Free Dorothy Garlock by Homeplace Page A

you.”
    “Well! I declare.” Esther folded her arms across her flat chest and glared at him.
    Owen raised the cup to his mouth and took a big gulp, almost scalding his tongue. “Don’t push me, Esther. I have a splitting headache. Go on home and take some of that food with you. It’ll spoil before we use it up.”
    “Oh! The whole family has been in a hubbub since you married that—”
    “Enough!” Owen slammed his hand down on the table. “Go on home. I’m tired and want to get to bed. I’m behind with my work. Tomorrow I’ve got to harrow that field behind the barn.”
    “Why didn’t you have Uncle Gus do that? Land sakes, Jens has our field planted. Gus don’t do enough around here to earn his eats.”
    “Don’t tell me how to farm.”
    “You lost two days work going to Lansing to get that woman. I suppose you’ll lose two more days taking her back. As far as I’m concerned—the sooner
she
leaves the better.”
    “Drop it. I have enough on my mind without butting heads with you.”
    Esther was undaunted by her brother’s angry scowl.
    “Don’t worry about the baby. With my help, Lily will make a good mother.”
    “I’m not going to marry Lily. Good Lord! Can’t you get that through your head?”
    “Why not? You married that . . . girl, and she was but sixteen. Lily’s almost eighteen.”
    “Leave it be and go on home.”
    “If Paul hadn’t run off—”
    “He didn’t want to marry Lily, either. He has a right to decide for himself what he wants to do with his life.”
    “Then who is going to marry a girl who was born out of wedlock to a mother like Hettie?”
    “If you’d stop bringing it up that she was born out of wedlock, people would forget it. If you’d give her some freedom, she might meet someone.” Owen’s hand went to his thigh and massaged the sore muscles.
    “The neighbors know anyway.”
    “I am tired, I don’t want to talk about Lily, Hettie, or Mrs. Fairfax.”
    “All right, I’ll go. When is she leaving?”
    “I haven’t asked her.”
    “I’ll be back in the morning.”
    “You needn’t bother. I’ll be in the fields at first light.”
    “All the more reason for me to be here.”
    “Do you think she’s going to steal something?”
    “You can never tell about women like
her.
”
    “Thank you for what you’ve done.”
    Esther sniffed. “What’s a sister for if not to pitch in in times of need.” She covered her shoulders with a shawl and picked up a basket. At the door she paused and looked back. “After Mama died, I was all that stood between you and Papa when he got in one of his mean moods. Do you remember that, Owen?”
    “I remember.”
    “I’ve always wanted what was best for you. You’re very dear to me, Owen.”
    “I know that,” he said gently.
    “We’ll take care of the boy—Lily and I.”
    “Goodnight, Esther.”
    The house was as quiet as a tomb after Esther left. For a man who liked peace and quiet, the last few days had been a nightmare for Owen. He leaned back in his chair, his arms raised, his hands laced together behind his head. He was twenty-nine years old and had lived half his life. Would he spend the last half alone? At times he longed for the companionship of a sweet, soft woman; one who would be waiting for him when he came in from the fields. He wanted to hold her at night and talk about the events of the day, plan with her, work for her, cherish her.
    The lass he had married was but a child—the poor little thing. She had given him the boy, a tiny little human being to love and who, he hoped, would love him in return. Little Harry might have a yen to see the world and would turn away from the farm as Paul had done. Maybe someday he’d go to the university. Maybe he’d take to the river boats. Maybe—
    Owen didn’t understand why his thoughts had taken that direction. The immediate problem was how to care for the boy now, not what he’d do twenty years from now. The child needed a mother. It wouldn’t be