Trudie looked out the window and realized the sun had set. She was probably more tired than he was, and she could tell he was a hard worker. Sleep sounded wonderful.
“Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll meet you up there.” She hurried up the stairs and grabbed her carpet bag, where she’d packed a nightgown. She did a quick bath from the bowl of water in his room, and then she climbed under the sheets, pulling the covers up to her neck. She was thankful for the time he’d given her, but wasn’t at all certain how much longer he’d wait to join her.
By the time Doug felt liked she’d had enough time to settle herself into bed, he was ready to scream. He didn’t want to give her time, but he figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do. That was the thing about the orphanage where he was raised. The matron had made sure that manners were pounded into every child, so they could easily fit into life outside the orphanage. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been paraded out for people who wanted to adopt, but they never chose him.
When Doug arrived in his bedroom, he looked over at his lovely wife, and he realized she was already asleep. She was drooling slightly, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t have allowed that to happen if she’d still been awake.
He quickly undressed and climbed into bed with her, kissing her on the forehead. His amorous attentions would need to wait until she’d rested up from her long journey.
TRUDIE WOKE EARLY THE following morning, feeling as if there was a heavy weight on top of her. She hid a yawn as her hands went to the weight and she tried to push it off, but it wouldn’t budge.
She looked over at her new husband, and he was propped up on his elbow, his other arm around her. “You going somewhere?” Doug asked.
“I thought I’d take care of necessary business,” she said, not wanting to mention the outhouse. Surely, he would understand though. The man was anything but dense.
“And then make my breakfast?” He was in bed later than usual, but he was torn between spending time making love with his wife or letting her get up so she could cook while he did the morning chores.
“Yes, I’ll make your breakfast.”
“I’ll let you up after one kiss,” he said, grinning at her.
Trudie nodded, rolling toward him, and feeling the arm that had been over her chest slide down to her waist. She gave him a peck on the lips and then quickly rolled away. She hurried down the stairs and out to the outhouse, not feeling like she had time to change clothes. She needed to talk to the man about the modern miracle of a water closet. Elizabeth had one, and it was a joy to use when Trudie stayed with Elizabeth and Bernard.
After taking care of business, Trudie went into the house and straight to the kitchen. Normally she would have grabbed a robe before she left the bedroom, but there hadn’t been time that morning, and she wasn’t about to worry about being inappropriately dressed for her new husband.
She started a fire in the stove and put the frying pan on it, waiting for it to heat. While she did that, she broke the eggs and stirred in a little milk from the ice box. Then she carefully cut some strips of bacon and put them in the frying pan, planning to use the grease from the pan to fry the eggs.
When Doug walked into the house fifteen minutes later, he moaned. “I cannot believe how good you make my kitchen smell. I was starting to feel like there was something wrong with it that all the food came out disgusting.”
“That was the chef, and not the kitchen,” Trudie said, not bothering to look up from the eggs she was stirring to a perfect fluffiness. She wasn’t about to stroke his ego by telling him it was the kitchen when it obviously wasn’t.
He grabbed his coffee cup from the table where she’d already set it, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip and smiled. “You even make coffee taste wonderful.”
She shrugged. “It’s pretty hard to mess up coffee.”
“Maybe for you.”
She shook her head, putting three fourths of the eggs on his plate, and a small amount on her own. Then she added bacon and carried the plates to the table. She noticed he’d filled her coffee cup. “Thank you for pouring my coffee.” She hadn’t expected him to do things like that. Her father never had.
He nodded. “It’s the least I can do. The eggs look great.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Would you rather have pot roast for supper tonight or fried chicken? Or I could make pork chops?” She’d purchased enough that she could cook just about anything he wanted.
“Whatever sounds good to you. I seriously do not care as long as I’m not trying to cook myself and the food is edible when it’s done.”
Trudie shrugged. “All right. I can do that.” She was in a hurry for him to go, because she couldn’t wait for that bath, but he seemed to be taking his time with breakfast. How long would it take him to eat? He closed his eyes with every bite he chewed as if he wanted to savor the fact that he had good food in his mouth.
She already had a big pot of water heating on the stove, but she knew he’d think it was for the morning dishes. “I’ll make some bread this morning as well,” she told him.
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll be here for lunch. Make something delicious.” He finally got to his feet, kissed her, and walked out the door, only pausing to get his cowboy hat and put it on. He was ready to start his
