regularly. They made her bed, drew her baths, and did everything they could to make her comfortable.
McKenzie sighed at the memory. This room had just enough space for a bed, a small, wooden table, which, McKenzie supposed, was meant to be a desk, and a bureau with two drawers. At least a washbowl and pitcher had been placed on the bureau—they would be helpful when she felt the need to freshen up. But the walls were neither painted nor papered, and the window was covered with a threadbare-looking, brown blanket. A tattered, faded quilt had been spread across the bed, and McKenzie had already noticed that the straw mattress would be anything but comfortable. There was nothing beyond the bare essentials—no decor, nothing homey.
McKenzie stood up and walked over to the window. How she wished either Nellie or Biddie was here right now to draw her a warm bath. She especially loved how Nellie always brought her a steaming cup of tea to sip while she bathed. Now, so many miles from home, there was no Nellie, no Biddie, and no tea.
While McKenzie knew that this room was probably used only by the occasional guest, she wished some time had been set aside to make it warmer and more welcoming. The closet-sized space had scarcely more character than a prison cell, in her opinion, even though she’d never been inside a prison, much less a cell. Yet, this would be her room for the duration of her stay in Pine Haven, for she doubted very much that she would ever move into Zach’s room, as he likely expected her to do starting tomorrow, when they were married.
What had she been thinking when she’d decided to answer Zach’s advertisement? Her life had been close to perfect, or so it seemed in hindsight, and, now, it was topsy-turvy, thanks to her plan to rescue her sister. Maybe Kaydie didn’t even want to return to Boston. Maybe after McKenzie located her, she’d want to stay in Montana. Then what? It would all have been for naught. Even if she did follow McKenzie back to Boston, would this sacrifice be worth it? Would Kaydie, so timid and lacking in common sense, again follow her heart and have to be rescued once more?
McKenzie returned to the bed, crying softly as she let down her hair and brushed it with the pearl tortoiseshell comb her mother had given her for her tenth birthday. She determined that she would adhere to her time frame to find her sister and return to Boston. Any longer than that, and she wouldn’t survive the harsh surroundings of a dismal life she neither desired nor would ever find acceptable.
McKenzie put on her nightgown, climbed into bed, and laid her head on the pillow, then reviewed the day’s events in her mind. First, there was the bumpy ride on the uncomfortable stagecoach. Second, her first glimpse of Pine Haven and the depressing realization that the town had no dress shop, nor any other marks of civilized society. Third, meeting Zach face-to-face, followed by another bumpy ride, this one in his wagon. Fourth, the incident with Rosemary, the embarrassment from which McKenzie knew she would never recover. She decided right then to dislike Rosemary with all the effort she could muster. Finally, her discussion with Zach on the porch, where she heard him deliver an explanation of the error in her ways with more sensitivity than she’d ever seen in a man. She recalled the way he’d put his arms around her to console her, and how, though she would never admit it to anyone, she had enjoyed the comfort he’d provided.