While she waited, Irene watched out the window knowing she would never get tired of the sight of those great, rugged mountains. The sun crowned them with a brilliant gold then dropped behind the jagged peaks, leaving behind a cloud of pink. She breathed deeply as if to inhale the beauty.

She felt Zach step into the room and stiffened, wondering what was next.

He stood behind her, not speaking, until finally she felt compelled to turn and ask, “Are they settled?”

Zach, his arms crossed, his expression thoughtful, nodded. “Harry takes awhile to settle, but Donald is curled up already asleep.” He pulled out a chair at the end of the table. “What do you think?”

Her mind on the sunset, her thoughts scrambled for his meaning. “Of what?”

“The boys.”

“Why, they’re delightful. Harry is so grown-up. And Donald—”

“He hasn’t spoken since his mother died.”

“I know. Addie told me. But he’s still charming. His eyes say things without the need of words. Why, with eyes like that, he’d melt anyone’s heart.” Donald’s eyes were a duplication of Zach’s dark gaze. She gulped and ducked her head, afraid she’d said too much. “But. . .” She sought the right way to say what she felt.

“But what?” His words carried a hard warning note.

“I think it will take time for us to get to know each other. All of us. To understand what each one needs. To trust each other.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Time is on our side.”

“I hope you’ll be patient with me while I learn my way around.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m used to making my own decisions, finding my own solution for problems. I’m not noted for sitting back quietly and demurely, so if I inadvertently tread on your toes, don’t be afraid to speak out. I’m not intentionally abrupt.”

He studied her quietly, his eyes dark and intense. Then he gave a slow smile that drove away the tension around his mouth. “I’ll be letting you know if you step out-of-bounds.” He chuckled. “Now I sound like a slave driver. And I’m not.”

The transformation in him when he laughed sent tremors along her arms. Why, he was as handsome as could be, and the way his eyes blazed was enough to make her blink.

He pushed to his feet, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “I’ve some things I need to check on outside. Go ahead and attend to your unpacking. Make yourself at home. Don’t wait up for me.” He strode from the house.

Irene sat back. It was a bit like getting run over by a wagon. But her trunks waited, so she lit a lantern and hurried to the bedroom.

Zach had emptied the drawers in a tall chiffonier. She unlocked the trunk containing her summer things and lifted them into the drawers. Zach’s things in the wide wardrobe took little space, and she hung up her dresses and coat beside them. Her Bible and pictures of Father and of Grace and Billy’s wedding, she placed on the small table by the bed. A pair of boots on one side of the bed made her choose the opposite side.

She wasn’t afraid; she wasn’t nervous, but not knowing what to expect from this part of the arrangement set her on edge as she prepared for bed. She lay waiting, stiff and tense. Zach did not appear. Perhaps he intended to give her plenty of time to perform her bedtime rituals, in which case she would continue with some of her long-established habits. She picked up her Bible to read a few verses, then spent several minutes in prayer asking for wisdom and guidance in her new role.

Still he did not appear. She turned the lantern down and lay staring at the soft shadows on the ceiling, listening as one of the boys moaned.

Her eyelids grew heavy. She forced her eyes wide open, determined to be awake when Zach came to bed. This, too, was part of the arrangement between them, and the sooner they established their roles, the better she’d like it. Not knowing was almost killing her.

A sound in the kitchen jarred her awake. It took a moment for her to remember where she was and another to decide the sound was the outside door opening and closing.

Again, she forced her eyelids up and waited.

Darkness had deepened when she awoke with a start. The lantern still burned; the bed beside her remained empty.

She struggled from her warm sleep and shrugged into her wrap. She found him in the parlor, his head against the back of the sofa, his legs stuck out awkwardly. She studied him a moment then went back to the bedroom and got a blanket. He stirred only enough to sigh as she tucked it around his shoulders.

She watched him sleep, his features indistinct in the darkness. No doubt he’d be stiff and sore in the morning. This was not how things should be. She needed to think what she should do about it.

