Maryelle realized at once that Lena had determined to make her unwelcome. A glance at Katherine convinced her the younger sister took her lead from the elder. She could expect no kindness from either of them.

She glanced at Mother Brown, her back turned as she washed dishes. Whether she was aware of the situation and chose to ignore it, Maryelle could not tell.

“I’m used to work,” Maryelle explained. “I worked in the shop since I was a child and have run it on my own since Dad was killed in the war. I cared for my mother until she died.” She swallowed back tears. The pain of losing them both was still unbearable at times. “I think I’ve managed quite well.”

“That was there. This is here.”

Maryelle drew back at the venom in Lena’s voice.

“We got no need of a fancy English girl here.”

“I’m no such thing. I’m a working girl.” She struggled to remain calm, certain she had faced and dealt with more hardships than Lena. “I’d like to help.”

Katherine watched, waiting, Maryelle was certain, to see who would be the victor in this struggle of the wills; but now Maryelle was also aware of two little girls peering at them. She had no wish to upset the young ones. “I’m sure there’s some way I can help.” She stepped back, dropping her hands to her side, but her retreat was only temporary. She had not gone through four years of war, hearing over and over the cry, “death or victory,” for nothing. But one worrisome thought wouldn’t be ignored. Would the love Kingston and she shared survive a battle on the home front?

Kingston returned to the kitchen, one of Maryelle’s trunks hoisted to his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take you upstairs.”

She scurried after him, grateful for the diversion and equally eager to see their quarters.

Kingston clumped up the stairs, grunting under the load. She had a glimpse of several rooms as she followed him to the far end of the hall. Her heart turned to stone. Kingston had told her they’d be living with the family; yet somehow she’d envisioned a little flat of their own.

He pushed open the door, heaved the trunk to the floor, and stepped back, wiping his brow. “What did you bring, bricks?”

“No bricks. Sold them all before I came.”

The room was tiny with a bed shoved under a sloping roof. There’d barely be room for her to unpack her things. She crossed to the window and looked down on the hills and the road.

Kingston swung her around. “My sweet brown eyes, I know this is hard. You’ve left everything to come here, and this is all I have to offer you.”

“As long as we’re together, everything will be all right.” Hadn’t she promised herself she would face fire, flood, dangers from man or beast, anything, to be with her beloved? Their two-year separation had taught her that.

But I didn’t expect to encounter resistance from his family.

“I want to see if everything has arrived safely.” She knelt before the trunk and unlocked the latches. Throwing the lid back, she unfolded the heavy coat on top to reveal a row of pictures, all intact. She lifted one, running her fingers around the silver frame. “It’s Dad.” She held it for Kingston to see.

He sprawled on the floor, head close to her side, legs almost under the bed.

“In his uniform just before he shipped out.” She stroked the glass covering his likeness. “It was the last time I saw him.” She pressed the picture to her chest.

Kingston kissed her. “I wish I could kiss away the hurt of losing him, but I’ve seen enough death to know I can’t.”

She leaned against him. “Nothing will ever take away the pain, though already I find it doesn’t strike me as often and as hard as it did at first.”

“That’s as it should be.” He settled back, waiting.

She put aside the picture. Later she would find a place to display it. The next picture was her mother. “I put the rest in an album, but this one is so beautiful I had it framed. I’ll put Mom’s and Dad’s pictures next to each other.”

Kingston leaned over and studied the picture. “She’s beautiful.”

“It was taken very long ago. I think it was about the time she and Dad married.” Maryelle shrugged. “Before she began to age, before she gave up on life.”

“I can sympathize with how she felt. If anything happened to you, I think I would want to curl up and die.”

Maryelle nodded. “Seemed the life just seeped out of her after Dad’s death.”

He rubbed her shoulder. “It’s hard for me to think of you going through the death of both your parents before I met you. I wish I could have been there to comfort you.” His eyes were as green as a shadowed lake.

She leaned down and kissed him. “Mr. Canada, your eyes are changing color again.”

“That’s ’cause I’m feeling so bad for you.” He lingered over the kiss.

She broke away. “Don’t you want to see what other pictures I’ve brought?”

“This is much more fun.”

She kissed his nose, then reached for another photo. “You and I on our wedding day.” He had never seen it before and practically snatched it out of her hand.

“Well, aren’t we the handsome couple though?”

“And truly modest too.”

“I expect no one else will tell us how great we are so we might as well tell ourselves because, Mrs. Brown”—he leered into her face—“we are definitely great. Just look at us.”

Their foreheads touched as they bent over the photo.

“You were so handsome in your uniform.”

