Read Online When Henry Came Home by Josephine Bhaer - Free Book Online
Authors: Josephine Bhaer
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see the bedroom. I think Ma musta done it up special." She led him down the tiny hallway to the back and into the little room. Sarah had given up the big brass bed she and Mary had shared, and now it stood in the middle of the room, against the right wall. "My great-gramma made that quilt," said Mary. "I hope Sarah ain't put out I got it, but I'm the one that quilts most." It was white, hand stitched, with red rose vines winding around the edge. You could still see little grey lines some places from the pencil that had been used to mark out the stitching.
"It's pretty—too nice for a bed. It oughta be hung up somewhere."
Mary shrugged. "I got another quilt. This one's for special occasions, so it don't wear out." She looked out the window. "Rain's comin' down again—gettin' dark." She turned back to Henry, her eyes searching. "You look tired. Wanna sit down here and I'll go see if there's food in the kitchen?"
"Sure." Mary pulled back the quilt and he sat down, grimacing a little. Then she was gone and he could hear her rustling down the hall and, after, faint footsteps in the kitchen. He toed off his shoes and rubbed his skull with one hand.
"There was ham sandwiches already made up," Mary announced, entering again. She handed him one, without a plate, and sat down beside him. They ate in silence, and when she was half-finished, Mary laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't let's ever be queer about bein' quiet," she said. "Talkin' don't always mean sayin' anything."
"I ain't no stranger to silence," Henry returned, smiling just barely.
Mary laughed softly and put her arm through his. "No, I guess that's my trouble," she said.
"But you're always sayin' something."
"Am I? I'm glad." She yawned. "It was a good day. Now, when does the fun stop and we gotta get to work? Never, I hope."
"It ain't work if you like it."
"I like it with you." She yawned again. "Maybe we oughta go to bed. You want anything else to eat?"
"No."
"All right. Here." She knelt on the floor and pulled off a sock.
"Don't—I'll—" he began, putting out a hand.
"Shh," she silenced him softly, her hands moving. "Just unbutton your shirt." And in a few moments, she stood and pulled back the covers, letting him get in. "I'm gonna get a glass of water." She went into the kitchen, reaching around all the while to unlace her bodice, and poured a glass from a pitcher on the counter. She drank it there and left it, then went back to the bedroom and slipped her dress off, hanging it over a chair. The room was almost completely dark now, and they had lit no lamps, but her eyes were used to it and she moved swiftly, unlacing her boots and putting her nightgown on over her head. She went around to her side of the bed and slid in quickly, softly, scooting over until she touched Henry's arm. She moved closer, her fingers gliding over his chest to embrace him. "Hen," she said quietly.
He was asleep.
Under her breath, she laughed. She listened for a moment, and discovered that he was snoring softly. Then she curled up next to him, wrapping herself in his arm. In his sleep, he shifted, pulling her closer, and it was not long until she, too, was sound asleep as death.
Mary wakened lazily the next morning, sighing and rolling over a little. She stretched, her hands reaching out under the covers and feeling only cool sheets. Blinking against the morning light, she opened her eyes and saw him, sitting next to the bed on a little wooden chair. He was leaned forward a little, gritting his teeth. "Hen," she
"It's pretty—too nice for a bed. It oughta be hung up somewhere."
Mary shrugged. "I got another quilt. This one's for special occasions, so it don't wear out." She looked out the window. "Rain's comin' down again—gettin' dark." She turned back to Henry, her eyes searching. "You look tired. Wanna sit down here and I'll go see if there's food in the kitchen?"
"Sure." Mary pulled back the quilt and he sat down, grimacing a little. Then she was gone and he could hear her rustling down the hall and, after, faint footsteps in the kitchen. He toed off his shoes and rubbed his skull with one hand.
"There was ham sandwiches already made up," Mary announced, entering again. She handed him one, without a plate, and sat down beside him. They ate in silence, and when she was half-finished, Mary laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't let's ever be queer about bein' quiet," she said. "Talkin' don't always mean sayin' anything."
"I ain't no stranger to silence," Henry returned, smiling just barely.
Mary laughed softly and put her arm through his. "No, I guess that's my trouble," she said.
"But you're always sayin' something."
"Am I? I'm glad." She yawned. "It was a good day. Now, when does the fun stop and we gotta get to work? Never, I hope."
"It ain't work if you like it."
"I like it with you." She yawned again. "Maybe we oughta go to bed. You want anything else to eat?"
"No."
"All right. Here." She knelt on the floor and pulled off a sock.
"Don't—I'll—" he began, putting out a hand.
"Shh," she silenced him softly, her hands moving. "Just unbutton your shirt." And in a few moments, she stood and pulled back the covers, letting him get in. "I'm gonna get a glass of water." She went into the kitchen, reaching around all the while to unlace her bodice, and poured a glass from a pitcher on the counter. She drank it there and left it, then went back to the bedroom and slipped her dress off, hanging it over a chair. The room was almost completely dark now, and they had lit no lamps, but her eyes were used to it and she moved swiftly, unlacing her boots and putting her nightgown on over her head. She went around to her side of the bed and slid in quickly, softly, scooting over until she touched Henry's arm. She moved closer, her fingers gliding over his chest to embrace him. "Hen," she said quietly.
He was asleep.
Under her breath, she laughed. She listened for a moment, and discovered that he was snoring softly. Then she curled up next to him, wrapping herself in his arm. In his sleep, he shifted, pulling her closer, and it was not long until she, too, was sound asleep as death.
Mary wakened lazily the next morning, sighing and rolling over a little. She stretched, her hands reaching out under the covers and feeling only cool sheets. Blinking against the morning light, she opened her eyes and saw him, sitting next to the bed on a little wooden chair. He was leaned forward a little, gritting his teeth. "Hen," she
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