Mail Order Millie (4 page)

She blushed at the reminder of the terrible meal she’d made, but was happy he liked it. The children picked up their spoons and dug in. Each of them had two helpings, but she still had enough left for their lunch the next day. She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d finally done something right. Tomorrow morning they could even have toast with jam with their eggs. She looked forward to it.

She bit into the bread, a little worried that it wouldn’t have turned out right, but it was good. A little heavier than she would have liked, but she could remedy that next time. She was feeling a little better about her prospects as a cook.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” George told her. “We’ll be leaving for church early on Sunday, so make sure everyone’s clothes are ready. My church shirt has a button missing, so you’ll need to take care of that.”

“I’ll do my best,” she responded thinking of the other chores she’d lined up for herself.

George nodded solemnly as he brushed the milk off his thick beard. “That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

Patience helped her with the dishes while George put Grace into her crib and the boys got ready for bed. Once they were done, Patience went in search of her own bed, leaving George and Millie alone in the main room.

“You’ve done a really good job today,” George told her.

She smiled thrilled he was happy with her. He hasn’t even seen his room yet, she thought. “Thank you.”

“Let’s read over the next chapter in Matthew together, before bed,” he suggested. She walked to the table and sat down beside him, bowing her head for his prayer. “Lord, help us to understand the words we’re reading together. Help us to understand you and your son as well as any human can. Help us to want to serve you and to understand how to serve you. We pray this in the name of your precious son. Amen.”

She had collected some mending that needed to be done, knowing he would want to do another Bible reading this evening, so while he read to her, she mended some tears in his work shirt. She listened to the words as he read them, but had no idea why he didn’t consider her a Christian. Maybe eventually she’d figure it out.

Millie made eggs and toast with jam for breakfast the next morning, smiling as her new family ate with gusto. “You’re a fine cook, Millie,” George told her.

She flushed under his praise, handing the baby another piece of toast. “Thank you.”

“What do you have planned for the day,” he asked.

“I’m going to churn some butter, and mend the church clothes. I also hope to get the rest of the house cleaned. I only have the girls’ room and the loft to finish.”

He nodded. “My room looks good. I meant to tell you that first thing this morning. I appreciate how hard you worked to get it clean.”

She smiled at him. He may be a little too rigid in his faith for her tastes, but he was certainly appreciative of any work she did around the house. She was thankful she’d married a man who was willing to praise her when she deserved it.

“It’s going to take me a few more days to catch up on the household chores, but then I’m hoping to put in a vegetable garden. Do you have a specific place I need to put it?” she asked hesitantly.

He nodded. “I’ll plow the area where we had our kitchen garden last year. Patience and the boys will help you with it.”

Since he seemed so agreeable, she took a deep breath and asked the other question burning on her mind. “I’d also like to make some new dresses for the girls. They’ve both outgrown the ones they have. Would it be okay for me to spend a little money on some calico?”

He shook his head. “They’ll have to make do. Maybe once the harvest is in, I’ll be able to spare the money, but for now, we just can’t do it.”

She bit her lip. She didn’t want to have to go into town with the girls in their too small dresses. She needed to be proud of her children. Why couldn’t he see that?

“All right,” she said with a sigh.

After breakfast, she and Patience set up the butter churn. They added the cream, and carefully started to churn the butter. George had left Michael and Jacob at home, because they could take their turns churning as well. Making butter was a hard chore, and one she’d never done, but had watched often.

After a little while, she got the hang of it, having the children take turns when her arms grew tired. Soon, it started to get too hard to move the stick and she took it out and looked. She couldn’t believe it. She’d actually made butter! After straining it and putting it in a dish, she had Michael take all but a small piece of it to the cellar to stay cool.

For dinner that night, she planned to make a big pot of beans and some cornbread. She’d started soaking the pinto beans right after breakfast and had decided to add a bit of bacon to them. Now that the butter was done, she put the beans into the pot and covered them with water, moving them to the middle of the stove to start them boiling. She chopped up bacon into little tiny bits and threw it into the water. Peering into the pot, she wondered if she should add salt. She shrugged. She’d taste it in a few hours and if it tasted too bland, she’d add salt. She’d never over salt anything again.

