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Scott brushed his hands together to remove the dust of the rug and immediately apologized when he saw it float to the floor she’d swept moments before.
Rena shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Papa never has learned to brush his feet outside.”
“We’ll get it sorted out.” He looked at the room and then over his shoulder at the team and wagon. “I’ll take care of the outside chores and come back to help with supper.”
“That’s not necessary.” She tackled the dirt on the floor in front of the fireplace with the broom.
“I insist. We’ve both had quite a day, and I am accustomed to taking care of myself.”
She stopped and laughed. An honest, hearty laugh. “I can see that.” She opened her arms wide to indicate the room.
He smiled at her sarcasm. “It’s nice to see you laugh.” He closed the door, and she listened as his boots crossed the porch and descended the steps.
When she heard the wagon pull away from the house, she dropped onto the chair by the hearth. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Rena Livingston.” As the words left her lips, she realized she was Rena Braden now.
Nothing of her former self remained. Eugene Rodgers had left her with a child and taken everything else from her. Not even her father recognized who she had become.
Being secretly engaged to a man who’d traveled the country had been thrilling. At first. She’d gone from excitement to shame and finally to disbelief and dread when Eugene had left. Wallowing in self-pity hadn’t helped. She’d had no choice but to move forward. One day at a time. One step at a time.
Lord, give me strength.
She forced herself out of the chair and explored the house. By the time Scott returned, she had ham frying on the stove and the table cleaned and set for a modest supper.
Scott took off his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. “That smells nice.”
“It’s the best I could do for tonight.” She cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. “We’ll need to go into town for some supplies, unless you have an arrangement with a neighbor for milk and butter. It will make cooking easier.”
He hung his jacket by the hat. “No arrangement with the neighbors. I sold my cow to the Hendersons after Ann left. There wasn’t a need to keep her for one person. I do most of my eatin’ in town.”
She poured the eggs into the frying pan where the bacon drippings she’d found in a jar on a shelf above the stove sizzled. “I’ll need milk for cooking.” She cleared her throat, hating to ask for something else on a day when he’d done so much. “And for me to drink.”
He nodded. “For the baby?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll buy a cow tomorrow.”
Rena scooped the eggs onto plates and set them on the table. “It’s ready. I’m sorry there isn’t more to it.”
Scott joined her at the table. “Don’t apologize. It’s more than I’d have made for myself tonight.”
He sat opposite her and reached out a hand for prayer. Her father had always insisted that they hold hands while he blessed the food—even during the years she’d refused to attend services with him. This was different. Scott was a man of faith who practiced his beliefs in his home, but he was also her husband. Only in name, but still her husband.
Why then did she not want to reach across the table? She wouldn’t explore the possibility that it was a matter of trust. Her father had been her protector. Could she grow to trust Scott in time?
Scott wasn’t unfamiliar. He was often in her father’s home. But they didn’t interact more than the necessary pleasantries. She’d cooked the meals, and he’d sat across from her. The wide table had prevented them from holding hands while offering thanks for their food as he’d sat next to her father. The table here in his home was smaller. It was expected. And he waited.
She took a deep breath and dropped her hand into his. His grip was gentle, and his words sincere, as he offered thanks for their meal and for her efforts to prepare it. The next words stung her heart.
“And, Lord, please help us to make the best of this marriage. I know neither one of us saw it coming, but You take care of Your children. I’m asking You to take care of us. Amen.”
He released her hand and reached for the platter of ham.
She slid her hand to her lap. Heat spilled into her cheeks. No one had ever prayed for her except Momma and Papa.
Scott passed the ham to her. “I guess we need to talk about how we’re going to do this.”
Rena nodded and took the platter from him.
“You saw Ann’s room?” He pointed to the door in the front corner of the main room.
“I did. I took a few minutes to look around while you were in the barn.” She spooned eggs onto her plate. Her appetite hadn’t been much for the last few weeks. The baby needed her to eat, so she’d try again.
“I think it will serve you well. There’s enough space for a cradle.” He speared a bite of ham. “I hope you don’t think me too familiar to speak of such things.”
