“Someday, I’m going to take you to Beckham where I grew up. The air is fresh smelling…”
“It doesn’t smell like cow manure?” he asked, because that’s the scent he always equated with the countryside.
“Well, sometimes, but at least it’s a natural smell. Not like the smell of industry.” She held onto his arm and did her best to take short steps so she wouldn’t outpace him, but what she really wanted to do was run. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind if she ran in their garden. Or in a park. People ran in parks even in the city, didn’t they?
“I’m not sure I agree that the smell of manure is better than the smell of industry, but you can believe that if you want.”
She shook her head. “There’s manure on the streets of Boston. What’s the difference?”
“Our manure is cleaned up.”
He made no sense to her, so she changed the subject. “How far away is the orphanage?”
“About a five-minute walk from here. About fifteen minutes from home.”
“That’s not bad. I can walk that every day with no problem.”
“Well, you probably shouldn’t commit to every day. Maybe two or three days per week.”
She sighed. “And what will I do the other two or three days while you work?”
“You can read books. Sew. Embroider. What did you do before you moved here and married me?”
“I had a job picking strawberries for a while. I just helped with planting or harvesting. Whatever was needed at the time.”
He frowned. He hated the idea of her doing physical work like that. Didn’t she know ladies were delicate? “I didn’t realize.”
She nodded. “My parents are farmers. Pa grows wheat. We have a couple of cows as well. Some pigs. Chickens. I was raised in the country, planting and harvesting. I enjoy working with plants.”
“I’m sure they will be thrilled to have your skills at the orphanage.”
“I sure hope so,” she said. Joy wasn’t sure why he had a problem with an honest day’s work, when he was a working man himself. It just made no sense to her.
He stopped walking and pointed to a large building with a sign in front saying, “Foundling Home.”
“Can we go to the door? I want to see if they need help.”
He nodded reluctantly. “We can do that.” Already he was seeing that his new wife, while she brought him much joy, was going to cause him some trouble. She was determined to be busy all the time. The women he knew were content to spend their time reading novels.
They walked to the door, and Joy knocked enthusiastically. An older woman, with a spreading middle, came to the door and peered out. “Oh, good. I was worried you were dropping off a child.”
Joy shook her head. “No, I’d like to know if you need help.”
The woman looked Joy up and down. “You look too fancy to work here.”
Joy laughed. “Trust me, I’m not. I’d love to help you garden or really do whatever you need. My husband and I married yesterday, you see, and he thinks I should sit around doing nothing all day while he works.”
“I’m Mona Graves. And you are?”
“I’m Joy Miller…er…Joy Worthington. I’m going to get used to my new name. Soon!”
Mrs. Graves laughed. “Well, we’d be happy to have you, Mrs. Worthington. Our volunteer who usually works with the garden is off having a baby, and she doesn’t plan to come back. We’d be happy to have your help.”
Joy clapped. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Is it already planted? Or do I get to do that?”
“It’s planted. Come, and I’ll show you.”
Thomas stood for a moment, feeling like the women were already fast friends. He could do nothing but tag along behind them. When they reached the garden, Joy talked about everything that needed to be done. “I need to weed all the vegetables. Oh, I love to weed. Will there be children who can help me, or will I be on my own?”
