Ignoring the pain rolling through her, Maryelle answered the child gently. “Because Kingston and I want to be together, and this is his home.”

“Come on,” Lily demanded. “I want to show you the baby calf. Race ya.”

Jeanie took after her sister, with Maryelle following slowly, her heart dragging like something no longer alive. For months, years, she’d ached for the time she and Kingston could be together. Now she discovered she wasn’t welcome. At least not by his family. Her dreams had turned into bitter reality.

The girls leaned through the slats of the wooden fence. A reddish cow lifted her head and stared at the intruding humans. A calf, suckling at her side, jerked his head up and scampered away on slender legs. The cow mooed in a calming way and lumbered after her offspring.

“I’m going to call him Scamper,” Lily announced. “Isn’t that a good name?” She turned to Maryelle for confirmation.

“A most suitable name, I should think.” She couldn’t stop staring at the wide, soft eyes of the calf, reminding her of a shy deer she’d seen on a trip to the country with her dad.

The calf edged along the fence.

“Here, Calfie, Calfie,” Lily crooned until the calf was nose to nose with her. “Maryelle, come and pet him,” she whispered.

Maryelle edged forward and gingerly touched the calf’s side. “He’s soft like a puppy.” It was entirely unexpected.

The cow lifted her head high, lowing as she ran toward them. Maryelle jerked back.

Jeanie and Lily laughed. “She can’t hurt us,” Jeanie said. “The fence is in the way. She only wants to make sure Scamper is all right.”

The cow nudged the calf away from the fence.

Maryelle laughed as she looked around. “It’s so nice here.” She filled her lungs until they were ready to burst. “Everything is so fresh and clean, even the sky.” She turned full circle, studying her surroundings—the barn, the trees and bushes, the house with fields spread out behind it. “I can understand why Kingston loves this place and doesn’t want to live somewhere else.”

Jeanie straightened and fixed her with a curious look. “Where else would he live?”

“No place else. This is his home.” She vowed she would make the arrangement work. She’d find a way to break down Lena’s coldness and the resentment that oozed from the entire family. No, not everyone, she amended, sensing she’d found acceptance with Kingston’s youngest sister. A little voice in her head pointed out that Lena might not be willing to be won over. Maryelle bit her lip. In that case she would learn to ignore Lena.

Kingston stepped back. “Your bath is ready, my lady.”

“I didn’t mean to put you to so much bother.” It turned out to be a monumental task. After tea—which they called supper—Kingston lifted a copper boiler to the stove and filled it with water. “Maryelle is going to have a bath tonight.”

Lena snorted.

Kingston shot her a quelling look. “She’s been traveling for days.”

While the water heated, he lugged a galvanized tub up the stairs, Maryelle hot on his heels. He paused at the doorway. “There’s not much room.”

“You could put the one trunk on top of the other. I don’t think I’m going to be needing Mom’s china or the linens for awhile.”

“Good idea.” He leaned the tub in the hall and did as she suggested.

She spread a linen runner over the top trunk and arranged her photos on it. “My family gallery.”

Kingston draped an arm over her shoulder. “One hardly fits.” He pointed to Sheba’s picture.

“Sheba was always part of the family and a real lady.”

“Who mistook herself for royalty if I recall correctly.”

“But, of course.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Welcome home, my brown eyes.”

The tension that had mounted to explosion level during the meal eased away in his arms.

“Now about the bath.” He brought the tub in the room and carried up hot water.

When she reached to take the pins from her hair, he caught her hands. “Let me.” With fingers so gentle they made her want to purr, Kingston pulled out the pins, setting them on the bureau top. Her hair fell down her back.

Kingston raked his fingers through it. “I have dreamed of doing this so many times.” He buried his face against her head. “I love your hair.”

“I’d like to wash it, but I’d have to sleep with it wet.”

“It’s early yet. Go ahead. I’ll bring up water to rinse it.”

She leaned back against him, loathe to break off the contact.

“Your water will be cooling.” Kingston stepped away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with fresh water.”

Not until he closed the door did she begin unbuttoning her dress.

The tub was too small to stretch out in, but the water felt wonderful. She tipped her head back, reveling in its warmth. The sound of distant laughter reminded her the family was downstairs, and she scrubbed the stains of travel from her skin and stepped from the tub, wrapping herself in a robe before she bent to lather her hair. As if on cue, Kingston arrived in time to rinse it with clean water.

“I’ll get rid of this mess.” His voice was husky. “Then I’ll be right back.”