“No. There are things that must be done.” She pushed the eggs around on her plate. “Though the need for a cradle will be months away from now.”
“Can you tell me how long?” His lowered voice, and the fact that he kept his eyes on his plate let her know that he was possibly as uncomfortable with this topic as she was.
“The baby should arrive near the beginning of August.”
He looked up then. “I’ll get started on the cradle this month. I want to finish it before spring. There’ll be planting and such to do then.”
“I could see if Papa will buy one. It doesn’t seem right for you to have to build it.” It was her turn to look away. “I’m certain he’d be willing to buy the cow, too.”
“I won’t be needing any help taking care of you or the baby.” Scott set his fork down. “I know we made this decision quickly today, but be assured I considered everything I could think of before we were married. A man doesn’t let another man provide for his family.”
She’d hurt his feelings. His pride. “I meant no disrespect.”
He folded his napkin and slid his chair back. “None taken.” He took his dishes to the cabinet against the side wall of the cabin. He poured the water she had heated on the stove into the basin and slid in his dishes.
Rena jumped to her feet when she saw his intent. “I’ll do the dishes, Sheriff.” She tried to elbow him from in front of the basin.
He looked down at her, and she realized how close they were. Standing here, side by side, in their home was too familiar. She backed away and ran her palms down the front of the apron she’d found on a peg near the stove.
“Please let me do the washing up.” She wasn’t one to beg. It went against her nature. Nor was she one to accept charity. If she didn’t work, she’d feel like his actions toward her were borne of pity.
“Okay.” Scott dropped the cloth into the sudsy water and stepped back from the cabinet. “Do you think you could call me Scott? If we’re going to make this marriage appear real to the people in town, we’re gonna have to practice being nice to one another.”
“I’ll try.” She picked up the cloth and wiped the first dish. “There’s an awful lot of new things to adjust to.”
“We can do it. It’ll take time, but we’ll work it out.” He went to the back door. “I’ll bring in more wood while you do that. Then we can sit in front of the fire and finish our conversation.”
He was out the door in a swift motion. She could hear him splitting logs while she cleaned the kitchen. It seemed they had one trait in common. They busied themselves with work when they were uncomfortable.
The circumstances of the day would have them both busy for weeks to come. She was sure of it.
* * *
Scott lifted the latch and pushed the door, using one foot to open it wide enough to enter with the double armload of wood. Rena was drying the last plate when he entered the cabin.
“I’m afraid we’re in for a cold snap. The clouds gathering this evening look like they’re full of rain.” He leaned over the hearth and let the wood fall out of his arms. He added two logs to the fire and stacked the rest.
“I wish I’d thought to bring my quilts.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle.
He moved the rocking chair close to the fire. “Sit here and warm up. I’ll find something for you to use tonight. We can go back to your father’s house tomorrow and gather the rest of your things.” He sat on the hearth and picked up a length of wood that he’d been whittling on for days. “Do you mind if I work while we talk?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll be bringing my sewing with me. It’ll help to fill the evenings.”
“Ann and I would sit and work after supper most nights.” He held the wood up to the light of the fire and twisted it one way and another, deciding where to make his next cuts. “I miss her.”
“You must. Being your only family and all.” Rena set the rocker in motion. The hem of her dress puddled on the rug she’d beaten clean earlier. The toe of her shoe peeked out from beneath the fabric that swayed as she rocked.
“Martin Fleming is a good man. I knew when he and Ann met that I’d lose her to him.” He cut away a stubborn knot from the wood and tossed it into the fire.
“They seemed very happy.”
He agreed with a nod.
Silence fell in the room. She rocked, and he carved for several minutes. Then he saw her rub her arms again.
“I’ll be right back.” He put his wood on the hearth and his knife on the mantel. In his room, he opened the wardrobe and lifted the last sweater his mother had knitted for him. Underneath, he found the quilt she’d made when he was a boy. He tugged it out, returned the sweater to its place and closed the wardrobe.
Back in the main room, he laid the quilt on the hearth, careful to keep it away from sparks and ash. “I’ll warm this, and you can use it tonight.”
Rena stopped rocking and leaned close to inspect the quilt. “What a lovely pattern. Did Ann make it?”
