Zach and the boys burned the piles of weeds while Irene cleaned the kitchen. She welcomed the chance to be alone and sort out her feelings. She didn’t understand Zach’s attitude toward her work. Had she inadvertently done something he disapproved of? But what could it be? She prayed for wisdom to understand the situation.

Zach brought the boys in and supervised their washing up, then took them to the bedroom to get them ready for bed.

Irene made tea to fortify her for the discussion that lay ahead.

“Can I get you a cup?” she asked when he returned to the kitchen. At his nod she poured tea and set it before him, then sat across the table, clutching her own cup.

He spooned sugar into his tea and stirred it until Irene feared he would wear a hole in the bottom of the cup.

After a few minutes, when he still hadn’t spoken, she cleared her throat.

Zach’s glance jerked toward her, then returned to his tea.

She took a deep breath and began. “I think we need to talk.”

“I suppose.” He shifted back in his chair, still intent on stirring his tea.

“Would you explain why you’re upset about me cleaning the weeds from the garden?”

He fixed her with a dark look for a second before he answered. “It doesn’t seem right.”

Irene shrugged. “Do you mean it is unladylike? Unseemly? Or too hard?” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s too much.” His gaze rested somewhere beyond her head.

She wiped the rim of her cup. His answers made her head swim. “Too much what?”

He tapped his spoon on the rim of the cup and set it on the table, then turned his cup round and round. “Too much work.”

A suspicion sprouted in her thoughts. She prayed for wisdom. “Zach, I know nothing about your first wife, but I get the distinct impression I do things much differently than she did.”

He watched her with a keenness that made her want to look away, but knowing this was an issue that had to be resolved, she clenched her hands more tightly around her cup and kept her gaze steady.

“I feel like you’re having a hard time accepting that.” She took a deep breath. “But I cannot take her place. I cannot be her substitute, taking over where she left off, doing things exactly the same way. I’m a different person as you’re discovering. I quite likely enjoy different things. I will certainly make mistakes and get muddled at times, but it’s the only way I can be. I can only be me. Not her.”

“I know.” The sad resignation in his voice stung.

“Surely it’s not that bad.”

He didn’t answer at first.

“It’s not bad,” he said finally, sounding surprised by his own decision. “Only a little like coming unseated from the saddle.”

“That sounds downright dangerous.”

His gaze sought hers, gleaming with some dark emotion she couldn’t identify; then his gaze slid past her to stare out the window.

She drew a breath past the sudden tightness in her throat.

Peace settled around them, colored by the flaming painting of the sky. Irene sighed. “It’s so very beautiful.”

“Worth getting out of bed for, all right.”

Her cup rattled in the saucer. Bed. That unknown factor in their relationship.

He turned toward her and gave a thin smile. “You worked hard today. I ’spect you’re tired.”

It would be impossible to deny as she struggled to smother a yawn. “I guess I am.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be along later.”

She set her cup and saucer on the counter and made her way to the bedroom.

“Thank You, God,” she whispered as she lay reading her Bible. It had been a good day. She’d had a good time with the boys and felt she’d crossed another bridge in her relationship with Zach.

She waited for Zach. Minutes passed, and he didn’t come. The erratic beat of her heart calmed. Finally she turned off the lantern. Only after the light was gone did she hear him cross the kitchen and enter the bedroom. Again, he undressed in the darkness and crawled into bed, clinging to his side. “Good night,” he murmured.

“Good night,” she replied.

Irene set a pot of stew to simmer then stepped into the parlor. Front room, she reminded herself.

“Harry, Donald, let’s go for a walk.”

The boys jumped up from their blocks, pausing to look behind them as the tower tumbled and blocks bounced along the floor. Two little heads turned to see her reaction.

“We’ll pick them up when we come back. It’s too nice a day to spend indoors.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“Do you have a favorite place?”

Donald and Harry exchanged looks. “We aren’t allowed to go past the corral fence.”

“Then we’ll explore together. Let’s go down the road.” She waved the boys through the door. They ran outside, then stopped, waiting for her.

