Mail Order Melody, Page 3

  Eliza couldn't imagine marrying so young, but she knew most women did. Her older sister had married at eighteen and had been extremely happy until her husband died five years before. Her boys were twelve and ten, and Eliza loved to see them. "I look forward to meeting her."

  Calvin smiled, glad that Eliza was looking for ways to fit in and make friends already. "I'll be sure to introduce you at church on Sunday morning."

  He turned a comer and she saw a house set amongst the trees. It wasn't a huge house, but it was certainly big enough for the two of them and a couple of children. She wondered if it would have any of the luxuries she'd grown used to having over the years. She had grown up hauling water for her own baths, but the hotels she'd stayed in since she was sixteen usually had running water. Living a rural life again was going to be hard to get used to. She could do it, of course, but she might not like it.

  When he stopped the wagon, she waited for him to come around and help her down, but instead, he went to the back of the wagon and retrieved her bag, looking at her expectantly. "Aren't you coming?"

  Eliza bit back a sharp retort. Didn't he even realize it was his job to help her down? Did the man have no manners? Why had he helped her in town but not now?

  She carefully caught her skirt in one hand and climbed down from the wagon on her own, something she hadn't done since she was a girl. Men had fought over helping her down from wagons, and now she was married to a man who felt she should do for herself. She was realizing more and more just how much her life had changed by agreeing to marry a rancher.

  Once she was beside him, he led her to the house, and she was astonished to see that it was unlocked. She remembered keeping her doors unlocked as a child, but she'd had to lock them for so long now that she barely remembered any other way.

  Inside the house was a small entryway that led in two directions. One led to a small parlor and the other to a large kitchen with a table taking up most of the place. She looked at the stove and realized it was similar to the one she'd learned to cook on back in New York. That pleased her, because she was already nervous enough about cooking after so long away from it.

  "I'm going to put your bag on the bed," he told her, walking out of the kitchen.

  She followed him, wanting to see more of the house. The bedroom was up a short flight of stairs and to the right at the top. There was no bathroom in the house as she'd expected, but she felt oddly let down anyway. She really needed a good soaking after three days on a train, but she wasn't certain she'd have time for anything quite so frivolous that day.

  The bed took up most of the room, and she couldn't take her eyes off of it. Would she really be expected to share it with him that night? To let him have that kind of power over her body? She wasn't certain she could.

  "Go ahead and put your things away," he told her, breaking into her thoughts. "I cleared out the top two drawers in the chest of drawers for you, so you could have your own space." He walked around the bed to her and pulled her against him, his hands roaming over her back and down to her bottom. "I like to eat supper at five. Make sure it's ready." With that, he abruptly released her and left the room.

  Eliza stood with her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him go. Had he really just touched her that way and then left? How odd.

  Knowing she would need time to prepare the evening meal, she rushed downstairs to the kitchen. She was surprised by just how clean everything was. She'd really expected to find a mess waiting for her, but even the stove looked as if it had just been scrubbed.

  She looked on the shelves and saw very little food, finally opening a door against one wall. It was a pantry, and had many of the things she'd need to cook for him. There was lard, sugar, flour, and many other staples. She was relieved to see just how well stocked it was.

  She pulled up the ring on the cellar door and descended the stairs, finding a well-stocked cellar as well. There were dried meats as well as fresh. It was cold enough that the fresh meat seemed to be keeping well. She found a small pork roast that she took upstairs to cook, along with some potatoes and carrots. She knew she could handle something that simple. She worried a bit about whether she'd be able to bake bread on her own.

  She found a small stack of recipes on the shelf in the pantry and realized that he'd been cooking for himself. There were food stains on the pages of the papers, but she didn't care at all. She'd be able to do her duty as a wife and keep him fed. That was all that mattered to her at that moment.

  She put the roast into a pot and covered it with water before peeling and cutting up the potatoes and adding them. She peeled and sliced the carrots putting them into the water and then placing them all in the oven. It was only after she'd opened it that she realized she hadn't yet started the fire. She shook her head. She was going to have to learn to be a good cook. Her new husband deserved to have edible food for dinner every night.

  After starting the fire, she mixed up dough for bread, hoping she would have time for it to rise and cook before Calvin came in for dinner. Where he'd spend his day, she didn't know. She made a mental note to ask him about what he did every day so she would have something to talk to him about.

  *****

  When Calvin got home at the end of his day, he went to the barn as usual to milk the cows. He didn't know what Eliza was cooking, but he was relatively certain he'd drink milk with whatever it was. He always drank milk with his meals.

  When he entered the house, he was shocked by the scene in front of him. There were the glorious scents of baking bread filling the air and the table was set, but there was flour everywhere. Eliza was covered in it from her forehead to the tips of her black shoes which peeked out from beneath her dress. The floor was caked in it as well as the work table. It looked as if she'd opened a bag of flower and just scattered it willy-nilly around the room.

  He stopped short, the pail of milk dangling from one hand.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  Eliza looked up with a blank look, not realizing what he was asking. The bread smelled good. Dinner was on the table. What could be wrong? "I made dinner," she told him, her voice filled with obvious pride.

