Page 33 of Hank and Elsie
Hank chuckled. “I won’t tell her you said ‘burst’four times.”
Elsie squeaked in dismay. “I tell you, Hank….” She let out a longsuffering sigh. “This business of being a proper lady is sometimes a botheration. Please don’t tell Miss Taylor I said that, either.”
Hank couldn’t resist teasing her. He made himself look properly sober. “You wound me, Elsie.” Dramatically, he placed a hand over his heart. “That you’d think me a tattletale.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that!” Catching sight of his poorly hidden amusement, her expression shifted from dismay to narrow-eyed suspicion. “Stop pulling my lower limb, Hank Canfield.”
This time, he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.
She playfully smacked his shoulder. “What?”
He wasn’t about to tell Elsie that ladies didn’t mention the need for privies or acknowledge they hadlower limbs, unless in the case of dire emergencies. Nor did they smack or elbow gentlemen. He enjoyed how refreshingly different she was from the young women he’d associated with before he left his grandfather’s home. Stuffy and stuck up, all of them.Not unlike my grandfather.
The tyrant had forced Hank’s older sister into the same rigid mold. Luckily, Macy had married an easygoing man who adoredher and, as a wife and mother, she became more like the girl he remembered before she had to grow up and be a lady. When time permitted, she even allowed herself to paint. He wondered what Elsie would think of her art hanging on his walls.
He tilted his head toward the house. “Be my guest.”
She gathered up her skirts and hastened up the steps, across the porch, and inside.
Hank followed more slowly, trying to see the space through her eyes, the big bed in the left corner, the four wooden chairs in front of the fireplace with cushions made from bear fur and stuffed with the insides of cat tails, comfortable for the four denizens of Three Bend Lake. A narrow bookshelf filled with volumes. The kitchen along the right side, with lower cupboards and upper shelves, an icebox, and dry sink. A space for the table remained empty.
Everything seemed fine to him. He removed his hat and hung it on a peg near the door, and then stepped to the side to watch his guest’s reaction.
With a dreamy smile Elsie inhaled a deep breath. She stooped to touch the wooden floor, and then flattened her hand and ran her palm across the planks. “So smooth and shiny.” Standing, she smiled at him.
He gazed at her, flabbergasted. “I never thought a woman would notice, much less admire myfloors.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe a woman who hadn’t lived with adirt floorfor years wouldn’t notice. When Pa couldfinallyafford to put down a wooden floor, why, that was a proud year for us.” She spread out her hands. “But even our floors don’t look like this. How did you get them looking so glossy?”
Glossy, eh?Hank’s chest swelled with pride. “Lots of planing, sanding, and waxing.”
Elsie moved to put her hands on the logs and ran her fingertips along the chinking. She peered out one window and stood still for a moment, staring at the lake. She whirled and almost dance-stepped toward the bed, repeating the touch and palm rub across the top and down the front. “This bed! I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I made that sleigh bed.”
“Itissort of shaped like a sleigh. Where did you ever get the idea?”
“My parents had one. I was really small when my mother became ill. I’d climb in bed while we cuddled or, when feeling stronger, she read to me.” Remembering his early years and telling Elsie, felt so natural. A surprise, really, for he’d never mentioned those precious times to anyone. “Took a lot of trial and error to figure out how to do those curves.”
With one finger, she traced the curl on the edge of the headboard. “Since I’ve lived with Miss Taylor, I’ve learned how wonderful it is to sleep in a bed—myownbed in myownroom. Not a pallet on the hard floor shared with my sister and next to my brother that has to be rolled up every morning. I only slept in a real one—my parents’ bed, that is—when I was sick.” She patted the bedcoverings. “And even their mattress, stuffed with prairie grass, isn’t as comfortable as mine. Sleeping on a horsehair mattress with adown featherbedon top is heavenly.”
As if reading her mind, Hank justknewMiss Bouncy Elsie Bailey wanted to sit on his bed and test out how firm or soft was the mattress. He almost extended an invitation for her to try, and then realized howinappropriateencouragement to bounce on his bed would sound. In fact, discussing mattresses and sleeping arrangements was probably not a topic for unmarried ladies and gentlemen.
The tips of his ears burned, and he hastily stepped back, floundering for what to say.
Elsie didn’t seem to notice his almostfaux pas, for she kept on talking. “Iloveliving in town. I’m learning so much. Making my own money.” She gave him a gamin grin. “Making friends. I’m going to work with Miss Taylor for years and years.”
The girl’s enthusiasm for life impressed him, and Hank found himself liking her. He gave her a fond smile. “Sounds like a sensible plan.”
Elsie shrugged. “My parents won’t think so.” She sounded aggrieved. “They thinksensibleis getting married, so I have a man to take care of me.”
“That is what parents usually want for their daughters.”
She threw up her hands. “What if her man gets injured and can’t work? What if he dies, leaving her alone with children?”
He thought of the faded-looking widow who now kept house for her brother. “I suppose it’s good for a woman to know how to make a living before she settles down. Something to fall back on.”
“What if she wants to keep making that living, even when she settles down?” she demanded.
