Once in a Blue Moon (20 page)

Melissa paused for a
long moment, then took his hand in hers before meeting his gaze
again, her eyes sultry. “What do you have in mind, cowboy?”

Richard’s heart pounded
at her acceptance. He leaned over and whispered into her ear and,
if the smile on her face was any indication, she liked his idea
just fine.

* * *

“
Yoohoo, Mrs.
Kendal
!”

Melissa turned away
from the well, the bright morning sunlight momentarily blinding her
before she finally focused on the Cowboy Wives Club approaching at
a fast clip.

She quickly glanced
around, looking for an escape. She saw no need to spoil her good
mood by talking with people who hated her and no doubt simply
wanted to assign new chores. But in the time it took to scan the
orchard for a likely hiding place, they were almost on her.

Standing beside her,
Jessica, the traitor, set down their bucket, smiled and waved in
greeting.

Straightening, Melissa
braced herself, lifted her chin and assumed a haughty expression.
She spoke before they got the chance. “Don’t worry, I’m planning to
spend some time in the garden this morning.”

Coming to a halt, Sarah
waved a pudgy hand as if to dismiss Melissa’s comment. “How in the
world did you throw Curly Jenkins onto his back?”

The three women were
all smiles. Slightly nervous smiles, but smiles nonetheless.

Wary, suspicious,
Melissa searched their faces, wondering what they were up to. She
didn’t buy the sudden friendliness, but could certainly play along
in order to find out what they really wanted. She stretched her own
lips. “It’s called self-defense. I’ve taken classes for years.”

“Self-defense?” Amanda,
her dark hair glistening with natural red highlights, tested the
words, making them sound foreign and unfamiliar.

“It takes years to
learn?” Sarah’s tone was disappointed.

They were so obvious.
Did they really think their sudden friendliness would fool her?
Melissa watched as Emma, timid as always, fidgeted, wary and
uncomfortable. A dead giveaway that they were trying to pull
something, and she prepared herself to be back-stabbed.

Enemies one minute,
friends the next? Melissa was familiar with this game, and they
were dealing with the wrong woman if they thought their little plan
was going to bother her. Whatever it was.

But she’d play along
for the moment. “Not years, no. Some of it is quite simple. For
instance,” Melissa put out her arm. “Grab hold of my wrist and hold
tight.”

Sarah hesitated, then
followed the instructions.

Melissa gripped her own
hand and with a quick twist, easily broke Sarah’s grip and freed
herself.

Openmouthed with
wonder, Sarah glanced at her friends. “I was holding on as tightly
as I could.”

“She’s really good at
it,” said Jessica. “You wouldn’t want to meet my mom in a dark
alley.”

The comment, the note
of pride, surprised Melissa. She couldn’t remember Jessica saying
anything positive about her, ever, and a warm glow spread through
her.

Amanda was shaking her
head. “How fascinating,” she seemed like she actually meant her
words.

Sarah nodded. “Yes,
incredible. I’ve never seen or heard the like. What handy
information to possess. Do you remember that time when...”

Talk, talk, talk.

What did they want?
Melissa looked for a way out again, and thought about simply
walking to her cabin, going inside and shutting the door.

Talk, talk, talk.
Smile, smile, smile.

Her suspicion grew.
They were definitely up to something and she wished they’d just get
on with it.

“Isn’t that right?”
asked Sarah.

Emma nodded, her wispy
blonde hair shining in the sun. “Yes, I agree.”

“So could you?” asked
Amanda.

Melissa realized she’d
lost the thread of the conversation. “Could I what?”

Sarah gestured to
Melissa’s hand. “Teach us some of that fancy self-defense?”

Melissa stared at them.
This was it? Their big plot? A few self-defense classes in exchange
for their measly friendship? Melissa sighed, slightly let down, and
reminded herself that these ladies weren’t in her league.

Well, this she
understood anyway. She had something to offer, so suddenly they
could be bosom buddies. For now anyway. But two could play that
game. She’d make a trade. Cooking lessons for self-defense classes.
“Sure, no problem.”

Amanda grinned at the
other two ladies. “See, I knew she wasn’t as mean as a snake, after
all.”