“Who wants to race?”

Harry jumped up and down. “I do.” Donald tugged his hand. “We do.”

Irene looked around. Zach had gone to a field to pick rocks; she couldn’t see him. A little foolishness would go unnoticed. “See that corner post?” She pointed toward the fence.

Harry nodded.

“I’ll race you to that.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “You’re bigger.”

She laughed. “You’re probably faster, but to make it fair, I’ll let you have a head start.”

He nodded and pulled Donald to face the right direction.

“On your mark,” she began.

Harry leaned forward, Donald imitating his stance.

She hugged a smile to herself at their intensity.

“Get set. Go.”

Two little boys raced toward the fence.

She counted to five. “Here I come!”

“Hurry, Donald!” Harry yelled. “Hurry! We gotta beat her.”

Pleasure swelled from deep inside her, erupting in great shouts of laughter, making it almost impossible for her to run.

Harry reached the post, half dragging Donald after him. “We won! We won!”

Irene bent over, breathless from trying to run and laugh at the same time. “You sure did.” She collapsed on the ground. “You two can really run, can’t you?”

He nodded shyly and plunked down beside her. Donald edged his way in between them.

“You two lads are a lot of fun. I don’t know when I’ve laughed so hard.” It was a sobering thought. Life had grown so serious during the war. She flung herself on her back. “Look at all those clouds. Look, do you see that big fish?”

The boys tipped their heads skyward. “Where?” Harry asked.

“Up there.” She pointed. “Lay on your backs so you can see better.”

Donald’s warm body pressed against her side.

Harry pointed. “There it is. I see it. Now it’s a ship.”

“What do you see, Donald?” she asked.

He sucked the fingers of his other hand and kept pointing.

“It’s a cow,” Irene said.

“No,” Harry said. “It’s a bird.” And when he laughed, Irene did, too. It was so good to enjoy life with these two.

She jumped to her feet, pulling the boys after her. “Come on, lazybones. We won’t get anywhere lying around here.”

Marching together, Harry and Irene singing, they headed down the road, pausing to examine every rock and flower and bush. By the time they arrived back at the house, Harry’s pockets bulged with rocks, and Irene’s hands were filled with flowers.

“I’ll put these in water and be right back.” She left the boys on the step while she dashed in and filled a jug with water. She brought cookies and milk out for the boys.

They sat in companionable silence, munching on cookies and sipping milk.

Idly, Irene picked up a rock and tossed it. It clattered a few feet from them.

Harry reached down, picked up another rock, and threw it. “Mine went farther,” he said as it bounced on the ground.

Irene selected another with great care and threw it harder. It bounced across the path. “Mine went farther.”

Harry picked up a handful of rocks, stood to his feet, and pitched a rock. It zinged through the air, landing several yards away. “Farther,” he announced with satisfaction and sat down again.

Irene grabbed a rock, stood, and winged one with all her might. She waited to see where it dropped, then dusted her hand on her skirt. “Farther.” She sat down and grinned smugly.

Harry stood again. He angled his body to one side and wound up like a professional and let it fly. It landed close to the spot where her last rock lay. “Farther.” He stood over her belligerently.

“I don’t think so.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m sure your father would be shocked to hear you wanting to bet.”

“Guess so,” he muttered.

“Besides, throwing rocks doesn’t take any skill. Not like hitting something.”

“Like what?”

She grinned. “Get a tin can and set it over there on that rock.” She pointed to a flat rock about twenty feet away.

As Harry hurried to find a can, Irene grinned down at Donald. “You want to try?”

He shook his head, sucking hard on his fingers.

“Here, see how far you can throw.” She handed him a small stone.

He took it, clenching it in his fingers, his eyes studying her. Without looking, he tossed it.

“Not bad. But not good enough for a big boy like you.” She handed him another. “Try again.”

This time he looked at his stone, then toward the grass where Harry and Irene had been throwing their rocks. He lifted his hand over his head and threw the stone. It landed three feet away.

“Way to go!”

