CHAPTER EIGHT
Eleven o’clock, and Elisabeth was exhausted, more mentally than physically, but she still had a full day of chores ahead of her.
That didn’t bode well. She ushered the kids out of the Suburban.
Word of her new hired hand had spread faster than mold growing on berries.
As soon as she’d entered the church, the barrage of questions had made her want to turn and run home.
She didn’t know enough about Henry Davenport to provide adequate answers, which only added to her friends’ and neighbors’ concerns. It was difficult when everyone in Berry Patch considered themselves extended family.
But she couldn’t worry about them. Elisabeth had her hands full with her own family. They had to be her only concern. Not small-town curiosity. Not her gawking, lovesick behavior this morning in Sam’s bedroom.
Heaven help her.
Seeing the shadows of Henry’s lashes on his cheeks, the scruff of whiskers on his face, and the rise and fall of his bare chest had made Elisabeth feel all fluttery inside. But fluttery didn’t cut it. Not one bit. That was why she concentrated extra hard on Pastor Haskell’s sermon this morning.
Caitlin tugged on her hand. “Let’s play in the creek!”
“What creek?” Elisabeth asked.
Caitlin pointed at a stream of water rushing from her vegetable garden. “That one.”
“Oh no.” Elisabeth ran, squishing through the mud and pooling water in her only pair of dress shoes.
Forget about the shoes. They were dirty, but that was the least of her problems. She would have to replant because they lived off the food they grew, even during the rainy autumn and winter seasons. She shut off the spigot.
How could this have happened? Turning off the water was the first thing on her to-do list for Henry.
“Is it bad?” Sam asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Yes, it was bad, but the kids didn’t need to know the truth. Life was hard enough for them already.
She struggled against the frustration seizing control of her. She couldn’t lose it. Not in front of her brother and sisters. Elisabeth shrugged, hoping that put them at ease. “We’ll have to replant a few things.”
“I like to plant seeds.” Caitlin bent over near the edge of the flooded garden.
Elisabeth reached for her sister. “Be careful—”
Plop. Caitlin fell knees-first and sank into the mud.
“Owwww.” Crocodile tears streamed down her cheeks. “My knee. My pretty dress. And tights. Th-they’re ruined.”
Elisabeth picked her up. “We can wash the tights and the dress.”
“I’m b-bleeding.” Caitlin sniffled. “I need a bandage.”
“Yes, you do.” Bandages usually made any boo-boo feel better, whether they were needed or not. “When we get inside...”
“The house is on fire.” Panic filled Abby’s voice.
“Fire!” Sam screamed, only to be drowned out by the screeching smoke detector.
Smoke, thick and black, billowed out the kitchen window.
Elisabeth set Caitlin on her feet, away from the mud. “Grab the hose, Sam. Keep Caitlin away, Abby.”
As Elisabeth ran to the house calling for Henry, her heart pounded. Everything they owned, including every photograph of their parents, was in the house. But so was a living, breathing person.
“Henry!” She yelled the name again. And again.
The back door flew open. Smoke, not as much as before, filtered out. The smoke detector fell silent.
Henry stood in the doorway, a burned towel in his hand. “Did you have a nice time at church?”
Who could think of church at a time like this? Elisabeth’s heart rate had yet to slow down. Henry, however, seemed unaffected by any of this. That bothered her. A lot. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing her apron, and it was covered with…
She wasn’t sure what it was. “What’s going on?”
Her voice was steady and calm, not high-pitched. The house had been on fire, and she hadn’t lost it. A definite improvement compared to her reaction to Sam’s failing grade on last week’s math test.
“I wanted eggs Benedict for breakfast,” Henry said.
Caitlin frowned. “Sounds yucky.”
Abby got a thoughtful expression on her face. “They say Benedict Arnold was a traitor, but there’s compelling evidence to suggest—”
“Quiet,” Elisabeth ordered. “What happened?”
“I was making myself breakfast,” Henry explained.
“I love eggs Benedict, but I don’t know how to make a hollandaise sauce, so I figured an omelet and toast would be a good substitute.
But I realized I don’t know how to make an omelet either.
Or toast. I’m not much of a cook. In fact, I’ve never cooked in my life. ”
His knock-your-socks-off smile sent her pulse climbing again.