He jerked back. “You mean I’m not in my farm clothes?”

She giggled. “You’d be handsome in a sack.”

“I never thought of it. I’ll run right out and find me a sack and see if you’re right.”

“I’m sure I’d be very impressed.”

“You would be.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She turned back to the picture. “Doesn’t it seem like a very long time ago?”

“Being apart seemed like a very long time.” He took her face in his hands. “I’ll never be apart from you like that again, God willing.”

She kissed his forehead. “Have I told you how much I missed you?”

He put the picture on the floor beside the others so he could pull her into his arms. “My sweet wife, why is it I get the feeling that you really missed me?”

“Funny how you pick up on things so quickly.” It felt so good to be in his arms, to feel the rise and fall of his chest, to hear the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. He rested his chin against her head, his fingers twined into her hair. Finally, with a deep sigh, she pushed away. “I have one more picture I want to show you.” She reached around him and pulled it from the trunk. Without looking at it, she handed it to him.

He hooted with laughter. “Sheba. I can’t believe you found a picture of her and framed it.”

“Well, I miss her. She was my friend almost all my life.”

“Maryelle, I don’t know if you noticed, but Sheba was a cat.”

She straightened and looked at him in pretend shock. “You don’t say.”

He chortled. “A big, furry, lazy, good-for-nothing cat.”

“You only knew her when she was old. She wasn’t always so lazy. In fact, she used to play some wild games of cat and mouse with me.” She grinned. “Or perhaps I should say cat and girl.”

“Still just a cat,” he teased.

She snatched the picture from him. “Not just a cat. Not to me.” Tears welled up. She sniffed. “I still miss her.” Her voice quivered.

Kingston grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Are you crying?” There was no hiding the moisture in her eyes. He crushed her to him. “You know I was only teasing.”

She let herself go limp against him.

He placed the picture beside the others. “Sheba shall have her place of honor with the rest of the family.”

A giggle tickled the back of her throat. “She’d expect it.”

Feeling better, she sat up. “Don’t I have another trunk?”

He made a face and scrambled to his feet. “I’ll go get it, your highness.”

As he left, Maryelle sat back on her heels, cradling the pictures in her lap as if somehow she could hold the past as a shield against the present. She’d dreamed of the day she’d be with Kingston again, but never had she imagined she wouldn’t be welcomed in his home.

The aloneness she felt now was worse than what she felt that day Kingston stepped into the shop in London seeking shelter from the cold rain. He’d walked into her life when she felt abandoned by her parents and by God. Kingston brought new meaning to her life. He’d filled the empty spots with his love.

She heard his steps thumping up the stairs and dashed away her tears. There was no need to feel alone. She had Kingston.

He lowered the second trunk to the floor. “More bricks?” he teased.

“China. I packed Mother’s bone china. I hope it survived the trip.” She threw back the lid, folded back the blankets, and unwrapped the top plate. “It’s intact.” She unwrapped several more pieces. “Oh, good. I think it’s all fine.”

Kingston dropped down at her side, lounging on one arm so he could examine her face. “The question I have is, are you okay?”

She rubbed her arms and patted her legs. “I seem to be.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then you had better tell me what it is you do mean.”

His expression serious, he said, “I mean about living with my family.”

“You told me what to expect, so why would I be surprised?” Only she was. She thought they’d have more rooms; that she would be made to feel welcome.

He grimaced. “How could I tell you what to expect when I didn’t know myself? I saw the way you were treated.” He grabbed her arm. “Don’t you think I was hurt?”

Her heart went to him. He deserved better—so much better. “I suppose it will take time,” she soothed. “I was rather looking forward to sharing your family. I’ve been so lonely since Mother passed away.” She trailed her finger down his long nose. “Back home you taught me how to love and trust again. It seems so long ago, so far away. I guess you’ll have to teach me all over again.”

“Of course I’ll help.” He clasped her hand. “One thing I learned in the trenches—when everything seems dark and futile, there is still one place to turn: to God. If only we learned to turn there first, we’d save ourselves many heartaches.”

His words sifted through her troubled emotions. “Together, with God’s help, we’ll make this work.”

He pulled her into his arms, and the rise and fall of his chest rocked her gently.

“Maybe I haven’t done the right thing bringing you here.”

She jerked up and faced him. “Are you saying you should have left me in London?” She tucked in her chin. “Because if you are, I think you would find I had something to say about it. I would have come and found you one way or another.”

“No, Silly.” Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her back to his chest. “I mean maybe I should have found us a place to rent in town.”

There was no mistaking the pain in his voice as he uttered the words, and she hugged him tight. “Oh, Kingston, I know how much you love this farm, how much you missed it.”

