I take a deep breath to settle my thoughts, then try my best to find something that isn’t hurting right now. I’m not sure what’s worse, my ribs or this new burn on my hand.
The sound of a gate closing pulls me out of my thoughts and I make myself stand up. Once the pain settles, I gather up the clothes laying on the table only to realize there is also a pair of new boots sitting next to my chair. Biting my sore lip, I slowly bend down to pick them up, struggling to hold onto the new clothes too.
Small steps later, I finally make it into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I sit down on the bed, taking a second to look through everything. Gently running my hands down the soft material of the new nightgown, I place it aside, and can’t help but gasp when I see the decorative buttons on the blouses and the amount of material used in the skirts. These gifts, this charity, it’s not something I understand. Who spends this amount of money on a complete stranger? It’s not like theseamstress will take these back once worn. What does he have to gain by giving me all of this?
Hesitantly, I pick up the mirror but I’ve ever seen the person staring back at me. My face is swollen and both eyes are red and puffy. My hair looks like a rat’s nest, all fuzzy and sticking out everywhere. Glancing down, my arms are covered in dark bruises; there isn’t a piece of skin that isn’t marked in one way or another. I must have made a noise when I lifted my arm trying to comb out my hair because the door cracks open.
“Are you alright? I thought I heard you yell.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t realize I was that loud. I was simply trying to do something with all this hair. Reaching up is slightly harder with the wrap on.”
“Here, let me.” Before I can say no, Grant has already taken the comb out of my hand and is settling behind me. His much larger frame tilts me so close I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
“Just relax. I may not look like I have this type of skill, but I have a ton of practice.” He gathers my hair up in his large hands, starting from the bottom and working his way up. The gentle tugs have me closing my eyes, simply enjoying his kindness.
“Your hair is so thick it’s still damp from your bath yesterday. Did Beatrice include any hair clasps in the bag that had the mirror in it?”
“I found some pins, but nothing to tie it up with.”
“I’m sure there’s a random ribbon or something in here we can use. I hate to pin it up on your head until it’s fully dry. Just leave it down and loose for a while. You shouldn’t be doing anythingthat it would get in the way of for the rest of the day anyway. Your hair is rather beautiful, so many colors all intertwined together.”
“Thank you. I always thought the color was quite fetching, even if it is rather plain compared to many.”
“There’s nothing plain about you, Lauren. All your bruises are simply hiding the beauty beneath. I will be gone from the house for a few hours. I need to work on loading the extra coal in the wagon to take to town later in the month. Do you need anything before I head out?”
“No, you’ve done so much for me already. I have no way of repaying you for these clothes or the kindness you’ve shown me, … Grant.”
His large hand grasps my shoulder gently before he stands. “I like the sound of my name on your lips. Lauren. You are mine to take care of, and you owe me, of all people, nothing. Before long, you will be so spoiled that you’ll look back on this time and shake your head, thinking how silly you acted over such minor things.”
“If I ever act ungrateful, I give you full permission to use that frying pan I’m to use on you when you get out of hand, on the back of my head too.”
My words come out a little more forcefully than I mean them to. However, I can’t help but smile when his laughter echoes throughout the room. It’s hard not to appreciate his massive, well-built form as he walks away, but he smells terrible. I wonder, if there’s been a way to bathe right here in the house the entire time, why hasn’t he used it? He looks and smells like a beast but has been kind and gentle. My mind quickly reminds me of what trust usually costs.
The urge to pee has me struggling to get these huge socks off so that I can slide my new boots on. My naked toes wiggle inside the new, cold leather and a chill runs down my spine. Pushing myself up off the bed, I walk slowly toward the back of the cabin, only to stop at the door. Grant is standing under a large oak, his hat in hand, talking to a … grave. Not wanting to intrude, I wait until he leaves before heading out.
While I quickly take care of business, I realize the outhouse is cleaner than the house. What are the odds of that? Looking around, I don’t see Grant anywhere, so instead of heading right back in, I amble over to where I see the grave marker. A name is written clearly on the cross, ‘Eliza’. I know my letters, but it still takes me a minute to sound them out.
I don’t know him well enough to understand most of his facial expressions, but it was clear to see the heartache in the way he stood above her marker. I brush my own tears away, my heart mourning their loss. To love someone that intensely and then lose them, only to be forced to carry on, seems so unfair. Only the truly evil ones seem to live forever, with the devil making sure they have years to leave scars on the hearts of others.
Thankfully, the more I move around, each breath and step seem to come easier. I stop short as I walk back into the cabin, shaking my head at the mess. I don’t want to witness Grant’s temper already, but he did say I could do things as long as I wasn’t on my feet long or lifting anything heavy. You can’t take two steps without stepping on a dirty shirt or sock on the floor.
That’s when the huge tub catches my eye again and it’s still full of water. An idea hits me and I start wandering around the cabin, looking for the things I would need to do this inside. It takes a little bit, but I finally find a few laundry bars. Looking up, I smile when I notice several clotheslines hanging above the tub.
Not wanting to get my new clothes dirty, I decide to keep Grant’s shirt on for now. Toeing my new boots off, I put his socks back on, then grab the apron, wrapping it around my waist. I run my fingers down the material, hating to get a single stain on it, but it’s what they’re made for.
It takes me several trips and the pile ends up being larger than I anticipated, but I believe I’ve gathered all his dirty clothes, including a few drying towels, the sheets on his bed, and the blankets. It’s still early in the day and luckily, the sun has come out. If I can get his bedding washed first, then most of it should be dry by the evening.
Heading back into the kitchen, I push one of the chairs into the bedroom, setting it as close to the tub as possible. Then I throw all the blankets and sheets in, letting them soak for a bit while I gather up the other things I need. It takes me a little bit to find the washtub under all the dirty dishes, but I push that job away for later.
I have a few hours before I need to make something for supper, so I should have most of this done by then. My ribs complain from the weight of the washtub, but I had needed a way to rinse the clothes out since I’m trying to do this inside.
Finally able to sit down, I take a moment to braid my hair so that I’m not fighting with it the entire time I’m leaning over the side of the tub. Taking the laundry bar, I start rubbing it all over the blankets, knowing this will be the hardest one to wash. It takes longer than I’d like to get all the dirt out of it and the water is already murky, but it will just have to do for now, as I don’t know how to drain it.
The palm of my hand is burning, and every muscle in my body aches after I get the water wrung out of the blanket. I try severaltimes to lift it up onto the lines above the tub, but it’s just too heavy. I end up setting it in the washtub, putting it in the chair and pushing them both all the way across the floor toward the front of the cabin. I know there’s a railing on the porch that I can reach.
I’m puffing like an old plow horse by the time I get it stretched across the rail, but the colors and intricate details of it shine through now that it’s not covered in dirt. My determination to get all of this done is rapidly diminishing as my body fights for the rest it needs. Since no one is around, I allow myself a few minutes simply to sit still before I start back on this massive pile of laundry. Something that never dawned on me until I had them in my hands is how large a shirt or a pair of socks must be to cover a man the size of Grant. Every piece is triple the size of what I’m used to. By the time I finish, there are wet clothes scattered everywhere. Besides the ones he has on and a few random pieces I found later, thankfully they’re all done. I’ve never known anyone who owned such an abundance.
Setting the washtub on my hip, I make my way out back to throw the water away, my eyes instantly landing on the grave marker once again. It makes me wonder if he buried her that close on purpose.
