Mail Order Meals - Kirsten Osbourne Page 0,35

together in the evenings instead of writing her letters, because she couldn’t chat with him while writing letters.

“Tomorrow, I’m not going to the March’s house until after lunch, so if you want to come home at lunchtime, I’ll fix something.” Trudie knew he’d want her to cook for him. He’d made it clear he was sick of sandwiches. She wanted to think it was because he wanted to spend time with her, but she knew better. He wanted better food.

“Is there enough of what we had for supper for you to warm up for tomorrow?” he asked.

She nodded. “There is. I’ll make sure it’s hot when you come home at noon.”

“Why aren’t you going in the morning?” he asked.

“I need to do our laundry. I can take it down before cooking supper, but I need it on the line in the morning.”

“I see.” Doug was again quiet after that, working on his whittling. She had no idea what he was making, but she was certain it would be pretty when he was done. He took such care with each stroke of his knife.

Trudie finished her second letter, and she stood up, yawning and stretching. “I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”

He nodded. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Trudie went upstairs and undressed, not even bothering to put her nightgown on. Why would she when he would just take it off her anyway?

When Doug got upstairs, he stripped and got under the covers, reaching for Trudie. Finding her naked was a welcome surprise, and he made slow sweet love to her. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done in his life to find such a loving, caring woman to marry him, who could also cook, but he was thankful every day. He fell asleep with a slight smile on his lips, happy to be with his wife, and happy to be alive.

AS SOON AS DOUG HAD left the following morning, Trudie began heating water. She’d decide to take a good long bath as soon as the clothes were on the line, and though she knew she’d run the risk of Doug coming home in the middle of her bath, she wasn’t terribly worried about it.

After the clothes were hanging, she put the leftover casserole into the oven to heat, and she climbed into the tub full of hot water. It felt so good to completely immerse herself.

When she came up for air, she realized Doug was standing over her, a grin on his face. “You’re welcome to bathe when I’m around. I seem to always come in when you’re in the middle of it anyway.”

Trudie sighed, reaching for her towel. “I really tried to get done while you were out. You shouldn’t be back for another forty-five minutes or so.” It was frustrating to always have her baths interrupted. They were her favorite thing in the world, and the only thing she’d ever really wanted to do alone.

“Maybe not, but I’m here. I cut myself a little and wanted to get it washed before it got too dirty.” He indicated a gash on his arm.

She looked at the cut, and decided it wasn’t bad enough for stitches. “Wash it good, and I’ll bandage it for you.” She looked longingly at her bathtub, knowing she wouldn’t have another chance for a bath for a few days.”

“You don’t have to get out,” he said with a frown. “I wasn’t trying to interrupt.”

“I want my hands dry when I bandage you. It’s fine.” She dried off and went upstairs to put on a clean dress, and she’d wash the one she’d been wearing in her bathwater, which had been the plan all along.

When she came back downstairs, he was sitting at the table, looking tired. He had injured himself on the inside of his arm, just above the wrist. She got an old, clean cloth and tore a strip from it, sitting beside him and carefully winding the bandage around his arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome.” She got up and removed their lunch from the oven, giving him a huge portion and herself a small one. “I’m making venison stew for supper.” She couldn’t wait until he tried her stew. It was one of the best things she made.

“That sounds so good. Are you still spending the day at the March’s?” he asked.

“Yes, Marion still needs me there watching her until she gets a little more confidence. It’s hard for her to learn to cook.”

“Why didn’t her mother teach her?” Doug asked. “Isn’t that