Bittersweet (14 page)

Galen glanced up as a buckboard approached, then cringed as a terrible sound rent the air.

“Mrs. O’Sullivan!” Laney called out, scrambling to her feet.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Josh assured the group as he strode over to the wagon. “Ivy’s singing.”

“Saints preserve us,” Hilda exclaimed as Galen helped her down. “Sounds like a cat with turpentine under his tail.”

Galen fought the urge to agree. Ever since Ivy and Ishmael had arrived at dawn, Ivy had hummed the same set of notes over and over again. Galen thought she was warming up by doing her scales. If so, the scales went to an ear-splitting sharp and traded keys halfway up and halfway back down.

“Old man Tucker was a fine old man,” Ivy now sang at an impressive volume.

“I thought it was old
Dan
Tucker,” Ruth said.

“It is—or is supposed to be.” Galen helped her down.

“Washed his feet in a fryin’ pan,” Ivy continued on.

“Face,” Laney told Ruth. “It’s not feet, it’s face.”

“That’s gotta be Eddie Lufe’s kin in there, slaughtering that song.” Hilda grimaced as she grabbed a big wicker basket.

“Ishmael’s twin sister.” Galen had hoped in vain that Ishmael would come over and help Laney down from the buckboard but realized he would appear rude if he didn’t assist her now. As he cupped his hands around her waist, Galen frowned.

“Is something wrong?” Laney leaned close, and the fragrance she wore wafted over him. Fresh. Lemony.

Galen inhaled again and noted that his fingers met in the back. Slowly, he lifted her.
I’ve always thought you were a half-pint, but
you’re not. You’re tiny, but … but you’re all woman
. Slower still, he set her down and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Laney looked up at him with big brown eyes. “Nothing’s wrong?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “Don’t go in quite yet.”

Laney moistened her lips.

He’d asked her to stay here, but now Galen realized he didn’t have a reason. Other than staring at her. A man could get lost in her velvety eyes … unless he caught sight of her sweet mouth.
Why is everything about Laney McCain suddenly fresh … different … womanly?
Galen grasped at straws. “I haven’t congratulated you yet. I heard your grape jelly won second place at the fair.”

Her lips bowed upward. “Thank you. It was the grape jelly I learned to make here. Your mother deserves some of the credit.”

“Ma took ribbons for things that you helped her with.”

“She deserved them. So do you. It takes the finest quality of produce to make superior preserves. The O’Sullivan farm is flourishing under your care.”

He acknowledged her praise with a nod. Ivy started slaughtering another song, and it suddenly struck him that dainty little Laney was completely unprepared for Ishmael’s twin.

“Laney, it feels awkward, but I’m asking you to be kind to Ivy.” When he saw how his words carried an unintended meaning, he tried to soften the gruff order. “I want her to feel welcomed.”

Hurt flashed across Laney’s face for the second time in as many seconds, but she gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m sure she’s a very nice young lady.”

“She’s different.” Galen spied Ishmael out of the corner of his eye and lowered his voice. “I can’t explain it now. It’s … well … complicated.”

Ishmael reached them, chuckling. “Good thang my sis is purdy ’cuz she shore cain’t sang.”

“Good morning, Mr. Grubb.” Laney dipped her head politely.

“I’m positive Miss Grubb has several other accomplishments.”

“Yup.” Ishmael smacked his hand against one of the sugar sacks in the buckboard. “That last name of ourn suits her. Sis wrestles up the best vittles you’ll ever et. No offense to that mama of yourn, Boss. She’s got a way with food, too.”

“Laney,” Ruth called over from the porch. “The men will bring in the supplies. Let’s go meet our new friend.”

“I’ll bring in the spices.” Laney went up on tiptoe and claimed a basket.

Laney’s never afraid to pitch in and help
. He watched as she walked away, her skirts swaying gently from side to side. Galen forced himself to turn away from that feminine sight and hefted a fiftypound bag of sugar. “Grab a couple of bags, Ishmael. We’ve got a full day ahead of us. If I have my way, we’ll time it so we can come home for lunch.”