  "I can see that." He walked to her, set the milk pail on the work table, and brushed some flour from her forehead with his thumb. "Did you roll in the flour?" The confusion on his face was apparent.

  She looked down at the front of her and realized she was covered in flour. She blushed slightly as she became aware that she hadn't even thought to don an apron before she began her chores. She didn't even have an apron to put on. She'd have to work on that first thing in the morning. The one skill she'd kept up over the years had been her sewing, because she was constantly making herself new costumes or new clothes. Sebastian hadn't been willing for her to wear anything but her stage clothes, so she'd had to make day clothes for herself. "I guess I forgot to wear an apron."

  He shook his head with a slight laugh. "I guess you did." Of course, an apron wouldn't have begun to take care of the mess she made, but he was too polite to point that out to her.

  "I also forgot to bring an apron," she admitted in a soft voice, wondering what on earth he'd think of her.

  "Well, you'll just have to make one then, won't you?" He couldn't see her ruining all her dresses by making such a huge mess when she cooked. How could someone make a mess that big when they cooked? He'd honestly never seen anything like it.

  Eliza looked around at the flour all over the kitchen floor. "Maybe I should make one for the kitchen as well," she suggested.

  He grinned. "Maybe you should." Leaning down, he kissed a part of her cheek that had been missed in the great flour explosion before sitting down at the table. "Pork roast?" he asked. "One of my favorites."

  She smiled, rushing to get the loaf of bread from the oven. "I couldn't find any butter."

  "I was almost out, and didn't get any from the store the last time I was in town. We have a churn." He looked at her, wondering for the first time i
f she was capable of being a good wife. Yes, she was pleasant to look at, and his body reacted very strongly to her presence, but did she know how to work? Despite what she'd done that day, he couldn't help but wonder.

  She hurried to the table and put the bread on it. "I'll make butter tomorrow then." She'd helped chum butter many times as a child. She knew she could make butter without a problem. With as cold as the cellar was, it would keep there for some time. "I found the cream in the cellar, so there should be more than enough to make butter."

  She sat down across from him and watched as he bowed his head. She was thankful to be with a man who prayed. Sebastian had always laughed at her for insisting they pray before every meal. It had seemed odd to her that he hadn't found it necessary, but she hadn't been able to talk him into changing his ways. She bowed her head and waited while he said a simple prayer.

  Eliza cut the bread and put a piece on each plate, wincing a little at how hard the crust was as she tried to slice through it. She put a piece of the roast on her plate and waited while he took some potatoes and carrots.

  He looked around. "No gravy?" He'd never had a pork roast without gravy before.

  "I didn't have time to make it," she told him, which was the truth, but she also didn't know how. She'd look through the short stack of recipes he had and see if she could do it from something there. If not, she'd have to ask someone to help her learn to make gravy, but that would require an explanation of why she hadn't learned. Oh, she hoped there was a recipe.

  "All right. Next time I'd like gravy with my potatoes."

  Eliza nodded, embarrassed that she hadn't done the right thing and hoping fervently she'd figure out how. She wasn't certain why she didn't want him to know that she was an opera singer, but she desperately wanted to keep that knowledge from him as long as possible. She knew it would come out eventually, of course, but the longer he was kept in the dark, the better to her way of thinking.

  While they ate, she asked him about his day, and he talked about mending fences. "It's a never ending job. In the spring we're dealing with the calves, in the fall, we have round up. Year round, we're riding fences making certain that they're all in good repair so the cattle can't escape."

  "Do the men ride around with you?"

  He shrugged. "I usually have one man out riding fences with me, and another team of two men will work on them as well. The other three men will make sure the cattle are all right, or work on different things around the ranch yard. None of us do the same things all day every day. The work is diverse."

  She smiled, liking that aspect of things. "I'd like to go with you onto the range on occasion if I may." She wanted to understand him better and seeing him work would help her do that. She couldn't be a good wife if she didn't know her husband, could she?

  He looked at her in surprise. She seemed much too feminine to work with him, and that was a fact. "Maybe in the spring when the weather is nicer, and you've done what you want to do around the house."

  She looked around her, not certain what he was talking about. The house looked good to her. She needed to make a female friend quickly to come over and look at things and tell her what she needed to change to make things better. Maybe Abigail, the closest woman, would be able to come over and tell her what needed to be done. "That sounds good." Wouldn't she need to be putting in her kitchen garden in the spring as well? She wished there was some sort of manual for how to survive on a ranch. She could read it when he wasn't looking and figure out exactly what she was supposed to be doing.

  After supper, while she did the dishes and swept up the flour from the floor, he sat at the table with a knife and a block of wood in his hand and sang while he whittled. When he sang the first note, Eliza was thrilled, because he had a clear strong baritone voice. The second and third notes sent chills down her spine. He had a nice voice, but he couldn't carry a tune. He was just singing a folk song, but still, he should stay on tune. She hoped he didn't like to sing much, because she knew he would make her crazy if he did. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the inner strength to listen to him without yelling.