She mended their church clothes, finding small tears in both boys’ britches, and she sewed the button back onto George’s shirt. She looked at the girls’ dresses, which were fine, but they were too short. Way too short. She flipped up the hems and saw there was a bit of room, so she painstakingly removed the stitches and rehemmed them, leaving only a tiny amount of the fabric sewn over. She held them up. They still weren’t long enough, but they were better now.

She looked up when George came into the house. He looked at her sitting at the table with the clothes strewn around her. “Have you even thought about fixing lunch yet?” he asked.

She jumped up. “I’m sorry! I lost track of time.” She cut a piece of bread, and buttered it with the small ball of fresh butter they’d kept in the house, handing it to him. “I’m going to reheat last night’s stew, but I have to get it. I’ll hurry!”

He ate the bread she’d given him in two bites. He was starving after a morning of plowing. He was sure the children were hungry too. She needed to start planning her time better. There was no excuse for not putting regular meals on the table.

She ran back into the house, carrying the heavy pot. She grabbed a towel and pushed the now-boiling beans to the corner of the stove to continue cooking and put the stew pot in the middle. She stirred it constantly. “I’ve been working on getting the children’s church clothes ready, and I just plain forgot about lunch.”

He nodded. “I know. The children get hungry, though, and you need to make sure you think about lunch.”

Tears stung her eyes at his words. How could he be so mean about it? Couldn’t he look at the clothes in front of him and see all the work she’d done? “I’ll try to do better.”

She quickly buttered another piece of bread for him and set the table for lunch. Going back to the stove, she stirred the now bubbling stew. “Time for lunch,” she called to the children. The boys were outside playing in the yard while the girls were playing on the floor with a cloth doll.

George ate quickly and without speaking. He left to go back to work without saying another word. She wanted to throw something in frustration. Yes, she’d forgotten to fix lunch on time, but everyone had now eaten. It wasn’t like she’d been sitting around reading a book all morning. She’d worked hard to get the house as clean as it was, and had a lot of hard work ahead of her. He made her feel like a child who needed to be punished.

Patience got the two little ones down for her nap, and Michael had followed George back out into the fields. Millie gathered up the dirty clothes they’d all been wearing when she’d done the wash the day before, and quickly washed them and got them hanging on the line. Now that everything was clean, she should be able to limit laundry to once per week.

Back inside, she tasted the beans, and added some seasoning to them. She tiptoed into her room, careful not to wake the baby and got her recipes, so she could make the cornbread for dinner. She couldn’t wash the two bedrooms as she’d hoped to do, so she took her pail and scrub brush and washed down the walls in the main area of the house, getting down on her knees to give the floor a good scrubbing as well.

Once that was finished, she peeked in at the children, but both of the little ones were still asleep. “How would you like to bake a pie with me?” she asked Patience.

Patience nodded enthusiastically. “What kind?”

Millie shrugged. “Let’s go see what we have in the cellar.” They descended the stairs with the lantern held firmly in Millie’s hand. “What sounds good to you?”

Patience looked at the jars on the shelves. “I like cherry pie,” she said, indicating a jar of cherries on one of the shelves.

Millie smiled. “Cherry pie it is!” She hoped cherries made George break out in hives.

Millie followed the recipe she had for a pie crust, rolling out the dough carefully. It’s seemed too thick to her, but she’d followed the recipe exactly, so she hoped it would come out okay.

By the time George and Michael returned for supper, she had the table set and the milk poured for everyone. George waited while Michael washed up eyeing the table. After he’d washed his own hands, he took his seat and prayed for them.

The family seemed to enjoy the beans and cornbread. Millie was surprised her cooking skills were as good as they were, but she was also relieved. She really didn’t want to give George any more reasons to criticize her. She didn’t even look at him as they ate, instead helping Grace get the beans in her mouth instead of all over her dress.

“Dinner’s good,” George commented. “Thank you.”

Millie nodded after a moment. She’d considered not speaking to him, but that would be childish, and she was trying hard to show him she was old enough to take on the responsibilities of a husband and children.

The children didn’t say a word as they shoveled the food in their mouths quickly. They obviously liked what she was doing around here. Why didn’t George?

When she brought out the cherry pie, Jacob’s eyes widened. “Cherry pie?” he asked. “That’s my favorite!”

Millie smiled. “I hope you enjoy it then.” She cut an extra big piece for Jacob and put it in front of him. She gave everyone a huge piece except George. She made his tiny. She knew it was petty, but it made her feel better.

