A Man For Honor. Emma Miller
was quiet for a moment and then said, “So what do you think?”
“About what?” She turned back to him.
“The floor? Will you be satisfied with the old wood planks?”
“How will you finish them?”
“A high-grade poly. But it still won’t cost much.”
She held up her hand. “Say no more. We can try it. If I don’t like it, I can always cover the floor again.” She lifted a heavy cast-iron kettle from the countertop.
“Let me get that.” Luke took it from her and carried it to the stove. “What’s going with those slippery dumplings?”
“Fried chicken, peas, mashed potatoes and biscuits,” she said, fighting a smile as she washed her hands at the sink. The man did like to eat.
“Mmm, sounds good. You don’t suppose you could spare a bowl of dumplings.”
“Didn’t Sara pack you a lunch?”
He grinned. “She did. But it’s a ham sandwich and an apple. Cold. Hot chicken and slippery dumplings sounds much tastier. Especially on a chilly day like this.”
He was right. It did. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of hot biscuits dripping with butter and chicken fried crispy brown. She loved to eat, too, and she had no doubt that by the time she reached middle age, she’d have lost her girlish figure. Not that she looked much like the slim, wide-eyed girl who’d married Silas King. Four children coming so quickly had added inches to her waist and hips. It was only long hours and hard work that kept her from becoming round.
“So, am I to fast on Sara’s charity, or are you willing to give me just the tiniest cup of dumplings?” Luke began plaintively.
He sounded so much like a little boy that Honor had to chuckle. “All right, all right, you can have dinner with us. But you’d best not waste Sara’s ham sandwich.” Honor began to remove flour and salt from the Hoosier cabinet she’d brought with her to the marriage. The piece had been her great-grandmother’s, and it had been carefully cared for over four generations. The paint was a little faded, but she loved it just the way it was.
“I’ll eat it on the way back to her house,” Luke promised. He tucked several nails into his mouth and finished up the last piece of trim work on the window frame. “I replaced the sash cord so the window will go up and down easier,” he said. “And you won’t have to prop it open with a stick anymore.”
“Danke,” she said. Now, if he could just do something with the ceiling. It was low, which made the room darker than she liked. And crumbles of plaster sometimes fell on them. Once, she’d had to throw away a whole pot of chicken soup when a big chunk dropped into their supper.
The kitchen was one of the worst rooms in the house. Silas had promised that he’d get to it, but he never had. The parlor, he’d remodeled. Partially. Silas had said that he was making it a proper place for the bishop to preach, but he’d never asked the bishop to come. Instead, the room had become Silas’s retreat from the children and from her. He would close the door and huddle in there with a blanket around his shoulders against the chill while he went over his financial records.
“What do you think?” Luke asked her.
Honor blinked. She wasn’t sure what he’d asked her but didn’t want to admit that she’d been woolgathering. “I’m not sure,” she ventured as she measured out three level cups of flour.
“It would save time. And I’d get more work done here because I could work until dark.”
She turned to him, realizing she had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry?”
“If I stayed at the mill instead of driving back and forth to Sara Yoder’s every day. Freeman invited me. He said I was welcome to stay in the farmhouse, but I didn’t want to be a burden on Katie. And they’re not married that long, so I think they should have their privacy. But...there’s a little house for a hired man. Just a single room. The boy who works for him still lives with his parents a mile away, so the place is empty. I offered to rent it from them, but Freeman wouldn’t have it. He says if I help them out a few hours on Saturday morning, when they have the most customers, I can live there for free.”
“It sounds a sensible arrangement, but you won’t be working on my house for long. What would you do then? Wouldn’t you be better situated closer to Dover?”
“The mill will be fine. I don’t know how long it will take to finish your house, but honestly...” He scratched his head. “There’s a lot that needs fixing around here, Honor. Some things, like that windmill, have to be rebuilt. I can’t go on using Sara’s mule. It’s not fair to her.”
“What were you doing for transportation in Kansas?”
“I have horses. A neighbor is keeping them for me until I can find someone reliable to transport them to Delaware. Freeman says I can keep them at his place once they arrive.” He shrugged. “Meanwhile, I can easily walk from the mill to your place.”
“In bad weather?”
“Rain and snow don’t bother me. After Kansas, Delaware weather will be mild.”
“I’ll remind you of that when you’re soaking to the skin and wading through mud puddles.” She shrugged. “Do as you please,” she said, but secretly she thought it was a splendid idea. Who could complain about getting more work out of a hired man? And that’s all Luke was, she told herself firmly. All he could ever be to her.
* * *
“You’re certain you don’t want to ride with us?” Freeman asked. “Plenty of room.” He stood just inside the door of the little house he’d helped Luke to move into the night before.
The small log structure stood in the shadow of the mill within the sound of the millrace and shaded by willows in summer and spring. Wood-floored and low-ceilinged, the single room contained a bed, a braided rug on the floor, a table and two chairs, a propane stove and a built-in cupboard. It was sparse but spotless with a cheery red-and-white quilt and plain white curtains at the two narrow windows. Hand-carved pegs held his coat, water-damaged hat and spare shirt. It was a solid place for a man who needed a roof over his head close to a certain woman’s house and one that Luke hoped he wouldn’t have need of for long.
Luke shook his head. “Ne, you and your family go on. I’ll be fine. I want to shine my boots and shave. I’ll catch a ride with Honor and the children.”
Freeman nodded. “I can understand how you’d rather go with them.” He grinned and glanced around the cabin. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Anything you want, you know you’re welcome to come up to the house. And we expect you to eat with us whenever the widow doesn’t feed you.”
He chuckled. “Sara Yoder thinks highly of you. And it’s not always easy to make an impression on our matchmaker. Well—” he slapped the doorjamb “—see you there. Sara’s Epiphany suppers are talked about all year. Every woman that comes brings her special dish, and we make up for the morning’s fasting by stuffing ourselves like Thanksgiving turkeys.”
“I can’t wait.” Luke remembered Honor saying something about the sweet potato pies she was planning on making the previous night, after he left and the children went to bed. “And thanks again for your hospitality,” he said to Freeman.
The miller tugged on his hat and went out, and Luke hunted up the shoe polish and cleaning cloth he’d seen on the shelf in the miniscule bathroom. He’d lost all his good clothes in the bus accident and hadn’t had the time to replace them. Until he bought a new wardrobe, he’d have to make do with the borrowed shirts and trousers that didn’t quite fit. Not that he wasn’t grateful to Sara and Hiram and Freeman for their kindness, but it was hard for him to be on the receiving end of charity when he’d been accustomed to being the one giving a helping hand to those who needed it.
Luke