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Beatrice murmured, “No thanks,” and passed the platter to Maisie.
Maisie took a piece of meat without comment.
The rest of the food was passed around.
Charlie grunted as he spooned out some peas. “Still got water on them.” He edged the vegetables from the bowl.
Conversation died as everyone tackled the food. Levi tried to cut through his potato. It was as hard as a marble in the center. The lumpy, gluey gravy did not make it go down easier.
Maisie bravely ate the food on her plate, though he wondered how she could get it down.
Charlie rearranged his.
Levi put a piece of burnt meat in his mouth, choked a little and washed the food down with a glass of water. His eyes watered.
“I’m sorry.” Beatrice pushed her chair back and bolted outside.
Chapter Three (#ulink_f63e055c-1eaf-5c29-919d-6a4b3de98b0d)
Shock burned through Levi’s veins as he stared at the door through which Beatrice had disappeared. He’d said nothing about the ruined meal. “She mustn’t have followed your directions,” he said by way of apology to Maisie.
“She did the best she could. The poor girl has never been faced with this kind of work before.”
Charlie grabbed the two remaining pieces of burnt meat. “Better’n starving,” he said and downed them with the aid of several glasses of water.
Maisie chased the remaining food around on her plate. “Try and picture yourself fitting into her world. I expect you’d feel clumsy and ill-at-ease.”
Levi jerked to his feet and scraped his plate into the slop bucket. “At least the pigs will enjoy the food.” He faced Maisie. “I’m sorry to foist this woman on you. Charlie, where’s your sister? I’ll get her to help Maisie.”
Before Charlie could answer, Maisie pushed herself upright, then lowered her foot to the floor.
He sprang forward. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t say what I need to say while looking and feeling like an invalid.” She grimaced.
When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “Levi, I want you to give Beatrice a chance. She needs to be here.”
“What? Why?”
Maisie gave him a look that he’d years ago learned to respect. “God has brought her here for a reason and I, for one, am grateful for her company. Don’t let knowing she’s from high society prejudice you.”
“Me? Prejudiced? Haven’t you got that backward?”
“I don’t think so. I know you are a fine young man, worthy of any young woman. Do you know it?”
“Of course I do. But what difference does it make in this situation? The only thing I want from Beatrice is for her to help you.”
Maisie nodded, her look gently reprimanding. “I wouldn’t want to see you denying the call of your heart.”
What on earth was she talking about? “The call of my heart? What’s that?” He half mocked, but his affection and respect for Maisie kept him from voicing his true feeling on the subject. It would be his head that he followed, not his heart.
“I hope and pray that someday you will hear it and be brave enough to listen to it.” Before he could protest, she hurried on. “Now go apologize to that young lady and persuade her to join us again.” She lifted her leg back to the stool and leaned back, sure her orders would be obeyed.
“You better do it,” Charlie said. “You know Aunt Maisie always gets her way.”
“Thank you, Charlie,” Maisie said, seemingly happy to be described that way.
Levi strode to the door, jerked it open and stepped outside. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts and calm his mind. He’d said nothing about the meal. Why should he apologize? He opened his eyes, expecting to see her in a weeping heap nearby. Instead, she stood before the rose bush Maisie cherished and lovingly wrapped every fall to protect it through the winter. When he was done here, he would cut some of the fresh flowers and take them inside for Maisie to enjoy.
Beatrice touched the dusky pink petals of one of the blossoms then bent over to inhale the sweet scent. Hearing him approach, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes wary.
He forgot everything that had been said inside. He forgot his annoyance over being ordered to apologize. He even forgot about being a half-breed, though there lingered a warning note that he would regret his lapse. But all those things disappeared in the way his heart reached out to her in a desire to erase the uncertainty in her eyes. His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to admit it wasn’t from the taste of burned chops. He’d admitted she was beautiful but seeing her shyly at the rose bush emphasized her beauty in a way that left him tongue-tied.
She smiled but no light came to her eyes. “I haven’t gotten off to a very good start, have I?”
Still speechless, he could only wait for her to continue.
“I’m not used to running a house on my own but I hope you’ll give me another chance. This job is important to me.”
He found his voice. “Why? From what you said I understand you came from a rich family. Can’t you simply go back home if this fails?”
Darkness clouded her eyes.
He glanced overhead but the clouds were not dark enough to bring those shadows to her eyes. They came from inside and again he had an urge to pull her close and protect her. It was only because he’d already rescued her twice and now it felt like his job.
