***
When Mark returned for dinner, Layla made sure that she and Heath were waiting for him at the back door. She gave him her brightest smile, which he ignored. Layla’s heart sunk. Smiling once, she hoped that her cheerfulness would spread to him as she led Mark into the dining room.
“A salad?” Mark asked with a dissatisfied face.
“Yes,” Layla answered brightly. “Our garden is producing the largest vegetables I’ve ever seen, and I thought it would be nice to slice them and dress them for a refreshing salad. Why, I just gathered the vegetables this morning, and I—” Though she was rattling away happily, she stopped when Mark grimaced. “Is something the matter? I thought you liked salad—”
“I like salad just fine,” Mark retorted, his dark eyes narrowing, “but this is hardly a meal. Where is the meat?”
Layla blanched. It wasn’t that she had forgotten to prepare the meat, but she had thought that since it was unseasonably warm today, a salad might be a refreshing main dish. She should have known a salad would not be a hearty enough dish for a man working on a farm all day, but she was still acquiring these tidbits of knowledge. “I … um …” She mumbled as she tried to think of the right way to explain it to Mark.
“Well, this has been a rather challenging day so far, hasn’t it, Layla?” Mark asked, his tone indicating that this was a rhetorical question. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning, and now it would seem that you are trying to starve me for dinner as well.”
Spots of pink popped into Layla’s cheeks. She could feel them as humiliation and frustration swept through her. She hadn’t meant to upset Mark. “I’m trying my best here,” she defended herself, but Mark was obviously not in the mood for explanations.
Pushing away from the table, Mark stood abruptly, the heels of his boots clicking against the wooden floor. “Try harder,” Mark said darkly, and without so much as looking down at Layla or Heath, he stalked from the room. She listened as he moved into the kitchen and banged the cupboards noisily, undoubtedly in search of some sustenance, such as the hunk of cheese wrapped in one of the far-left cupboards. She thought of rushing in to help him get the provisions he might need, but the way he opened and closed the cabinet doors sounded so angry Layla decided it was best to keep her distance. A long moment later, Mark snorted, and his heavy boots clacked on the wooden floors. The kitchen door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud.
What was that?Layla thought as she looked from Heath to Mark’s vacated chair. The baby gurgled and cooed from his own spot, giving Layla strength. She watched as Heath picked at the small pieces of vegetables she cut up for him. Shrugging, she ate some of the meal. It was delicious, and she couldn’t understand why Mark had been so quick to dismiss it. She turned her gaze to Mark’s empty seat and said heartily, “I will do better. You will see.”
***
Layla knew that Mark had come home for the evening when she heard the back door close heavily. She danced on the balls of her feet in anticipation.
Earlier in the day, she had located a clean linen tablecloth and laid it across the dining room table. She also found candlesticks and their holders and positioned them nicely along the center of the table. In the early afternoon, she strapped Heath into a sling, and they picked strawberries from the vines. Along with the pork and potatoes she made for supper, she now presented a side of fresh strawberries and cream she churned days before. Layla was proud of her efforts and prayed that Mark would appreciate what she had done, too.
“Layla?” Mark called, and she could hear him as he moved through the kitchen. “Heath?”
“We’re in here!” Layla answered, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. She was sure she would see him smile once he came into the dining room and glimpsed the well-prepared supper. Layla looked to Heath, and he was flapping his hands happily, too. He must have been able to sense her eagerness permeating through the air.
Mark came through the kitchen doorway, pausing momentarily. Seeing that he was absorbing the effects of her hard work, she felt gratified. “Please sit,” she said genially, motioning to Mark’s seat at the head of the table.
Nodding at her, Mark sank into his chair. He scanned the room again before his eyes rested on Layla. “It seems that you’ve worked hard this afternoon.”
“Yes,” Layla said, grinning broadly. She looked at him expectantly, and he seemed happy, even though he did not return the smile. His eyes were wide and soft, and he looked pleased with all she had done. Dipping her head, she said a quiet blessing over her food. When she lifted her eyes once more, Mark was watching her, and she blushed. She did think him very handsome after all, and any time he analyzed her in such a manner, her pulse quickened.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Layla said, hoping it would break Mark from his trance. It seemed to do the trick as he nodded his head thoughtfully and picked up his fork. She watched as he took his first bite of roasted potatoes. When he made a satisfied expression, Layla felt genuinely proud of herself. Just as she was lifting her own fork for her first bite, she smelled something unusual.
“Do you smell something funny?” Layla asked. She looked over at Heath to see that he was just fine, playing with the bits of potato she had mashed onto his plate.
“I don’t smell anything,” Mark responded, taking a healthy bite of pork.
Layla sniffed the air, still detecting something strange. She stood. “It smells like something is burning,” she said and began moving toward the kitchen. “I was sure I took everything from the hearth before coming into the dining room—” Her voice broke off as she remembered the loaf of bread. After letting it rise all morning, she set it to bake just a short time ago so that it could be fresh for this meal. She meant to remove it from the pan and slice it, to have it waiting in a small basket next to Mark’s plate, but somehow, in all the flurry of activities, she had forgotten.
Rushing into the kitchen, she removed the bread from the heat, but it was too late. The outsides were charred black; even if she were to cut them away, she wouldn’t be able to salvage the bread.
Mark appeared in the doorway and looked at her with a concerned expression. “Is anything the matter?” he asked cautiously.
She tried to make little of the predicament and lightly waved her hand through the air. “I just burned the bread. It’s no big deal. I’ll just have to make more tomorrow, I suppose, unless you want me to—” Mark shot her a horrified look. “What? What did I say? What’s wrong?” Layla asked, glancing behind her to ensure that she hadn’t left something else to burn.
When Mark didn’t say anything, Layla’s eyebrow twitched excitedly, exasperated by his temperamental mood swings. “Surely, you’ve seen a burnt loaf of bread before, Mark. Why, I imagine you have even made the same mistake once or twice—” When Layla saw that his brow was furrowed, and he looked angry, she softened the tone in her voice as she asked, “Mark, what is it?”
“Did you go outside today without a bonnet?” Mark asked, his jaw tightening visibly.
“Yes,” Layla said slowly. “I left so early this morning I didn’t need one and then—”
“But you spent most of the day outside without wearing a hat or a bonnet?” Mark interrupted.
“Well, yes,” Layla said, self-conscious as Mark gave her a hard stare. “What is the matter, Mark?” Layla demanded. She wasn’t sure what difference it made if she had gone out without her bonnet and was irritated that he didn’t just tell her what had upset him so greatly.