He reached out, picked up another stone, and threw it, turning to her for approval.

She squeezed his arm. “You’ve got a good arm for throwing. Here’s Harry back with a tin can. You can take turns, too, if you like.”

Harry set the can on the rock and returned to Irene’s side.

“Only small rocks,” he ordered as he filled his hands.

“Fine with me.” She selected a handful and stood at his side. “Donald wants a turn, too.” She waited for the younger boy to pick up some rocks. “You go first, Donald.”

He stood up and threw his rock. It landed short of the tin.

“Good try.” She turned to Harry. “Who’s first, you or me?”

“You’re oldest. You have to go last.”

“Go ahead, then.”

He pitched. The stone fell to the right of the tin.

“Too bad,” she murmured. “My turn.” Her rock fell closer but was still wide of the mark.

Harry took another turn, then Irene. Donald sat down, content to watch. Neither came close to the mark. Soon they didn’t bother with turns, they simply kept throwing.

“Who keeps moving the tin?” Irene asked, then threw a handful of rocks.

Harry did the same, taking a step closer.

Irene grabbed another handful and stepped closer.

Harry took two steps.

Irene followed.

Soon they were running toward the tin, pelting rocks as they ran. They were a few feet from it before the tin clattered to the ground as their missiles finally made contact.

“Yay!” Irene cheered.

Harry jumped up and down, yelling.

“What’s all the noise?” Zach asked.

Harry’s arms dropped to his sides as Irene’s heart descended abruptly.

“We’re throwing rocks,” Harry announced.

“Really? And why would that be?” He stood beside Donald, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Target practice.” Irene faced him squarely.

“And all the screaming?”

She drew herself up tall. “We weren’t screaming. We were cheering.”

“Hit the target.” Harry was as serious as she, and she shot him a grateful look.

“The tin can being the target, I gather?”

“Don’t be so superior.” She marched toward him. “Target practice is important.”

“Certainly. Can’t argue that. Never know when you might have to defend yourself from empty tin cans.” He chuckled.

“Quite so.” She paused in front of him.

“I certainly am glad to see you teaching these boys to defend themselves.”

She grinned. “It’s a job, and somebody’s got to do it.” His answering smile stirred her senses like a soft spring day.

“So who won the throwing contest?” His gaze held Irene in a gentle grasp. She couldn’t look away.

“I did,” Harry announced.

“No, you didn’t.” She sounded out of breath, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. “It was a draw.”

“I’m going to practice,” the boy said and, picking up more rocks, began to aim them at the tin.

Irene edged past Zach. “Are you here for supper or just to see what all the racket is about?”

“Could be both.”

She nodded. “The meal is ready. I put stew on before we went out to pla—” She caught herself. “Walk,” she corrected.

Behind her Zach’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Come on, Donald.” He scooped up the child. “I think we should get washed up.” He called Harry to come in.

Later, after the supper dishes were cleaned up, she joined Zach in the front room where he sat reading a farm magazine. The boys played with their toys, but as soon as she sat down, they looked at her as if they had a plan.

She leaned toward them. “What do you two have up your sleeves?”

Before he answered, Harry smiled at Donald. “Will you play hide-and-seek with us?”

She’d played the game with them several times, enjoying it as much as they. They’d played it indoors, in the trees, and in the barn.

“I’d like that. I’ll go to the kitchen and count to twenty while you and Donald hide.” She paused before she stepped from the room. “Now don’t make it too easy for me.”

His eyes narrowed, Zach lowered his magazine and watched her hurry out.

She counted out loud. “Twenty,” she called. “Here I come. Ready or not.” She stepped into the room. “Now where could those two be?”

Zach kept his head bent studiously over his magazine.

“I see I’ll get no help from you,” she muttered.

“I’m minding my own business.”

She planted her hands on her hips and spoke to the room in general. “Last time Donald hid behind the sofa.” She leaned over. “Not there.” She surveyed the room. “I’ll guess he’s. . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I see a little pair of feet.” Down on her hands and knees, she crept behind Zach’s chair. Donald’s big brown eyes stood out round as plates. “Aha! I found you!” And she grabbed him, mock wrestled him to the floor, and tickled him. He squirmed like a playful puppy.

