Ward hurriedly fed the boys breakfast the next morning. It had been fun to take a day off and enjoy it in Freyda’s company, but now it was back to reality. Get the crops in, do the new breaking, and guard his heart against the pain a woman could inflict.

As he’d thought before, Freyda seemed different. But she was stubborn and determined to have her own place. That left little room in her life for him and his family. He had to remember that.

“Here she comes,” Kit called, and he and Milo raced out the door to greet Freyda. Milo carried his kitten in his arms. Storm didn’t seem to mind the jostling.

Ward remained in the kitchen but the boys had left the door open and he could see them.

Freyda stopped to greet the boys, rubbing both of them on the head then stroking the kitten. Milo and Kit crowded to her side as they continued to the house. Not that she seemed to mind. She held a hand on the shoulder of each boy and laughed at something they said.

At the doorstep, she looked into the house. She didn’t see him as he lingered in the shadows and then she found him and her smile went straight into his heart.

“’Morning,” he said.

She said something in Norwegian that he assumed meant good morning.

He eased away from the wall upon which he leaned and found his hat. Right where he’d left it. “I’ll get the horses hitched up.”

“Can I try today?”

“Sure.” They fell into step on the way to the barn. He stood back and let her put on the harness and guide the horses to the seeder. She had them back up. He only had to reach out once to take her hand and show her how much pressure to use. She completed the task on her own.

“I did it. I did it.” She jumped up and down, grabbed his hands, and pulled him into her excited dance.

“Yes, you did.” He grinned. What else could he teach her to get this response? It had only been a neighborly gesture, he informed his befuddled brain, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Now if you let go, I can finish this field.”

She dropped his hands like they were hot coals. “I’m sorry. I was just so excited.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m happy too.” He didn’t lower his hand until she looked at him. She must have seen something in his eyes for her lashes fluttered and her cheeks grew pink. She grabbed Kit’s hand. “We’ll let you get to work.”

He chuckled as they headed for the house.

A little later he saw her drag out the big washtubs and fill them with water. He stopped and stared. He didn’t expect her to do the laundry. He’d get it done one of these days. Or take it to town and pay one of the ladies to do it.

He listened. Was she singing? Maybe he wouldn’t take the laundry to town if she enjoyed it that much. Smiling, he returned to his own work, though his attention went often to the yard. Soon sheets and towels and shirts blew on the line. At the end of the row as he paused, he listened. She was still singing.

The boys played nearby. He caught a glimpse of the kitten running in the grass and the boys chasing after it.

The world was a pretty place.

Freyda and the boys came out at noon to announce dinner and she stayed at his side as he took the horses in for rest and water. The smell of clean laundry filled his nostrils as they crossed to the house. Inside, savory scents brought a flood of saliva to his mouth.

He liked this arrangement between himself and Freyda and had to remind himself it could not be permanent.

After dinner, he rested a few minutes then returned to his work.

A little later, Freyda began to take things off the line. Soon the clotheslines were empty. Of course they were. That’s how laundry was done. But something about those bare lines drew his gaze over and over. Each time his heart dipped. The word empty echoed through his head.

He determined he would not look that direction again.

He was almost finished with the field. Tomorrow he could begin to do Freyda’s field. They would eat their meals there.

Would that make things different? Would it make it easier for him to remember who he was? The things he had promised himself he would never again do?

He realized his jaws hurt and forced himself to relax.

He could finish tonight if he worked until dark. Would Freyda mind staying that long?

She looked his way and he signaled for her to come to the field. She called the boys and they crossed to him.

She had brought a pail of cold water and he downed a good portion of it before he spoke. “I could finish tonight if I work until dark.”

“I don’t mind staying until you’re done.”

“You sure? It means walking home after dark again.”

Her smile was half warning. “I’m not about to break because you want to work.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

She nodded once, rather briskly. “So long as you remember that I am capable of more than people give me credit for.”

He grinned as he nodded toward the horses. “I firmly believe you can do whatever you set your mind to, but that doesn’t mean I want to take advantage of our agreement.”

“When you finish here, you start on my field, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is to my advantage to make it possible for you to finish.”

He nodded again.

“I’ll save you supper.” Milo and Kit were already halfway back to the house and she followed them.

He returned to his work. Was she anxious for him to get her work done so their agreement would end? He tried to convince himself he didn’t care one way or the other.