“My mother did. Ann has one like it, but hers is pink and green. Our mother made them for us when we were children.” He picked up the knife and wood and returned to his place in front of the fire.
She reached out a hand and caressed the blue and brown starburst that formed the center of the quilt. “Are you sure you want me to use it? What about you?”
“I have another.” He didn’t want to talk to her about his mother. The woman who’d given everything she had to care for him and his sister. She’d worked odd jobs, taken in laundry, baked for others and anything else to put food on their table after their father had died.
His mother was the perfect picture of everything a mother should be. He wasn’t ready to share that with Rena. Not on the night he’d married her to give her child a name.
They were completely different women. His mother had been quiet and settled. Determined and strong.
Rena was almost never quiet and certainly not settled. Though he couldn’t deny her bravery at marrying a man she’d always kept at a distance to protect her unborn child.
He wouldn’t talk about his mother to her. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Scott put the wood aside and stood to pace behind the settee that separated the kitchen from the main part of the room. “So.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair and stepped in front of her chair. “What do you think we should establish as a sort of ground rules for what’s going on here.”
She had to crane her neck to see him, so he dropped onto the front edge of the settee and leaned toward her.
“Do you mean things like how to address one another? How to comport ourselves in public? That sort of thing?”
“Yes. We’ll have to appear friendly, or people won’t believe the child is ours.”
Her face turned pink. “Really, Sheriff, I don’t think we have to verbalize every detail.”
“Scott. You’re going to have to call me by my name.”
The color began to fade from her cheeks. “Scott.” The word was soft and seemed to come with great effort.
He answered her in kind. “Rena.” He rubbed his palms down the length of his thighs. He should not be sweating on a cold December night. “I promise to be respectful of you. Neither of us expected to be in this situation.”
“Thank you.” She avoided his gaze. “I’ll try to be friendly toward you.”
He chuckled. “You better be careful. If you start being too nice to me, people will start to think you don’t dislike me anymore.”
She jerked her head up. “Surely getting married will convince them otherwise.” She looked away and made him wonder if she was trying to cover her true feelings. “I never actually disliked you.”
“Really?” He leaned back. “Then why all those suppers where you didn’t say anything to me? You passed the food and spoke to your father, but it was clear that you were avoiding me.”
“Standoffish is probably the way I’d describe it. I guess I thought you dismissed me. That you didn’t like me as a person. So I didn’t want to waste my time or efforts by trying to build a friendship with you.” She shrugged one shoulder and stared into the fire. “I never meant to be unkind.”
“You were never unkind. But you weren’t friendly.”
“If you feel that way about me, why did you agree to this marriage?” Her eyes were open, honest. She was seeking the truth.
“I needed help here. And your father was right. A scandal now could cost him his position as mayor.”
“And you the job as sheriff? I heard that part of the conversation. Do you believe that? Could he be ousted as mayor because of what I’ve done?”
“People can be mean-spirited and unforgiving. It’s not right, but it happens.” He didn’t want to add the weight of blame to her.
“That’s so unfair.”
“It is. But we can’t worry about what might happen. We did the right thing, and now we move on. God isn’t so much concerned with where we’ve been but where we are.”
“And where are we?”
“We are at the beginning of an arrangement to benefit both of us, the child and your father. We need to make the best of it.”
“But you agree that we aren’t expecting more from me than someone to help you handle the chores here?”
“Yes. And you know that I’ll take care of the needs of you and the baby, but I’m not wanting anything like a real marriage out of this. I wasn’t looking for that with anyone. I don’t expect it from you.” Did she flinch? “I don’t mean that in an unkind way.”
“You’re merely stating the obvious.” She brushed her hands across her skirt and stood. “I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long day, and there’s a lot to do tomorrow, if we’re going to get my things from town. I’ve got my work cut out for me here, too.”
She picked up the quilt and hugged it close. “Thank you for all you did today. I am grateful. I hope you know that.” The effort it took her to say the words was unmistakable.
He nodded. “I do.”
She closed the door to Ann’s room.
He leaned against the back of the settee with his arms crossed behind his head. What have I gotten myself into?