Galen followed Laney into the house. Though Laney had a kind heart and polished manners, Galen worried Ivy would shock her.

Ivy was sitting on a bench with her back to the table. Her legs were spraddled wide beneath her skirt and peeled pears bobbed in the huge washtub between her bare feet. She finished peeling the pear she held, then stood as she wiped her hands on the apron Ma had loaned her.

Ma called from over by the stove, “Ivy, these are our neighbors from the Broken P Ranch: Hilda, Ruth, and Laney.”

“Ma’am,” Ivy said to Hilda, “yore daughters’re both purdy as yearlings.”

Hilda shook her head. “I’m the housekeeper, Miss Grubb.”

“Oh, blast and bother!”

Galen tensed. He’d rebuked Ishmael for saying
blast
. Now Ivy used that same crude word in the presence of four ladies.

Ivy prattled on, “You don’t gotta get all fancy-like with me, Hilda. Yore their servant, not mine. I’m plain old Ivy.”

“Housekeeper is Hilda’s official title, but she’s like family to us,” Laney said.

“I agree with Ivy,” Ruth declared. “We’re all neighbors. We ladies ought to dispense with the formalities.”

“That suits me more’n fine. Which one of you is which?”

“Ruth recently married my brother,” Laney explained as her hand barely grazed Ruth’s sleeve, “so she and I are sisters-in-law.”

“So yore Laney. It’s good to clap eyes on you.” Ivy stuck out her right hand.

Galen held his breath for a split second, but Laney smoothly moved forward and shook hands. He suspected she’d never shaken hands with anyone. Ladies didn’t, but Laney graciously chucked the fancy finishing school manners.

“Your brother has spoken well of you.” Laney’s smile didn’t fade in the least, even though Ivy’s fingers had to be sticky with pear juice and her handshake would have done a horse trader proud.

“Mmm. You must got on some purr-fume. You smell better’n possum pie.”

“Thank you.”

Ruth stepped up to shake hands, too.

Galen set down the sugar sack. He’d worried in vain; Laney was acting as sweet as could be, even though Ivy’s greetings would make any other woman’s hair stand on end.

“Whar d’ya want me to put these?” Ishmael looked over the jelly jars at Ma.

“In the corner, please.”

Galen headed back out for more supplies. The ladies from the Broken P had come with a staggering supply of jars and sugar. They’d done the same thing throughout the summer, helping Ma make jellies and jams and put up vegetables.

Galen struggled with the whole situation. Josh always refused to accept any of the money for what Galen sold to the mercantile in town. Josh pointed out that his family got all the fruits, vegetables, and nuts they needed from the O’Sullivans.

Josh also said the jars, sugar, and spices the Broken P sent over were paltry pay for the cooking lessons Ma gave Laney and Ruth. Finishing schools had taught them social graces but left them wholly ignorant about how to get a decent meal on the table. If that weren’t enough, Josh claimed perhaps the most important result of the Broken P women coming to help was that the time Hilda spent with Ma seemed to improve his housekeeper’s grumpy disposition.

Galen wasn’t fooled. Josh knew money was tight and made up all those excuses. Galen’s pride rebelled at that.

“Onliest time I ever seed this many jars in one place, ’twas in that store in town,” Ishmael commented as he hefted another load from the wagon.

Galen nodded and grunted as he grabbed another bag of sugar. Back in the house, Laney and Ruth now bracketed Ivy. All three were peeling pears.

“Son, I’m wanting more pears.”

“I’ll be happy to fetch them, Ma, but you’ll have to give me a few minutes. When I brought in the pears, I set a bushel or two of apples in front of the rest.”

“Apples!” Hilda spun around.

Laney’s eyes sparkled. Their eyes met, and she cast a meaningful glance at Hilda. “Remember last year, Galen?” Laney’s smile took on an impish tilt. “Your mother and Hilda made a wonderful batch of apple-pear butter.”

