Montgomery - Eternity Part 5

"Good morning," Carrie said to each person she pa.s.sed. "Good morning."

People stared and nodded at this fas.h.i.+on plate vision of loveliness, too dumbfounded to move or reply.

Carrie stopped the horse-if the poor thing could be called that-in front of the mercantile store, where the owner had paused in sweeping the front porch to gape at her. Nodding to him, she said, "Good morning," then went inside the cool, dark store.

When the store owner had recovered himself, he leaned his broom against the wall, smoothed his ap.r.o.n front, and went into the store.

Carrie had seated herself on a chair near the empty wood stove and was removing her riding gloves.

"What can I do for you, Miss, ah..."

"Mrs. Greene," she said confidently. "Mrs. Joshua Greene."

"I didn't know Josh got married. Hiram didn't tell me anything about it."

That was the second time Carrie had heard mention of Hiram, and she had no idea who he was, but she wasn't going to let this man know that. "It was rather sudden," she said demurely, trying to make it seem as though she and Josh hadn't been able to help themselves, that their marriage had been a love match.

"I understand," the store owner said. "Now, what may I do for you?"

By this time a quarter of the townspeople had decided that they had to buy something at the mercantile store and so had slipped through the door as quietly as possible. They were lining up against the wall opposite Carrie, standing quietly, looking at her as they would have a circus performer.

"I should like to make a few purchases," Carrie said.

Carrie knew that Josh thought she had no talents because she didn't know how to wash dishes or open cans, but there was a talent that Carrie had in abundance and that was: She knew how to buy things. That statement might cause laughter in some people, but the ability to use money properly is an underestimated talent. Some people with great wealth squander their money on bad investments; they hire incompetent people; if they buy art, they buy fakes.

But Carrie knew how to handle money. She knew how to get ten cents out of every nickel. There was a joke in her hometown that it was better to work for any Montgomery other than Carrie, for she'd get twice as much work out of you for half as much money. Carrie had a way of looking at people with her big blue eyes that made them fall over themselves to do what she wanted.

"I wonder if someone in this lovely town could help me," she said innocently. "My husband has asked me to do a few things for him, and I really don't know how to get started."

When she held up the list of tasks Josh had written out for her, the store owner looked at it, then gave a long, low whistle and pa.s.sed the list to the man behind him, who pa.s.sed it to the person beside him.

"Why, you poor thing," one woman said upon reading the list. "What in the world was Josh thinkin' of?"

Carrie sighed. "I am a brand-new wife and have no idea how to do anything. I don't even know how to open a can."

"I'd like to show her how to open a can," one man mumbled, but his wife poked him in the ribs.

"I may not be able to actually do the things my husband wants, but I thought perhaps I could get someone to help me."

They were willing to give lots of sympathy, but no one rushed forward to volunteer to repair the roof on that shack of Josh's. Compa.s.sion was one thing but sweat was another.

Carrie removed the fat purse from her wrist. "My father gave me a bit of money before I left home so I wondered if I could hire some people to help me." She opened the drawstring and poured several coins into her pretty little palm. "Does it matter that the only coins I have are gold?"

After the initial intake of breath, all h.e.l.l broke loose as people began shoving, kicking, and shouting as they offered Carrie their services to do anything that she wanted them to do. They were her slaves-or perhaps highly paid employees would be more accurate.

Standing up, Carrie went to work. She was a sweet-voiced drill sergeant, but a drill sergeant nonetheless. First, she hired half a dozen women to clean that pigsty Josh called a house, then she bargained with two other women to take Josh's chipped and cracked dirty dishes away in trade for three rose bushes that grew in front of their own houses. Planting was part of the trade.

She bought home-canned goods from nearly every woman in town (all of whom were in the store by now), and she purchased produce from gardens. For the future, she arranged with a woman named Mrs. Emmerling to cook meals and deliver them to Josh's house every other day, paying for a month in advance.

