Richard Murray was very handsome—there was no doubt about that. He was tall, and he had a nice smile, and he seemed quite strong. Those were all good qualities in a man. Violet hoped he found her acceptable . . . but she couldn’t stop berating herself for blurting out what she had about the species of trees on the journey. She’d stopped herself before she got carried away—the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was overly academic and boring. She had come to the Northern Territories so she would have space to be herself, but she thought it best to ease into it rather than springing it on him all at once.
The little town of Flying Squirrel was charming. She couldn’t wait to visit the store and eat in the restaurant and meet the people Richard had pointed out as they walked. He seemed to love his post, and she was glad of that—it meant he was committed, and she liked that. A man should have a sense of purpose and belonging in his occupation, and she was glad to see that he did.
“Well, this is it—this is my cabin,” he said, stopping in front of a small house some distance from the store. He seemed a bit nervous for the first time since she’d stepped off the train. “It’s not much to look at, but it’s been comfortable. Maybe we can add on or something. Maybe you’d like a parlor or a sewing room or . . .”
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Violet said, wanting to put an end to his obvious misery. She had conjured up all sorts of scenarios on the journey, everything from a mansion to a hut made of bark. Considering the types of things she had forced herself to imagine so she wouldn’t be caught off guard, this little house was very nice indeed.
He opened the door and ushered her inside. Yes, it was very nice. It was tidy, and the floor had been swept. She didn’t see any dishes in the sink, and that was a relief. What she did notice was how very bare the place was. There were no pictures or decorations of any kind. He had likely been too busy to think of things like that, or maybe he didn’t care, but that’s why he had her now.
She gulped. She was a wife. This was her cabin now.
She turned to him and smiled. “I can tell you spruced up for my arrival.”
“I didn’t want you to walk into a horrible mess your very first day,” he replied. “Well, I’m not actually very messy as a general rule, but I thought a little cleaning would be nice.”
“It is, and I appreciate it.”
A knock sounded on the door. It was a boy from the train station, delivering her trunks. Richard handed him a coin, then helped him carry in her things. When they set down her largest box, Richard made a show of rubbing his back. “What have you got in there? Bricks?”
“No, books,” she replied, then wondered what he’d think of that. Was he cringing at the thought of a wife who read?
He shook his head, and her heart sank. But then he said, “When I get transferred, maybe we can distribute the weight between your other baggage as well.”
She blinked. That was it? No gasps of horror and shock? “That’s a good idea,” she replied. “I was thinking more of packing according to category, but I could have gone about it more wisely.”
“Categories are good too, but when it comes to weight, share and share alike.” He smiled at her, then began to pull the trunk across the room toward a door halfway along the western wall. “The bedroom is through here.”
“Thank you for moving that for me,” she said before he disappeared into the other room. She didn’t want to broach the subject yet of just whose bedroom that was. Miss Hazel had indicated that not every husband insisted on sharing the bedroom the first night, and that had given her a measure of relief. But how should she bring it up? Or would he? Whose job was it? These things were so unclear.
Richard came out of the bedroom and grabbed her other trunk. “I’m just setting these along the wall for now,” he said. “You can decide where everything goes.” He paused. “I’ve already put a pillow and blanket out here for my own use. I’ve fallen asleep on the sofa plenty of times and know it’s comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she replied, probably a bit more enthusiastically than she should have. It’s not that she wanted to put him off forever—she already felt fondness for him, and she suspected that would grow into more quite quickly—but when they’d only known each other for an hour, his willingness to wait certainly made things easier.
Once her things had been put in the bedroom, she opened her smaller trunk and found her apron, then went into the kitchen to take stock of what was available. He must have gone to the store recently as well—she was able to find several things to use for their dinner. Biscuits should be mixed up first. She located the flour, baking soda, and lard without any problem, and the mixing bowls were on a shelf right over her head.
“You’ve organized your kitchen well,” she called over her shoulder to Richard, who had taken a seat on the sofa.
“I asked myself what my mother would do if she were here,” he replied with a chuckle. “That helped me out quite a bit.”
She nodded, thinking that was an excellent idea, and went back to work. In practically no time, she had fluffy biscuits and an omelette on the table, which she had stirred up with some crumbled bacon and cheese.
Richard came to the table with a hungry look on his face. “This smells amazing,” he said as he took his seat.
“Thank you for having so many nice ingredients on hand,” she replied.
Richard bowed his head and said grace, then helped himself from the serving dishes on the table. “Oh, this is so good,” he said after his first few bites. “Thank you. I cook, but I never think about things like putting bacon in the eggs or decorating with these little . . . green things like you did.”
“That’s parsley,” she said, looking at him curiously. “It was here in your kitchen—didn’t you know what it was?”
He shook his head. “Mrs. Dandy at the general store just threw it in my box when I picked up the groceries. She knew I was expecting a bride, and I guess she thought you’d like it.”
“Well, I do,” Violet said. “I’ll have to thank her when I go in.”
“You’ll like her. She does laundry and ironing for us—well, I mean, she did. Unless you want her to keep doing it, which she can . . . I just wondered if you wanted to do it.”