Irene woke at first light and hurried to the kitchen. As quietly as possible she built the fire and put coffee to boil. The aroma began to percolate through the room as Zach staggered from the parlor, his eyes bleary with sleep. The poor man looked in no condition to hear what she had to say.

“Good morning,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee.

“Huh.” His grunt revealed nothing about his emotional state, only a desperate need for coffee. He downed the first cupful without regard for the temperature, and she refilled the cup. Slowly, like winding up a blind, she watched him come to life.

“Looks like a nice day,” he commented, staring out the window.

Irene nodded. “Not a cloud in the sky.”

Finally, he set down his cup and looked at her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine. And yourself?”

He only gave her a hard stare.

“I’ll be needing a saw today,” she said.

“A saw? What for?”

Her jaw tightened as she faced him. “I’ll be sawing the bed in half today. I’ll have one half, you the other.”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy?”

“I’ll not be driving a man from his bed.”

He blinked but said nothing.

She persisted. “Would you be so kind as to bring me a saw after breakfast?”

“You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, indeed.”

He shook his head. “Lady, you are crazy.”

“Will you get me a saw, or do I have to find it on my own?” She refused to pull back from his dark, hard look.

He held up his hand. “No need to be hasty. If you’re going to force me to sleep in a bed, I’d just as soon sleep in a whole one.”

She nodded. “Fine then. So long as we understand each other.”

He studied her, his eyes narrow, questioning. “You don’t need to think—”

“Is it morning?” Harry’s question interrupted Zach’s words, and he turned to his son.

“Good morning. Where’s Donald?”

“I’ll get him.” Harry turned back down the hall.

Irene waited, but Zach did not finish what he’d started to say. What warning had he been about to deliver? She had a good idea he had been about to tell her there were things he wouldn’t be pushed into doing. Which suited her just fine.

Harry returned, holding Donald firmly by the hand.

“Harry, get dressed and help me with the chores.”

Harry turned, Donald still firmly attached.

“Donald can stay in the house.”

Both boys jerked to a halt. Donald’s wide, dark gaze stared at his father. Harry looked at his younger brother then back to his dad.

“Do as I say, Son.” Zach’s voice was quiet and insistent.

Harry nodded and pulled his hand from Donald’s, his expression pain-filled as he went to put on his jacket.

Donald sucked on his fingers, his eyes accusing his father as he faced him alone.

Zach scooped him up. “It’s all right, little man. You can stay here with your new mommy. She needs someone to help her.” Zach set Donald on his feet, and he and Harry hurried from the house without a backward look. Irene understood this was difficult for them.

The child faced Irene, his dark eyes unblinking, his lips tight around his fingers.

Irene smiled at his tiny resistance. “I guess I should make some breakfast.” She purposely waited. “You got any notion what I should make?” She again waited, hoping the child would make some motion of acknowledgment besides the vigorous sucking of his fingers.

After several minutes of staring at each other, he nodded once.

“Good. Is it a secret?”

Donald shook his head. His eyes darted to the pantry then back to Irene.

“Can you show me?”

He slid into the pantry, Irene following.

“It’s in here?”

He nodded.

“Can you show me where?”

His gaze never left hers.

“Ah. It’s a guessing game.” She thought she detected an answering gleam in his eyes. “Very well.” She picked up a can of baking soda. “Is this it?”

He shook his head.

“This?” She indicated a jar of peaches. His eyes definitely gleamed this time. “Well, why not? I’d like peaches for breakfast. Anything else?”

His gaze darted along the shelves, and he nodded.

Again she touched item after item until she reached the bag of oats. “This?”

He nodded.

“Porridge and peaches?”

He nodded.

“Very well.” He followed her from the pantry. “I’ll put these oats to boil right away. You know the best way to cook them is to put them on the night before and let them steam all night. But we’ll make do this way today.” She stood in the center of the kitchen. “Now, where do you suppose I would find the proper pot?”

Donald moved to the front of the cupboard where Irene knew the pots hung.

“You’re a big help. I don’t know how I’d manage without you. Now if there’s anything I’ve forgotten, you be sure to tell me. All right?”

