The Proper Wife. Winnie Griggs

treating it more as a game than a chore. In short order she had the area in front of the hearth as clean as she could make it given the tools on hand.

      Finally setting aside her broom, she fetched the blanket and spread it in front of the fireplace. “There now, why don’t you sit and rest that foot of yours?”

      That did sound good. “Ladies first.”

      Rather than showing appreciation for his manners, she looked exasperated. “Oh for goodness sake, this isn’t Cora Beth’s parlor. Given the situation, I think we can put those sort of niceties aside.”

      He clenched his jaw. Didn’t she realize that, “given the situation,” they should make every effort to maintain whatever decorum they could? “Good manners are always in order, no matter the circumstances.”

      She waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. You’re hurt and I’ve got berries to collect. Now, do you need help getting situated before I head back out?”

      Her question set his teeth on edge. He wasn’t entirely helpless. “I’ll manage.”

      She studied him uncertainly. “Your foot—”

      “Is better off inside my boot where the pressure will keep the swelling down.”

      “But what if it’s a break?”

      “It’s not.” And even if it was, there was nothing she could do about it.

      She nodded, then looked around. “Now, what can I put the berries in?”

      “Are you sure you want to do that now? The rain hasn’t slacked off yet.”

      She shrugged and gave him a playful smile. “I’d rather be wet than hungry.”

      He started to point out that they had other things to eat, but then decided there was no point. Her mind seemed to be made up. “In that case I think the hamper is probably our best bet.”

      “Of course.” She knelt and quickly emptied the contents. Reaching for the hat and coat, she nodded toward the blanket. “Set yourself down and I’ll be back in no time.”

      “I’m coming with you.”

      She paused with one arm in a coat sleeve and one not. “I can handle this. You should get off that foot—”

      He ignored her protest. “It doesn’t take legs to pick berries. And, since I’ll be sharing in the fruits, literally, I should also share in the labor.” He grabbed up the hamper, tightened his grip on his cane and headed for the door. She could follow or not as she liked.

      A heartbeat later he heard her scurrying to catch up. “You are one of the stubbornest men I’ve ever come across. And if you’d met my brothers you’d know that was saying something.” She flounced past him, pushed the door open, then turned back to face him. “You stand here with the hamper and I’ll pick the berries.” Before he could argue she held up a hand. “You’re almost dry so no point in getting yourself soaked again. Besides, if you insist on going out there I’ll feel obliged to give you back your coat and hat and how gentlemanly of you would that be?”

      Speak of stubborn! He stared at the downpour. “Perhaps we should just wait to see if this lets up soon.”

      “It’s not coming down quite as hard as it was earlier. And what if it doesn’t stop? I’d just as soon get to it while I’m still wet. Once I get dry I’m not going to be quite so eager to step outside again.”

      He supposed that made sense. But the woman was never going to dry out at this rate.

      Without waiting for his response, she drew the collar of his jacket up higher and stepped out into the storm.

      Several minutes later, as she dumped yet another handful of berries in the hamper, he took her wrist and drew her out of the rain. “Time to come back inside. We have plenty enough to hold us for a while.”

      As if not quite trusting him, she peered into the hamper. “I suppose that’ll do for now.”

      Eli turned, glad that he could finally get off his feet. He hadn’t taken more than two steps, though, when he realized she’d stepped back out in the rain. What was she up to now?

      Ignoring the throbbing in his foot, he set the hamper on the floor and limped back toward the door. “Miss Lassiter?”

      “I’ll be there in a minute.” Her voice was muffled but he could tell she hadn’t gone far.

      It was several long minutes later before she reappeared inside the doorway. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t empty-handed.

      “Look what I found,” she said nodding to the four large pieces of firewood and two stout sticks in her arms. “There’s a chopping block out back. There’s more but the other pieces hadn’t been split yet and they were too heavy to carry. Anyway, I thought these might come in handy for the fire.”

      Hadn’t she seen the small pile he’d stacked by the fireplace? Or, like him, was she worried about how long they’d be stranded here? “It was a good thought, but these pieces are soaking wet.”

      “I know, but if we place the pieces just inside the fireplace around the fire, they’ll dry out faster. Then if we get down to where we need them, we’ll have a better shot at getting them to burn.”

      While she crossed the room with her burden, he followed more slowly with the hamper. The woman had a sensible head on her shoulders after all, it seemed. Had he been wrong about her in other ways?

      Once she’d arranged the damp wood to her satisfaction, Miss Lassiter stood and rolled her shoulders. Then she shed the garments he’d loaned her and hung them back on the make-do coat pegs.

      “Thanks for the use of your hat and coat.” She studied them with a wince. “I’m afraid they’re showing signs of what I put them through.”

      He shrugged. “They can be replaced.”

      She made no move to approach the blanket and her face wore a slightly embarrassed look. Surely she wasn’t worried that he would—

      “I’ve got water in my shoes,” she blurted out. “I was thinking I’d take them and my stockings off and set them by the fire to dry. If it won’t offend you, that is.”

      Was that all? “Of course.”

      She nodded and hesitated. Realizing her dilemma, he busied himself with studying the items she’d pulled from the hamper earlier, keeping his gaze averted to allow her what privacy he could while she removed her footgear.

      A few moments later she carefully arranged her shoes and stockings on the uneven hearth.

      “Ready to eat?” Wanting to put her at ease, he kept his tone conversational.

      She nodded. “As soon as we give thanks.”

      Give thanks? She saw something in this situation to be thankful for? But he supposed keeping to normal rituals in such an otherwise unusual situation gave her comfort and perhaps some sense of normalcy. So he would go along with her request. And since she seemed to be waiting for him to lead the blessing, he dutifully bowed his head. “For the food we have before us, Lord, we give You thanks and ask that You continue to bless our respective families and our endeavors. Amen.”

      Miss Lassiter echoed his “Amen”, then nodded toward the cluster of food items. “I’ll take one of those pears if you don’t mind.”

      He nodded and reached for the fruit. To his surprise, she remained standing as he handed it up to her. What now?

      As she accepted the pear from him, he noticed the red marks on her wrist and frowned. “What happened?”

      She followed the direction of his gaze, then gave a sheepish smile. “I got a little careless. Dewberry vines have lots of nasty little thorns and I tangled with a few when reaching for the plumper berries.” Before he could offer sympathy, she shrugged. “Don’t worry, though, I’ve