  Calvin smiled as he saw her eyes close. She was enjoying his singing. He'd hoped that would be the case. He'd have to sing more often.

  Chapter Three

  After she'd finished with the dishes, Eliza escaped to their bedroom for a moment with a pitcher and a bowl to clean up. She wanted a full bath, but that would have to wait until he was on the range the following day. She wasn't nearly bold enough to bathe in front of her new husband.

  She undressed quickly and washed her face, arms and chest, pulling a nightgown over her head. She wished she had something prettier than her plain white utilitarian nightgown, but she didn't, and she wasn't going to waste what little money she had left on something she'd sleep in.

  Once she was wearing her nightgown, she crawled between the sheets and pulled the covers clean up to her neck. She didn't want him to see her. What was she thinking? She was in bed waiting for her new husband to join her, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to her body. She barely knew the man, and he was soon going to be touching her like that.

  Her sister had been kind enough to explain the ways of men and women to her, so she'd know what she needed to avoid if a man made advances. She knew what he would do. She also knew she wasn't ready for any man to do that to her. Could she tell him that she wanted to wait without making him hate her?

  By the time Calvin entered the room, Eliza had worked herself into a state of panic. Just the idea of him touching her arm made her want to run off screaming into the night. How would she be able to lie there and let him put his...thing inside her?

  He turned out the light before undressing, seeing that his new wife was shy. He didn't want to shock her when he undressed and he was already fully erect. She was too inexperienced for that. So was he when it came right down to it.

  All afternoon, since the moment he'd met her, he'd thought of nothing but the moment when he'd be able to sink inside her welcoming flesh. Yes, tonight was the night. He was going to make love to his wife and find out how it felt once and for all.

  He slipped between the sheets and reached out to her, pulling her against him. She was stiff and obviously very nervous. Hopefully he could make her forget her nervousness and enjoy what they'd do together.

  He moved his hand over the covers until he found her face and moved his thumb over her soft lips. He hadn't kissed her mouth since the wedding. He was afraid that once he started he

  wouldn't be able to stop. Slowly, he lowered his head toward hers and kissed her, his tongue coming out to trace her lips.

  She stayed stiff against him, wanting nothing more than to put her hands on his chest and push him away. She had to get out of the bed. She'd seen another bed down the hall that was all made up as if for company. Surely he'd understand if she told him she needed to sleep there for a while. "Calvin?" she asked, turning her head from his kiss.

  His lips went to her neck, biting and suckling as he asked, "Yeah?"

  "I can't do this." She knew she was being blunt and should probably soften the blow, but she really didn't know how. She didn’t want him touching her. How could she submit to him without knowing anything about him except that he sang off key?

  Calvin lifted his head and looked down at her in the darkness. "Are you denying me?"

  She sighed, feeling the tears coming to her eyes. "I'm just not ready yet. I've only known you for a few hours." She sucked in a breath. "A month. Can you give me a month to get used to the idea of this?"

  Calvin rolled to his back, more than a little offended by her request. She'd come out there to be his bride and now she wasn't willing to have intercourse with him? "A month? I'm not waiting a month. I've waited my entire life for tonight, and you're telling me that you don't want me to make love to my wife on our wedding night?"

  Eliza leaned onto her elbow beside him, trying to find a good way to explain what she was
feeling. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I've never done this with a man before. I just don't know you well enough to let you do that to me yet. If you give me a month, I promise, I'll be ready."

  He frowned. He hated it, but he did see her point. They didn't really know one another, and she had the right to say she didn't want him touching her yet. He hated it though, because he'd already waited. Why did he have to wait even longer? "I'll give you a week."

  Eliza blinked, thrilled to have a week, but knowing she needed a bit more. "Three weeks."

  "Two weeks, and I get to kiss you and try to convince you to change your mind whenever I feel like it." He was certain he could convince her if he tried hard enough.

  Eliza thought over his words for a moment before finally nodding. "Two weeks."

  Calvin reached up and cupped the back of her neck, bringing her down to kiss him. His hands roamed over her body, moving all the way from her bottom to her shoulders. "I won't lie and say I like it, but I do understand. Two weeks from tonight, we're making love. Put it on your calendar."

  She laughed softly. "I'll do that." She felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she moved to the edge of the bed and sat up.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "I'm going to go sleep in the spare room down the hall. I'm sure you don't want me in bed with you when I won't let you..." She couldn't even finish her sentence.

  Calvin caught her hand and pulled her back against him. "You're staying. You promised I could keep trying to convince you to make love, and I can't convince you if you're down the hall." He pulled her flush against him, feeling her unbound breasts press against him through the thin cotton of her nightgown. He wondered if it was too soon for him to touch one, just through the fabric, but he didn't want to frighten her any more than she already was.

  Knowing that he wasn't going to try to force sex on her, Eliza responded to his touch, liking it. She leaned forward and kissed him, this time it was her tongue tracing his lips. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit it gently, enjoying his fingers against her.