I spend most of the day scrubbing every inch of the kitchen, since it’s clear it hasn’t had a deep cleaning in quite a while.
Mason works in the barn all day. There’s a lot more to the work here than feeding and milking. He has to tend to the animals’ health and churn butter and make cheese and package it for sale on market days and cut and roll hay.
Today he’s working mostly on butter. I discover this when I go get him for lunch and then again for dinner.
My stew with rolls and cheese are a success at dinner. He has two helpings, and if I weren’t already planning to save the leftovers for lunch tomorrow, he might have had a third.
He works hard, and he clearly likes to eat.
Or maybe it’s because he’s enjoying having a better level of cooking than he’s been used to lately.
Either way, it’s intensely gratifying. That he’s enjoying what I cook for him so sincerely.
When he finishes his second bowl, he leans back in his chair and rubs at his thick brown hair. It’s too long. It’s curling down around his neck and falling over his forehead.
“Do you need anything else?” I ask him, still working on the last of the stew in my bowl.
“No, that was great. Thanks.” He clears his throat, dropping his eyes.
He’s self-conscious again. I can recognize the look now. Like he has something to say but is reluctant to say it. “What is it?” I ask to help him along. “Did I do something wrong today?”
“No!” His head and eyes shoot up. “Everything is perfect as far as I’m concerned. I just wanted to make sure that… that it’s all okay for you. I know it’s a lot of work. It’s different from living in the village. But do you think… Are you still okay with the… the situation here?”
“Oh.” I’m hit with another one of those waves of pleasure as I realize he’s not thinking of his own contentment. He’s thinking about mine. “Honestly, I had the best day I can remember.”
“Yeah?” His eyes search my face.
“Yes. Sure, there’s a lot to do here, but it’s easier than it was doing chores for Lorraine and Aria. Plus you’re not so demanding, and you don’t complain about everything. So it’s a lot better doing things for you. I—” I cut myself off, my cheeks warming.
“You what?”
“I like it. So far. I like being here.”
His shoulders relax. There’s something that almost resembles a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. “Okay. Good. I like having you here too.”
I’ve gone through Mason’s wardrobe and pulled out all the pieces of clothing with rips or lost buttons, so after dinner I take the smaller chair in the living room and start mending them.
Mason has gone out to do the evening chores and get the animals ready for the night, and when he returns, he takes the larger chair, stretching out his legs and reclining his head.
“What do you normally do in the evenings?” I ask him.
“I don’t even remember.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve worked every minute of the day since I’ve come back here, so I usually just did a half-assed washup and collapsed in bed when I was done.”
I giggle at his choice of words. “So you’re done earlier today than you used to be?”
“Hours earlier. It feels like a day off.”
“Good.” I’m smiling down at the shirt as I stitch up a torn seam. “I’m glad it’s helpful to have me here.”
“Why would you think it wouldn’t be helpful?”
“I assumed it was. But it’s nice to have confirmation. I’ve…”
He watches me, silently waiting for me to complete the sentence.
