“You now,” Joy replied, not missing a beat as she tied off a knot and snipped the thread. Joy laughed, holding up the mended shirt. “This could be worn by two or three more boys.”
“I suppose it could. Too bad you don’t take such care of me,” Thomas said with a playful sigh.
“You have plenty of servants to take care of you. What do you need with a wife?”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to brush up on my charm,” he replied, walking over to plant a kiss atop her head. “I’m sure you won’t even remember I’m here once you have that greenhouse.”
“Your assistance is most welcome,” Joy said, her tone grandiose, “I’m sure to remember you if you help me with the planting. Of course, you’ll have to be careful not to trample all my hard work with your…extraordinarily large feet!”
“Trample? I’ll have you know I have the utmost grace,” he protested.
“Of course,” Joy agreed with a grin, “as graceful as a bull in a china shop.”
“Very well, I accept your challenge,” he declared. “I shall become the most delicate gardener Boston has ever seen.”
“Then it is settled,” Joy concluded. “I shall be the head gardener, and you shall be my lackey.”
“I don’t think I agreed to lackeyhood…”
“It was implied…”
*****
Joy sat at her customary place by the parlor window, trying to finish up all the mending that the orphanage needed done before her greenhouse was ready for planting. A stack of neatly repaired garments lay beside her, each destined for the children who had unknowingly carved a place in her heart.
“Joy,” Thomas’s voice carried a hint of amusement as he entered the room, “I fear you might be giving Mother Goose a run for her money with all this sewing.”
She glanced up from her work. “Oh, Thomas, I’m simply doing my part. Instead of spending my afternoons away, I’ve brought the mending here.” Joy patted the pile of clothes. “A compromise, if you will, so that I may be near you and still lend a hand to those in need.”
“Ah, a compromise,” he said, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were starting a garment factory right under our roof.”
“Would that be so terrible?” she teased, threading her needle.
“Only if it involves throngs of people in my home,” he said, crossing the room to rest his hand on her shoulder. “But I must admit, your industriousness is quite charming.”
“Charming enough to overlook the bits of thread scattered about the house?” Joy asked.
“Consider them a colorful addition to the decor,” Thomas replied.
As the laughter between them subsided, Joy set aside her sewing and stood, feeling the weight of her belly reminding her of the life flourishing within. Her gowns had grown snug around her midsection, and she knew it was time to adjust her wardrobe to accommodate her changing figure.
“Speaking of charm,” she began, patting her belly, “it appears I’ll be needing to make some alterations of my own.”
“Your dresses are becoming rather tight on you.”
“Are you calling me fat?” she asked, turning to face him and narrowing her eyes.
He held his hands up in self-defense. “Never! But our child is becoming rather plump. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She eyed him, trying to decide if she should be offended or not. “She does seem to be growing quickly,” Joy agreed. “It seems our little one wishes to announce her presence to the world.”
“Then we shall ensurehedoes it in style,” Thomas declared. “You’ll have the finest maternity wardrobe Boston has ever seen.”
“I don’t need new clothes,” she said. “I just need to let out the seams of those I have.”
“Joy, we can afford a maternity wardrobe, and it would cut down on your workload a great deal,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
She shook her head. “I’d rather spend the money on other things. There’s no need for me to buy something new. You know I’m always looking for more work to do.”
