eat.”
“I’m not sure I could raise the fork if I wanted to. Sorry you wasted the effort.” He padded through the front room in his stockings, head hanging low and his gait stiff.
Loyal sighed. The day after the Stiles had come, August had resolved to work harder. Even when they left for the evening, he stayed in the cornfield, plucking ears until his hands were raw with burst blisters in spite of gloves. Loyal had never seen such a mess, but her stubborn husband refused to quit. New calluses finally formed on his palms. When she offered her help, he’d told her to stay in the house and prepare for the baby.
She didn’t want to tell him she thought she’d need new dresses by next month. If he’d noticed her thickening middle, he didn’t comment about it. In a way, it was a relief. On the other hand, she also felt he deserved a slender, pretty wife instead of the tired, puffy woman she was becoming.
She heard his mattress groan as he dropped onto it. The workers might have finished the harvest, but they still had weeks of shucking ahead before they could sell or store it. She’d already put up two bushels for canning, shucking them herself. She intended to help them so they could sell it right away.
Loyal carried her lamp to the kitchen and retrieved the liniment bottle. Even if she had to treat him while he was asleep, she’d see to it that he felt like moving in the morning.
“August, are you still awake?”
He didn’t answer. She entered the room anyway. The lamp she carried cast shadows on the whitewashed walls. He stretched across the bed, so tall he almost touched the head and footboards. A light sheet draped from his waist to his feet, and judging from the clothes scattered on the floor, he wasn’t wearing a stitch. Loyal froze. She shouldn’t invade his privacy this way, not even with the intention of helping ease his soreness.
His eyes opened and he offered her a crooked smile. “An angel has come to put me out of my misery.”
She laughed, because his tone was teasing. “I didn’t think you believed in angels.”
“Even sinners might get relief from an angel. Looks like you’re determined to stink up the room with horse ointment again.”
“If you don’t want my help, I’ll go to bed.” She shook the bottle because they both knew she wouldn’t leave. “Where do you hurt the worst?”
“You point to a spot, it hurts.” He pushed himself onto his elbows. “I’m not decent, Loyal. It’s alright if you want to go.”
She couldn’t look away from the play of muscles in his arms and chest. “Stop being noble. This won’t take long and you’ll be asleep before you know it.”
It shouldn’t have sent a thrill through her to touch him. Their agreement to keep things friendly meant she should leave the ointment with him and return to her room. Hard muscles fairly begged her to run her fingers across them and ease his pain. What could it hurt? He worked hard providing for her and his niece or nephew.
August relaxed against the sheets, closing his eyes. “After I get the new crop planted, I can start working on a cradle for the baby.”
Loyal’s knees weakened and she sat on the edge of the bed harder than she’d intended. He looked at her questioningly. “That’s…that would be fine.”
As an infant, she’d slept in a drawer. She wasn’t above doing the same for her own child. It hadn’t occurred to her that August might want to build furniture for her little one. She drew in a breath. “You’d do that?”
“If you like. I wasn’t sure if you had a hand-me-down, or plans for something else.”
She shook her head. “I’d like it if you would.”
“Consider it done. Can you do my back and shoulders first?”
“If that’s what you want.” While he rolled onto his side, she imagined the cradle he would build. Something made with love for her child. She almost teared up because of his kind offer. He’d assume something was wrong if she cried.
The
“I’m not sure I could raise the fork if I wanted to. Sorry you wasted the effort.” He padded through the front room in his stockings, head hanging low and his gait stiff.
Loyal sighed. The day after the Stiles had come, August had resolved to work harder. Even when they left for the evening, he stayed in the cornfield, plucking ears until his hands were raw with burst blisters in spite of gloves. Loyal had never seen such a mess, but her stubborn husband refused to quit. New calluses finally formed on his palms. When she offered her help, he’d told her to stay in the house and prepare for the baby.
She didn’t want to tell him she thought she’d need new dresses by next month. If he’d noticed her thickening middle, he didn’t comment about it. In a way, it was a relief. On the other hand, she also felt he deserved a slender, pretty wife instead of the tired, puffy woman she was becoming.
She heard his mattress groan as he dropped onto it. The workers might have finished the harvest, but they still had weeks of shucking ahead before they could sell or store it. She’d already put up two bushels for canning, shucking them herself. She intended to help them so they could sell it right away.
Loyal carried her lamp to the kitchen and retrieved the liniment bottle. Even if she had to treat him while he was asleep, she’d see to it that he felt like moving in the morning.
“August, are you still awake?”
He didn’t answer. She entered the room anyway. The lamp she carried cast shadows on the whitewashed walls. He stretched across the bed, so tall he almost touched the head and footboards. A light sheet draped from his waist to his feet, and judging from the clothes scattered on the floor, he wasn’t wearing a stitch. Loyal froze. She shouldn’t invade his privacy this way, not even with the intention of helping ease his soreness.
His eyes opened and he offered her a crooked smile. “An angel has come to put me out of my misery.”
She laughed, because his tone was teasing. “I didn’t think you believed in angels.”
“Even sinners might get relief from an angel. Looks like you’re determined to stink up the room with horse ointment again.”
“If you don’t want my help, I’ll go to bed.” She shook the bottle because they both knew she wouldn’t leave. “Where do you hurt the worst?”
“You point to a spot, it hurts.” He pushed himself onto his elbows. “I’m not decent, Loyal. It’s alright if you want to go.”
She couldn’t look away from the play of muscles in his arms and chest. “Stop being noble. This won’t take long and you’ll be asleep before you know it.”
It shouldn’t have sent a thrill through her to touch him. Their agreement to keep things friendly meant she should leave the ointment with him and return to her room. Hard muscles fairly begged her to run her fingers across them and ease his pain. What could it hurt? He worked hard providing for her and his niece or nephew.
August relaxed against the sheets, closing his eyes. “After I get the new crop planted, I can start working on a cradle for the baby.”
Loyal’s knees weakened and she sat on the edge of the bed harder than she’d intended. He looked at her questioningly. “That’s…that would be fine.”
As an infant, she’d slept in a drawer. She wasn’t above doing the same for her own child. It hadn’t occurred to her that August might want to build furniture for her little one. She drew in a breath. “You’d do that?”
“If you like. I wasn’t sure if you had a hand-me-down, or plans for something else.”
She shook her head. “I’d like it if you would.”
“Consider it done. Can you do my back and shoulders first?”
“If that’s what you want.” While he rolled onto his side, she imagined the cradle he would build. Something made with love for her child. She almost teared up because of his kind offer. He’d assume something was wrong if she cried.
The
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