“What did you do to get them stirred up?” asked Belle as he walked into the kitchen.
“Just a little joke. Calming Robbie down as he was getting nervous. Lad has little idea about doctoring and actually worried about what could happen when his stitches were taken out.”
“You mean he thought it would all fall apart?”
“Ah, ye have heard that worry before.”
“I have. I calm myself by recalling what my father always said, that no one bothers to give folk even a tiny bit of knowledge about wounds and their bodies. He was always amazed and amused by what people would ask him. Not long before he died he told me some of their questions, thinking it would help me to be ready to answer with a straight face. He always believed most people round here would start coming to me when they had a problem.”
“And they did.” He walked up behind her and put his arms around her, then rested his chin on her shoulder to look at what she was mixing up. “What are ye making?”
“Mixing up some biscuits for supper.”
“When is supper?”
“Not for about three hours. A beef roast.”
“I can make some gravy for it if ye like.”
She turned to look at him. “Really?”
“Really. If ye have what I need. I often make it when I am home. Mrs. O’Neal is one of those cooks who has a plan and schedule when she is cooking a meal. She allows others to help, but only if she is not using the kitchen. My contribution is usually gravy. The wives do a dessert or peel the vegetables.”
“Have a look in the cupboards to see if anything you need is up there. I will be certain to call you when it gets closer to mealtime.”
He found enough to start the gravy and they worked together in a comfortable silence. When he could do no more, he peeled some of the vegetables she needed. Then he asked her about the use of swimming to improve Robbie’s leg. It sounded promising and he felt his hope for a good recovery rise. If, by the time they headed home, Robbie had lost the worst of his limp and regained some strength and agility in his hand, he would consider their trip a huge success.
Chapter Thirteen
Mehitabel stretched as she stepped out on the back porch. It was sunny and the sky was clear. Even better everything had dried out after the heavy rain they had gotten a week ago. She suspected it would be a warm day and there was a nice breeze. She looked over at the fence marking the boundary to Bennet’s property and saw one of his cows standing there staring back at her, lazily chewing her cud. Behind that cow were half a dozen others, also staring at her.
“The man’s damn cows are as arrogant as he is,” she muttered and turned to go back into the house, planning to do a few chores before making breakfast, only to walk into Geordie.
Geordie caught her by the arms, looked around, and then looked back at her. “Who are ye talking to?”
“The cows,” she muttered, knowing it sounded ridiculous, and shrugged her shoulders when he just stared at her.
“Ah, of course, and did they answer ye? Oof!” He rubbed his belly where she had just jabbed her elbow into him. “Vicious wench. What was that for?”
“Being saucy so early in the day. Some of us are slow to wake up in the morning. I certainly am not awake enough to make clever quips or attempt a joke, especially not on such a too bright day with a long day of cooking ahead of me.”
He put his arm around her as they walked into the house, through it, and went out the front door. “Attempted and succeeded.” He bit back a grin, but the way her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him told him that she was fully aware of that. “So, what is the chore for the day? Checking on the trees? Weeding the garden? Fixing something?”
“Why does the ‘fixing something’ sound so hopeful? Have you seen something broken?”
“Nay. It is just a chore I would have the most interest in doing.”
“Well, I am sorry, but the chore for the day for me is baking some anadama bread. I sell some to the bakery, and some at the town market, which is tomorrow.”
“What is anadama bread? I saw it on your sign but forgot to ask.”
“Old New England recipe my mother taught me. A round yeast bread made with flour, cornmeal, molasses, and butter.”
“Oh. And people like that?”
“Yes. It is simple but a bit sweet. Suspect that is why people like it. But first, I should at least have a look at the garden and see how it is doing before that rain falls.”
They walked to the back of the barn, where the tallest plants had been put in with a good fence around them. After a quick walkthrough with the occasional pause to yank a weed, Belle moved on to the garden behind the house. After another walkthrough and some weed-pulling, she decided it was also doing well and headed off to the orchard.