He clattered up and down the steps with buckets. When he’d emptied and dried the tub and opened the door to take it back downstairs, Maryelle caught the sound of tittering giggles.

“You two run along,” Kingston ordered.

Maryelle wished she could believe it was Jeanie and Lily in the hall, but she recognized the voices of Lena and Katherine. How long had they been there? What had they heard? Were she and Kingston to be allowed no privacy?

When he returned, he took one look at her face and pulled her down beside him on the bed. “Don’t you go worrying about those two. They won’t do anything to make me mad at them.”

“I thought they’d be glad to see me.”

“They will soon love you almost as much as I do. You wait and see.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

She laughed at his confident tone. “Would you admit it if you were?”

“Certainly. Now give me that brush.” He gently worked the tangles from her hair, blotting it with a towel as he did. “Too bad we didn’t have a fireplace in this room; then I could dry it for you.”

“Like back in London.” Her voice thickened as she recalled the blissful days of their honeymoon. “Those were the best days of my life.”

“Mine too.” He kissed her neck. “Just you and me.”

“Just you and me,” she repeated. “I wish it could be just you and me again.”

His hands stilled. “You aren’t having regrets, are you?”

Twisting around, she saw his troubled expression and cradled his face in her hands. “Hardly. It will take time as you said. And after being apart all these months, I’m not going to let anything keep me from enjoying you.” She would not admit to him she had her doubts about how this arrangement would work out. She would make it work. For Kingston.

His eyes turned solid green.

She leaned forward to plant a kiss on his mouth. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of his arms and the pleasure of his lips.

After some time, he straightened. “Your hair is going to dry all tossed up.” He turned her so he could finish brushing it. “Do you want to braid it for the night?”

“If I don’t it will look like a bundle of hay; if I do it will be as kinky as old wire.” She shrugged.

“I’ll braid it.” His touch soothed the surface of her feelings like oil on troubled water, at the same time starting a whirlpool of emotion deep within her being.

He finished the braid, securing it with a ribbon before he faced her. “I want you to be happy,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her.

“You make me happy,” she whispered before his lips touched hers.

As they prepared for bed, Kingston pulled her into his arms. “I wish I could make things easier for you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I know God will help us both. I learned to depend on Him during the war. ‘My God and my shield. My strong defender.’ That’s from the Psalms. I carried a little book of Psalms in my vest pocket and almost memorized it.”

Maryelle snuggled against him, drawing strength from his presence and his words.

“I’ve thought a lot about when we could be together as man and wife, and one thing I want to do is pray together every night. I don’t want us to have any secrets from each other or for either of us to carry burdens alone. Together, with God’s help, we can face anything that comes our way.” He looked down into her face. “Are you at ease with that?”

“Of course. I’ve tried it without God and found I didn’t like it. You know how I was when you came into my life.”

“You thought everyone had abandoned you, even God.”

“Remember when you asked if we could go to church together?”

“And you turned those big brown eyes on me and said rather briskly, ‘I’ve rather quit the habit of going to church.’ ”

Memories warmed her insides. “But you wouldn’t hear of not going. You said, ‘A man facing the Huns will need more than his wits to survive.’ And you literally dragged me there.”

He tweaked her nose. “It wasn’t that bad. You’ve got to remember I was facing being deployed to the front lines. I’m not ashamed to admit I was afraid.”

At that, she hugged him tight. “I think it was having you admit you needed God that turned me around. I know after you left, I found a great deal of comfort in taking my concerns to Him.”

“Let’s not lose that dependency and yearning for Him.”

“Let’s not.”

He took her hands and thanked God for her safe arrival and for the joy of being able to return to the farm. “And, God, help us live wisely and patiently and adjust to the new life we now face together. Amen.”

“Amen,” she whispered.

“Anything you want to add?”

She shook her head, her heart so full she could barely speak. “You’ve voiced the feelings of my heart.” Her soul was satisfied as with the finest of bread and honey. This spiritual maturity was one of the things she appreciated and loved about Kingston. It had drawn her back to the beliefs of her youth that she’d almost abandoned when her parents died. “Have I told you that I love you?”

“Not nearly enough times,” he answered before kissing her again.

She’d vowed to fit in, to ignore Lena’s behavior, but it wasn’t easy.

She’d watched the girls make bread several times. So when Mother Brown mentioned they would have to make bread today, Maryelle jumped up and pulled out the wide bowl used for that purpose, ignoring the stunned look on Katherine’s face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lena grabbed the bowl from her.

“I can do this.” She yanked the dish back.