When she was finished with the women, she started on the men. She arranged for the roof to be repaired and the shed to be mended, then hired a carpenter to repair the front door. When she asked if anyone had a porch on his or her house, a porch that they'd like to take down and put up on the front of Josh's house, there was a bidding war on the porch. Carrie went with the man who had the porch with the white posts. She arranged for the house to be painted.

"How soon do you want this done?" one man asked.

Carrie smiled sweetly. "For every job that's done by sundown tonight, I will pay twelve percent more than the agreed-upon price."

About twenty people tried to get out the door at the same time.

"Now," Carrie said, turning back to the store owner. "I'd like to make a few purchases."

She bought one can of everything he had in his store. She bought bacon and ham and flour, as well as anything the store owner's wife told her she'd "need" as a wife. Smiling as though she knew what she was doing, Carrie purchased a can opener, a strange-looking contraption that made no sense to her. She purchased a cookstove that the store owner said anyone could cook on.

She bought lace curtains and panes of gla.s.s, then hired people to install them.

By this time people were running into the store and offering Carrie things to buy, for Eternity was a poor town, and people used any opportunity to earn money. Carrie bought rag rugs, more rose bushes, a solid oak kitchen cabinet, four matching chairs (she traded Josh's chairs for these), quilts, blankets, pillows, and sheets. She bought dishes and silverware (plate, unfortunately, not sterling) from a widower, and she hired women to come once a week and do the laundry.

When a wagon full of furniture came rolling by, owned by a family moving out of Eternity, she bought several pieces, including a big tin bathtub.

By two o'clock she rode out of what was nearly a deserted town, for most of the townspeople were already at Josh's house working, but two big, strong boys came running up and asked what they could do. Carrie hired them to go into the mountains, dig up four sapling trees, and plant them in Josh's front yard.

By three she was back at Josh's house. A circus would have seemed calmer than the chaos around his house, as women tried to plant roses right where men wanted to stand while they painted. Women stole ladders from men fixing the roof, then the painters stole the ladders back. Tempers were short, and there was a great deal of shouting while everyone tried to get his or her job done before the sundown deadline.

Carrie sat on the sidelines, eating bread and b.u.t.ter, feeding tidbits of this and that to Choo-choo, and paying men and women as they finished their jobs. She didn't have to worry about quality of work, for the people were glad enough to report any task that was only half done.

It was summer, so, thankfully, sundown was late in coming, and by the time there was a reddish glow on the horizon, the house was unrecognizable. Smoke poured from the repaired chimney, and over the stench of fresh paint, she could smell roast beef and possibly carrots simmering.

It was almost dark and, thankfully, there was still no sign of Josh or the kids yet when the last tired woman left the house, her money clasped in her hand. Carrie left her place under the shade tree and went back to the house, knowing that what she most wanted was a long, hot bath. She certainly deserved one after the day of work she had done. Having antic.i.p.ated this need, she had arranged for several buckets of hot water to be waiting by the tub set up in the bedroom, so all she had to do was undress herself-a task in itself, considering all the b.u.t.tons on her habit- and step into the water.

Sighing and smiling, pleased with herself and antic.i.p.ating Josh's forthcoming apology, she went back to the house.

Chapter Six.

When Josh and the children rode up the path toward the house, all of them on the same horse, they halted and stared in disbelief. At first Josh thought he'd made a wrong turn, so he reined the horse away and started back down the path. But there was that big clump of aspens that he knew was at the corner of the woods and there was the old fence post so he knew he was in the right area. Turning the horse, he started back toward the house and halted in front of it.

Moonlight shone down on the little building, but the wreck of a house he'd left this morning was gone. In its place was a house with a porch on the front of it. This house was whitewashed instead of being covered with dingy gray boards, and roses grew in front of it; there was sparkling clean gla.s.s in the windows.

"Did the Good Fairy come?" Dallas asked, rubbing her eyes, thinking she was asleep and dreaming.

