Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (19 page)

Marcail had given little thought to the previous Mrs.
Montgomery, but now as her hand went to the fabric
of the dresses, her mind began to wander. What had
she been like, and how much did Alex miss her? How long had she been gone? Did Alex know where she was
spending eternity? And many more questions.

There were five print dresses and two solids. Marcail
looked with some envy at the bright calico and gingham
cloth, and then noticed the sleeve of the blue gingham
was torn. Marcail pulled this dress out and saw in an
instant that it was different from the rest. It was faded
and the top button was missing. Marcail knew by looking at the other gowns that this one was a wash-day
dress.

Without giving herself much time to think, Marcail
pulled the dress over her head. It had barely settled on
her shoulders before one of Marcail's questions regarding Alex's first wife was answered-the dress was huge
on her. Marcail suddenly remembered the nightgown
Alex had given her the night they'd been snowed in, and
wondered how she could have forgotten.

"Well, Marcail, what are you going to do?" the small
brunette asked herself as she looked down at the way the
dress hung on her frame. She knew she was wasting
valuable time thinking about how she looked when her
only plans were to wash and clean. Marcail swiftly buttoned the front that bagged enough to hold another
person, and rolled up the sleeves that hung past her
fingertips.

Her hair was still very wet, so after pulling the heavy
tresses away from her face with a comb, she let the back
hang free and went to work.

Alex was glad to leave the office for the day. He knew
the bell could ring at any time, but he was looking
forward to seeing Marcail and was anxious to discover
how she had spent her day. It was incredible how often she was on his mind. After stabling Kelsey, Alex's step
was swift to the front door.

Marcail had just taken two loaves of bread from the
oven when the door opened. Thinking she'd heard Kelsey's hooves, she wasn't at all surprised when Alex
walked in the door.

"Hello," Alex spoke as he hung his coat. Still wearing
the workdress, Marcail was standing near the stove,
bending over a pan of cookies. She missed the way he
turned with a ready smile that died abruptly on his lips.

"Hi." Marcail spoke without turning. "I'm just about
to put these cookies in so you'll have some dessert to eat
after your lunch. You must be hungry, since you-"

Marcail didn't finish the sentence. She'd finally turned
to find Alex staring at her, his face holding an expression
she'd never seen before. They stood in silence for a
moment, and then Marcail watched his gaze slide over
her dress. A sinking feeling settled around her heart.

"I'm sorry about the dress, Alex," she said softly. "I
wanted to wash all my dresses and just acted without
thought. I should have checked with you before wearing
one of your wife's dresses. Please forgive me. I won't do
it again." Marcail could tell she was babbling, but he
seemed so pensive.

"I never thought of Linette as being big," Alex finally
said, "but that dress swallows you."

"I'll change just as soon as something is dry."

Alex shook his head and smiled. "There's no need.
You should wear them if you can. As you said, they are
my wife's dresses, and you're my wife."

Marcail nodded, but because he was still watching her,
she was not convinced.

"I wouldn't have believed that you were hiding so
much hair in that bun you wear." Alex's eyes took in the
way her hair, so black it was almost blue, hung to her hips, each strand falling in a glossy wave and curling of
its own accord at the end.

"I'll put it up," Marcail spoke, unable to keep the
disappointment from her voice. It was the first time in
days she didn't have a headache. She turned to find her
box of pins.

"Don't pin it upon my account. I like your hair down."

Marcail turned back, afraid to believe what she'd
heard. "You don't mind my wearing it down?"

"Not at all." Alex's voice was matter-of-fact.

'And you don't think I look 16?"

Alex smiled. "Sixteen," Alex let out a slow whistle.
"That would make you roughly half my age, and that
scares me a little. Right at the moment, you look like a
girl playing house in her mother's dress, but no, Marcail,
you do not look 16 with your hair down."

Marcail's relief was so obvious that Alex smiled again
and wondered for an instant why she wore it up if she
didn't want to. When she continued to smile, he wondered if she would still be smiling if she knew how much
he wanted to hold her, letting her fill his arms the way
she already filled his heart, or if she knew how badly he
wanted a real marriage, and not just a marriage of convenience to salvage her testimony before the townspeople.

As he constantly did these days, Alex prayed for patience. He believed that if he could just give this woman
time, court her, and tenderly care for her, they would
someday have a marriage in every sense of the word.

That Marcail was unaware of his thoughts was obvious
in the way she went about her business in the kitchen as
though they'd been married for years. Alex silently congratulated himself for keeping the emotions he felt from
showing on his face.

"How did things go at your office today?" Marcail
asked as she poured Alex a second cup of coffee.