Elisabeth didn’t like that. Or him. He was so much like Toby, a boy who would never grow up.
“First, you flood my garden, and then you try to burn down my house by cooking when you don’t know how to cook.
What’s next? Do you have a swarm of locusts packed away in your bag that you’ll let loose on the crops? ”
He furrowed his brow. “What flood?”
“I asked you to turn off the water when you got up. It was the first thing on the list I left for you on the kitchen table.”
“I was going to read the list after I ate breakfast.” He stared at the singed towel. “I just got up.”
Her jaw dropped. “It’s after eleven.”
“I generally sleep in on weekends.”
Now, she was going to lose it. Her temper bubbled up. She bit the inside of her cheek and counted backward from ten. It didn’t help.
Sam ran toward the kitchen door with a garden hose in his hands. Water dripped from the hand trigger. “Where’s the fire?”
“I wouldn’t call it a real fire,” Henry said. “The flames only licked the ceiling.”
“What’s with the apron?” Sam asked.
“He was cooking breakfast,” Caitlin answered.
“Doesn’t Henry look like Daddy did when he wore Mommy’s apron to make us cinnamon rolls?” Abby asked.
A rare smile lit up Sam’s face. “Dad burned them.”
Caitlin giggled. “Just like Henry.”
Abby laughed. “The fire alarm went off. Smoke was everywhere. It smelled bad. Mommy was so mad.”
Caitlin giggled again. “Just like Elisabeth.”
The smiles disappeared. The laughter, too. Mommy and Daddy weren’t ever coming home again, and it was Elisabeth’s fault. A heaviness settled on her heart.
“I’d better put the hose away,” Sam muttered.
Abby took Caitlin’s hand and they followed their brother. “We’ll go with you.”
Elisabeth stared at the slumped shoulders of the three people she loved most in this world. No matter how hard she tried, she could never take the place of their parents.
“I’m sorry about the plants,” Henry said.
Me, too.
Words weren’t enough. They didn’t have enough money to afford fresh fruit and vegetables at the grocery store. That was why they grew their own. “You’ll have to replant the garden. We count on that food.”
“Of course,” he said.
As she turned, her gaze caught his. Looking into his eyes made her feel warm and tingly. What was she doing? What was she feeling? Henry was way more trouble than he was worth. She didn’t need any more problems than the ones she already had.
“Is there anything you want me to do?” he asked.
“I left you a list.”
“I’m going to get to it.” He flashed a killer smile. “But I thought there might be something you wanted me to do first.”
“There is.” Elisabeth refused to be charmed. She squared her shoulders. “Clean up this mess.”
* * *
Cleaning up his mess wasn’t so easy to do. Especially when Henry had to use rags. Dirty, disgusting rags. He tried and failed to find a clean spot on the one he held.
“Do you have any paper towels?” he asked.
Elisabeth stopped putting sliced vegetables into a slow cooker—that was what she called it—and tossed him another rag. “These are more cost-effective.”
That might be true, but they were also gross. He could buy a lot of paper towels with his twenty-dollar bill.
Maybe paper towels would bring a smile to Elisabeth’s face.
She was upset with him. He might not know farming, but he knew women.
The way she kept glancing over at him and pressing her full lips together were telltale signs.
No problem. He’d gotten off to a rocky start, but he’d learned his lesson—no more cooking.
Before the day was over, she would have a different opinion of him.
Henry scrubbed at the stovetop, but the burn marks wouldn’t come off. At this rate, he would be there all day. Of course, that didn’t surprise him. The only thing he knew how to clean was himself.
Until this morning, Henry hadn’t realized how much he relied on his household staff.
He was totally dependent upon them yet had taken them for granted his entire life.
He didn’t have to cook or clean or even pay his bills.
Someone else did that for him. Someone else did everything for him.
Whatever Henry wanted—from fresh towels to late-night snacks—was there when he wanted it.
If he were at home, freshly ground coffee would be brewing, a three-course breakfast would be waiting for him at the dining room table, and Mrs. Zimmer would make his bed and tidy up his room.
Even Frank kept the cars full of gas and running perfectly.
His life was so easy and carefree. Fun. Life on the farm seemed precarious and worrisome. A way to grow old before one’s time. Not fun.
Elisabeth grabbed a bottle from underneath the sink. She squeezed the trigger twice. “Now wipe.”