"Something of that nature," Josh said through clenched teeth. "A good fairy with lots of money. Her father's money."

Josh urged the horse forward, helped the children down, and opened the front door of the house-a door that now moved easily on oiled hinges.

Inside the house, light reflected from several candles and lanterns set about the room, and against one wall set a new cookstove, enameled in bright blue and looking very cheerful. The walls, no longer bare but covered in pretty, rose-printed wallpaper, gleamed. There were rugs on the floors, furniture in the room, the table laid with a cloth and pretty porcelain dishes.

"It's a fairy castle," Dallas said and Josh winced. The child was too young to remember a time when she'd lived in anything but a hovel, and she didn't remember anything but poorly cooked food and bare floors and an unhappy father. She didn't remember a time when it was her father rather than an outsider who gave her what she needed.

When Josh looked at his son, he saw that Tem, too, was impressed by his new surroundings, and Josh felt angry because he had not been the one to give his children simple, basic things such as good food and a pretty house. Instead, some rich, empty-headed do-gooder from the East Coast had come into their lives and decided to bestow her charity on the poor little family in the mountains. It must have given her great satisfaction to act the Good Fairy, as Dallas called her, Josh thought. When Carrie left, she could tell herself that she had done well, that for a whole week she had given happiness to the dreary little family. She would be able to leave with her conscience clean and free of guilt knowing that she had done so much for the poor dears. But it was going to be Josh who'd have to hold the children when they cried.

Looking at the closed bedroom door, his mouth set, he went to it and turned the handle. But when he opened the door, he almost forgot his anger, because Little Miss Charity was sitting up to her neck in a bathtub full of suds. Her face was pink from the hot water, her hair was loosely piled on top of her head in a jumble of fat curls, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were just breaking the surface of the water. Josh stood gaping in dumbfounded stupefaction.

"Good evening," Carrie said, smiling, brus.h.i.+ng a lock of damp hair off her brow. That look of desire was on his face again, and it felt so very good to have wiped that smug, patronizing look off his face. "Did all of you have a good day?" she asked as if they were in a drawing room, but as she spoke, she noted Josh's torn and dirty work clothes and thought that they suited him much less well than his suit had. Some men look good in canvas pants and cotton s.h.i.+rt, but Josh looked out of place, as though he were pretending to be someone he wasn't.

As Josh struggled to get himself under control, he realized that his life was very different from what it used to be. No longer did women often greet him in their bathtubs, and no longer was he free to do what he wished with them. Now he was a sensible, serious, responsible person-a father-and he had to think of serious matters. And serious matters did not include what he most wanted to do in the world right now, which was to close the door to the bedroom and climb in the tub with this delicious, delectable, luscious young woman.

He straightened. "I'd like to speak to you," he said as sternly as he could manage, but then a curl fell over her eye, and she tried to brush it away with a soapy hand. She was going to get soap in her eye, he thought, and someone ought to help her.

Dallas pushed in front of her father and stood for a moment staring in wonder at the bedroom. There was wallpaper on the walls in this room too and a new bra.s.s bed and fluffy covers on the feather mattress. "It's beautiful," Dallas said.

Carrie smiled. "I'm so glad you like it, but I don't think your father does."

Dallas looked up at her father in disbelief. "But it's beautiful." The child sounded as though she were going to cry. "Can we keep it?"

Picking up his daughter, Josh hugged her. "Of course we can keep it. There isn't any way to return wallpaper." He looked over Dallas's shoulder to frown at Carrie, but she just smiled at him.

Carrie looked at Dallas, in her father's arms, and at Tem, peering from behind his father and said, "If you children would excuse us, I think your father would like to talk to me in private."

Josh did have some things he wanted to say to Carrie, actually rather a great many things, but he wasn't going to be alone with her while she was sitting in a bathtub. From what little he knew of her, he wouldn't put it past her to stand up in the tub and ask him to hand her a towel. If she were to stand up, he knew he'd be lost. "What I have to say can wait," Josh said as gruffly as he could manage and put Dallas down.