Melissa froze in
place.

Sarah looked
horrified.

Emma looked
terrified.

Amanda’s hand flew to
her mouth. “I, uh, no offense, my big mouth, I didn’t mean, uh, I’m
so sorry...”

How
dare she
? Melissa drew herself to her full
height, towering over the shorter women. And they wanted lessons
from her? They could forget it. A cruel comeback on her lips,
Melissa took a deep breath. She’d show these chubby, big-nosed,
frizzy-haired,
harpies
the definition of the word
mean
.

Jessica slipped her
hand into Melissa’s and squeezed.

Startled, Melissa met
her daughter’s worried gaze. Jessica was worried she’d be
cruel.

Mean
as a snake
.

Jessica’s pretty blue
eyes were pleading.

Melissa looked down at
their clasped hands and something soft and tender rushed into the
vicinity of her heart. Slowly, she released the breath she was
holding. She met Jessica’s gaze once more, clenched her own fingers
around her daughter’s and nodded her understanding.

Lifting her head she
met each woman’s gaze, ending with a stricken Amanda’s.

For Jessica.

She forced a laugh. “No
offense taken. I would be happy to teach you,” she smiled for good
measure.

Jessica squeezed her
hand once more.

The warmth in her chest
seemed to expand. First her daughter was proud of her, and now she
held her hand? Voluntarily? Melissa didn’t know what to think.

Amanda smiled her
relief. “Would you like to join us? We’re doing laundry this
morning. It makes for a much easier time to do it together.”

Melissa hesitated. It
wasn’t cooking lessons. And come to think of it, she hadn’t really
closed that deal.

Jessica smiled eagerly
and picked up their bucket, all the while continuing to hold
Melissa’s hand.

Heart melting, Melissa
nodded her agreement. “Sure.” Mean as a snake? Soft as the
underbelly of a kitten was closer to the truth. With a sigh she
resigned herself to a very boring day.

Kids. What do ya
do?

Arms full of dirty
clothes, Melissa walked beside Jessica toward Sarah’s cabin.
Everything had worked out for the best. She would now have the
opportunity to show the women how nice she could be.

Apparently she’d underestimated their worth when she’d first
arrived. They could be an asset to her, a valuable resource while
she was here, and it was in her best interest to befriend them.
Besides, as ugly as her new clothes were, it would be nice to have
a
clean
dress.
She didn’t know where the washing machine was, and as antiquated as
it was likely to be, she’d need help learning to use it. They
rounded the corner and walked behind Sarah’s cabin.

Melissa stopped
dead.

The women were gathered
around three large kettles, fires burning beneath two. In their
light-colored dresses they looked like good witches casting spells.
Three wash tubs sat on the grass, a couple of washboards leaned
against the fence, as well as two long poles. If Melissa didn’t
miss her guess, they were for stirring the two huge mounds of
waiting laundry into the pots.

“You
have
got
to be
kidding,” she said under her breath.

Jessica giggled.

Sarah smiled and waved
them over. “Join us.”

Oh, joy. Melissa pasted
on a smile. She didn’t deserve this. She’d never done anything in
her life that was so bad that she deserved this. Slowly, she closed
the distance.

Jessica ran to join a
group of children, from babies to about age ten, where they
gathered around something on the ground.

Sarah glanced at the
clothes in Melissa’s arms. “You didn’t soak your whites? Well, no
matter, whites in that pile, colored clothes here,” Sarah indicate
the two huge piles laid out on a patch of grass.

Nodding, Melissa
separated the few clothes she’d brought. Richard’s jeans, socks and
shirt, the orangy dress Sully had given her, Jessica’s jeans, socks
and shirt. Some towels and hand cloths.

Sarah smiled. “I guess
you haven’t been here long enough to have much laundry. I expect
your sheets can wait until next week?”

Numb, wishing herself
elsewhere, Melissa nodded again.

Amanda lifted both
hands, revealing a yellow block in one, a tool of some kind in the
other. “The water’s almost boiling. Do you want to shave the
soap?”

Melissa rolled up her
sleeves in imitation of the other ladies. No doubt she’d be
sunburned before the day was over. One more thing to look forward
to. “Sure. Can you show me how?”