“I guess you should. I’m sure it was all I ever talked about or wrote about.”

“Almost.” She snuggled against him. “That’s why you can count on me to make sure this works.”

She felt the tension drain from him as he buried his face in her hair. “Mrs. Brown, I love you. Did you know that?”

“I won’t expect you to remind me too often—no more than ten or twelve times a day.”

He laughed softly against her hair. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Weariness overtook Maryelle. It had been a long trip. She could gladly fall asleep in his arms, but he shifted.

“I have to go help fix the loft.”

“Not even one day for ourselves?”

“Dad will be expecting me to help.” He sounded half asleep himself.

“Umm. I suppose.”

They breathed gently in unison.

“What will I do while you’re working?” Her eyelids were heavy.

He tried to sit up, but she slumped against him. “Looks to me like you need a nap.”

“I’m feeling a bit fatigued.” It seemed her head had grown too heavy for her neck. “I’d really cherish a bath though. Where is the bathroom?”

He chuckled. “There is the outhouse out back.”

Having already encountered the accommodations he spoke of, she wrinkled her nose. “But where could I bathe?”

“In a big galvanized tub.” He grinned at her.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“First, you have to haul it in and up the stairs if you want to bathe in the privacy of our room. Then you have to heat water and haul it up.”

Her mouth hung wide.

His eyes flashed a vivid blue-green. “Then when you’re done, you haul it all out.”

“You think I’m naive enough to believe that?”

“I’m not pulling your leg. It’s the truth.”

“I suppose that makes a bath impossible then?”

He gently held her as he stood to his feet. “For now. But I’ll see that you get your bath this evening.”

“I’m awfully tired.”

He practically dragged her to bed. “I’ll explain to Mother that you’re resting.” He pulled a quilt around her shoulders.

“Umm.” Somehow she didn’t think it would matter to Mother Brown or the girls that she wouldn’t be around to help for a little while. “I’ll be down as soon as I wake up.”

“Rest well, my sweet Maryelle.” He chuckled. “See now. I’m a poet, and I didn’t know it.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and left the room.

When she awoke, she bolted upright in bed. She’d dreamed she was with Kingston. She glanced around the strange room and remembered where she was. Being with Kingston was now more than a dream that ended with the morning light. How wonderful.

From outside came the sound of hammering; from below, the faint murmur of voices. She flung herself back on the pillow. This was not the reality she had imagined. If only it could be just she and Kingston. If only she didn’t have to go down and face his family.

But Kingston wanted to be here. She crawled from bed, found the mirror over the dresser, and tidied her hair. With a deep breath to fortify herself, she headed for the stairs.

The murmur of voices stopped the minute she stepped into the room. She ground to a halt as three pairs of eyes stared at her—Lena at the table peeling potatoes, Katherine holding a sock to darn, Mother Brown rolling out dough at the end of the table.

“What can I do to help?” Maryelle asked.

Mother Brown turned her attention back to the dough, cutting it into neat diamond shapes; Katherine busily weaved her needle in and out. Only Lena returned her look, dark hazel eyes snapping, mouth tight and drawn up like a prune.

“I am perfectly capable, you know. I managed to run a business in London, after all.”

Lena sniffed. “This is not the big city. We do things differently here.”

Maryelle bit her bottom lip to keep from saying that rudeness to guests seemed one thing they did differently. But she wasn’t a guest, she reminded herself. She was family now, and somehow she had to find a way of proving herself to these women. “Surely there’s something I can do.”

“Mom, see what I found.” Lily raced across the kitchen and plunked a furry branch on the table. “There’s a bunch of them on the tree at the end of the road.”

“Pussy willows,” Mother Brown said. “Put them in a jar of water if you want to keep them.”

Lily filled a jar with water. “I like pussy willows.”

“What have you two been up to?” Lena demanded of Jeanie, who was following in Lily’s trail.

“Nothing.”

Lily bounced around, her Kingston-like eyes darting from one person to the next. “We were ’sploring. Maybe we’ll find some kittens or baby birds.”

Lena shook her head. “It’s too early. The snow has barely left.”

Jeanie lifted one shoulder. “Told ya.”

“Don’t care,” the little one said, jamming her pussy willows in the jar.

Maryelle smiled at the stubborn cheerfulness of the child. She couldn’t help wondering if Kingston had been like her when he was small.

Lena dumped the peelings into a bucket. “Here—take these to the chickens and check to see if there’re any eggs.”

Lily took the pail and rocked from one foot to the other. “She come?” She tipped her head toward Maryelle.

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. Take her with you.”