Moving to the tub, Dallas picked up a handful of suds, looking at them in question.

"They are foaming bath salts," Carrie said, "and they're from-"

"Let me guess," Josh said sarcastically. "France. One of your dear brothers brought them back to you."

"As a matter of fact he did, along with six new dresses," she said sweetly. She was not going to defend her brothers to this man.

"How charming for you to have been born wealthy. The rest of us slaves of the world have to work for our bread and..." He looked about the room. "We have to work for the rugs and the wallpaper and the dresses."

Carrie smiled at him. "Then it seems that it's the duty of the rich people to share their wealth, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps, but charity doesn't sit well with all of us."

Carrie refused to allow him to make her angry. She wanted to remind him that they were now married and that what was hers was his, too, and that she had purchased these items for her own family. As for his pride, which seemed to be hurt, she had not bought a house in town, even though there was a rather nice one for sale, but had merely decorated his house.

Carrie bit down on her feelings of injustice and, instead, offered to share her tub with Dallas. The little girl looked at her father for permission, then hurriedly undressed herself, and her father lifted her into the tub. As the child settled into the tub, Carrie was very pleased to see Josh frowning fiercely before he turned away and left the room.

Once he was out of the bedroom, Josh felt that he could breathe again, but that didn't last for long, for now the parlor was so very, very different from the way it had been. The whole room seemed to reek of Carrie. Everywhere he looked he could see her touch, and when he glanced at Tem and saw that the boy was looking into the big pot that set bubbling on the stove, he knew that his son felt it too. Tem jumped guiltily when his father glanced at him, as though he knew he shouldn't be enjoying what Carrie had done for them.

Turning away, Josh went to the fireplace. Since the fire was no longer sending clouds of smoke billowing into the room, he was sure that Carrie had had the chimney cleaned. In spite of himself, Josh took a seat in one of the two rocking chairs set in front of the fire, leaned back against the pretty cus.h.i.+ons tied to the back and seat of the chair, and enjoyed the sights and sounds around him. When his father was seated, tentatively, Tem sat on the chair across from him.

Leaning back, Josh closed his eyes, and for a moment he could imagine that life was how he had imagined it would be. He could hear his wife and daughter splas.h.i.+ng in the bedroom, and the sound of their laughter seemed to fill the room-and him-with warmth. He could smell food cooking and hear the stew simmering, and he could hear the fire crackling. When he opened his eyes and looked at his son, who was so comfortable in the chair, Josh knew that all of it was almost exactly as he'd hoped it would be. This was how he'd imagined his life would be when he'd sent for a bride who knew how to cook and clean and run a farm. He had wanted the best for his children and had been willing to sacrifice his own happiness for that of his children.

But Josh was too well aware that all of this was an illusion, that it wasn't real, and that it wasn't going to last. Looking at Tem, Josh saw that he was about to fall asleep in the chair. It was going to be Josh who had to hold the children and dry their tears after Carrie got bored with her life as a farm wife and left them. And Josh was going to have to try to explain to the children about adults and about selfishness, and he was sure that he was going to be as good at it the next time he had to do it as he had been when the children's mother had left them.

Looking up when the bedroom door opened, he saw Carrie had dressed Dallas in a white cotton nightgown that Josh was sure was fresh from the shelves of the mercantile store, and Josh felt a fresh surge of anger. It had been a long time since he had been able to buy his children gifts.

But Josh forgot his anger as he looked at Carrie, for her hair was wet and hanging in a tangle down her back, flowing over a gown of dark pink silk covered by a red cashmere robe. When he looked at her, Josh had to swallow, and his hands gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white. More than anything in life he wanted to slip that robe off her shoulders and kiss her clean, white neck.