He did, and the marks disappeared. Henry couldn’t believe it. All that scrubbing for nothing. “This stuff is amazing.”
“It’s vinegar and water.” She handed him the bottle. “You’re not used to doing this, are you?”
He never had before. “No.”
The expression in her eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, Henry. I forgot you don’t have a home to clean right now.”
“That’s…okay.” Henry felt anything but. He wasn’t exactly lying to her. He didn’t have a home to clean right now, and if he was there now, the last thing he’d ever do was clean it. He looked at the stove, at the sink, at everything except Elisabeth. “I’ve never been much of a housekeeper.”
“I’ll help you finish. We have a lot to do today.”
Not only today. Henry had a month to make the Wheeler family’s life better. That wouldn’t be an easy task.
He stood on a step stool and wiped the spot where the flames had smudged the ceiling. The cleaner took the marks right off.
She handed him another rag. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” His gaze met hers. She was lovely. If only she would smile more. But smiles and laughter seemed to be rare commodities around here. At least Caitlin seemed less affected than the others. He hoped the little girl remained that way. “Did I miss any spots?”
Elisabeth looked up at the ceiling. “To the left.”
“I see it.” After another spray of the vinegar-and-water combo, he wiped the spot away. “Got it.”
She rinsed her hands in the sink. “Now we can really get to work.”
Henry couldn’t wait. Domestic chores weren’t his strong suit. He followed her outside. “It might be better if my job assignments don’t involve the kitchen.”
Elisabeth’s eyes twinkled. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She showed him the irrigation equipment, and they moved it to a different part of the farm together.
It was more physical work than anything and took longer than he thought it would.
His hands sort of burned, but completing the task gave Henry a needed burst of confidence.
He wasn’t used to manual labor, but he was strong thanks to his personal trainer.
If she needed muscle to help her out, he was her man.
Fairy godfather, he corrected himself.
Next up was mowing. Standing by the small tractor, Elisabeth explained what the various levers did and how the two brake pedals could be unlatched for use in the fields.
Sunlight glimmered off her hair as she bent over to double-check the hitch connecting the mower to the tractor. Once again, her beauty struck him.
But he wasn’t here to admire her or be attracted to her. He was here to do a job. Two jobs. Farmhand and fairy godfather. Good thing the two could be done concurrently, or he’d really have his work cut out for him.
Elisabeth stood. “Any questions?”
A gentle breeze carried the scent of her toward him. He didn’t recognize the subtle fragrance, but it suited her. Light, simple, a hint of flowers. Different from the expensive designer perfumes worn by the women he dated, but he liked it. A lot. “You smell good.”
Henry realized he should have been paying attention to her instructions, not her scent.
“It’s lotion.” She looked away, but not before a charming pink tinged her cheeks. “The kids gave it to me.”
Henry imagined a bottle of lotion and quickly pushed the thought from his mind.
He needed to pay attention to what she wanted him to do.
He wasn’t here only to help the Wheelers; he was here to win Cynthia’s adventure.
Losing wasn’t an option. No matter what it took, he would win and, at the same time, become an indispensable asset to Elisabeth’s berry farm.
“The kids have good taste.” Henry picked up the keys to the tractor. “I’m ready to mow.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Think you can handle it?”
All he had to do was pull the mower between the rows of berries. A trained dog could manage that. Henry smiled. “Yes.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
A kiss for good luck? No, he didn’t need luck to accomplish this task.
He wouldn’t need anything except a cool beverage once he was finished.
A bottle of Cristal would be nice. But he would have to wait an entire month for that.
Even if he spent his twenty on champagne, he couldn’t afford a bottle of his favorite bubbly.
Henry climbed onto the tractor and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared. The machine vibrated and was way too loud. He loved it.
He hit the gas, but the machine didn’t move. The mower must be heavier than Henry thought. He gave the tractor more gas, and it moved forward. He tested the brakes. Instead of stopping, he turned in a circle. The brakes were unhitched. “Just checking the turning radius.”
She nodded, but he saw the doubt in her eyes. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
She started to speak but stopped herself.
No problem. Henry would show Elisabeth how well he could handle this. The fun was just beginning. Not only for him but also for the entire Wheeler family. Their fairy godfather was on the job and ready to work miracles.