Their play rolled them into the side of Zach’s chair. Reaching down to steady them, he grabbed Irene’s shoulder. “Careful there,” he muttered.

She stopped like she’d slammed into a wall. His touch burned through her skin into a place somewhere behind her heart. A place unfamiliar, untried. She gulped and jerked to her feet, pulling Donald with her, pushing away the enticing invitation from that unfamiliar place.

“Where do you think we’ll find Harry?”

Donald’s eyes gleamed, but he regarded her solemnly, refusing to give away his brother’s hiding place.

“Let’s see.” She pretended to concentrate very hard when in reality there were only a few places where one could hide. “He’s not behind the sofa.” She looked hard at Donald. “He wasn’t with you, was he?”

Donald shook his head.

“I guess I’ll have to look for him, won’t I?”

Donald nodded once.

Holding Donald by the hand, she edged along the front of the sofa. “Be very quiet,” she whispered to the little boy, “so we can sneak up on him.” She tiptoed to the end of the sofa, pressing her finger to her lips to warn Donald not to make a sound. She bent over and peered around the corner. “Boo!”

But Harry wasn’t there. She gaped at Donald who bounced with amusement. “Where did he go?”

Again she peaked behind the sofa. “He’s not there. Ahh. He’s tricked me. But not for long.” She edged silently back the length of the sofa, pausing at the arm. “Ready?” she whispered quietly to Donald.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling.

She leaned around the end table.

Harry leapt at her. “Boo!” he shouted, launching into her.

She let his small body bowl her over, pulling Donald to the floor with her, catching Harry in her arms as she rolled.

They came to a halt jammed against Zach’s feet.

He lowered his magazine and looked at them. “You’re all tangled up like old wire.” He lifted Donald off Irene as Harry scrambled to his feet. Then Zach held out a hand to Irene. She grabbed it and jerked to her feet, heat burning up her neck.

Zach held her hand even after she’d regained her feet. Her mind swirled with errant thoughts as he held her gaze. For a moment only she and Zach existed, the little boys forgotten as his steady, dark eyes pulled her closer and closer.

Harry flung himself on the sofa chortling. “I scared ya, huh?”

She pulled herself together, withdrawing her hand. For a moment, she pressed it to her middle, then ruffled Harry’s hair. “You certainly did.” She grabbed Donald, pulling him to her lap and laughing like her thoughts weren’t tumbling over themselves, sat beside Harry. “You bowled me right over.”

Harry nodded, pleased with himself.

Irene sobered. “But I think we should play something quiet now. Donald, why don’t you choose a book to read?”

He jumped from her lap and went to the narrow table where she had stacked some of her own books. When he chose the one she had told him was her favorite, her throat tightened. He climbed up beside her. Both boys leaned over her knees as she read.

She felt Zach’s gaze on her and glanced up, having no need to look at the page. His expression was thoughtful. She faltered on the familiar words and mustering her well-developed self-control, turned her attention back to the book on her lap.

That night, as they lay in bed in the darkness, eight inches of strangeness between them, Zach said, “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I thought I should tell you so you can be ready for church Sunday.”

She contemplated his words for a minute, then turned on her side. “What will people think when you come in with me?”

A sound rumbled from him. “I ’spect they’ll think you’re a very lucky woman.”

She chortled at his bold self-assurance. “I suppose you’re right. Am I in any danger from thwarted young ladies or their mothers?”

“It will no doubt be a full-time job for me and the boys to protect you.”

Hearing the amusement in his serious words, she laughed. “Perhaps our target practice will come to good use.”

The sound of laughter in his voice strengthened. “I hope we don’t have to resort to throwing rocks.”

But despite the joking, Irene lay staring into the darkness, a trickle of uncertainty making her muscles tense. After a few minutes, she sighed. “I suppose the worst they could do is run me out of town.”