“You think it’s so easy,” Lena jeered. “I should let you do it just to prove you wrong, but we can’t afford the waste.”

“Then what will you let me do?” Maryelle refused to back down.

“Nothing. We don’t need you for nothing.”

“Well, I’m here. Get used to it. And I need something to do besides trying to be invisible.”

Lena suddenly relented. “Very well. You can separate the milk. It’s in there.” She nodded toward the little pantry where the separator stood.

“Thank you.” She’d seen what they did—pour the milk through the clean cloth into the big metal bowl on top, set a big bucket under the bottom chute, a smaller one under the upper chute, and turn the crank. She filled the bowl and grabbed the crank. Nothing. She used two hands, and slowly the handle made a revolution; but nothing came out of the spouts. She pushed harder, and a trickle came out of the upper one, a gush from the bottom. By the time she finished, she was sweating but triumphant, until Father Brown came in and reached for the bottom bucket.

“Who separated the milk?” he yelled.

Maryelle stepped forward. “I did.”

Father Brown cast a look at Lena. “Who showed her how to do it?”

Lena smiled. “She said she could do it by herself.”

“Next time crank it fast enough to separate the cream.” Shaking his head, he took the pail outside.

Maryelle felt her cheeks warming and caught a glimpse of Lena’s exultant smile.

After breakfast, ignoring Lena’s attempts to push her aside, she carried dirty dishes to the basin of sudsy water. Katherine was about to plunge her hands into the hot water. “I’ll wash if you like,” Maryelle offered.

“It’s Katherine’s job,” Lena said. “Why don’t you go away? We don’t want you here.”

Mother Brown stepped from the pantry. “Now, Lena. That’s not necessary.”

Lena said no more, but her glare was enough to turn Maryelle’s heart to stone. She washed the dishes as quickly as she could, then grabbed her coat and headed outside, to where she didn’t know or care.

Kingston worked all day. Jeanie went to school. The women were busy refusing every effort Maryelle made to help. Only Lily seemed to have time for her. But this morning even Lily had found something to do on her own.

Maryelle stood in the yard and looked around. Behind the house was a small hill, and she turned toward it, marching past the house until she found a faint path. Her thoughts churned as she walked.

Lena was being entirely unreasonable and downright mean. Maryelle had about run out of ideas on how to cope.

She reached a plateau and paused to let her heaving sides settle down. A zephyr of a breeze caught at her hair, and she shook her head. That’s when she finally raised her gaze from the ground beneath her feet. The sun glistened on fresh green fields. Spring had come with the promise of renewed life. She filled her lungs with the sweetness of it all, and slowly calm returned.

Toward the edge of the hill was a row of boulders, and she sat on one, looking out over the fields. “It’s like an ocean of land,” she said softly, never having seen so much open space anywhere else. She folded her hands. One thing she’d learned from Kingston and had found strength in during the war was the value of prayer. “God, my God and guide,” she whispered, “help me see how to deal with this situation. Help me do what is right and not act out of hurt feelings. Be my strength and counselor.”

“What’cha doin’?”

The unexpected sound of Lily’s voice made Maryelle start. “You scared me. Where did you come from?”

The child with eyes and hair so much like Kingston’s looked at her as if considering whether or not she should share a secret, then nodded. “I got a hideout here. You want to see it?”

“I’d love to.” It warmed her to have this child accept her so easily. If only—she sighed. There was no point in wishing for things to be different.

“Come on,” Lily called.

They went down the slope to a thicket of bushes. Lily parted the bushes and crawled inside.

“You’re quite sure I can get through there?”

The disembodied voice answered. “It’s easy.”

“I’m somewhat larger than you.” Maryelle was still doubtful.

“Kingston can do it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and she ducked her head and pushed her way through.

“See—I told you.”

They were in a little clearing so sheltered by branches they were invisible from the outside. “This is nice.”

Lily waved her arm in a circle. “This is my house.” She grabbed Maryelle’s hand. “This is where my dollies sleep.” Lily pulled back a scrap of old gray blanket to reveal a row of peculiar dolls.

“Did you make these?”

Lily nodded. “My babies.”

“They’re wonderful.” Maryelle bent to examine them. One was a rock with indentations and bumps that gave it the appearance of a face. Lily had fashioned rags and branches to create a body and limbs. Several of the dolls were created from pieces of branches. Another was a shriveled apple. “I love your babies.” The dolls were real enough looking to tug at Maryelle’s emotions.

Lily nodded and covered her dolls carefully. Maryelle sat cross-legged and let the child study her. Finally Lily said, “I like you.” The way she emphasized the word I, Maryelle knew she meant in spite of everyone else. She tried not to let it bother her.