She answered his question. “My reasons would be of no interest to you.”
He could argue the point, but she likely wouldn’t believe him and he had no desire to invite a snub. “Come on in and finish supper.”
She laughed, a sound of derision. “I think it is quite inedible.”
“There’s always bread and jam.”
“Very well.” She took two steps toward him and stopped, the scent of roses wafting toward him. “Does that mean you’re going to give me another chance?”
His head told him to say no. She wasn’t qualified for the job. Even worse, he felt his resolve to never again look with any interest at a woman faltering. Especially a white woman. Even more dangerous to the security of his heart, a rich city woman. But the word no would not leave his mouth. Instead he replied, “I surely am.” Besides, if there had been a better person to send out to help Maisie, wouldn’t Preacher Gage have sent her?
They reached the house. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door for her, again breathing in the scent of roses as she passed him.
“I’m sorry for rushing away like that. Please forgive me.” She addressed the words to Maisie.
“You’re forgiven. Now let’s finish our meal.”
Maisie’s plate was empty, as was Charlie’s. Not wanting Beatrice to eat alone, Levi bravely took the smallest potato he could find, drowned it in butter and ate it in two mouthfuls.
“We have a little custom,” Maisie said. “We go around the table and tell about our day.”
Levi wanted to beg off for this once, but he thought it might be interesting to see how Beatrice would describe her day.
“Levi, with your pa and older brothers away, that leaves you as the oldest. Tell us about your day.”
“I found Beatrice crossing the river, on her way to help you, then found Charlie needing someone to shake him up and that’s about it.” He left out all the details that mattered, such as the jolt of fear when he saw Beatrice in the water with lightning flashing about her and the painful reminder of Helen’s death, which brought with it the memory of her rejection. The way his arms tightened around Beatrice as he carried her to dry land and then catching her as she fainted and feeling it was good and right to be there to protect her. Nope. He wasn’t going to admit any of those things. Not even to himself.
Maisie chuckled. “Short and sweet and to the point. Charlie, tell us about your day.”
Charlie sat up straighter. “I wasn’t drunk. I don’t care what Levi says. I still had half a bottle to go.”
Silence greeted his words. No doubt anyone with two eyes could see that Charlie had had more than enough to drink, despite his half-full bottle. Levi could hardly blame Beatrice for refusing to hold Charlie’s hand as he asked the blessing. But was it because of his drinking or because of his mixed blood? Was she of the belief that half-breeds weren’t fit company for a white woman? Especially a high-society woman. A Doyle, which seemed to mean something to her, but meant nothing in Levi’s world. Not that he cared what her opinion might be except to object to it on general principles.
Except it mattered far more than he wanted it to.
“Charlie, where have you been and what have you been doing since we last saw you?” Maisie asked.
“Been around.” He hung his head. “Tried to find work but no one wants to hire a half-breed.”
Levi refrained from pointing out the bottle was as much a hindrance for Charlie as his heritage.
“Not everyone feels that way,” Maisie soothed. She turned to Beatrice. “Tell us about your day, my dear.”
Beatrice chuckled, drawing Levi’s gaze to her, filling his mind with surprise and his heart with relief. He’d expected her to compete with Charlie for the worst day. “My day has been full of so many surprises I cannot begin to name them all. Being allowed the chance to do this job is an answer to prayer. Then I was rescued from the river by Levi. I am blessed beyond measure.” Her smile faded. “I apologize for the ruined meal. I found preparing it more difficult than I imagined.” She reached for Maisie’s hand. “And I thank you for being patient with me.”
Maisie looked pleased. “You’re welcome.”
When Maisie didn’t continue, Levi reminded her, “It’s your turn to tell about your day.”
“My blessings are self-evident. I was afraid I’d be lonely with Big Sam away, but here I sit with three young people at the table. How blessed I am.”
“You’re glad to see me?” Charlie asked, his tone indicating both doubt and longing.
“I’m always glad to see you. I hope you plan to stay a while.”
He grinned and pushed his longish hair off his face. “Maybe I will.”
If his cousin stayed it would keep him out of trouble. For some reason—perhaps their shared heritage—Levi always felt protective of Charlie. He looked at Beatrice to see if he could guess her feelings about Charlie being invited to stay. Their gazes collided. Her look went on and on. Challenging him. He wanted to say, Look after Maisie, make meals as best you can and leave my heart alone.