* * *

Freyda knew she had overreacted to his concern about her walking home in the dark and it wasn’t because of what he said. It was because of the way her heart had lurched at the idea of him waiting until he saw her lantern. She liked the idea of him answering with his own lantern. During the night, she had thought of how they could set up a communication system between them using the glow of their lights. Wasn’t that how ships sent messages to each other?

Neither of them was a ship, she reminded herself. And they had no need for communication that couldn’t occur when they saw each other.

But how often would that be once her crop was in the ground?

She dare not admit how much she would miss them.

She ironed shirts, made the beds, and played with the little boys. Keeping busy was the best way to keep her thoughts from wandering down forbidden pathways.

Milo had invented a game with Storm. He watched the kitten, then hid in the grass, though apart from his toes, he was in plain view. When the cat came near, Milo jumped out. The cat leaped in the air and tackled Milo’s leg. Milo laughed every time.

Kit watched, longing clear in his face and posture, but if he tried to join in the game, Storm got confused and quit playing.

“Kit, why don’t you make a ball out of grass and roll it for the kitten?”

She helped Kit make the ball.

Kit threw it at Storm and the kitten ran away.

“You scared him.” Milo clenched his fists and glowered at his brother.

Kit pressed to Freyda’s side.

She put her arm around him as she spoke to Milo. “He was only trying to play.”

Milo scowled at her. “He’s stupid.”

Kit shivered against her. She put him aside and went to Milo. He would have run away, but Freyda caught his arm. He tried to kick her but she avoided his feet. Seeing him about to lose control, she wrapped her arms around him from the back. “No one is stupid. People make mistakes and have accidents.” She continued to talk softly in his ear.

Milo fought her for a few seconds and then calmed. She held him until she thought he was over his upset then slowly released him.

Storm wandered over and meowed.

Milo scooped up the kitten and went to the side of the house where he sat holding the cat and murmuring to it.

Freyda turned her attention back to Kit. He wasn’t where she’d last seen him. She glanced about the yard. Where had he gone? She raced around the barn. The loft door was shut. Her breath whooshed out. No little boy up there.

The creek? Would he go there on his own?

Before she went that direction she would search the house and yards thoroughly. “Kit, where are you?”

She went into the house. She walked around the house and barn and chicken house. There were several smaller outbuildings but a quick glance didn’t reveal the missing boy. She looked toward Ward. No sign of a little boy with him. Milo remained by the house. Ward was almost at the end of the field where he would stop for a moment to rest the horses and take a drink. She gathered up her skirts and ran toward the field.

Ward looked up and smiled at her hurried approach. He glanced behind her as if checking for the boys. When he didn’t see them, his smile flattened. He took a step toward her, caught her arm as she reached him. “Where are the boys? Is something wrong?”

She sucked in air before she could speak. “I can’t find Kit. He was there a moment ago and now he’s gone.” Her words came out in a breathless rush. If something happened to one of the boys, Ward would never forgive her. “I only turned my back to take care of Milo.”

“Gone? Kit?”

“I’m sure he hasn’t gone far. But I thought you would help me look.”

Ward grabbed her arm and they trotted back to the yard. He stopped to look at Milo. “Where’s your brother?”

“I don’t know.” He held the kitten tight to his chest as if thinking his father would demand he turn the kitten over to Kit.

“Where have you looked?” he asked Freyda.

She told him.

He turned full circle, his gaze searching every visible spot. “This is not like Kit.”

“It’s my fault. I should have been watching him more carefully.”

Ward looked at her. “I’m not blaming you. I know you take care of them as if they were your own.”

Freyda nodded. She wished they were. “Thank you.” She turned back to studying the yard. Where should they look? A movement at the side of one of the smaller buildings, the one farthest from the house, caught her eye. “Ward, look.”

He looked the direction she pointed. “Kit.” He ran toward his son but a few feet away drew to a halt.

Freyda followed and she, too, stopped abruptly, wrinkling her nose at a faint unpleasant odor.

“I gots my own kitty,” Kit announced proudly.

As he came closer, they backed away.

“Son, that isn’t a kitten. It’s a skunk. How did you manage to pick it up without getting sprayed? Or bitten?”

The distinct smell of skunk permeated the air. Freyda knew it could get much worse at any minute.

Kit’s arms tightened around the furry creature. “He’s mine.”