He was flustered again, and Violet smiled. “I’ll do the regular laundry, but I’d like her help with the uniforms, if you don’t mind. I don’t have the slightest idea how to wash a uniform.”
“All right. That sounds like a good division of labor.”
He took another bite, and Violet ate as well. It was quiet in the house, maybe a little awkward, but she liked being away from the others and having the chance to think her own thoughts without interruption. She was very pleased with how the stove and oven worked—the cooking temperature was even, and the food had turned out just as she’d hoped it would. This was a simple meal, not a wedding feast, but it was cooked perfectly and the biscuits were fluffy.
Once she’d finished her portion, she slid her plate to the side. She’d tried not to be overly anxious, but she had to know, and she couldn’t hold the question back any longer. “I wonder if you could tell me something.”
“Of course. What would you like to know?”
“Is it true that we’re north enough to experience the Northern Lights?”
***
Richard blinked. Of all the things in the world she could have said, he hadn’t expected that one. She had been so quiet since she’d gotten off the train that he felt out of his element—he was the sort who enjoyed conversation and laughter, but she seemed content to remain in her own head and simply putter around without much chitchat at all. He’d tried to strike up conversations with her, but finally just sat down and watched her work because she didn’t seem to need him or want his company. That was odd, when he’d asked Miss Hazel for someone who liked interaction, but he supposed it was just a matter of time while they got to know each other.
She was looking at him expectantly, and he had to think for a moment to remind himself what she’d said. “Yes, we do experience the Northern Lights,” he said. “They’re visible from September through April. Right now, we’re only experiencing about four hours of darkness a night, and it’s light the rest of the time.”
She leaned forward a little and rested an elbow on the table. “Really? That’s fascinating. Did your body have a difficult time adjusting to that?”
“It was definitely an adjustment when I first got here. I kept waking up, thinking I’d overslept. I’ve learned to rely on the clock and not on the sun when I want to know what time it is.”
She nodded, then glanced down at her elbow on the table and sat up straight, like she was suddenly aware of a breach of table manners. He didn’t care, frankly. As long as she didn’t put muddy boots in the middle of the food, everything else was fine with him.
When she didn’t ask a follow-up question, he said, “The other Mounties’ cabins are just a short distance away. I expect you’ll want to visit your friends from time to time—I’ll show you where they live.”
“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you. Are you done eating? I’ll get started on the dishes.”
“Violet, wait.” He needed to say something—this awkwardness was eating him alive. “I want you to know how glad I am that you’re here, and that I appreciate this meal and the idea that we’ll have many more together. I hope you feel comfortable and that you aren’t hesitant to ask for anything you need.”
She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “Thank you, Richard. I appreciate that.”
He grinned, feeling as though a seed of friendship had been planted. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.
***
Violet was so worn out that she expected to sleep deeply all night, and she did, as long as it was dark. The sun confused her, though, and she was out of bed far earlier than she wanted or needed to be.
She crept into the kitchen, trying not to wake Richard, and began some bread. She must not have been as quiet as she thought she was, though, because she heard his sleepy voice say, “Can’t sleep?”
She whirled around and made out his form under the blankets on the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No, that’s all right.” He sat up and stifled a yawn. “I was going to be getting up in about an hour anyway.”
“That’s another hour of sleep you could have had. I should have stayed in the other room and been quiet.”
“No! I mean, you’re quiet enough already. I don’t need you purposely trying to be.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Until you’ve adjusted, you’re likely to be awake at all sorts of strange hours. It’s normal.”
Violet smiled and nodded. She wondered just how long that adjustment would take and hoped she’d get enough sleep to be functional in the meantime, but it would all be worth it when she got to see the Northern Lights.
When Miss Hazel had first told her where she’d be going, she couldn’t believe it. Seeing the Northern Lights had been a dream of hers since she was a little girl, when she’d first heard that such things existed. The very words “aurora borealis” had given her a thrill, and she said them over and over again. Now she was living where they were a part of daily living, maybe even something the locals took for granted, but she knew she never would. She likely wouldn’t sleep all winter long—she’d be outside, staring at the sky.
“Violet?”
Richard had come up behind her, and his voice startled her. She’d been so lost in thought while she kneaded the bread dough that she’d been unaware of anything going on around her.
“I’m sorry to frighten you,” he said. “I was just telling you that I have an account set up at the general store, and if there’s anything you need, you’re free to get it.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Gracious—he must think she was ignoring him. That wasn’t it at all—she was just imagining what the sky would look like streaked with purples and blues like a watercolor painting. “You put in a good supply, but I might go over later just to see what they have.”
He nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll step into the bedroom to get a pair of socks—I forgot to bring one out yesterday.”
“Of course! It’s your bedroom, after all.” She watched out of the corner of his eye as he went through the doorway, glad she’d made the bed before she came out. That would have been embarrassing—wives weren’t supposed to leave beds unmade. That was very unwifely, and she was determined to show him that she was ready to take over this small household from top to bottom.