He nodded solemnly, watching as she set the porridge to simmer then set the table.

“There. That’s about as much as we can do until Harry and your dad get back from chores. What should we do now?”

He met her eyes.

“I know. I’ll help you get dressed.” She sensed his sudden withdrawal but ignored it. “But you’ll have to show me where everything is and what you like to wear.” She headed for the bedroom.

He hesitated a moment, then followed.

Keeping up her constant chatter, she selected a shirt and trousers for him and found a clean pair of socks. “I think I’ll have to see about doing some laundry today.” She cocked her head to one side and faced him, her hands on her hips. “You ever done laundry before?”

He shook his head.

“Then I guess we’ll have to learn together.”

Again, his eyes gleamed.

She began to pull the pajama top over his head and discovered she had to lift each arm and ease it from the sleeve while he stood as motionless and uncooperative as a little wooden toy.

She put on almost clean pants and fixed his shoes and socks. All the time he stared straight ahead, his eyes never blinking, his expression never changing.

“There.” She patted his knee. “All buttons and bows.”

His gaze never shifted.

A lump formed in her throat. She knelt in front of him, intercepting his gaze. His pupils narrowed as he focused on her.

“I’m just a funny-looking stranger who talks in a funny way, aren’t I?”

She was almost certain he nodded.

“That’s it. I knew there was some reason you didn’t want to talk to me. It’s my funny accent.” She drew her mouth flat and said in her best cockney accent, “How much rain falls on the plain in Spain in the summertime?”

He tightened his lips, and she couldn’t be certain if it was from acknowledgment of her silliness or something else. He seemed so full of fear and uncertainty. Her heart shed a tear, and then she smiled at the child.

“Well, there you go. I’ve always been good at talking, and it seems you’re very good at listening. I expect we’ll do just fine.”

The outer door squeaked, and Donald marched out of the room, Irene on his heels.

Zach carried a pail of foaming milk, and Harry cradled four eggs in his hands.

Harry immediately looked for Donald, as if to see whether his younger brother had survived their brief separation.

Behind his eldest son, Zach watched the boys. “Harry, get the jars for the milk,” he said. “Where’s the straining cloth?”

Harry deposited the eggs on top of the cupboard and lifted a two-gallon jar from underneath. “The cloth is hanging outside.” He slipped past his dad to get it.

Zach met Irene’s gaze. He tipped his head toward Donald and lifted his eyebrows in question marks. Understanding his unspoken question, she nodded. “Donald helped me make breakfast,” she said.

Zach smiled. “Good boy.”

Donald pressed against his father’s leg.

Harry returned and, with an air of experience, held the cloth over the jars while Zach poured the milk through.

“I can’t get over the abundance you Canadians have. So much of everything and everything so big.”

“Everything?” Harry whispered.

She nodded, pleased she had captured his attention. “Look at all that milk. I can’t remember the last time I had fresh milk back in England. And eggs. We were rationed one egg a week for each person.”

“One egg a week?” Harry looked as if she had suggested he could only eat once a week.

“That’s all.”

“You want to have some really fresh milk?” Zach asked, pouring some strained milk into a glass and handing it to her.

She drank it, exploring the taste. “I’ve never had milk warm from the cow before.” She licked her lips. “It’s different, but it’s good.”

“What other things?” Harry asked.

Irene returned the glass to the counter and smiled her thanks at Zach. “Why, things like your gardens. They’re miles big. Your fields go on and on.” She waved toward the window. “The mountains fill the sky. Everything is so big.” Her gaze lighted on Zach’s hands as he covered the bottles of milk. “Why, even people are bigger. Look at your father’s hands. I’ve never before seen such fine, big hands.”

His big hands stopped. Sudden silence rang with surprise.

She felt Zach’s gaze upon her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so personal.”

For a moment he didn’t speak. Then he nodded, a slight gleam in his eyes. “Is this one of those times you warned me about?”

It was her turn to look surprised.