As they ate the pie, she watched George, still hoping for signs of hives, but they never came. Oh well, she thought. She’d eventually make something that would give him hives. She hoped.

“Tonight’s bath night,” George told them. “I’ll start hauling in water, while you bathe the children. Start with Grace and work your way through by age. Then we’ll take turns after.”

Millie nodded still not trusting herself to speak without letting words of frustration fly at him.

As soon as she and Patience finished the dishes, she turned to little Grace who was sitting on the floor playing with some empty spools of thread. “Are you ready for your bath, baby?” She picked up her and quickly stripped off her clothes. She gave her dirty clothes to Patience. “Put these in the laundry. We’ll do all the wash again on Monday.” And every Monday after that, she thought. Just keeping this family clean and fed was going to take up all her energy.

Patience nodded, taking the clothes and putting them in the basket reserved for the girls’ laundry in their bedroom. Millie had often helped with the bathing of the younger children at the orphanage, and went about the chore quickly and easily.

She plopped the baby into the tin tub George had filled with water while she cleaned the dishes. She washed the baby’s hair, singing and talking to her the whole time.

Grace splashed happily in the water, smiling up at Millie as if she were her favorite person in the world. She let out a loud squeal of protest when Millie picked up her slippery body and wrapped it in a drying cloth. “No!” she yelled, reaching back for the water.

Millie laughed. “I’m glad you like to take baths, Gracie, but your brothers need a turn.” She gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and handed the baby to Patience, who took her off to dress her. “Jacob, you’re next. Do you need help with your clothes?”

Jacob glared at her. “I’m a big boy. I can undress myself.” To prove himself, he threw off his clothes and stood before her naked. “I hate baths.”

Millie smiled. “But you understand you need to be clean for church in the morning, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

She picked him up and put him in the bathtub, talking to him as she washed his hair. “I’ll let you wash the rest,” she told him. “Be sure to wash everywhere, even behind your ears!”

She watched as Jacob reluctantly picked up the soapy cloth and washed himself. “I’d rather be like the pigs and take a bath in mud,” he mumbled.

She laughed, loving the way his little mind worked. “Mud wouldn’t get you clean, though, would it?”

He shook his head. “I hate being clean.”

George had gone into his bedroom and stepped out to hear his son’s words. “Stop complaining, Jacob. Everything is easier with a smile on your face.” He sat down beside Millie at the table. “Thanks for mending my shirt.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off Jacob. Right now she didn’t even want to look at him. Besides, how was she going to take a bath with him in here? She wasn’t going to shuck her clothes off in front of a man. She hoped he left voluntarily, because with the mood she was in, she wouldn’t be able to control her words when she asked him to leave.

Jacob stood up, and she held out a cloth to dry him. “There.” She helped him pull his nightshirt over his head. “Send your brother down for his bath.”

George stood. “I need to empty and refill the tub before Michael gets in. Jacob can turn the cleanest water into mud.” She stood and helped him empty the tub out the back door. They carried the tub together, and he started to refill it again.

Michael came down and undressed, climbing into the full tub. “Would you like me to wash your hair for you, Michael?” Millie asked him. “Or do you want to do it yourself?”

“I don’t want my hair washed.”

“That’s not an option. Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it?” she asked again.

He sighed heavily. “I hate having my hair washed.”

“It’s getting washed. Me or you?” She was surprised George hadn’t gotten into the fight, but he just sat watching the interchange from the table. She stood with her hands on her hips letting the small boy know she was getting her way whether he liked it or not.

“You.” Michael stepped into the water and sat down reluctantly. “How come my hair needs to be washed? Papa never makes me wash it.”

Millie looked over at George who was studying his nails. “That’s exactly why it needs to be washed. It’s filthy!” She quickly washed his hair and sat back at the table. These children really did need a mother. She bit back the ugly words she wanted to say to George about his parenting. Yes, his wife had died, but that was no excuse for letting his children run around filthy.

Once Michael was off in bed, Patience took her turn. She washed her own hair and Millie helped her brush it dry while George set up the tub for her. Once Patience had gone off to bed, Millie looked at George, waiting to see if he was planning on going somewhere, or if he was just going to sit at the table reading his Bible while she bathed.