His deep voice, very close to her ear, rumbled with sleepiness. “Why would they do that? You’ve done nothing immoral.” He paused. “At least not in marrying me.”

“I know. But people have a way of interpreting things.”

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Between the war and the flu epidemic, many families have found themselves doing things they wouldn’t have thought of under normal circumstances. Death makes us all equal.”

“You’re right, of course.” Her fears calmed by his words, she squirmed around seeking a more comfortable position.

“Lie still,” his sleepy voice commanded.

She obeyed, his deep voice sifting through her. Instantly, she was asleep.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” she said to the boys as she filled the kettle and set it to boil. “We have to get ready. Everyone needs to wash their hair.” She squinted at them. “And I think have it cut.” She fingered the scissors she’d located in the pantry.

Harry touched his hair. “You’re going to cut it?”

She laughed at his apprehension. “Didn’t I tell you I worked in a hospital where we cared for injured soldiers?”

He leaned forward, his hair forgotten. “You did? Solders? Did you see air pilots?”

“I certainly did. In fact that’s where Grace met Billy, your father’s cousin. He had been shot in the leg.”

Harry’s eyes grew round.

“He needed to rest for it to get better.” She snorted. “Not that Billy let it rest much. He was forever getting out of bed when he’d been ordered to lie still. Amazing his leg healed so well.”

“Did you see airplanes?”

“Lots of them.” For the first time it hit her how removed from the war this part of the world had been. Thankfully these little boys had been spared that horror. Losing a parent was more than enough for them to contend with. “Sometimes those soldier boys needed a haircut. I cut many a head of hair.” She set up basins and towels on the table as she talked. “Of course, they were soldiers. They weren’t afraid.”

Harry drew himself up and squared his shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now jump up here, and I’ll wash your hair; then you can sit outside, and I’ll cut it.”

He marched forward to obey.

A few minutes later she toweled his hair dry. “Your turn, Donald.”

Donald climbed up on a chair and obediently tipped his head over the basin for her. “Good man,” she murmured, and quickly scrubbed and toweled his head.

A clean towel in hand, she carried a chair outdoors. “Harry, you’re first.”

He sat squarely on the chair, allowing her to tuck a towel around his shoulders. “Are you going to cut it just like a soldier’s?”

“Of course.” Truth be told, she knew only one hairstyle. It had suited the soldiers; it would suit the boys. She bent over her task, nipping Harry’s hair short. A few minutes later she straightened. Standing in front of Harry, she tipped her head from side to side, surveying the results. “All buttons and bows you are.” She whipped the towel from his shoulders.

Harry ran his hands over his head. “I’m a soldier now.” He bounced from the chair.

Irene turned to Donald. “Your turn, young man.”

He climbed up without hesitation.

She wondered how she would disengage his fingers from his mouth but when she held the towel up to wrap around his shoulders, he folded his hands together in his lap. “Good boy,” she murmured, pleased at his cooperation.

He sat still as a rock as his dark locks joined his brother’s.

“All done.” She lifted the towel, shaking the hair into the wind. “Maybe a bird will build a nest with your hair.”

“Do they do that?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I was told.” She chuckled. “I guess you’d call it a Harry nest.”

Harry looked pleased at the idea; then the double meaning of the words hit him, and he laughed out loud, a thin, musical sound that reminded Irene of cheery birds.

Irene chuckled as she went inside to wash her hair.

She took the pins out and finger combed her hair before she bent over the basin and poured water over her head. Her long hair took more water and more scrubbing than the boys’ hair had. By the time she finished, water trailed down her cheeks and dripped off her nose. She squeezed the water from her hair and blindly reached for the towel, patting the table in an effort to locate where she’d laid it.

“Here,” Zach said, his large hand pressing it to her fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmured from behind the curtain of hair, as if it were quite normal for a man to observe her at this task. She used the time it took to wrap the towel around her head to settle the sudden lurch of her emotions. When she finally turned to face him, calmness had returned. “We’re getting ready for Sunday,” she said quite unnecessarily.

