Once in a Blue Moon (21 page)

Hannah showed up to
help, bringing another washboard with her. She took one look at
Melissa and glanced away, obviously uncomfortable. Picking up a
stick, she stirred the laundry in the other pot.

No one else seemed to
think her silent entrance strange.

The children ran
around, noisy and rambunctious. Jessica, apparently finished with
water duty, played a game with her young co-worker.

Dropping the last tiny
chunk of soap into the water, Melissa stepped away from the heat
and copied the women, scrubbing at the laundry stains in the cold
water, rubbing the clothing on the scrub board, then throwing the
whites into the boiling pot.

The work was tiring,
and sweat soon cooled her body in the morning sunlight. Competitive
as always, Melissa tried to keep up with the other women.

“You have beautiful
children, Mrs. Kendal,” said Sarah.

Melissa glanced over to
where Jessica sat holding a baby. “Thank you.”

Amanda scrubbed hard at
the cuff of a child’s dress. “You must have been awfully young when
you had the twins? They must be thirteen or so?”

“They’re twelve. Yes, I
was pretty young. Only twenty-three.”

Silence greeted her
statement.

Melissa looked up to
see the women exchange startled glances. It belatedly occurred to
her that they were fishing for her age. Apparently she’d shocked
them.

Surprisingly, it was
Hannah who broke the silence. “I’m thirty-four. A year younger than
you.”

Now it was Melissa’s
turn to be startled. In looks, Hannah could be ten years her
senior, perhaps more. Apparently the hard life, exposure to the
sun, hard physical labor, and lack of hair dye and face lotion had
taken their toll. Melissa wasn’t sure what to say.

Hannah ducked her
head.

The women picked up the
chatter again, talking mostly about their husbands and children.
They seemed to live for their families, an attitude Melissa was
unfamiliar with. In her world, most women tried to conceal the
existence of families. Especially children. They didn’t want to be
pigeon-holed into the ‘not a team player’ slot at work.

The scrubbing and
chattering continued and slowly it occurred to Melissa that the
women actually seemed happy. Granted, they didn’t know what they
were missing, stuck here, living in the past, but still...they did
seem happy. A claim Melissa was uncomfortably aware she couldn’t
make for herself, or her own family.

How could these ladies
stand to live like this? And be happy about it?

Happier than she
was.

Suddenly chilled in the
warm summer air, she shook her head in denial. She must be
mistaken. How could they possibly be happier than she was? At home,
in her real life, she had everything. A career, a nice house, a
maid. And she’d be back to it soon.

These
people had nothing. This
was
their life. They were probably putting on an act
for her benefit. Or perhaps weren’t intelligent enough to realize
how miserable they were. She should pity them.
Did
pity them.

Melissa watched as
Amanda’s ten-year-old daughter came over and leaned against her,
watching her mother work. They smiled at each other, the love
between them obvious to see.

Chest tight, Melissa
turned away. She needed to stop thinking so much. The faster she
worked, the sooner they’d be done. In the meantime, she wished the
lye soap fumes would stop stinging her eyes.

She
was happy
!

She
was
!

* * *

Richard watched as
Jeremy ran to greet Jessica. The kids excitedly exchanged stories
about their day as they headed around the corner of the cabin.

Richard smiled. He was
bone weary, his muscles ached, and he felt great. And glad to be
home. He just wanted to put his feet up, relax, and enjoy his
family tonight. Walking up the steps to the cabin door, he opened
it and his smile widened at the homey scene.

The table was set for
dinner, fresh vegetables on plates in the middle. Melissa stood at
the stove cooking, and it actually smelled good. He smiled. No,
better than good, it smelled fantastic!

Slowly, he took in
Melissa’s frantic motions, her stiff back and shoulders, and
obvious agitation.

His smile died. He
really didn’t feel up to handling any emotional outbursts tonight.
He hadn’t seen his wife all day. Was it too much to ask to come
back to a peaceful home, some pleasant conversation, and a kiss or
two?

