Irene (War Brides Book 3) Page 11

  Slipping one arm out, she turned the lantern off and huddled back under the covers. A few minutes later, Zach entered. The first thing he did was close the window. “You trying to freeze us?” he muttered as he dashed into bed.

  Over the weeks, they had settled into an ease with each other that allowed her to shuffle about without worrying if she bumped into him. She knew he was awake as he lay on his back, his arms above the covers. She waited, knowing he would speak when he was ready, but also understanding that he didn’t always wish to share his thoughts.

  “Did you think Harry seemed—I don’t know—almost worried about Donald’s stuffed bear?”

  “I thought it a little odd.”

  “I wonder where it was.” He shuffled under the covers. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  Thunder crashed. Irene jerked to a sitting position. Before she could calm her racing heart, a flash of lightning filled the room with blue light. Another deafening roll of thunder followed closely.

  “Dad! Dad!” Harry raced into the room, pulling Donald by the hand. In the next flash of liquid fire, the boys’ eyes stood out like black coal.

  Zach lifted the covers, letting in a draft of cold air. “Wondered how long you’d be.”

  The boys jumped in, burrowing under the covers as thunder rolled down the mountains like a landslide of gigantic rocks. The sound died away, rebounding in Irene’s heart.

  The heavenly fireworks continued for a long time. Rain slanted across the window in icy splatters.

  Harry squealed with each ensuing clap of thunder, clinging to Zach. Donald burrowed against Irene, sucking his fingers with a thin slurping sound that surged in the moments of quiet to be silenced by the horrendous noise.

  Conversation was impossible. Irene hugged Donald, cradling his head, pressing her hands to his head in a futile attempt to block out the noise. His body stiffened with each thunderous clap.

  And then the lightning faded into the distance; the thunder rolled more softly.

  “It’s passed over.” Zach’s deep voice assured them all was well. Irene’s arms ached from holding the child in her arms. She relaxed.

  “Can we sleep here?” Harry’s muffled voice asked.

  “For awhile.”

  Irene shifted to make more room, reaching to touch Harry and assure him of her presence.

  Zach moaned. “It’s a tight fit for us all.” He shuffled about and threw his arm around Harry, trapping Irene’s arm beneath the weight of his own.

  Her insides shivered, but not from cold. The fluttering of her nerves trickled along Zach’s arm. His muscle twitched, but he did not pull away. Rather, he patted her shoulder and whispered, “Everybody go to sleep.”

  8

  The day was the fairest she’d seen since her arrival in Alberta; a breeze teased her with alluring scents of grass and sage, roses, and the soap scent that clung to Zach. She blocked the direction of her thoughts and forced them back to nature. The sky was as blue and clear as a fine china plate; the sun, neither too hot, nor too weak, touched her skin like a caress. Her mind shifted back to Zach.

  Stop it, Irene ordered herself. Stop tormenting yourself with aimless longings. Enjoy the day.

  “Is it really the biggest event of the year?” she asked, clutching at conversation in order to corral her thoughts.

  “For the summer, at least. I suppose the Christmas concert is equally important.”

  “What are the expectations from me at this community picnic? What will I do?”

  Harry leaned between them; Donald curled up in her lap.

  “What do you want to do?” Zach’s voice teased in a way that made her keep her eyes on the right ear of the horse in front of her.

  “There’s races,” Harry offered. He had bounced with excitement for almost a week since Addie had cornered Zach in the churchyard and bothered him until he gave his promise he would take the family to the community picnic.

  “They didn’t go last year,” she’d pointed out. “They can’t miss two years in a row.”

  “I couldn’t take them last year. I wasn’t here.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his sister.

  “That was last year.” Addie had pressed her face closer to Zach’s. “This is this year.”

  “Gets harder to fool you every year,” he’d drawled.

  “Don’t try to get me off in a different direction. I’m not letting you go until you give your word.”

  Irene grinned at the idea of Addie stopping Zach from doing anything he set his mind to. Her smile deepened, sending warm trails down her insides when Zach had met her look and winked, acknowledging the futility of Addie’s threat.

  “Guess I better give my word then, or we’ll stand here until we starve.” His gaze had lingered on Irene as he spoke to his sister. She’d felt caught in a warm, liquid state.

  “You promise?” Addie had insisted.

  He’d dropped his gaze to his sister. Irene’s legs had gone limp, but she’d forced herself to stand straight and calm.

  Addie had spun around to Irene. “It’s a picnic. We all bring sandwiches, cake, pickles—stuff like that—and share it.” She’d rattled on about the importance of the event. “Everyone goes. It’s a great time. I know you’ll like it.”

  It wasn’t until they rode toward home that Irene had begun to collect her thoughts. “It sounds wonderful,” she’d said.

  “Addie obviously thinks it’s as important as the right to vote.” His dry tone had not disguised the pleasure he had in Addie.

  “I hope I got all the instructions.” She’d repeated them to Zach.

  “Sounds about right to me.”

  Harry, upon hearing they were to attend the picnic, filled in more information for Irene. “We have all sorts of races. Even for big people like you.”

  She’d laughed at the concession.

