Free Destiny's Bride by Ginger Simpson

forearm across her sweat-beaded brow, but refused to complain. With every patched hole in the barn, Walt’s grin widened. Even when his pale blue shirt was drenched, showing salted sweat rings under his arms, pride still sparkled in his eyes. After a fresh coat of whitewash, even she had to admit the barn didn’t look like the same building.
    By the time they finished and trekked into the house, Cecile was exhausted. Going to the counter for a drink of water, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened, seeing her nose a shade darker than her sunburned cheeks. Her hair hung in unruly strands, and her hands ached. She held them out, turning palms up and gazed at the splinters and blisters her day’s work had earned her. “Oh look at me.” She leaned closer to the distorted looking glass. “I should have worn my bonnet.”
    Walt looked up from pulling off his boots and socks. “You look tired… but still beautiful.”
    “How can you say that? My nose looks like I rooted around with the pig.” She rubbed the tip with her finger, hoping it was just a smudge of dirt. It wasn’t.
    She turned and slumped against the counter. “If my mother saw me now, I’d get a good talking to. I can’t count the times she’s told me how important it is to protect my skin. I’ve always hated having something on my head, and now just look at me. I’m a mess.”  She picked at a sliver in her thumb and huffed.
    “Tell you what,” he said, coming over and embracing her. “When I go to town for supplies, I’ll buy you a brand new bonnet and pair of gloves.” He kissed the tip of nose and pulled his mouth into an exaggerated frown that made her laugh.
    “My father would say that’s like shutting the barn door after the horse got out… or something like that.”
    “It’ll take more than one day in the sun to dim your beauty, Cecile. Now how about I go out and bring in some water and we can wash up for bed. I’m exhausted.” He grabbed the bucket and started for the door, but paused and looked over his shoulder.
    “I could probably muster up some energy if you aren‘t too tired.” He dropped one azure eye in a wink and slipped outside.
     
    ***
     
    Cecile went about her daily chores, sweeping, washing dishes, and airing out the bedding. Humidity pasted her clothing to her sticky skin. The petticoats she’d become accustomed to wearing beneath her skirt lay discarded in the corner, leaving her clad only in a chemise beneath her plaid summer dress. There was no escape from this kind of sticky heat. How in the world did Walt work outside for so long without a break?
    Even if she ventured outside to the shade of the only tree next to the house, the hot wind burned her skin. Why hadn’t the person who built the place put it closer to the lake so the thick stand of oaks growing there shaded everything? Using her skirt hem to blot the beads of perspiration from her brow, she sighed, looking forward to the end of the day when the sun dropped below the horizon, giving a brief respite from its muggy torture.
    Walt spent most of his time working the fields while waiting for the right time to make the trip to purchase winter supplies and seeds. When spring came again, he remained determined to plant a garden and grow corn, squash, beets, green beans, and onions rather than buy them as he would this year. Cecile’s misery forced her to put aside her crocheting.  Even with the windows and door open, the hot air kept the inside like an oven. Watching her husband drag his weary and sweat-soaked body into the house every day forced her to keep her whining to a minimum. The summer wore on tirelessly and gave her a great idea:  a picnic next to the lake.
    “Heck, I think I’ll even try my hand at growing some tomatoes,” he announced during lunch. Despite the shade overhead, the lack of a breeze didn’t change the dampness in the air.  Even with the cheery checkered tablecloth on the ground, the tempting fare