“I see the boys have been shorn.” He grinned, his eyes dark with mystery.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. It’s an improvement.” He ran his big hand over his own hair. “I suppose I could take a pruning as well.”

She snorted. “Pruning, indeed. You make it sound quite dreadful.” She grinned to show she wasn’t offended. “Are you asking me to cut your hair?”

His eyes sparkled. “Would you mind?”

Tipping her head to study him, she admitted his hair hung long around the ears and neck. “I don’t mind but let me brush and dry my hair first.”

“No rush.” He remained in the middle of the floor, arms crossed over his chest, watching her as she poured the basin of water down the drain.

She hesitated, confused by the expression on his face. “I was planning to sit outside to dry my hair.” She edged toward the door.

“Go ahead.” He followed, dragging a chair with him, tipping it back on two legs.

She hurried to the other chair, her thoughts tripping over themselves. His presence as she toweled her hair and attacked the knots with her brush unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. Why should she feel so on edge with him? After all, she’d slept beside him several nights without this sudden tingling of her nerves. Aware of his dark eyes watching her, Irene gave her hair more concentration than normal.

“It’s a fine day.”

Zach’s words, so ordinary, calmed her jitters.

She lifted her face to the sun, letting the warm breeze sift through her hair. “It’s lovely.” She filled her nostrils with the scent of pines and musky earth. “Too bad we couldn’t bottle this smell. We could sell it around the world. We’d be rich as kings.” She smiled at him, but at the look in his eyes, her smile froze.

“I wouldn’t trade places with a king.” His voice held a husky note. His eyes, steady and warm, sent a rush of warmth to her heart.

“Are you ready to cut my hair?”

Calling to all the self-discipline she had mastered through the years, she shook her hair over her shoulders. “As soon as I pin my hair up.”

“Leave it.” His words sounded strained.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Leave it down.” He cleared his throat. “It will dry better.”

She tried to think of something to say. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her heart thundered so loud she wondered if he could hear it. She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get the scissors.”

She paused inside the door and took a shaky breath. Steady, old girl, she warned herself. Her movements sure and firm, she grabbed the scissors and returned outdoors.

Zach sat with the towel around his shoulders, the edges barely covering the bulk of his crossed arms.

She hesitated but a heartbeat, then stepped to his side. “Anything special?” she asked.

He considered her out of the corner of his eye. “All I ask is you do your best.”

“Fine.” She giggled. “All my haircuts are the same.”

He nodded. “Didn’t I guess that?”

Her senses assailed by the salty, warm scent of him, she leaned closer. She had never had a chance to study him so close. From this vantage point she could see a tiny scar traversing his nose. Although he shaved every day, he had a dark shadow that emphasized his squarish jaw.

Her hand was steady as a rock, surprising, she thought, when her insides quaked like rubber as she slid her fingers through his hair to lift the strands. Stop being a silly old maid, she scolded herself. Why should she react so strongly to his nearness? After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t touched other men in her duties as a nurse.

She tightened her lips. She wasn’t a nurse here. She was a wife. Wife. The very word carried the right of intimacy. She swallowed hard and snipped a bit from the ends of his hair. Intimacy, she reminded herself, that she had given up all right to when she’d agreed with Zach’s conditions of this marriage.

Having settled the issue in her mind, she relaxed.

“Don’t move,” Zach murmured.

She froze. “What’s the matter?”

“Turn around slowly and look down the valley.”

She did as he said. Two deer tiptoed across the bottom of the valley.

“Boys,” Zach whispered hoarsely to the two playing nearby. “Look. Quiet now.”

They obeyed. Harry whispered, “Oh.” A sound round with awe.

The creatures slid into the shadows of some trees and disappeared.

“How beautiful,” Irene whispered as she turned and smiled at Zach.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t trade places with a king.” He held her in his gaze.

She returned to the haircut, her thoughts settled. She hadn’t given up anything, she reminded herself, set as she was to being an old maid. Look what she’d gained. “I quite agree. I’m privileged beyond imagination to be here.” Let him take that any way he wished.

But he remained silent.