  Small wonder she began to think of the community picnic as something akin to a coronation.

  “I still don’t know if I’m dressed correctly.” Thinking of the lawn parties back home, she chose a fine white dress and put the boys in dark trousers and nice white shirts.

  Zach ran his gaze over her length, finally meeting her eyes, a gleam making his sparkle. “I think you look very nice.” He grinned. “And appropriate.”

  Her mouth refused to function as his gaze drew her into a land of flowers, perfume, and warmth. It wasn’t until he turned his attention back to the horse that she could gather her thoughts back to the reality of Donald’s weight against her arm, the hard bench pressing into her legs, and the sharp odor of the horse.

  “I never paid much attention to what women wear,” Zach said in a slow way, “but seems to me they dress much like you for this event.” He emphasized the last word in such a way she understood him to mean it was only a picnic.

  “It’s not the crowning of a king?” She sounded slightly shocked.

  He laughed. “Hey. Far as I know, we’ve never even had the Prime Minister attend. So relax and enjoy yourself.”

  “You’re right. I intend to have a great deal of fun.” She smiled to herself. Why wouldn’t she? A long lazy afternoon with Zach at her side; the boys playing with their friends—it sounded idyllic.

  Long before they reached the grassy field, she saw the rows of buggies and horses and a few automobiles. As they drew closer, she saw groups of people scattered about the area and caught a glimpse through the trees of several others walking along the river. Upon close observation she saw many of the women dressed as she, with the older women in darker, heavier colors.

  Zach pulled the wagon into the row. He took Donald from her and set him on the ground, then reached up to help her. His hands lingered at her waist as they looked into each other’s eyes. “See. It’s just a bunch of people down by the river. Everyone’s come to enjoy the nice weather.”

  “Then why do you look so nervous?”

  “I don’t.” He shook his head. “You see too much.”

  “Don’t worry,�
� she soothed. “I won’t tell anyone.” He took the food she’d prepared and slipped her hand through his arm as they marched across the grass toward the others. “It’s only a group of people enjoying the weather,” she reminded him, squeezing his arm to say she understood. There must be many places and times when he was suddenly confronted with memories of Esther. She held her head high, determined she would do everything in her power to make this a picnic for him to remember with fondness—not to blot out Esther’s memory, but to give him fresh ones.

  He set her two boxes on a large table where others had stacked their boxes of food, then headed her toward the river. “It’s a beautiful spot for a walk.”

  She knew a walk through a set of corrals would seem beautiful if she could walk arm in arm with Zach like this. Donald and Harry traipsed after them, but she didn’t mind. They were as entitled to this time of closeness as she.

  They paused at the river’s edge, watching the water meander on its way. Harry threw rocks while Donald stood quietly watching.

  Then they turned to follow the path along the edge.

  “It’s so peaceful,” she murmured. Voices of other like-minded people drifted to them, hushed by the river’s gentle voice.

  The channel turned a little, as did the path. Irene caught her toe on an exposed root and stumbled.

  Zach caught her, his hands warm and firm on her arms.

  Her breath tightened inside her as she stared into his dark eyes reflecting mysterious light off the river.

  His hands tightened possessively. “Are you okay?” His voice seemed thick. Or was it only that her ears were clouded by the rumble of the river? The thunder of her heart? She nodded, too trapped by the light in his eyes to speak.

  He pulled her closer, his gaze searching her face. “Irene,” he murmured.

  “Time for races!” a voice boomed from behind the trees. “Everybody up to the field for races.” The voice faded as the intruder called up and down the length of the river.

  “Come on, Dad. Hurry up.” Harry jerked Zach’s arm.

  For a moment, Zach didn’t move, his eyes clouding. Irene stepped back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Did he regret the intrusion as much as she?

  Harry raced back along the path, Donald trudging after him. Zach and Irene followed more slowly. She hoped he would say something about what had just happened—almost happened. Or had she only imagined the look in his eyes?

  People bunched together all over the field as they returned.

  “Zach, you old rascal. We need someone to mark off the races. Come on and hold this rope.” A man waved his arm at Zach, extending a length of rope.

  “I’ll be right there.” Zach looked around. “There’s Addie.” He pointed to a group of young women. “Go stay with her.”

  Irene nodded though the bottom seemed to have fallen from her heart. She hadn’t thought about having to be apart from Zach. “Come on, boys. Let’s go find Aunt Addie.”

  Addie saw her coming and called, “You made it. I thought Zach might change his mind.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Addie shrugged. “Because he likes to be difficult. Always has.” She smiled. “Maybe you’ll be able to whip him into shape.”

  Irene laughed at the thought. “And what shape would you like him?”

  “Maybe it isn’t the shape I’d like to change as much as the stubborn attitude.”

  Irene gave Addie a sidelong look. “You don’t fool me in the least. You wouldn’t change a thing about him.” Nor would I. Except to have him love me.

  Addie had the grace to chuckle. “You’re quite right. I’m very proud of my big brother.” She drew Irene to her circle of friends, most of whom Irene had met at church.

  Minnie welcomed her. “Are you enjoying the picnic?”

