“Barbara,” he sighed. “We aren’t back East. This is Clover Creek, and I’m your husband.”
“Which makes me what? Your servant?” she retorted, anger flashing in her eyes as the argument grew heated. She threw the soiled shirt into the basin, water splashing over the rim.
“Enough, Barbara!” Harvey’s voice boomed.
“Enough indeed,” she whispered to herself after he’d stormed off. Her heart was heavy with doubt, her mind racing with thoughts of a lifetime tethered to a man who might never see her as an equal. If only she had thought to talk about these things before they married, maybe she would have seen that he wasn’t the right man for her.
Later, the front door creaked open, and Katie Bedwell stepped inside. “Barbara, you look like you’ve wrestled a bear and lost,” Katie said, her eyes softening with concern as she took in Barbara’s disheveled appearance.
“Feels like it, too,” Barbara murmured as she invited Katie to sit. “The bulk of the housework needs to be done on the weekends because I’m working and grading papers during the week. I’m exhausted.”
“Harvey’s as stubborn as his father,” Katie confided, smoothing her apron as they settled at the kitchen table. “George Bedwell was a mule of a man, always insisting a woman’s place was silent and unseen.”
“Seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Barbara sighed, her gaze drifting toward the window.
“George nearly choked on his chew when I mentioned Margaret Prewitt runs the boarding house,” Katie chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. “And the Jensens, why, Penelope is the one running that store of theirs, and she does it with a baby on her hip.”
“Maybe Harvey will come around,” Barbara said. “I worry I may have married him in haste, not really getting to know the kind of man he is. He didn’t want me to finish my teaching term.”
“Perhaps,” Katie agreed. “Or maybe, we women need to train our men to understand that there’s more to us than just someone to cook and clean and have babies.”
Barbara pondered Katie’s words. Perhaps she could convince Harvey that she had every bit as much right to work as he did. After all, Clover Creek was a land of second chances and new beginnings.
Barbara watched as Katie’s hands deftly worked the needle through a shirt, the thread weaving in and out with practiced ease. “Is that shirt for George? Or one of your boys?”
“George would have a fit if he knew,” Katie said. “I’ve been sewing for some of the bachelors around here. It gives me a bit of coin for the children’s clothes and shoes.”
“Doesn’t he notice the extra money?” Barbara asked. She didn’t want to work behind her husband’s back. She wanted him to be fully aware of her contributions.
Katie snorted softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “George doesn’t know a thimble from a thumb. As long as I manage our finances and keep quiet, he pays no mind to the money coming in.”
Barbara absorbed this revelation, her mind turning over like wagon wheels on the rough trail. If Katie could navigate her husband’s rigid expectations and still find a way to contribute, perhaps there was hope for her situation.
“Thank you, Katie,” Barbara murmured. “You’ve given me much to think about.”
“Anytime, dear.” Katie smiled, folding the finished shirt and placing it neatly on the table. “Remember, your husband doesn’t need to know what you do every minute of every day. Sometimes it’s better if they don’t!”
Later that evening, Barbara stood over the stove, stirring a pot of stew, the rich aroma filling the room. She set the table with their best plates and cutlery, determined to make this meal pleasing to her husband, even if her ideas weren’t.
Harvey entered just as she placed a freshly baked loaf of bread at the center of the table. The lines of his face softened at the sight of the spread before him, and for a moment, Barbara allowed herself to feel a flutter of pride.
“Smells like heaven, Barbara,” Harvey said, pulling out a chair.
“Thank you, Harvey. I hope you enjoy it.” Her words were simple, but they carried the weight of her newfound resolve.
They ate mostly in silence, the clinking of utensils against plates punctuating their mutual contemplation. Barbara watched Harvey savor each bite, and she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d come to see things her way.
“Barbara, this is... exceptional,” Harvey finally spoke.
“Thank you,” she replied, her gray eyes meeting his. “I want to do my part for us—for our family.”
Harvey nodded, a gesture that seemed to acknowledge her words without yielding fully to them. Yet in that small movement, Barbara saw the possibility of common ground.
As she cleared the dishes, Barbara felt the exhaustion of the day lift slightly, replaced by a quiet determination. She would help where she could, and Harvey would have no doubt that her contributions to their family were as important as his.
Chapter Six
Barbara fidgeted in the polished wooden pew. Married now, it felt like every eye was on her at church.
