Free Bride of Paradise by Katie Crabapple Page B

reading his Bible.  She smiled, curling up beside him.  “Which book are you reading?”
    He looked up.  “Psalms.  I’m going to do my sermon this week on the twenty-third Psalm, and the peace we can get from a combination of the Lord and his Word.”
    She nodded, closing her eyes, more tired than she cared to admit.  “I love the twenty-third Psalm.  It calls me when I’m…upset.”   She wasn’t sure what other word to use for how she felt when her hands were dirty. 
    “Do you get upset often?”
    Kristen shrugged.  How could she tell him that she became unreasonably upset at strange things?  She’d wait and let him see it for himself.  She couldn’t explain it in a way anyone would ever understand anyway.  “Would you read to me?”
    He looked at her for a moment, before dropping his eyes back to his Bible.  His baritone voice read the familiar words, and she felt all the upsets of the day fade away.  Truly, her first day in her new home had been good and very productive.  She’d done so much, and her house was shining.  Once the last trunk was out, she’d be able to scrub the rest of the big room and finish the cleaning. 
    Of course, she’d just start over again on Monday, with laundry, and recleaning the whole house, but she was happy to know it would only be dirt that had been there as long as she had. 
    Kristen hated dirt.  There was just something about it that made her slightly crazy.  She hoped she could hide her crazy from Samuel for as long as possible.  It would be nice if he never had to see it of course, but she didn’t think that was at all possible. 
    She sat quietly, listening as he continued the Psalm.  He was a good man, and she’d made the right decision to marry him.  Even if she missed her family and it made her slightly crazy when people kept bringing them meals as if she didn’t know how to cook.  Both meals they’d received that day had been edible, certainly, but she could have done better in both cases.
    She looked up and realized that he’d quit reading and was watching her.  “What’s on your mind?” he asked.
    She sighed.  “Well, I’m wondering if people are going to keep bringing us all of our meals.  I prefer to cook myself.”  She held up a hand.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve appreciated it today, because I had so much to do, but is there any way to ask everyone to stop?  If they want to use meals as their tithe, could they just bring ingredients, and let me do what I want with them?” 
    She preferred to wash her food the way she wanted it washed.  She’d started doing most of the cooking at home when she was only fourteen because she wanted to know that the food she ate was clean enough.  Everyone thought she was strange for it, but she didn’t care.  Her mother hadn’t complained about giving up the duty.
    “I wouldn’t know how to ask that.  They’re being helpful and providing us with good meals to eat.  How can we refuse?”  He shrugged, wishing he knew what she wanted.
    “And it wouldn’t be very frugal to give the meals to the poor, would it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
    “Does it mean that much to you to do the cooking yourself?”
    She sighed.  “It really does.  I’ve been cooking for my family since I was fourteen.  I want to know how everything is prepared, and if the vegetables are scrubbed thoroughly before they’re cooked.  I want to know how long the fish sat out before someone did something with it.  I know it probably seems strange to you, but it matters a lot to me.”  She felt funny revealing this all to him, because she knew it was odd, but hopefully he’d understand.
    He frowned.  “I don’t think we can give the meals away.  Maybe I can talk to the men and make it known that you like to cook for me?  If they want to use food as a tithe, they should just bring the ingredients?  Although, I don’t know how to say that without hurting feelings.”
    “We’ll work