Amanda’s eyebrows rose.
She turned and expertly shaved off small pieces of soap into the
hot water, then handed Melissa the block and implement.

Carefully keeping her
dress out of the fire, Melissa nodded and awkwardly carved off a
chunk.

Picking up another
block, Amanda quickly shaved soap into the second kettle.

“How much do I put in?”
asked Melissa.

Amanda raised a brow.
“The entire cake.”

“You girls run along
and fill the buckets,” Sarah spoke to Jessica and a younger girl.
“We need at least five more for the rinse pot, and two for the
bluing.”

Jessica and the girl
each took a bucket and headed for the well.

Sarah started to scrub
a man’s white shirt. “Mrs. Kendal, will you tell us how you met
your husband?”

Melissa sighed
inwardly. Time to be friendly. “Well--” Melissa continued to shave
the soap and carefully considered her answer. Telling them she met
Richard when he was modeling clothes for extra money in college
wasn’t going to fly. Even in their own time, Richard would have a
fit if she told anyone. Now, in this century, he’d murder her. “We
met in college.”

“College?” Sarah
sounded surprised.

Amanda glanced up. “You
went to college? Where?”

Their amazement
startled Melissa. “Surely you know some college-educated
women?”

Sarah shrugged. “I’ve
heard tell, but haven’t ever met anyone who actually attended.”

“Oh.” What a horrible,
horrible, backward place.

“Were you educated back
East? Your husband said you’re from Boston?”

This was news to
Melissa, but made sense. They couldn’t say they were from around
here. Too easily disproved. She nodded. “Yes, back East.”

Emma, scrubbing
vigorously in another tub, spoke for the first time. “Is that where
your family is from?” she asked shyly.

“Was it love at first
sight for you and Mr. Kendal?” asked Amanda.

“Is that where you
purchased these jeans? I’ve never seen the like.”

Melissa turned to see
Sarah holding up Richard’s jeans. “Uh...”

They didn’t seem to
need answers, simply continued to chat, and Melissa found all that
was required of her was an occasional nod or murmer of agreement.
She continued to chip at the soap, trying to imitate Amanda’s sure
strokes.

Sarah dipped a freshly
scrubbed shirt into the hot water. “Well, it’s apparent you come
from money and have fallen on hard times. I don’t want to embarrass
you, but it’s pretty clear you haven’t shaved soap before.”

Melissa grinned, unable
to take offense at the good-natured tone. “That obvious?”

They all laughed.

“Well, your hands give
you away too.” Sarah held up work-reddened hands.

“Oh dear,” Melissa
said, feeling slightly queasy as she realized her white hands could
look the same before long. Rubber gloves. One more thing to look
forward to.

Amanda shrugged. “You
get used to it. Rub some lard on your hands tonight and you won’t
get cracks.”

Lard. Melissa swallowed
hard.

Their chatter was
unbelievable. Unstoppable. Sarah came from Ohio; she and her
husband both grew up there. She loved his red hair and was thrilled
when their oldest son took after his daddy.

Amanda was born and
raised in California, had four older brothers, and loved cats,
quilting, her sweetie and her children, not necessarily in that
order.

Emma was a southern
girl, whose family transplanted when she was a teenager, moving
steadily west after the War Between the States.

The War Between the
States. Criminey.

Sarah sighed. “I do
miss my parents. Mrs. Kendal, do you miss your family? Your mother?
If you ever need any writing paper, don’t hesitate to come use
mine.”

Yeah, right. Like she’d
write to her mother even if she could receive the letter. “My
mother is dead, but I was never that close to her anyway.”

They stared at her,
obviously shocked.

“Really?” asked
Amanda.

How was she suppose to
respond to that? “Ah, well, our family was really
dysfunctional.”

The uncomfortable
silence continued.

Sarah stirred the
laundry. “I suppose when you’re wealthy, circumstances are
different.”

Melissa had no idea how
to answer. She’d been both rich and poor, and the distinction
didn’t seem to matter. She still wouldn’t write to her mother.

Emma and Sarah rubbed
the whites on a washboard, scrubbing the dirty spots then throwing
the clothing into the boiling, sudsy water.