He resisted the impulse
to turn around and leave again. “Hi,” he said warily.

Melissa didn’t even
turn around. “Hi.” She threw a bowl into a bucket of water sitting
on a chair. The water sloshed, but remained in the bucket.

It was over warm in the
cabin, so Richard left the door open. He came inside and lowered
himself onto one of the chairs, stifling a groan as he stretched
out his legs. He picked up a piece of tomato from off a plate and
popped it into his mouth. All of his muscles hurt. He simply wanted
to lounge around and regenerate. He just didn’t feel up to dealing
with temper tantrums. He really didn’t.

Melissa stirred the
food again. Vigorously.

The distinct smells of
onion and meat wafted through the air, making his mouth water.

With jerky motions she
washed and dried a couple of wooden bowls, set them on the shelf,
then wrung out the cloth and washed a drip off the stove. The rag
steamed on contact.

He tried to relax, but
it was impossible with Melissa acting like a crazed Martha Stewart.
He wondered if there was anything he could say to diffuse the
tension, or if she was like a ticking bomb. Once activated,
incapable of shutting off, the explosion inevitable.

Melissa sighed
loudly.

He tensed. Here it
came.

“Richard, do you think
we’re happy?”

Ouch.
Did she mean
we
as individuals, a couple, or as a family? Whichever it was,
Richard wasn’t touching that one.

“Uh huh, sure, you bet
we’re happy.”

She
didn’t respond. She started to
wash the
window
beside the stove. He was definitely
in for a bad night. “That food sure smells good.”

“Some of the other
wives gave me some cooking tips today.”

The words were normal
enough and some of the tension left his shoulders. “Good. You’re
making friends then? Settling in?”

Melissa turned around,
her eyes flashing. She threw the rag into the bucket of water,
splashing some onto the table, the chair and his outstretched
legs.

She held up both hands,
red and irritated. “No, I’m not settling in. What I’m doing is
rubbing lard into my hands before bedtime. Lard!”

Richard pinched the
bridge of his nose. His patience holding on by a thread. Barely.
“You’re doing really good here, honey.”

She
snorted in disgust. “I
hate
it here.”

That was it: the
screechy tone, the negative words. His patience snapped as his fist
smacked the table and he jerked to his feet. “Buck up, Melissa,” he
said, his voice granite hard.

She
turned to stare at him, her eyebrows raised. “
What
?”

Richard held up his own
hands, covered in blisters, callouses and scratches. “Look at my
hands. Do you see me whining?”

“
Whining
?”
her mouth fell open.

Turning away, Richard
rubbed his temples where they’d started throbbing. He took a deep
breath, exhaling slowly. This was just great. Now he was upset too.
He didn’t want to lose his temper, and it wouldn’t help the
situation anyway. He needed to act like an adult.

He turned back and held
up a palm. “Look, I’m sorry. I love you. I admire many things about
you. But you need to shape up and get yourself under control. We’re
going to be here a while. Accept it. This could be a fun experience
for our family.”

Her face was set in
stone. She nodded and crossed her arms.

“Fun. I see. This
drudgery is supposed to be fun. Why didn’t you tell me that before?
Here I’ve been wasting my time not having fun when I could have
been having a blast! Silly you for withholding such vital
information!”

He
paced away, then came back. Ignoring her words, he waved a hand in
the air. “Think of it as one of those expensive western vacations
people pay a fortune for. I’ve never seen you shirk hard work. You
usually like a good challenge. I admire that about you. So deal
with this, and
help
me make it fun for us. Haven’t I always been there for you?
Be here for me this time. Don’t make me do this by
myself.”

Melissa turned away,
stirred the dinner furiously, then grabbing a towel, moved the pan
to the table. She slapped the skillet down hard, making the dishes
jump. “I’m trying to get a job as a cook in town. I’m planning to
help.” She gestured with a wooden spoon toward the food. “Don’t you
see me learning to cook so I can get a job?”