She half reached for the skunk, but stopped as Kit held tight. “Don’t squeeze him so hard,” Freyda said. “You might hurt him.” Worse, make him spray. When did baby skunks learn to shoot off that dreadful smell? It wasn’t something she’d ever before had a need to know.

“Kit, put that animal down.” Ward’s voice was firm.

Kit shook his head. “My kitty.”

Ward looked at Freyda, silently asking for help.

She nodded. “Kit, you know that’s a baby skunk.”

“My kitty.” The animal squirmed.

“Don’t squeeze it. Kit, it’s not a kitty. It’s a wild creature. Skunks stink. You won’t like it.”

“I like it lots.”

“Believe me, there will come a time you won’t.” But she knew the child wasn’t about to be argued or reasoned out of his pet. They had to try a different approach. “Maybe your papa will let you get one of Anker’s kittens for yourself.” She glanced at Ward and he nodded. “Wouldn’t you like that? Was there one you liked really well? I think your father will take you over to choose one.” She hoped Anker hadn’t given them all away by now.

Kit looked at the skunk. After a moment he nodded and put him down. The skunk put up his bushy tail and stamped his feet. “He was hard to catch.”

Ward grabbed Kit and the three of them backed away. The skunk waited until they had retreated to the barn before it scurried off.

Ward leaned over Kit. “Let me see your hands.” He checked fingers and arms for signs of a bite. When he didn’t find any, he released a noisy breath. “That was too close for comfort.”

“Papa, when we going to get my kitty?” Kit’s expression was eager.

“It will have to wait until Sunday. I can’t afford to take time off from planting.”

“How many days is that?”

“Five sleeps,” Freyda said.

“Five? That’s too long.” Kit’s shoulders sank and, head down, he shuffled away.

Freyda watched him go and then the humor the situation hit her and she started to laugh. She stopped long enough to say to Ward, “I can just picture a pet skunk sitting on the doorstep.”

Ward grinned. “That would be quite a sight.” His grin widened and grew into a chuckle. The chuckle expanded until laughter rolled from him.

Freyda couldn’t stop laughing. Tears streamed down her face.

Ward clutched her arm. She grabbed his and laughing, they clung to each other.

He sobered. His eyes darkened as he watched her.

Her laughter ended and she met his gaze, drawn into the pleasure of a shared moment. Something fragile as a newly spun cobweb, as strong as tempered steel went from her heart to his. She could not tear her gaze away. Just as she knew that connection could not be broken. Even if they never saw each other again, this moment, this feeling, this wanting would remain.

He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “I better get at the seeding if I hope to finish.” And with that he strode away. Before he reached the horses, he began to whistle.

She turned to Milo. “I’d like you to apologize to Kit for calling him stupid. You hurt his feelings.”

Milo’s mouth drew back in a stubborn frown.

She waited, wanting the boy to mean his words, not just say them.

He sighed and turned to his little brother. “I’m sorry. You aren’t stupid. Wanna go play?”

Hand in hand, the pair ran off.

Smiling, she returned to the house and the rest of her work.

Suppertime drew near. She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked to where Ward worked. From what she could see, he still had a bit to go. She brought the boys in and fed them, setting aside food for Ward. And hoping for a time to visit him, she put aside enough for herself as well.

The sun made its way to the western horizon, filling the sky with banners of pink and gold. Freyda stood on the step to enjoy it though her glance went more often to Ward than to the sky.

Kit and Milo argued about the kitten and Kit cried. “Let’s get you two ready for bed.”

“We wait for Papa,” Milo said.

“Yes of course. Get washed up and into your nightshirts. I’ll tell you a story. Papa can put you to bed when he gets home.”

She helped them. “Why not crawl under the covers and be comfortable while I tell you a story?” Perhaps they’d fall asleep.

“Once upon a time, in Norway,” she began, and told them a story from her youth. By the time she finished, Kit was sound asleep. Milo struggled to keep his eyes open.

Freyda bent over and kissed each of them. To Milo, she said, “Papa will come in as soon as he’s home. I promise.” She tiptoed out and returned to the kitchen. There was little she could start this late in the day. She wandered from the cupboard to the stove, to the table and then to the window. Dusk had settled over the land.

She stepped outside and looked toward the field. Ward was a silhouette against the grey sky. He soon wouldn’t be able to see where he was going. He reached the end of the field and turned the horses toward home. He was done. Tomorrow they would start on her crop.