“Last night. Didn’t you warn me—”

She grimaced. “That I might trod on toes. There’s no need to tell me I’ve stepped out-of-bounds.”

He held her gaze. “You haven’t trod on my toes. I know I have ham hock hands. They’re good for work, but not much to look at. I’m flattered you think them fine.” He turned back to his task, and she hugged to her heart the wonderful feeling of having touched him. Not physically, but emotionally.

Over breakfast, she said, “You best be telling me what you favor for mealtimes. Donald helped me with breakfast, but he’s a bit reticent.”

“What’s ‘retsent’ mean?” Harry asked.

“It means he’s a man of few words.”

Harry nodded, then a flicker of a smile crossed his lips. “No words, you mean.”

“I told him I didn’t blame him for not wanting to confide in a total stranger. And they don’t come much stranger than me, do they?” She laughed. “Strange accent, strange habits. Why, I’d guess you’re right now thinking, ‘she’s about the strangest bird I ever saw.’ Aren’t you?”

Zach looked startled by her nonsense, but Harry smiled. “You’re not a bird. You’re too big.”

Irene watched Donald’s gaze shift back and forth from his brother to Irene. This boy didn’t miss anything.

She grinned at Harry. “And I don’t lay eggs. At least I never have yet.”

Harry giggled, and for a heartbeat, Donald let his fingers drop from his mouth.

Irene smiled at the three of them. “But not to worry. I’m sure you’ll get used to me soon enough, and things will be all buttons and bows.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together. “Buttons and bows?”

“One of my funny expressions. I suppose it means everything is all fixed up with all the proper buttons and bows. It means everything will be all right.”

Harry nodded.

Zach handed Donald his spoon. “Finish your breakfast, Son.”

They finished up, and Irene gathered the dirty dishes. Zach leaned back in his chair, watching her.

She found his concentrated study unsettling but carried on as if she wasn’t aware of it, wondering if his thoughts included doubts about his decision. No doubt she’d already managed to challenge his idea of a proper wife. But she couldn’t help who she was and although she worked hard on curbing her tongue and speaking her mind in love, sometimes she said and did things that would have been better left unsaid and undone.

“Would you like a tour of the farm?”

His offer was so far removed from her own thoughts that she almost dropped the dish she held. “I certainly would.”

Harry took Donald’s hand and led him outside. Zach waited for Irene.

“It’s only a small farm,” he said, almost apologetically. Yet she caught a note of strong pride as he added, “but it’s productive. We’ll never go hungry living here.”

As she stepped from the house, she stopped, her eyes seeking the mountain peaks.

He waited as if he understood her need to look at the view.

“I’ll show you the barn first,” he said when she sighed and turned her attention back to him.

The boys marched ahead with all the confidence of knowing their boundaries.

At the barn, Zach threw open a wide door and stood aside for Irene to enter. She stepped into the dusty shadows. The pungent odor of animal manure stung her nose. Shafts of light sliced through the floating dust motes. Overall prevailed the spicy, mushroom smell of hay.

Harry and Donald entered a small stall, empty except for harnesses and buckets.

Zach hung back, his practiced gaze running along the stalls on either side of the alleyway. Finally, his gaze rested on Irene. “I’ve had to take Donald with me when we do chores. Harry’s big enough to help and quick enough to get out of the way if something goes wrong. Donald is too little, but I’ve had no choice.”

Irene nodded. “What else could you do?”

Zach continued. “I know he won’t like it, but I don’t want him to have to come with us all the time.”

She heard the mixture of emotions in his voice, concern both for the child’s safety and his tender feelings when he understood Donald might feel left out.

“He’ll miss being with you, but once he learns you’ll be back as soon as you’re done, he’ll accept it. I’ll do my best to keep him happily amused.”

Zach smiled. “I’m glad you understand.” His look of gratitude made her want to speak a world of assurances.

“It will be all buttons and bows. You’ll see.”