  “Very much.” Which wasn’t quite the truth. What she had been enjoying was walking along the river with Zach. She watched him holding one end of the rope. His gaze found her among the other young women. A slow smile crossed his face, and he lifted one hand in silent greeting.

  Although she felt like smiling from ear to ear, Irene gave a slight smile and nodded. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to herself—or expose her unrequited love to others.

  Addie grabbed her hand. “Come on.” She crowded toward the center of the field. “The races are about to begin.”

  “Girls four and under,” called a man who seemed to be in charge, and mothers dragged wee children to the rope.

  Zach and his helper moved their rope to a few feet from the start line and lay it on the ground.

  At the signal, amidst a roar of cheering, the little girls toddled toward a parent or friend, though some of the smaller ones fled to protective arms, the sudden noise and all those strangers too much for them.

  As the noise subsided, Irene leaned over to speak to the little boy clutching her leg. “Do you want to go in a race, Donald?” She kept her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

  He shook his head, pressing more tightly to her.

  “Then you don’t have to. You can stay with me.”

  When the race for the little boys was announced, Addie turned toward Donald, but Irene caught her eye and shook her head. Addie nodded.

  Knowing Zach would be concerned about his son, she sought him across the distance and shook her head ever so slightly. He nodded, his dark gaze grateful, then turned his attention back to the race.

  Harry waited at the beginning line when the race for the nine-and ten-year-old boys was announced. Irene smiled at him and waved. Anyone looking at him would see nothing but a thin lad, too serious for such a fun occasion, but she saw the barely contained excitement in the way his hands clenched at his side and the quick wave he gave her before he turned his attention on the man who gave the signal to run.

  Irene bent to Donald’s side. “Harry’s going to race to the rope your daddy’s holding. Let’s cheer him on.” She yelled Harry’s name as he raced across the field.

  Harry didn’t win. He was in the middle. He paused for a word with his father before coming to her, his eyes gleaming.

  “You did great.” She squeezed his shoulder.

  There were races for every age, including one for married women.

  “That’s us.” Addie grabbed her arm.

  “I can’t.” Donald still clung to her leg, but Zach came over and took his son.

  “You win for old England,” he murmured.

  “Well, put that way, I don’t have much choice.” She let Addie pull her to the start line, surprised at how many women, some not so young, were prepared to race against each other.

  And then they were off. Irene ran as hard as she could, maintaining the lead by a slim margin. She’d almost reached the rope marking the finish line when the boys holding it took a step backward and then another, teasing the women.

  “Martin, you stop that,” one puffing woman called. “Or when I get home I’ll tan your hide.”

  “Gotta catch me first, Ma,” the unrepentant youth jeered.

  The scene tickled Irene. She laughed so hard she had to quit running. Conceding defeat, she joined Zach.

  He shook his head solemnly. “What would England think?”

  She pulled herself tall and managed for one instant to pull her lip straight. “At least I kept a stiff upper lip.” Then she broke into gales of laughter again.

  Zach, chuckling, pulled her to his side, his arm draped over her shoulder. “I’m right proud of you, Woman. You certainly know how to keep your mind on a task.”

  She grew serious for a moment. “I certainly do. My task today, as you said yourself, is to relax and have fun and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” She grinned at him, making no attempt to disguise her enjoyment—made all the more precious by his arm around her.

  He stepped away. “My turn.” He joined a long row of married men.

  She cheered unashamedly for him as he plowed toward the finish. He didn’t win. He didn’t even come close for he was far too b
road to contend with the slender, younger men. But that didn’t matter to Irene; as far as she was concerned, there was no one else in the race. She saw only Zach.

  Her gaze locked with his as he swaggered back to her side. Then she realized others were watching them, and she masked her feelings, wanting no one but Zach to see how she felt.

  There were more races—the three-legged race, an egg race where partners threw a raw egg back and forth until it broke, blindfolded races, and relays. Finally, the announcer called, “Draw up teams for the tug-of-war.”

  The men and boys quickly drew up sides then attached themselves to a long rope. She watched Zach join one team and saw how he skimmed the crowd until he found her. His eyes brightened, and he nodded. As he held her gaze, he spit on his palms and grabbed the rope. Only then did he free her from his intense look.

  Her heart so light it felt like a butterfly, Irene cheered as Zach’s team pulled the other toward them. Then when the other side prevailed, she moaned, yelling at Zach to pull. She doubted Zach could hear her above the uproar and found sweet delight in screaming his name to the sky.

  Those on Zach’s side must have been as stubborn as he, for ten minutes later, they pulled the opposing team to the ground.

  That event seemed to mark the end of the games.

  Addie, not waiting for Zach to return to their side, grabbed Irene and pulled her away. “It’s time to set out the lunch.”

  Irene checked over her shoulder, saw Zach nod in her direction, and let herself be led away with Donald at her side. Harry had found friends and gone to play.

  The table was soon covered by an abundance of food which the women had set out in order—sandwiches and pickles at one end, cakes and desserts at the other. Nearby, a barrel of water awaited the thirsty picnickers.

  The announcer called for people to gather around. He asked Reverend Williams to return thanks and then lines formed to go down the table.