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“Hush, girl.”
Leah dug in her skirt pocket. “What is relevant is Thad’s wheat field. It is true the sun has burned it almost black. But look.”
She held out a scant palmful of wheat kernels. “For next year’s crop. The seeds are undamaged; we will simply strip the heads and gather the—”
“How do you know this?” Verena’s eyes blazed. “What could you possibly know about wheat farming?”
A pregnant silence descended. Except for the clink of lemonade glasses and Verena’s agitated breathing, there wasn’t a sound in the room.
“I know this,” Leah said calmly, “because I have walked through wheat fields before. We grow wheat in China, too.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Now, Noralee, to answer your question, ‘relevant’ means ‘related.’ Pertinent. Which—” she glanced around the circle “—many of our remarks this afternoon have not been.”
No one had anything more to say after that, and the gathering broke up early. In awkward silence the ladies replaced their lemonade glasses on the table, thanked Verena and departed.
Ellie caught up with Leah at the bottom of the staircase and squeezed her arm. Jeanne appeared on her other side and hugged her, hard.
“Thank you both,” Leah choked out. Her throat was so tight she could not speak another word.
At dusk Teddy came home with a string of brook trout for supper, then scooted back up to his loft for more of Hawkeye.
Thad tried his damnedest to keep his eyes off Leah, who seemed to be having trouble swallowing.
“More coffee?” he offered.
“N-no, thank you. Any more coffee and I won’t sleep at all tonight.”
He chuckled. “Coffee or no coffee, what makes you think you’re going to get any sleep, anyway?”
Her cheeks turned strawberry colored. Amazing. Married almost a year and he could still make her blush. Somehow that made him real happy inside.
He studied every little thing about her—the way her black hair fell forward across her cheek when she bent over the oven; the small pink shell of her ear and the pale skin just behind it where he wanted to put his mouth. The throb of her pulse in the vein that ran down her neck.
As he watched, her heartbeat, visible under her light shirtwaist, began to thump faster. Maybe because she knew he was watching her.
Did she want him? He knew she loved him, but a woman could feel that way and not want a man’s body.
Did she want him?
It was agony not knowing. He rose, gathered up the supper plates and mugs, and plunked them in the sink. Working the pump hard, he managed to draw a scant half kettle of water, which he set on the stove to heat.
She hadn’t moved from her chair, but he could feel her eyes on him. Heavens above, this was like their wedding night, when he had been so nervous he hadn’t been able to touch her.
The coffeepot beckoned, but he’d put his empty mug in the sink. He grabbed it, anyway, and poured it full. Figured he wouldn’t sleep much tonight, either.
“Leah?”
She turned her head toward him. “Leah,” he said again, his voice unsteady. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel her softness, her warmth. Her strength.
She stood up, untied her apron and walked toward him. His breathing stopped, started, stopped again. She reached around him to hang the apron on the hook over the wood box, and he caught the scent of her hair. Lemon and something musky.
He closed his eyes. Then, with a low groan, he pulled her close enough to feel her breasts press against his chest. She gave a little cry and buried her nose in his shirt front.
“Leah, do you want—”
She lifted her head. “You know that I do,” she whispered. How, Thad wondered, could this extraordinary woman be sensible and hardworking one minute, and playful and seductive the next?
The instant his lips met hers, he forgot the question, drugged by her scent. The feel of her body trembling against his made him hard. He lifted her into his arms, puffed out the single lamp and made his way down the hall to the bedroom.
He would always remember how crisp and clean the bedsheets were, how cool they felt against his bare skin.
They made love all night, devoured slices of Uncle Charlie’s lemon cake in bed and then made love again. Thad knew he would never forget it.
At dawn, Thad woke to the sound of laughter. And voices. He sat up, then climbed out of bed to peek through the curtained window. He could see nothing but the blush of sunrise.
“What is it?” Leah said in a sleep-fuzzed voice.
“Dunno. Sounds like people.”
“People?” She jerked upright, pulling the sheet over her naked body. Thad, too, was naked, and in spite of herself, she giggled. They had slept, when they’d slept, skin to skin.
