well, Russell. I just want to thank you,” she spoke boldly.
He looked at her oddly. “For what?”
Margaret gave him a small smile. “For giving me a chance at a new life.”
Russell nodded. “Think nothing of it. Say, did you get the envelope of money?”
Margaret debated telling him how she had spent it. He made such a stink over her beautiful dress only moments ago. “Yes, I did. Thank you,” was all she said.
Again, silence as they rode the last mile home. Finally, Margaret saw a small two story house in the distance. The wooden structure seemed to lack care. A barn nearby seemed as large, or larger than the house. Corn fields stood in neat rows behind the structures. The river bordered the property on the east side about two hundred feet from the house. Margaret bit her bottom lip with worry.
Russell noticed her troubled face. “I told you it was run down. The previous owner was very old and couldn’t take care of it. When I moved in, planting was my first priority,” he explained. “Right now, I’m working on the barn. It still needs a new roof. See the holes?” he asked while pointing.
He pulled into the yard, set the brake, and jumped to the ground. He walked around the wagon to help Margaret. She was staring at the house. “Welcome home, Missus Chadwick,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. After grabbing her bag, he waved one arm toward the house. “Shall I show you around?”
Margaret looked at the broken step leading to the front porch. The structure certainly needed work. They entered the door. The bottom floor was divided into two long rooms. The stairway ran up the middle. To the left was the combined dining area and kitchen. To the right was what might be considered a parlor.
“I’ll show you your room,” he spoke gently.
Margaret furrowed her brows. “My room?” she repeated.
He led the way upstairs. The landing at the top was very small. There was a door to each side. He opened the one on the left. “This is yours,” he explained. He entered and placed her bag on the bed.
Margaret entered and looked around. There was one large window on the opposite wall. The room contained a bed, dresser and washstand. The ends of the ceiling slanted toward the front and back of the house. Margaret was a bit bewildered by the arrangement.
“I know you have questions, but let’s eat first,” Russell stated. He left the room and descended the stairs.
Margaret lingered within the very plain room. It almost reminded her of the shared room in Cincinnati. At least this one was all her own, and with a little effort, she could make it nice and pretty. She walked across the bare wood floor to the window. Several oak trees protected the house and in a side yard, she saw the remnants of an old clothes line. Past that, a small graveyard sat quietly. It contained only three headstones.
“Are you coming, Margaret?” Russell called from below.
She found him waiting at the table. He had already unpacked the basket from Susan, eager to be fed. Russell offered a pleasant smile. “Susan sent a good meal. Are you hungry?”
Margaret nodded. “Actually, yes.” She took a seat at the square table.
Russell gave a brief prayer of thanks before the meal. Only half listening, Margaret said a silent prayer of her own. She prayed for courage and guidance.
“This ham looks great,” Russell spoke excitedly. He offered her a thick slice. “How many biscuits do you want?”
She looked at the big flaky rounds. “Two please.”
Russell placed two on her plate, then spooned out peas and baked apples.
“This does look wonderful. I only ate some cheese and bread on the trip today,” the new wife confessed.
Both adults dug in and ate heartily. Margaret however was unable to eat all on her plate for her corset was laced too tightly for a big meal. Russell polished off his food, then pushed the plate away.
“I guess you’re wondering about the separate rooms,” he said.
Margaret smiled timidly. “It did cross my mind.”
Russell scratched his mustache. “I just figured you would like some privacy. Since we are strangers, I don’t expect anything…like sharin’ a room. You understand?”
Margaret was floored. He was talking about… oh, she was so embarrassed. Her initial hurt about being put in a separate room was alleviated by the fact that he was giving them time to get to know one another. How very gentlemanly of him. “That’s kind of you,” she commented shyly.
“You can do what you want to your room. The whole house for that matter,” he explained. “If you want, make a list of things you need and we’ll go into town together in a few days. I’ll be out working in the field or in the barn most days until harvest,” he continued.
“When is that?” she asked.
“In about three months,” he answered. “My brother Henry will come and help with the harvest.”
Margaret’s interest was piqued. “Oh? Does he live here too?”
Russell shook his head. “No. He lives back at home.”
“Where’s that?”
Russell made a strange face. “In Wheaton, just outside Chicago.”
Margaret noticed that Russell was looking out the window wistfully. Maybe he was homesick. “Is that where your folks are?”
He continued to gaze outside. “That’s where everyone is.” He stood up quickly. “I’ve got work to do before dark.”
Margaret watched as he left without another word. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of him yet. He seemed kind enough, but there was something strange about him. He was guarded, a little distant. He had not asked her any personal questions at all and he barely looked her in the eye. Maybe he was just a little timid too. Margaret dismissed these thoughts and busied herself with cleaning the kitchen. She decided this was a big adjustment for the both of them. It would just take time.
Russell did not return until dark. By then, Margaret was exhausted from the long day. While he was away, she had taken inventory in the house. The parlor was nearly bare. None of the windows had curtains and there were no rugs on the unswept floor. Tomorrow, she would tidy up. Weary, Margaret was waiting for him in the only parlor chair.
“Are you asleep?” he spoke softly.
Margaret opened her eyes and looked at him. It was apparent he had been pitching hay. Small pieces were stuck to the sweat on his neck. His shirt was open partly, exposing soft brown curls of hair on his chest. Margaret gulped at the sight. Maybe, in a small way, she really had wanted a real wedding night. “I’m awake,” she whispered.
“This is your home now, Margaret. You can go to bed any time you want,” he explained.
“I was waiting up for you.”
He gave her a half-smile.
