Bittersweet (30 page)

Cool air sneaked through the hole in the elbow of her nightshirt. A nightshirt. That’s what Mrs. O’Sullivan had called it last night when she’d given it to Ivy. She had been surprised to learn Mrs. O’Sullivan slept in a floor-length blue flannel nightgown. Imagine, folks having special clothes just to wear to bed!

Pushing back her tangled hair, Ivy rose. Her stomach lurched, but she steadied herself with a few deep breaths. Her being sick on a morning was what had made Ishy suspicious.

Cain’t be sickly. Work’s gotta be done, and I ain’t lettin’ my husband
thank I’m a sluggard
. The nightshirt billowed around her knees as she tiptoed across the floor and out the door.

A few minutes later, she reentered the cabin. Galen stood over at the stove, building up the fire she’d banked the night before. “I’ll see to that,” she whispered as she went over to him. “And I’ll brew you coffee straightaway.”

Galen’s gaze raked her from head to foot.

Ivy curled her bare toes under. She’d been in too much of a hurry to put on shoes.

His voice came out in a low hiss. “What are you doing in my shirt, and where have you been?”

Having to whisper in the morning wasn’t anything new. Pa always slept later, so she and Ishy often used muted tones. “Yore ma give this to me to sleep in. And I went pee.” She flashed him a smile. “Seems I’m doin’ that a lot these days.”

His jaw hardened. “I won’t have it. No, I won’t. It’s indecent for you to be seen like this, and it’s vulgar for a woman to discuss bodily functions.”

“Won’t nobody see me but kin. Vulgar—cain’t say I know that word, but you asked me whar I went.” She took the coffeepot over to the pump.

Galen snatched the pot from her. “Get dressed before my brothers see you.”

She hitched her shoulder and walked toward the peg where she’d hung her dresses. Today was a work day. She’d wear her flour sack dress. By the time she slipped into the dress, Galen had jerked the drawer from the coffee grinder and dumped the entire contents into the coffeepot.

“That coffee’s gonna be strong ’nuff to pull a plow through a field of rocks.” She sat on a bench and hiked up her skirts so she could put on her boots.

Galen yanked her skirt back down. His left eye twitched as he stared at her. “You’ll behave modestly in my home.”

“I ain’t showin’ nuthin. Jist need to lace up my boots.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t know why yore all het up. Ever’body gots legs, and ever’body pees.”

“A lady doesn’t show her ankles—let alone her calves or knees.”

The words sizzled out of him like water drops on a hot skillet.

“When you use the necessary, you don’t have to announce it.”

“Then don’t ask me whar I went.” She doubled over and tried to wiggle her foot into the boot. Finding the laces and tying them blindly rated as ridiculous, but no use telling that to him. Pa had his peculiarities, too—like using a branch only if it pointed a certain direction.

Gonna have a few rough days till he settles down and gets used to the
notion that I’m his wife. Niver saw him mad afore, and he’s got a fearsome
look in his eyes. I’ll jist bide my time. Gotta make thangs work out. My babe’s
countin’ on me
.

As she tied her second boot, Ivy whispered, “D’ya want johnnycakes or eggs for breakfast?”

“The only thing I want is the truth so I can be free of you.”

“We shore got us a fine flock of layin’ hens.”

“We?”
He almost shouted the word.

“Huh?” Mrs. O’Sullivan bolted upright. Pain pulled at her features.

Galen shot Ivy an accusing look, but he softened his voice to a coaxing lilt. “’Tis early yet, Ma. Go on back to sleep.”

Mrs. O’Sullivan rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “If ’tis early, you’d best be telling me why I’m already smelling coffee.”

Ivy didn’t want to have to confess that she’d managed to make her husband shout at her their very first morning together.

“Eggs—I decided on eggs for breakfast. I know jist how you like ’em. I’ll have ’em right quick.” She snatched the wire egg basket from the table and started to make her escape.

“’’Twill be cold out there,” Mrs. O’Sullivan called. “Borrow my shawl.”

“Oooh.” Ivy blinked back a sudden rush of tears. “Yore offer warms me straight through.”

“’Tis pure foolishness to catch a chill when you can avoid it—especially when you’re carrying a babe. I expect you to be mindful of that.”

