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Chapter Four
Even though she was more tired than she could possibly express, Heather worked with her mother-in-law all through the day. She helped garden, cook, clean, and unpacked in the room she’d been told she’d share with Patrick. There were three other bedrooms, though why a family of three had ever needed a house that large she didn’t know. When she and Patrick had a moment alone to talk, she’d ask him if he wanted her to take a different room as they got to know one another.
She truly hoped he wouldn’t mind that. She was a farm girl, and she understood the birds and the bees, but given his sheer size, she wasn’t sure if he would crush her.
For supper, her mother-in-law asked her if she would fix something with the chicken she’d put on the counter. Heather looked at it, then looked through the cabinets to see what was there for her to work with.
She decided to make chicken and dumplings, something that had been a favorite of hers, and she quickly started boiling the chicken. While it boiled, she rolled out dough and used a knife to make the small cuts she wanted.
While Sally was working in the garden, Heather put together the meal, wishing she had time to make some bread to go with it. There were green beans fresh from the garden that she and Sally had picked earlier that day, and she quickly snapped them into a pot of boiling water, adding just a slice of bacon to flavor them.
By the time Sally came back in the house with tomatoes, the house smelled of chicken and dumplings. “Oh, whatever it is you’re making, you’re going to have to teach me that receipt!”
Heather turned with a smile on her face. “It’s just chicken and dumplings. One of the first dishes I learned to make, and I must say, it’s one of my favorites.”
“I’m sure Patrick is going to walk into this house, throw himself at your feet, and beg you to have his babies.” Sally looked her up and down. “How old are you anyway?”
Heather realized she was going to have to get used to the things her mother-in-law said, even though they were slightly off-color. “I’m twenty-seven.”
Sally put a hand on either side of Heather’s hips, frowning a little. “I’d like to see your hips just a little wider for you to bear babies. Did your mother have trouble birthing you?”
“Not at all.” Or not so she’d heard anyway. But her mother had been fourteen when she was born, so she really had no idea of how things should have been, and no one had ever told her otherwise.
“Well, that’s a relief. Is she built like you?”
Heather just nodded. “I have the green beans almost done as well as the chicken and dumplings. What time should we expect Patrick for supper?”
Sally laughed. “Not comfortable with that topic? Think nothing of it. We’ll talk about Patrick for a minute. Did you know that boy was over ten pounds when he was born? Now, I’m a bigger woman than you are, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’m tall and I have wide hips. Birthing just wasn’t a problem for me. I just never got pregnant again after my little girl, Beulah.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Heather said, not sure what the older woman wanted her to say.
“Me too. I always wanted a dozen or more children, and it just didn’t happen for me. Now that Patrick is grown and his father is gone, I worry that I’ve already lived the best parts of my life.” Sally looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, my. It’s starting to get dark. Patrick should be here any minute. I’ll go out and see to milking the cow.”
“I don’t mind milking,” Heather said, wondering how the woman would be able to fit on a milking stool without falling off. She was truly a large woman, though it seemed like that was a good thing to Heather. Her grandmother had been large, and she’d given the best hugs in the world.
“No need. You finish up supper.”
Heather was adding just a touch of black pepper into the chicken and dumplings when she heard footsteps behind her. “You already finished with the milking?” she asked, without even turning around.
“I didn’t do the milking,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Heather jumped, bumping her hand against the pot the chicken and dumplings were in. “Oh!”
Patrick grabbed her burned hand, walked to the sink, and started pumping water over it. “Hold it there. It’ll help the burn.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking at him, still standing there holding her by the wrist.
“I hope Ma didn’t say anything to scare you away. She…talks a lot.”
Heather laughed, ignoring the pain in her hand. “That’s an understatement.”
His lips twitched. “Well, you’re still here. That’s good.”
“I’m not afraid. I think we’re going to do well together. Your mother and I that is. I…I don’t know you well enough to even hazard a guess.” She looked down at her hand, realizing they were alone for the moment. “Do you want me to unpack my things in your room or one of the spare rooms?”
“Well, I want you in my room.” He looked almost offended that she’d asked.
“I just meant for a week or two as we get to know each other.”