“Thank you. I like you too.”

“Oh.” Lily pressed her hand to her mouth. “I forgot to show you the rest. Come on.” She sprang to her feet and led Maryelle to another spot in the clearing. “My kitchen,” Lily announced grandly.

“How marvelous.” Maryelle was beginning to suspect Lily was a true scrounger. She’d gathered tins, bits of broken dishes, an old bucket, a crate, a broken chair, even what looked like part of a water pump.

“Would you like tea?” Lily regarded her with utmost seriousness.

Maryelle matched her seriousness. “Why, yes, that would be lovely.”

Lily pretended to pump water into a large tin, carried it carefully to the upturned crate, and set it to pretend boil. She had salvaged a broken teapot, its spout and half of one side missing.

“Mom says good tea has to be made proper. So I’ll do it proper for you.” She poured pretend water into the pot and shook it, stared long into its emptiness, poured in some more pretend water, and set the pot on a board between two rocks. She waited almost twenty seconds. “There. That’s proper.”

Maryelle giggled. “I should say it is.”

Lily set out two strange-looking cups—made of curled leaves—and poured tea.

“This is grand,” Maryelle said. “Best tea I’ve ever had.”

Lily giggled. “You’re funny.”

“Hellooo.”

Lily sprang to her feet. “It’s Kingston. He’s come for tea.”

Maryelle laughed. “Then do invite him in.”

“Okay.” She turned toward the opening. “Come for tea, Kingston.”

With a grunt and a mumbled complaint about the bushes, Kingston pushed into the clearing. “So this is where you got to.” He addressed Maryelle, but it was Lily who answered.

“We’re having tea. You want some?”

Smiling at Maryelle over the child’s head, he said, “Got any cookies?”

“I got a whole jar of them.”

“Then I’ll have tea and cookies.” He sat at Maryelle’s side, his legs folded before him. With two adults and a child in the tiny space, there was little room, but Maryelle suspected Kingston needed no excuse to sit close. “I see you’ve been invited into the royal chambers.” He turned to Lily. “I thought you said this was a secret for you and me.”

Lily stared at him, her mouth a little circle. “I forgot.”

Kingston ruffled her hair. “I’m only teasing. I don’t have any secrets from Maryelle.”

The child’s glance shifted from one to the other.

“None?”

“Nope.”

Her gaze shifted to Maryelle, her eyes asking the same question.

“Nor I from him,” Maryelle said. Unless for his own good. She had not told him her problems with his family, though she suspected he saw what went on. Sometimes it stung her that he didn’t do anything to improve the situation. Instantly she knew she wasn’t being fair. What could he do? He loved her. That was enough. Even as she told herself so, she felt a little surge of anger toward Kingston. Which she instantly squelched. It was up to her to make sure this arrangement worked out.

Lily nodded. “It’s nice not to have secrets.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Kingston said. “So when do I get my tea and cookies?”

Lily giggled. “You’re silly.” She slanted a look at Maryelle. “Isn’t he?”

Glad to be pulled back into more pleasant thoughts, Maryelle leaned toward the child. “Sometimes. But you know what?” Lily’s eyes grew round. “I like it. Don’t you?”

Lily nodded, her expression serious. “I wish he wasn’t gone so long.”

“Come here, Baby.” Kingston pulled her into his arms. “You were just tiny when I left, but every day I thought of you and I prayed for you. I could hardly wait for the day I’d get to see you again.” Brother and sister, so alike, cuddled for a bit. “Now you know what?”

Lily shook her head.

“I have to go back to work. And you, little missy, better get back home before Mom sends out a search party.”

“Okay.”

Kingston ruffled her hair, then planted a kiss on Maryelle’s lips. “Bye, you two,” he called, as he crawled out.

Lily stared at Maryelle. Then she nodded decisively. “I like him.”

“Me too,” Maryelle said. “I suppose we should go now.”

Lily shrugged. “Guess so.”

Maryelle followed the child through the tunnel. They stood side by side looking out over the scene. It seemed Lily was as reluctant as Maryelle to return to reality.

“I’ve tried,” Maryelle told herself several days later. “But nothing seems to work.” Lena did everything she could to shut Maryelle out. “I’m bored, bored, bored.” So bored, she acknowledged, she had taken to talking to herself. “Enough of this.” She stepped from her room and marched down the stairs. Somehow she would find a way to fit into this family. Kingston’s family, she reminded herself. He belonged here. He wanted to stay.