“Yes’m. But first we’ll wrap yore shawl round you, and I’ll holp you go—” Ivy caught herself—“to the ah … necessary.”

“I’ll carry you, Ma.” Galen plucked the shawl from a peg beside the door and took it to the bed.

“There’s no need, Son. Ishmael carved me a fine cane.”

“It’s too soon for you to walk.”

He shore does have a mulish side. But he’s my man. Gotta back him up
. “Ishy didn’t mean for you to start a-usin’ the walkin’ stick jist yet.” Ivy clutched the egg basket close. “He brought it in so’s he could measure it. He’ll have to cut an inch or more off ’n the bottom so’s it’ll fit you. E’en after he cuts the staff down a mite, he’ll need time to smooth the whole thang down. Cain’t have you gettin’ no pickers in yore fingers.”

Galen slipped the shawl around his mother and picked her up. “Plenty of work needs doing. Ishmael won’t get to that for a few days.”

Ivy opened the door as he drew closer.

Mrs. O’Sullivan rested her head on her son’s shoulder. “Ivy, the pot with the dented side—”

“The one what we melted wax in for toppin’ the jelly jars?”

“Aye, ’tis that one. First thing each morning, I put it on the stove so Galen and Colin will have hot water for shaving.”

“I’ll tend to that straight off.” While they were gone, Ivy quickly filled the pot and set it on the stove. Galen clearly wanted his mother to rest, so Ivy straightened the bed and folded back the blanket and quilt. She folded the blanket she’d used and tucked it beneath the pillow on the cot.

Real beds. Her babe would grow up in a real house and sleep in a real bed. He’d have a nice thick blanket and plenty to eat. Best of all, he’d get to go to school and learn to read. She pressed her hand to her flat belly.
Whatever it takes, young’un, I’ll see to it you
don’t want for nuthin’
.

Galen rummaged through the box below the tool bench.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Dale bent forward and blocked Galen’s view. “Wow!”

His baby brother’s misbuttoned shirt and morning-rumpled hair were a sight. He’d scrambled down the loft ladder minutes earlier. Delighted to hear that Ivy was doing his chore of gathering eggs, he’d tagged along with Galen to the barn.

He turned and showed Galen his newfound treasure. “Lookit these really long bolts!”

The bolts were just as flimsy as they were long. Galen didn’t even recall where they’d come from.
With that fancy toolbox, the boys
are going to be scrounging for all sorts of things
. Galen slowly ran his thumb down one of the bolts. “Pretty interesting, huh?”

“Yeah! Can I have ’em?”

“It does a man no good to have things just for the sake of having them. Do you know what you’ll use them for?”

“Boss? Breakfast is ready.”

Galen shot to his feet. Dale dropped the bolts and grabbed for his hand.

“You dropped sommat thar, pardner.”

Dale’s voice shook. “You’re not my partner. Miss Laney is.”

“That’s a fact.” Ishmael walked toward them.

Winding his free hand around Galen’s thigh, Dale blurted out, “He gots a knife, Galen!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T
he knife is in the sheath.” Galen modulated his voice carefully, but he glowered at Ishmael.
He planted fear into the hearts
of my young brothers, and it’ll be a crop I have to weed for days to come
.

Ishmael dropped down onto his knees, then sat back on his heels. Resting both hands on his thighs, he said, “I ain’t yore pardner, Dale. What I am now is yore brother.”

“Nuh-uh!” Dale’s little fingers squeezed two of Galen’s with desperate strength. “You’re not. None of us brothers would ever wanna shoot another.”

“’Yore right that I was sore mad at Galen. But that was afore we was brothers. We had us a big problem, but he done sommat what made thangs right. He up and married my sis, and now thangs’re all better. And when they married up, well that made you and me brothers.”

“You’re not gonna try to shoot him again?”

“Nope. Niver.”

“And you won’t use your knife on him?”

“Nope.”

Galen rasped, “There you have it.”

“Or the ax?” Dale persisted, his voice insistent and desperate.

“Or a club or a log or a—” “Not a thang. Niver ever. Cross my heart.” Ishmael started to trail his finger across his chest.

