“Why?”
Gritting his teeth, he grinned. “Did you come here to argue with me?” he teased before his gaze shifted to the basket in his hand. “Or did you come to bring me something to eat? This is heavy. How much do you think I can eat?”
Madeline laughed, “No, I did not come here to argue, and, no, I did not come to bring you something to eat.” As a frown came to his face, Madeline chuckled. “I came to bring all of you something to eat.”
For a long moment, her husband looked at her, a touch of reverence in his gaze that send feelings of warmth and contentment through Madeline. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he finally said, his gaze never leaving hers. Then he took a step closer and lifted his hand to her face.
Madeline inhaled a deep breath, taken aback by the sudden contact.
Skimming his thumb over her cheek, he smiled. “I assume you did some baking this morning.”
“I did,” Madeline confirmed, amazed at the intensity of his gaze. “How do you know?”
Her husband grinned. “You have flour on your cheek.”
Madeline’s eyes flew open, and she immediately stepped back, rubbing her hands over her face as she felt her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I must look hideous. I should leave. I?”
Derek caught her arm and pulled her back when she tried to turn away. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, amusement in his eyes as he watched her. “Especially now.”
“What?” Madeline stared at him, remembering the many faces turned toward them. “I look like a scarecrow.”
“You do not,” her husband replied, enunciating every word, his tone holding a touch of outrage that she would think so. “You look more…approachable when you show your emotions like that. Do not hide them. Believe me,” he glanced at the tenants pretending to work on the cabin, “they will assist you in gaining their respect.”
Madeline swallowed, hoping that her husband was right. “What shall I do now?” she whispered, forcing a deep breath down her lungs.
Offering her his arm, her husband smiled. “Invite them to eat.”
***
Enjoying the feel of her arm on his, Derek escorted his wife back to the small bench where they had had lunch the day before. Today, the day had already progressed further, and dark clouds were rising in the east that promised yet another downpour. Still, he could not bring himself to disappoint Madeline’s hopes, her efforts in preparing this meal and her courage in coming out here after the way their tenants had received her the day before.
As they neared the group of people working on the cabin, Derek could feel her tense as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. A somewhat strained smile appeared on her face as she turned to the people secretly watching her. “Excuse me?” she began in a somewhat timid voice. Then she swallowed and cleared her throat, trying anew. “Excuse me? Would you all like to join us for a bite to eat?”
As though his wife had spoken in a foreign tongue, his tenants lifted their heads, confusion resting in their eyes, as they stared at her, unsure how to reply.
A tremor ran through Madeline as she clutched his arm, and Derek set the basket down on the bench, placing his freed hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he turned to his tenants. “Please, come and join us,” he intoned before lifting his hand and beckoning them forward. “Judging from the weight of this basket, there is enough in here for all of us.”
A few chuckles drifted to their ears as one by one their tenants shook off their stunned paralysis and came forward.
Pointing to the basket, Derek stepped back and watched with satisfaction as his wife pulled back the towel covering the food and began handing out small, jam-filled pastries to his tenants. “Here, try these,” she said, a bit of an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ve made them myself, but I’m not sure how they are as this was my first attempt at baking.”
Mr. Thompson’s youngest son pushed himself up on his tiptoes and snatched the pastry from his father’s hand before he could object. Then the little rascal plopped it in his mouth, chewing noisily. As everyone stared at him, his eyes lit up as he stumbled toward Madeline. “Can I have ‘nother one?” he asked, his mouth still full of food, crumbs tumbling from his lips as he spoke. “’Tis awfully good.”
The strained silence that had hung over the small group before vanished in an instant as everyone broke out laughing. Mr. Thompson stepped forward and tousled his son’s hair. “Mind your manners, boy. Ye do not speak with a full mouth.”
Madeline smiled, beaming at the child and then at the father as she reached inside the basket and retrieved another tart. Leaning down to the boy, who eyed the pastry with longing eyes, she held it out to him. “But promise me you will eat this slowly. I do not want your belly to ache because you gulped it down like a hungry wolf.”
“I promise,” the boy said, his eyes glowing with pride as he carried his tasty possession away.
After snatching an apple from his wife’s basket, Derek stood back and gave her room to interact with their tenants. Although he saw a certain apprehension on both sides, he could tell that the ice had been broken. By showing herself as insecure and vulnerable, Madeline had allowed these people a glance at her true self, helping them to break through the prejudice that had formed long before they had even met her.
Now, there was a chance that they would come to see her as the wonderful woman he knew her to be.
By the time everyone had received a tart and a piece of fruit, Madeline’s eyes were aglow with pleasure. Although her cheeks shone in a deep red whenever one of the tenants complimented her tarts, Derek could see the satisfaction that came from accomplishing something on one’s own instead of having it done by another. She continued to make her rounds, offering what was left in her basket, exchanging a few short words here and there. After a while, Mr. Thompson’s wife found her way to Madeline’s side, and before long, the two women were sitting on the bench, chatting excitedly.
Then the wind picked up, and a low rumbling could be heard in the distance.
Faces turned upward, and before long raindrops began to fall.
“We should head home,” Mr. Thompson stated, instructing the men to put away the tools and secure the last beam which would hold the new roof. “Looks like ye will stay with us again tonight,” he added, looking at the tenant’s family who had hoped to return to their cabin that day.
As the men packed up, Derek walked up to his wife. “We should leave,” he said, offering her his arm. “Good day, Mrs. Thompson.” Watching the little group break up and take off in different directions toward their homes, Derek guided Madeline down the small slope and toward Huntington House. “I reckon this was a success,” Derek stated as he glanced at his wife.
Turning to look at him, she smiled as raindrops began rolling down her face. “It was wonderful,” she beamed, squinting her eyes against the strengthening rain. “I had no idea they were such wonderful people.”
Derek laughed, enjoying himself despite the rain that began to soak through his clothes. Clutching her arm with his, he pulled her onward until the warm glow of Huntington House was visible on the horizon.
“There,” his wife said, pointing ahead. “It’s not far now. If we hurry…,” her voice trailed off as she wiped a hand over her face. Looking down the length of her dress, she began to laugh when she found herself drenched from head to toe. Smiling, she turned to look at him. “There’s no point in hurrying, is there?” Then she released his arm and stood back, spreading her arms and raising her face to the sky. Twirling, she laughed as the rain ran down her face.
Never had Derek seen her so at peace.
So untroubled.
So blissful.