She hugged herself. With Ward’s help she would learn to use the horses and do her own work. She would achieve her goal.

Her arms tightened. Being a woman on her own had somehow lost its appeal. Oh yes, she still wanted to prove herself capable of doing something worthwhile on her own. But was this what she wanted?

Ward unhitched the seeder by the barn. He let the horses drink then took them inside to brush them and feed them. They had earned a few days of rest while her horses would now do their share. They had stayed at home since Ward had closed the gate and she’d taken to giving them a ration of oats every day.

Freyda went to the barn and stood by the door as Ward worked. “It’s nice you finished.”

“You’ll be glad that tomorrow I start on your field.”

That wasn’t why she was happy he was done. “It’s important for you to get your crop in. You need it.” She’d said it poorly. Would he understand that she was pleased on his behalf?

He straightened and looked at her. “You need yours too in order to survive the winter.” Their gazes held over the distance though it was too dark for her to guess what they revealed.

“Winter.” She hadn’t meant to whisper the word aloud. “A long, lonely time.” She imagined herself sitting in a cold room, huddled close to the stove for warmth. Forcing herself out of the house to do the chores. Spending the rest of the time alone. Perhaps she’d read. Or sew. Maybe she’d make a quilt or two. At least she had Smokey for company, but the thought did not ease the knot tightening around her heart.

She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. She would do what she must do. “Your supper is ready.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Freyda hurried back to the house. She lit the lamp and set it in the middle of the table. She didn’t have to wait long to hear Ward’s boots clatter on the step. Her insides jolted. Ignoring her reaction, she pulled two plates from the warming oven and set them on the table.

“I thought I would eat with you, Keep you company. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I appreciate it. Are the boys in bed?”

“They are and I promised you would kiss them good night as soon as you got in.”

He crossed to the bedroom and went inside, stepping out a minute later. “Both are sound asleep.” He joined her at the table, bowed his head, and asked a blessing then tucked into his food with the eagerness of a man who had done physical work all day.

“Thanks for doing the laundry,” he said between mouthfuls.

“I didn’t mind. There’s something satisfying about watching clothes flap on the line and then bringing them in and smelling that clean scent.”

His eyebrows went up. “You sound like you enjoy doing laundry.”

“I do. Same with washing dishes. I love to stand back and see them in neat, clean piles in the cupboard then look around to see the kitchen free of dirty dishes.” She sighed expansively.

He chuckled. “I had no idea housework was so much fun.”

She shrugged, half embarrassed by her confession. “Don’t you feel the same about finishing a field?”

“I suppose I do. I take pride in straight rows and the job done.”

“There you go. We’re like matching bookends.” She stuffed a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. What was wrong with her to speak that way? As if to suggest—

“We do make a good team.” He stirred the gravy around on his plate. “Too bad—” He didn’t finish. Instead, he scooped up the last of his meal and filled his mouth.

She didn’t dare ask what he’d been about to say. Afraid she would be disappointed.

Because? she demanded of her foolish heart.

With a barely audible sigh, she answered herself.

Because she longed for more than either of them was prepared to offer.

Ward finished and she gathered up the dishes and put them in the dishpan.

“Leave them,” he said.

“But I can’t. I won’t be back in the morning.” She glanced around the room and admitted to herself that she would miss coming here and taking care of Ward and the boys. Don’t be silly. They’ll be coming to your place.

But only until her crop was in the ground and then there would be no need for anything but occasional neighborly visits.

“I’ll wash them along with the breakfast dishes. You need to get home.” He pulled the lantern off the shelf and lit it. “It’s full dark. Take this. Swing it when you reach home safely.”

She wanted to argue but he was right. It was dark.

“I’ll take the lamp out when I see your signal.”

He walked her to the door, stood with her on the step, and handed her the lantern. He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. “Be safe.” Then he released her and stepped back.

She forced herself to leave the shelter of the house and the safety of his presence and made her way home. At her doorstep, she swung the lantern back and forth until she saw the faint golden light of the lamp. Smiling, she stepped inside.

She did her few chores and prepared for bed. Tomorrow things would change. And yet they’d be similar. But nothing felt the same.

Something Ward had said plagued her thoughts. Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to prove something to everyone else and decide what it is you want. She’d come all the way from Norway to get her farm. Now she wasn’t certain she still wanted the same thing.

Could she have made a mistake in coming to America?