“Good.” He paused, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned away. “There will always be occasions where you must show your best self.”
*****
WHEN HE RETURNED FROMwork on Friday, Izzy rose to greet him.
“Isabelle,” he said, his voice carrying the weariness of a man doing something he did not enjoy with his life. “My parents will be arriving in a month. They are eager to meet you and see my home. They live in New York, and this will be their first visit.”
A cold dread settled in Izzy’s stomach. His parents were wealthy, unlike her parents who had raised her and her sisters on their isolated farm. Her role as his wife would be under scrutiny, her every move watched and judged.
“Of course,” she managed to say. “We will prepare accordingly.”
“Yes,” Albert said, the faintest trace of satisfaction in his tone. “They expect nothing less than perfection.”
As he walked past her, Izzy felt the distance between them stretch out like the vast mountains surrounding Hope Springs. She knew, at that moment, that no matter how finely she dressed or how gracefully she entertained, it would always be his domain, and she was merely another asset within it.
*****
RAIN DRUMMED RELENTLESSLYon the roof of the Thoreau mansion amid the silence between Izzy and her husband on Sunday afternoon. She watched as droplets cascaded down the windowpane. The storm had dashed Izzy’s hopes of spending the afternoon outside with Albert.
Albert sat across the room in his preferred armchair. He was a fortress of a man. With a newspaper unfolded before him, his eyes scanned over the columns of ink while Izzy wondered if they could call it spending the day together if they were merely in the same room not speaking.
“Seems there’s been quite the upheaval back east,” Albert’s voice sliced through the stillness, devoid of warmth. His thumb brushed against the paper, causing it to crackle. “It seems that the war in Cuba is finally over. It’s all anyone’s talking about in New York.”
“Roosevelt’s Rough Riders were able to take San Juan Hill,” Albert continued. “It remains to be seen who will be taking control of the country, but I do hope they follow the lead of the United States and form a democracy there.”
Izzy watched him, this man who had become her husband. Albert spoke of events miles away with detached authority. And yet, here in his home, even the weather dictated what freedoms Izzy could enjoy.
“I agree,” Izzy murmured, knowing he wasn’t looking for any real opinions from her. Her agreement was expected in the unwritten contract of their union.
Albert folded the newspaper, setting it aside with precision. “It’s a man’s duty to stay informed, to protect his interests,” he stated. “You would do well to remember that Izzy.”
Izzy concentrated on the afghan she was making—a blanket of soft blues and muted grays that would never grace her own bed. Someday, she would meet someone who needed a blanket, and she would have this one to give them. Perhaps she could crochet an entire room full of blankets for someone. Anyone.
“Who’s that for?” Albert’s voice cut through the room’s silence.
Izzy hesitated. “It’s for someone who needs it more than we do,” she answered, her voice soft yet carrying the weight of her convictions.
“Charity,” he said. “An admirable pursuit for a woman, I suppose.”
“I would think it’s an admirable pursuit for anyone. Helping others is something Jesus talked about often.”
“See that it doesn’t interfere with your duties,” Albert said simply.
“Of course,” Izzy replied, her tone carefully neutral. She wanted to please him, but he didn’t seem to be happy with anything she did. How she wished she could see the man who had lain beneath the stars with her the previous week.
*****
ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, she met up with her sisters at Ana’s house as she did most weekday afternoons.
“Rosie, Ana,” Izzy said. “Albert’s parents will be here next month.”
Her sisters exchanged glances, the kind filled with silent words and unspoken understandings. Anabelle, ever the firebrand, was quick to respond.
“His parents? Are you nervous?” Ana asked.
“Petrified actually.” Izzy sighed. “And I fear it’ll mean endless days of dressing up like some porcelain doll on display.”
“Surely it won’t be that bad, Izzy,” Rosabelle interjected. “You’ve managed everything else thrown your way thus far.”