Maryelle met the older girl’s look, knowing Lena meant to put her in her place. But she didn’t care. Anything was better than feeling like an unwelcome intruder. She held Lena’s gaze long enough to let her know she wasn’t accepting defeat before she followed the child.

“Put on your coat,” Mother Brown called.

Maryelle grabbed her own coat from the hook as Lily pulled on hers.

The little girl skipped ahead, swinging the pail in a wide arc.

Jeanie stayed at Maryelle’s side, studying her. Maryelle ignored her scrutiny and focused on the bright-spirited child ahead.

“Angus says we’ll have baby everythings pretty soon,” Lily announced over her shoulder.

“Baby what?”

Lily paused, the pail still for an instant. “Baby chicks, baby calves—we already got one—baby birds.” She paused as if reciting a memorized list. “Oh, yeah. Baby geese, baby crows, baby robins.” She took a deep breath, her face brightening. “And our horse, May, is going to have a colt.” She resumed skipping, singing, “Babies, babies everywhere.”

A tattered calico cat ran under the fence and wrapped itself around Lily’s legs. The child paused to pet it. “Nice momma cat.” She tipped her head up to study Maryelle. “You like cats?”

Maryelle stroked the cat meowing up at her. “I love cats, though I haven’t known too many—just one special one.”

“One? She was yours?”

“She was mine.” Maryelle smiled at the memories of that one special cat. “My dad gave her to me when I was six years old, and she was my best friend. I used to dress her up, and she’d have tea with me.”

Lily’s eyes grew round. Jeanie inched closer.

“She slept with me every night as long as she lived.”

Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Your dad let her sleep with you?”

“He did.”

Lily turned her wide eyes to her sister. “I’m going to ask my dad.”

“You better not.” Jeanie shook her head. “He doesn’t like cats.”

“I know.” Her little shoulders sagged.

“Come on,” Jeanie said. “Let’s feed the chickens.”

“Okay.” Lily trudged toward the low building surrounded by a high wire fence.

At their approach, chickens ran toward the fence clucking. Lily backed up and handed the pail to Jeanie. “You feed them.”

Jeanie snorted. “You baby. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She took the pail and edged through the gate.

“Make sure it’s closed.”

“Big baby. I might as well check for eggs.” She ducked into the low building.

“I don’t like chickens.” Lily shook her head emphatically. “Only baby ones.”

“Why is that?”

“Baby chickens is soft and little.” Lily’s voice grew hard. “Big chickens have these huge claws.” She held out her hand with her fingers splayed to show what she meant. “And mean beaks.” Wrinkling her nose, she made a snapping motion. “I don’t like them.” She shuddered.

“Five eggs.” Jeanie slipped out the gate and rejoined them.

“Now what?” Lily asked.

“We should take them to Mom,” Jeanie said.

“But before that?”

Jeanie rocked back and forth as Lily stubbornly stood with her hands on her hips.

Maryelle watched the exchange with interest, wondering who was the stronger of the two. Finally Jeanie relented. “I guess we could do something else.” She set the basket of eggs on the ground. “We’ll get them later.”

Lily bounced up and down. “What do you want to do?” She directed the question at Maryelle, catching her off guard.

“I don’t know what there is to do.” She looked toward the barn, where she caught the occasional sound of a man’s voice and sporadic hammering. “I know. Let’s go see Kingston.”

The girls stopped motionless and turned big eyes at her. “We can’t go where the men are working,” Lily explained. “Dad won’t allow it.”

Maryelle blinked. She should have known better. It wasn’t a safe place for little girls. “I should have thought. How about you tell me what we should do?”

Jeanie continued to stare at her. “Lena’s right. You don’t know much, do you?”

Stung by the child’s words and even more hurt knowing the child overheard things said by her older sister, Maryelle struggled to control her emotions. “I guess maybe I don’t know a lot about farms, but I know other things. And what I don’t know I can learn.”

Jeanie was not about to be deterred. “What other things?”

Suddenly everything Maryelle knew and understood seemed useless in these circumstances.

“Well,” Jeanie demanded, “what do you know?”

She began with the first thing that came to mind. “I know I love Kingston very much. That’s why I’m here.”

“Lena said you stole him.”

“Oh. Who did I steal him from? Did he have a girlfriend waiting for him?” Instantly she regretted asking the child. It was no one’s business but Kingston’s.

Jeanie shook her head. “Don’t think so. But Lena says we lost a lot of our boys.”

Maryelle hid a smile at the words coming from the child’s mouth, words she was sure Jeanie didn’t even understand.

“Why didn’t you stay where you belong?”

Maryelle’s smile instantly flattened.