"And now," Carrie said, holding up two tortoise-sh.e.l.l combs, "the men may comb our hair." She looked from Josh to his son, then back to Josh, and she smiled at the expression on his face.

Tem protested. "I can't do that. That's girl's work."

Immediately, Josh told his son to be quiet. "There's no reason why you can't comb your sister's hair."

Smiling, Dallas went to stand between her brother's knees, and, in spite of his protest, Tem began to gently untangle Dallas's wet hair.

Carrie stood in the doorway, smiling confidently at Josh, the comb held out to him in invitation.

"I don't think-" Josh began, but then Tem stopped combing and looked at his father in question. His expression said that if his father couldn't comb a girl's hair, then he wouldn't either. With a groan that sounded a bit like a trapped animal, Josh held out his hand for the comb.

Smiling even broader, Carrie went to Josh, handed him the comb, then sat on the floor between his knees. From the first instant he touched her- being careful to touch only her hair and not her skin-Carrie knew two things. One was that the very air between them was charged and, two, that he had combed other women's wet hair. From the deft, experienced way he gently pulled the comb through her hair, she was afraid that he may have done it several times in the past.

Turning her head a bit to look at Tem, she saw that he was watching his father and learning. But then Josh's hand touched Carrie's forehead, and she forgot all about anyone else. Leaning her head back toward her husband, her eyes closed as she felt his touch through her hair and throughout her body.

Josh pulled her hair back from her face and in doing so, his fingertips touched her cheek. At the contact, both of them stopped moving, his fingers pausing as Carrie moved her head just a bit so that one fingertip touched the corner of her mouth. Without moving, sitting utterly still, her body seemed to vibrate with feeling. Turning until his finger was on her lips, she kissed his finger.

Josh moved his hand so that his two fingers covered her mouth, then his fingers began tracing the outline of her lips. When Carrie parted her lips, he ran his fingertips on the inside of her lip, just touching her teeth.

"Josh," Carrie said in the slightest whisper, then very gently, one by one, she bit his fingertips. He moved his hand over her mouth, and she kissed/bit his palm, then slowly moved to his wrist.

Bending down to her face until his lips were on her ear, his soft, warm breath on her ear was the most exciting thing Carrie had ever felt in her life.

"Golly," Dallas said, her eyes wide as she stared at the adults.

With a jolt, both Carrie and Josh became aware of their surroundings. Josh started to jump away from Carrie, but she wouldn't allow him to- not that it required much strength to hold him to her, but she leaned against his knee, and Josh rapidly started combing again.

Carrie looked at Tem and Dallas staring at them in big-eyed wonder and tried to put on a good-mother face. "Sometimes husbands and wives- " Carrie began.

"Shut up," Josh said sharply. "Is there anything, to eat tonight? There, I think your hair's done." He looked at Tem. "What about your sister's?"

Tem was still staring, blinking at the two of them. He knew he had just seen some important adult-thing, but he didn't know what it meant.

"Have you finished combing your sister's hair?" Josh asked in a loud, piercing voice, snapping Tem out of his trance.

"Oh. Yeah," Tem answered, looking from Carrie to his father then back again.

"Good, then we can eat." With businesslike efficiency, Josh gave Carrie's hair one more stroke, then handed her the comb. "Could we eat now?"

"Of course," Carrie said sweetly, then, as though she'd done it all her life, she began to serve dinner to her family. Just as she had the night before, Carrie was the one who had to sustain the conversation throughout dinner. But tonight it was easier because the children asked her questions, and instead of hiding their interest in what she told them about her brothers' travels, they allowed their eagerness to show.

After dinner, when she bid the children good night, after Dallas had kissed her father, she didn't hesitate as she flung her arms around Carrie and kissed her too. Tem stood to one side, his hands in the pockets of his dirty work pants and looked as though he didn't know what to do.

"Go on," Josh said gruffly, motioning his head toward Carrie, giving his son permission to kiss her.