He chuckled, a deep-throated sound that did strange things to her insides. “Buttons and bows, eh? Sounds prissy to me.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Look at the four of us. Do any of us look like we stand a chance at being prissy?” She nodded toward the boys, who were sitting in a manger, hay clinging to their clothes. “Prissy would hardly be romping in a hay manger. Me. . .” She pretended to dust her clothes. “Practical. Functional. But prissy? No.” She tipped her head as if seeing him for the first time. “As for you.” She searched for the right word. “I’d say powerful, even stubborn, but definitely not prissy. Never.”

His unblinking gaze made her think of Donald. Something dark and mysterious crossed his eyes. Had she touched a sore spot? Or had she been too bold for his liking? Before she could retract her words or offer an explanation, he turned toward the empty stalls.

“The horses and cows are out grazing right now. They’re glad to see spring and green grass.”

She gratefully accepted the shift in conversation. What explanation could she offer? She had no idea why she kept saying such personal things to him. Despite being married, they were strangers. Yet there was something about him that left her slightly unraveled around the edges.

She ran her finger along the smooth plank of the gate. What did she expect? Strangers, yet married. What rules of conduct governed such a situation? “I’m awfully glad for spring, too. I thought the war would never end,” she added, surprising herself by her sudden change of topic.

He leaned against the gate to study her. “Was it really awful for you?”

She shrugged. “The injured kept coming and coming. Some of them mere boys. Feet rotted off from the wet they stood in day after day. Infected wounds. And worse.” She clamped her lips together. She didn’t dare start recalling the dreadful things she’d seen, or she’d never quit. She was quite certain the last thing this man needed was a recital of the horrors of war.

He touched her hand where it lay on the top plank. “I’m sorry.”

His touch drove back the ghosts. Her smile shaky, she nodded. “Weren’t you in the war?”

He grimaced. “I only got as far as Newfoundland where I was training as a mechanic.” A dark shadow crossed his face. “They sent me home when my wife died.” His face was a mask.

She touched his arm, surprised at its solidness and bulk. His muscle twitched beneath her palm. “I’m sorry.” Her heart overflowed with pain at what this family had been through; words seemed so hollow. “I’m so sorry.”

He lifted his head, looking behind Irene. “Come on, boys.”

Harry’s muffled voice answered, “We want her to see the baby kittens.”

“I’d love to.” She raised her eyebrows, waiting for Zach to give his permission.

“You might as well.”

She hurried back to the stall where the boys sat in the hay, a shaggy cat purring loudly as they petted her babies. Irene had never seen such tiny creatures. “They’re sweet. Can I pick one up?”

Harry chose a black one and handed it to her.

She lifted the tiny thing to her face. “Its eyes are closed.”

“You’ve never seen newborn kittens, have you?” Zach’s expression showed amusement.

“They’re born with their eyes shut,” Harry explained patiently.

Irene laughed. “I suppose I knew that. How old are they?”

Harry looked toward his father. “How old?”

“About a week.”

“Donald found them.” Harry pointed to his brother.

“Good for you.”

The boy’s fingers returned to his mouth, and she restrained a shudder at all the dirt that went with them.

Zach extracted Donald from his nest. “Come along, now.” He brushed the hay from the child.

Irene helped Harry to his feet and dusted him off. “You’ve got hay all over you.” She picked bits from his hair. “What you’re needing is a good shaking off.” She roughed her hands over him until he laughed. Pleased, she straightened. “That’s better.”

Zach closed the door behind them and set Donald on his feet. Harry immediately took his hand, and they ran along the pole fence.

“I have eight horses and twenty cows.” Zach’s voice deepened with pride as he pointed out the animals grazing along the tree line. “Do you ride?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance.”

“You’ll learn.”

“Is that a promise or an order?” She kept her eyes on the animals but knew he drew back, probably surprised at her directness.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like an order. Guess I’m too used to telling the boys what to do. I’m sorry.”

She faced him. “No, it’s I who should be sorry. I shouldn’t be so prepared to feel I have to defend myself.”

They considered each other for several seconds, the morning light drawing hard planes across his features until he smiled and softened the landscape. “Seems we have a great deal to learn of each other.”