Alex was so surprised by the question that he didn't
answer for a moment. He realized then that no one in
Willits ever asked him that question. Linette had been
burdened with a weak stomach and never wanted to talk
about his work. His parents checked with him on a
regular basis and nearly picked his brain dry when he
went home, but that was only a few times a year. Alex
suddenly recognized that he'd been lonely before Marcail, and that he'd missed someone taking a personal
interest in his work.

"Things were fine. Saturday mornings are usually
pretty hectic, but today was quiet. I was able to restock
my bag, so if I'm called out, I'll be all set. Oh," Alex said
abruptly, "I made some lotion for one of my patients who
suffers with dry skin. I added some fragrance after filling
her bottle and brought you some."

Alex went to where his coat hung by the door and
returned to hand Marcail a glass bottle filled with a thick
yellow fluid. Marcail pulled the cork and inhaled the
fragrance. It smelled like summer flowers, and she
smiled as she held the bottle beneath her nose.

Alex watched as she rubbed a small amount on her
arm. That she was more than pleased with the gift gave
him tremendous satisfaction. Acting as though he'd
given her a diamond instead of a small bottle of perfumed lotion, Marcail thanked him in her soft voice.

In that instant Alex wondered what type of home
she'd grown up in, where she had obtained such an
appreciation for small things. His thoughts made him
realize, not for the first time, how little he knew about
his wife.

The rest of Saturday flew by in a buzz of activities.
Alex was not called away, so he chopped wood and
worked in the barn. Marcail finished the baking and
worked on her school lessons for the following week. At
one point Alex came in to find Marcail standing on a
chair, putting dishes away.

Before she could take another breath, he was taking
the dishes back down, and telling her he was going to
lower the shelf. Marcail tried to explain that she didn't
mind using the chair, but he had become a man with a
mission and didn't even answer her. When she saw how
determined he was, she worked with him for a time, but
as he began to pull the shelf from the wall, nails creaking
and dust flying, she moved into the living room to get
out of his way.

By the time Marcail was ready to start supper preparation, the shelf and dishes were back in place, and she
went to work on the evening meal. Alex washed up and
helped her. In no time at all, they had put a filling meal
on the table.

As the evening progressed, Alex noticed that Marcail
was more animated than he'd ever seen her. He wondered how stressful it was for her to teach. On the other evenings they'd spent together, she'd been communicative but not enthusiastic. He then pondered if her bubbly
mood had anything to do with the lotion he'd brought.
He told himself with an inner smile that if this was the
effect he could expect, he'd bring her a different bottle
every night.

Alex took a bath in his bedroom after supper. Marcail
helped him heat the water, and then to give him as much
privacy as she could she took herself off to the living room
to a book she was reading. An hour later, when Alex was
still behind closed doors, Marcail decided to get ready
for bed, telling herself she could use the extra sleep.

Alex took an unusually long time with his bath that
night, but not because he was overly dusty or wanted to
put space between him and Marcail. Once away from
Marcail, he found his mind trying to work through the
puzzle of the change in her that night. His mind lingered
on the fact that she hadn't taught school that day, but
then he put that idea aside. Marcail never seemed beaten
down or tired when he picked her up in the afternoon.

Alex dried off and sat on the edge of the bed. He let his
mind see her as she'd been when he'd come home from
work-bent over the stove, looking adorable in that huge
dress, her hair falling in thick waves down her back.

Her hair! Alex realized with a start. He jumped up,
pulled on his pants, and opened the door as he slipped
into his shirt.

"Marcail," he called before rounding the corner into
the living room.

"Yes?"

"May I come into the living room? I need to ask you
something."

"Sure," Marcail answered from her place on the sofa.
She was already in her nightgown and robe, but was
sitting on the sofa with her Bible. She watched as Alex
came in and sat beside her, even though the sofa was
already made up for the night.

Alex had not carried his lantern from the bedroom,
and Marcail's was turned rather low. Alex reached and
increased the flame before he spoke.

"I need to ask you about your hair," Alex began,
watching her face closely in the lamplight.

"My hair?"

"Yes. Does it give you a headache to put your hair
up?" Alex came straight to the point, and Marcail blinked
at him.

"Yes it does, but how did you know that?"

"Because every other evening you've seemed to be
upset about something or in some type of pain. And
tonight you weren't, so I figured either your job is very
stressful or you get headaches from putting all of this on
top of your head."

Alex's hand came out and brushed back the locks that
had fallen over her left shoulder. "Marcail," Alex continued, "why do you wear your hair up if it hurts you?"

Marcail was surprised he didn't know the answer. "It's
part of my contract with the school," Marcail explained
softly. "I must wear my hair up at all times."