He rubbed his jaw and pretended to ponder a moment. “Now that you mention it, yes, I do remember.”

“I haven’t had any since I’ve come here.” Ruth feigned great concentration in choosing the next pear to peel. “Why is that?”

“How do you expect a body to recall?” Hilda bristled. “That 112 was almost a year ago.”

“Trifling details like that don’t matter.” Ma stirred a pot on the stove. “Galen-mine, when you bring in the pears, you might as well bring in some apples, too.”

“Sure, Ma.”

Laney compressed her lips to try to keep from laughing. She made a tiny sound and turned it into a fairly convincing-sounding cough.

Ivy smacked Laney on the back. “You okay?”

Laney practically doubled over from the blow.

“Laney!” Galen stepped close and knelt beside her. He couldn’t fathom what possessed Ivy to be so rough. “Are you all right?”

Laney managed to straighten up. Eyes huge, she nodded.

“Knowed that’d work. A good wallop stops a body from choking.” “I … appreciate … your concern,” Laney said faintly.

Ivy looked as pleased as could be. “No need to give me yore fancy thankees. You woulda done the same for me.”

Galen rose and kept watch over Laney. Gradually, the color came back into her cheeks. Her voice almost sounded normal when she said, “I’m so glad you just happened to mention the apples, Galen.”

“If ’n you chop up apples real fine, you cain dry ’em right quick. Then, when you make oatmeal, toss some of the apple in with cinnamon if ’n you got any. Makes your mouth wanna sing ‘Holly Knew Ya.”’

“Oh, I love that song.” Laney carefully slid her peeled pear into the washtub so it wouldn’t splash.

“Mayhap you cain teach it to me.” Ivy dropped her pear in and splashed them all. “I only heared it onc’t, but it sounded real grand. Cain you tell me who that Holly gal was?”

“It’s not a girl’s name, Ivy.” Ma left the stove. “It’s
hallelujah
. It’s a special word Christians use to praise God.”

“Oh. I reckon I jist made a fool of myself.”

“Not at all,” Laney jumped in, not hesitating a single second.

“Last Christmas we sang that chorus at church. Would you like to come this Christmas?”

Galen felt a surge of pride. After the way Ivy was acting, a petty woman could have demeaned her or been chillingly polite. Laney showered Ivy with her kindness and took the very first opportunity to extend a warm invitation to worship.

Ishmael shifted uncomfortably. “We ain’t the Sunday-go-tomeetin’ type.”

“The invitation’s always open.” Galen caught himself just before he gave Ishmael a solid thump on the back. Ivy might see his example and think it was okay to hit Laney or someone else again. Instead, he gave Ishmael’s shoulder a good-natured jostle. “Come on.”

“There’s a song that has holly and ivy in it,” Galen heard Laney say as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Oh, I know that ’un!” Ivy started right in, “The holly and the ivy, when they are both full growed—”
At least she has the lyrics right even if she’s tone deaf
.

“Of all the bears that are in the woods,” Ivy warbled, “the holly scares ’em off.”

“Boss, don’t worry none. Sis’ll keep a close eye out for that little McCain gal. She looks sorta weakly.”

“Actually, Ishmael, I’m discovering Laney has a lot of hidden strengths.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
s there enough room for me?”

Laney’s heart raced as she looked over her shoulder at Galen. She couldn’t tell whether he’d asked her or Ivy.

“Shore.” Ivy scooted away from Laney.

Galen sat between them on the porch step and balanced his plate across his thighs. “Looks like you ladies are getting a lot done.”

Never before had Galen taken a place beside her. In fact, Laney had noticed he usually waited until she’d been seated before he’d take a place as far from her as he could. His nearness left her breathless.
It’s him. It’s not my stays. If it were my stays being too tight, I
would have been dizzy all morning long. I’ll wear them this tight every day for
the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to be by Galen’s side
.