“Wasn’t it you who said we have lots of time?”

They fell into step, walking the length of the pole fence. “All the time we need.”

His words flowed through her, comforting, strengthening. . .

“You can see the fields from here.” He stopped at the end of the fence.

She saw a yellowed field and another ridged with raw earth.

“It’s time I was plowing, but I haven’t known what to do with the boys. I’m glad you’re here in time for spring work.”

He truly sounded glad, no doubt because it freed him to get on with the farming. Nevertheless, she let herself enjoy the sound of his pleasure. “I’m glad to be here in time to help you.”

Again they faced each other, searching for clues as to hidden meanings, true feelings, and what the future held. He plucked a bit of hay from her hair. “Not very prissy,” he murmured.

His touch did unfamiliar things to her nerve endings, making them dance in an alarming fashion. She took a deep breath, forcing her emotions into submission—something she had much experience in doing—and reminded herself their marriage was a matter of convenience only.

He turned back, past the barn, to the chicken coop with a high wire fence. “The hens are laying good again.”

“Whatever that means.”

He chuckled. “I keep forgetting you aren’t a farm girl. Hens don’t lay much during winter. So you see,” he said, fixing his dark gaze on her, “we didn’t have a lot of eggs for awhile but never rationed like you.”

She nodded. “Everything was rationed. We had to feed the army, you know.”

“Thankfully, it’s over. The war to end all wars.”

“Amen.”

Again, Irene felt she had touched a receptive nerve in the man, and it warmed her to know they shared common ideals.

Their steps brought them full circle to the house.

“I didn’t see a garden.” Irene knew a garden was essential.

“I’ll show you the spot.” He led her behind the house to a fenced-in enclosure overgrown with the stalks of dead weeds almost as high as the gate. The ground looked damp and stubborn.

“Oh,” was all she said.

“There was no garden last year.”

“Of course.”

He heaved a loud sigh. “I’ll try to get at it soon.”

Saying nothing, she turned to follow when wide, green leaves caught her attention in one corner of the garden. “Something is growing.”

He turned back. “Rhubarb.”

“It’s pie plant, isn’t it?”

“I’ve heard it called that.”

She opened the gate and picked her way through the weeds and mud to the plant—in fact, three plants with long, reddish stems. “It looks healthy enough.”

“Hard to kill rhubarb.”

She nodded, her mind busy with possibilities. “Do you have a knife?”

“What for?”

She yanked stems from the ground. “I’m going to use this.”

He hesitated then crossed to her side. “Boys, come and help.” He chopped off the leaves and piled stems in Harry’s arms. “You could help, too, Donald, but it will take two hands.”

Donald studied his brother then gave his father a considering look. For a moment, Irene thought he would refuse; then he popped his fingers out and, imitating Harry, held his arms out to receive the stems. “There you go. Harry will put them on the counter for you.”

The boys headed for the house.

“That’s enough for today,” Irene said, wiping her hands on a hanky.

Zach waited at the gate as she picked her way back across the garden.

“I’ll leave the boys with you while I ride out and check the pasture fences.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“All buttons and bows?”

She laughed. “Perhaps. Will you tell the boys?”

“I will.”

They paused at the door. She could tell he had something on his mind.

She met his gaze frankly. “What is it? Are you worried about the boys?”

He nodded, a troubled look racing across his face. “I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

She knew what he meant. Life had been far too hard already. Even the least unkindness to them would be unfair. She touched his arm. “Zach, I may be brusque and outspoken. I may even be guilty of putting my foot in my mouth on occasion, but I have never been accused of unkindness.” She took a deep breath. “Your boys are safe with me.” She gave a crooked grin. “Who knows? They might even enjoy themselves.”

“I don’t mean to accuse you of incompetence. Or worse. It’s only that they’ve been through so much.”

She squeezed his arm. “No need to explain. Of course you’re concerned. I admire that.”

He mumbled something, but she didn’t catch it. Something about blame or shame? Before she could ask him, he went inside to explain to the boys that he was going.