Chapter Eight #2
Ella found the knife beside the bread. She had not added salt to the second pot. She added it, stirred, and looked once at David.
He was listening to Sebastian or seemed to be. But his eyes touched hers briefly, asking without words whether she had found her feet again.
She gave the smallest nod.
After supper, the cards came out. The trunk was not truly a card table, and the men had to sit crookedly around it, but no one complained.
Lula played as if cards were a battle and Sebastian as if he had already won.
Belle and Sally spoke quietly by the stove.
Maggie’s child slept against her lap, one hand still curled around the spoon he had been allowed to keep.
Mrs. Peabody stood. “Thank you so much for the hospitality, but I need to be getting my children to bed.”
Albert immediately stood. “I’ll help you home, Mrs. Peabody.”
Mrs. Peabody looked startled for a moment, but then nodded. “Thank you.”
Ella smiled at her. “Thank you for coming. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” The words were hard to get out, but they were necessary.
Ella sat on the edge of the bench for the first time all evening and realized she had been standing for hours. Her feet ached. Her shoulders ached. Her face ached too, though she had not smiled nearly as much as Lula.
Still, the room held.
*****
The leaving took almost as long as the arriving.
Coats had to be found. Boots had to be matched to the correct feet.
Someone had taken Sebastian’s hat by mistake, though since it was on his own head, no one could say who was at fault.
The baby woke, objected to the cold before meeting it, and settled only when Maggie tucked him close beneath her shawl.
Maggie pressed the empty coffee pot into Ella’s hands. “You did well.”
Ella looked at the floor where the stew had spilled earlier and left a faint darker place despite the scrubbing. “It was crowded.”
“It was warm,” Maggie said.
Belle tied her scarf beneath her chin. “And thoughtful. I have never been so grateful for a quiet corner.”
Lula hugged her so quickly Ella had no time to prepare for it. “I told you your cabin was perfect for this.”
“It was not perfect,” Ella said into Lula’s shoulder.
“Of course not,” Lula said, pulling back. “Perfect evenings are dull. This one had stew on the floor and cards on a trunk. Much better.”
Sebastian bowed toward Ella with one hand pressed to his heart. “Mrs. Sanders, any supper that feeds me twice and sends me home with all my fingers unfrozen is a grand success.”
That was too much praise, so Ella looked at the door latch until David opened it for them.
When the last guests stepped into the cold, and the door closed behind them, the cabin seemed impossibly large.
It was not clean. There were bowls stacked by the washstand, crumbs on the table, damp patches near the threshold, and a spoon under the bench. The quiet corner had a half-unfolded blanket and a cup left beside the stool. The air smelled of stew, coffee, wool, woodsmoke, and people.
Ella should have begun cleaning at once. Instead, she stood in the center of the room and looked at what remained of the evening.
It had not been effortless. It had not been charming in the way Lula was charming, bright and certain and impossible to miss. Ella had not made speeches or kept everyone laughing or turned burnt bread into a story before anyone else noticed.
But the children had eaten. Sally had rested. Belle had found quiet. Lula had laughed. Maggie had said warm as if it meant more than the stove. The evening had held because Ella had thought about what people needed before they asked.
Perhaps welcome did not have to be overwhelming.
David picked up the spoon from beneath the bench and set it on the table. “Ella.”
She turned.
He stood near the table with his sleeves rolled up, one hand resting on the back of the chair with the troublesome leg. His expression was quiet, but not hidden.
“I have never been prouder,” he said.
The words struck deeper than applause would have. Applause was noisy and over quickly. Pride, spoken softly by David in the messy cabin they had filled and emptied together, stayed.
Ella looked at the stacked bowls, the quiet corner, the cards still scattered on the trunk. “It was not perfect.”
“No.” David’s mouth softened. “It was yours.”
For a moment, Ella did not move. Then she crossed to the washstand and took up the dishcloth. David came beside her and picked up the towel.
When all the dishes were in their place, Ella turned to David. “Thank you for helping me with the dishes, and setting up. Thank you for everything. Especially understanding me.”
He smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”
Ella bit her lip, thinking. “Do you want to sleep in your own bed from now on?” she asked. She spoke a great deal more quickly than usual, hoping to get the words out before she decided not to say them.
David looked at her for a moment. “Are you certain?”
Ella nodded. “I am.”
“Then I would like nothing more.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed before she could change her mind.
She laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. But David...he even made laughter easier.