“Don’t do that! It’s bad.” Dale turned loose of Galen. “Ma won’t let us do that.”

“S’pose you could explain that to me?”

Dale stooped to pick up the bolts. “Dunno why. But Ma thinks it’s important. Betcha Galen knows. He’s smart.”

“Boss?”

A million thoughts buzzed through Galen’s mind. Ishmael was right—they were now brothers-in-law. Not that Ishmael could claim any lawful relationship to anyone else in the family, but explaining that to his little brothers might prove confusing, and mentioning it to Ishmael would rip away the “protection” of his being “kin.”
Letting him stay here in the stable—Ma was right. Best I know
where he is and allow him to think we consider he’s part of the family
.

Ishmael had been good about reassuring Dale, too. That counted for something. From his standpoint, he’d done what he had to in order to fix a problem. Holding a grudge would make it far harder for Ma and his little brothers.
’Tis a bitter truth, but I’m
going to have to swallow my pride
.

Galen cleared his throat. “Drawing an
X
on your chest is making the sign of the cross. Jesus died when men nailed Him to two pieces of wood that formed a cross, so that’s like you’re swearing by His name.”

“If ’n that Jesus feller died, then what does it matter? He ain’t a-gonna hear what we say.”

“Ishmael!” Giggles bubbled out of Dale. “Jesus didn’t stay dead.”

“Breakfast is getting cold!” Sean hollered from the porch.

“I’m gonna show Sean my bolts!” Dale raced ahead.

“I weren’t jawin’, Boss. Yore kin now. Ain’t no danger of me causin’ any harm.” Strain pulled Ishmael’s features tight.

“It’s going to be a long time before my family gets past their fears.”

Ishmael let out a mournful sigh. “Don’t doubt that sad fact. Wisht now I’da thunk awhile on it. Soon as I knowed Sis was in trouble, I saw red. Niver been het up like that afore.”

“If you so much as look or sound threatening ever again, you’ll be gone. I won’t have it.”

Ishmael dared to scowl straight back. “I ’spect thar won’t be no need for me to get het up e’er again. A man treats his wife good. Long as yore good to Sis—” He stopped. “Yup. That’s all I want.”

“This isn’t about what you want.”

“Pa always said a man’s gotta take care of hisself ’cuz ain’t nobody a-gonna holp him out. ’Twas foolish of me to set aside that teachin’ jist on account of you talkin’ ’bout bein’ a Christian.”

My own ma thinks I’m guilty. Why would I expect him to think otherwise?
Ivy’s lie is making everyone question both my character and my Christianity.
Part of the time, I’m sure he conspired with her over this debacle; the
other part, I think Ivy’s done it alone. But I can’t take any chances
.

“I reckon I cain’t blame a Christian man for settin’ aside his scruples to catch hisself such a prize.”

Galen folded his arms across his chest. “Ishmael, my relationship with God is more dear to me than anything or anyone. This is the last time I’m going to say anything about this situation to you. My heart is clean, and I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.”

A slow smile lit Ishmael’s face. “That’s a fine way of lookin’ at it. You made thangs right, and ain’t no way you oughtta be ’shamed. You got yoreself the purdiest gal around, and yore ’spectin’ a babe.” He slapped Galen on the back. “Chow time.”

“Go on ahead. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Ishmael chortled softly. “So Ivy’s mornin’ sick and yore lovesick. I’ll jist tell her yore savin’ up room for an extry-big lunch.

That’ll keep her feathers from rufflin’.”

Alone in the stable, Galen stared back down at the box of odds and ends. A small length of clothesline lay coiled up in the corner. He needed it and a blanket to make a pull-across screen.

Ma could explain to Ivy how she needed to cultivate modesty.

Lord, I barely slept last night. Woke up this morning hoping it was all a
bad dream, but Ishmael was snoring like a bear on the other side of the tack
room. That was bad enough. When Ivy traipsed into the cabin, barefoot and
wearing my shirt this morning, it all hit me again. I don’t know why you’re
letting this happen. All I did, it was in your name. Simple Christian charity.
You’ve got to break me free of this. I love Laney, yet I’m unequally yoked to
Ivy. I need your help
.