Richard made an impatient gesture. “Melissa, you asked if
we’re happy. Well I’m going to tell you the truth as I see it. I’m
happy, but you’re not, and I can’t make you happy. The kids can’t
make you happy, and getting a job as a short-order cook
surely
isn’t going to
make you happy! Only you can do that. I don’t need or want you to
get a job in town. I need you here. I am more than willing to break
my back making a living for us.”

Melissa snorted. “For
thirty dollars a month?”

Richard gritted his
teeth. “Yes Melissa, for thirty dollars. And what I need from you,
is to make our lives worth living. I need to have someone here when
I get home at the end of the day. I need you to have the chores
mostly done, so I can come home and relax with you. I need someone
here that I’m glad to come home to at night.”

Melissa’s eyes
narrowed. “What are you saying? That you want someone else?”

He slashed a hand
through the air. “Don’t twist my words! I want you. But I need you
to keep our family running smoothly. Be here for the kids and for
me.”

He ran both hands
through his hair. “Look, just take a break, honey. Make some good
friends. Have some fun while we’re here! It’s for less than three
months.”

Melissa’s jaw was stiff
and tears stood out in her eyes.

Richard groaned, and
hugged Melissa to him.

She resisted at first,
then sighed and sank against him, sniffling.

They stood locked
together for several minutes.

Richard tightened his
hold. “So you made some friends today? I’m proud of you.”

She
sniffed again. “
I
didn’t do anything. They approached me. I think they just
wanted someone to boss around while they did laundry.” She
shrugged. “I have nothing in common with them. Besides, they’re all
a decade younger than me. Well, except for Hannah.”

“So, what about Hannah?
Why don’t you become friends with her?”

Melissa pushed away
from his chest, looking horrified.

“Are you serious? Have
you seen her? She’s so...frumpy. Besides that, she hates me.”

“Sounds like a
challenge to me.”

Slowly her expression
turned thoughtful. “Well, it would be, wouldn’t it?”

Richard grinned at her.
“That-a-girl. Look at her like a client you need to win over.”

Determination entered
her eyes.

Richard’s grin widened.
It was going to be all right. They’d just needed to clear the air.
He looked at the dinner on the table. Diced potatoes, onions, eggs
and some kind of meat all scrambled together. His stomach
rumbled.

They both laughed.

“Shall I go call the
kids in for dinner?” asked Richard.

Melissa glanced at the
food on the table, then gave him a challenging look. “That
depends.” She pinched the tender skin on the inside of his upper
arm. “Am I a whiner?”

“Ow, ow, ow! No! No,
you’re not! Absolutely not! I must have confused you with the
whiner who lives down the road. You have my sincerest and most
humble apology.”

Melissa let go of his
arm.

“All right then. Call
the kids and we’ll eat.”

Richard smiled as he
turned away.

“And wash your
hands!”

Richard turned back and
saluted her. “Yes, ma’am!”

He heard her chuckle as
he bounded down the steps.

Yep, everything was
just fine.

* * *

Later that night,
Melissa lay in bed and listened to the crickets chirping outside.
Heck, they were probably inside.

Richard was wrapped
around her, dead to the world, breathing softly onto her neck.

She envied him his
ability to sleep.

Shifting, she tried to
get more comfortable on the hard mattress. What it was stuffed
with, she didn’t even want to guess at.

In an attempt to fall
asleep, Melissa closed her eyes and started to design a new dress
in her head. After a moment she realized it had a high-necked lace
collar. Her eyes popped open. Even her creativity was being
contaminated by the past!

She pushed the horrible
image aside and turned her thoughts toward Richard’s earlier
comments. He was fed up with her, that was clear enough. She’d
pretended at happiness all evening, trying to prove she wasn’t the
discontented person Richard accused her of being. But now, lying in
bed, she acknowledged it had simply been an act.

Richard said she was
the only one who could make herself happy. But how? How did she do
that? Was there some magic formula that the rest of the world knew
about that she didn’t?