His heart? His heart had nothing to do with Beatrice. That thought was Maisie’s fault. It was she who had said he should listen to the call of his heart.
There would be no such call and even if there was, he would not hearken to it.
* * *
Beatrice didn’t realize how tense Levi made her until he and Charlie left the house again and a long sigh emptied her lungs.
“I’m a city girl, too.” Maisie’s voice brought Beatrice back to the here and now. “A teacher. I planned to teach in a girls’ school but when I saw an ad Big Sam had placed seeking someone to instruct his three boys, I changed my mind. The idea intrigued me. And I applied for the job. Big Sam demanded character references. He must have liked what my teacher and pastor said, as he said I got the job. My father wasn’t happy. He said it was a whim and I’d regret it.”
“Did you... Do you?” It amazed Beatrice to think of Maisie as a city girl.
“Not once. I fell in love with the boys immediately. They were wild and untamed. Big Sam had taken them with him everywhere after Seena died. I had my hands full teaching them manners and how to read and write. By Christmas, Big Sam and I were in love. How I love that man still.” She looked into the distance. “I hope he comes home soon. I miss him.” She gave a regretful chuckle. “He is not going to be happy to see what I’ve done to myself.”
“I’ll make sure you rest so you can heal as quickly as possible.” Beatrice prepared the water to wash the dishes.
“If you help me move closer I can dry,” Maisie said.
Beatrice would have refused but she heard the lonely tone of Maisie’s words. She pushed the chair and stool closer, then handed Maisie each dish as she washed it.
“Levi is very protective of me,” Maisie said. “So don’t mind him if he’s...” She waved her hands to indicate she wasn’t sure how to describe him.
Beatrice nodded as if she understood, but kept her attention on washing dishes, certain her cheeks were pinker than leaning over the hot water would make them. And she supplied her own words. Darkly handsome. Protective—even of a young woman he’d barely met. Has strong arms that make a girl feel safe.
Enough. She’d learned her lesson about trusting men. She had only one goal in mind—a life of independence that allowed her to follow her own plans and be freed of her father’s.
Thankfully, Maisie didn’t pursue the subject and they were soon done with the dishes.
Beatrice took the dry plates and returned them to the proper shelf. She stood back to admire the clean dishes. “Why did no one tell me how satisfying it is to see dishes washed and stacked in the cupboard?”
Maisie laughed. “Most people don’t find it quite so satisfying after doing it three or four times a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”
Beatrice faced the older woman. “Do you find it satisfying?”
“Immensely so, but then I’m doing it for those I love and that makes all the difference.”
Love made all the difference. What a wonderful idea. Beatrice sighed almost inaudibly.
With the last of the dishes done and the kitchen clean so far as Beatrice could tell, she could think of no reason to stand about continuing this conversation, though she wished she could. It was nice to hear Maisie talk about love and marriage in such positive tones. Marriage, according to her parents, was more of a business deal than romance.
As if reading Beatrice’s mind, Maisie caught her hand. “I wish you and everyone could know the kind of love I’ve found. Don’t settle for anything less.”
She wasn’t interested in marriage of any sort but wouldn’t tell Maisie that. “What do I do with the scraps and wash water?”
“Dump the water on my flowers by the house. They thrive on it.” She chuckled. “Though they’ve had plenty of water today. The scraps...” Maisie looked doubtful, as if uncertain Beatrice could deal with the task.
“Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Very well. Take the bucket of scraps out to the pigpen and dump them over the fence into the trough. Watch for puddles on the path. ”
“Where will I find the pigpen?”
Maisie gave her instruction.
Beatrice emptied out the basin of water then carried the heavy, slimy bucket from the house, being careful not to let it brush against her skirts as she passed the barn. She smelled the pigs before she reached the pen and gasped. Nothing had prepared her for so many strange and, sometimes, unpleasant odors. She reached the fence and counted two big pigs and half a dozen small ones that rushed toward her squealing and grunting and running into each other, pushing one another out of the way and climbing over each other.
She laughed.
“Amusing, aren’t they? Now you can see why bad-mannered people are often called pigs.”
She jerked about to stare at Levi. “I didn’t see you.”
He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I was over there.” He pointed. “If you’d taken two steps to the right you would have tromped on me but you were too intent on your task.” His gaze shifted to the bucket on the ground beside her.
