Chapter Sixteen

T he following day turned into a whirlwind of activity. Harley John borrowed Marnie's auto and drove them out to see the work on the house Walker Williams had started for him. The foundation was almost finished, and then the building of it could begin. Friday and Molly both gave Harley John their nod of approval for the house plans when he showed them the blueprints. He talked about where he wanted to build a hangar for the airplane and a place to park their automobiles, aware that Sadie would need one of her own.

They had lunch at Gideon McBride's restaurant in town, where several people came over to their table to welcome Molly home and thank her and Harley John for their service in the war. When they found out Friday had served with Harley John, they shook his hand too.

From there, they visited the Western store that smelled of leather. Friday ended up buying a new pair of boots and made Molly laugh when he tried on a ten-gallon hat. They stopped by Ilsa Campanelli's store just so Friday could see the fashions she made and shipped around the world. Molly helped him choose a lace collar as a gift for his mother.

She showed him the telephone office where she'd started working after school and eventually earned the position of manager. He wondered if she wished she could return to her job there.

It struck him anew how much the girls of the Signal Corps had given up to do what they did in their effort to help the Allies win the war. How many of them had been like Molly and relinquished good jobs to serve? He was sure Molly had made more in her job in Pendleton than she did in the Signal Corps.

They wandered around town, then stopped for a cold soda at the drugstore. Their topics of discussion jumped from one thing to another and eventually landed on the wheat harvest.

"Garrett is cutting his wheat right now. Do you want to go watch?" Harley John asked as they stepped outside into the sweltering heat of the afternoon.

"I would like to see that, but perhaps Molly would prefer to go home."

"I'm game. Let's go," she said, climbing into Marnie's auto between Harley John and Friday in the front seat.

Long before they reached the field, Friday could see a golden cloud hovering over it.

"Dust and chaff," Harley John said, leaving Marnie's auto near the house. Molly went inside to see if she could be of help to Aundy while Friday and Harley John walked out to the field.

They stood and watched until Garrett turned at the end of the field and stopped the tractor. He jumped off and shook their hands.

"We'll be wrapping up today pretty soon. If you want to get the true experience, you're welcome to come out tomorrow," Garrett said in invitation.

"Really? You wouldn't mind?" Friday asked. Although he'd planned to return home tomorrow, he was fascinated with the process of wheat harvest, as well as the tractors Garrett used.

"Be happy to have you join us. Both of you can, if you like."

Harley John groaned in feigned dismay, although Friday could tell he was pleased by the prospect. When his friend looked at him, Friday nodded.

"We'll be here," Harley John said.

The next morning, Molly again sat between Friday and Harley John as they drove out to Nash's Folly. She volunteered to help Aundy prepare lunch for the harvest crew while Harley John and Friday worked in the field.

Friday had only planned to stay until after lunch, but they ended up spending the entire day. When the bell clanged at the house, signaling the end of the workday, he was covered in chaff and dust from head to toe. His skin itched, and he was filthy and sweaty, but he'd had a grand time. Additionally, he had learned so much about growing and harvesting wheat from Garrett, who'd patiently answered every question Friday had asked.

Molly wrinkled her nose when she saw him and Harley John. "Mama isn't going to be happy at what you two are about to do to her automobile."

Aundy handed her an old blanket. "Cover the seat, and it should be fine."

Friday followed Harley John around to a spigot with a hose on the side of the house to wash off the worst of it, but Molly grabbed the hose and sprayed both of them until he and Harley John were sopping wet. They might have wrestled the hose away from her, but they were both laughing too hard to do much more than attempt to remain upright.

Aundy handed them old towels, which they used to rub over their hair, mop their faces, and wipe their arms.

"I'll bring you a cold drink while you dry off," Molly said, turning off the hose. "It won't take long in this heat."

Harley John thumped Friday on the back, and then the two of them took seats on the porch steps, legs stretched out and arms spread to dry quickly in the sunshine.

"That Molly is a regular pistol," Friday mused after the girl in question brought out two glasses of grape juice filled with ice along with a plate full of cookies made with chopped peanuts and disappeared back inside the house.

"She and Sadie have both always been that way. Gee, you should have seen the two of them before they started getting along. There were a few times when one or the other of them was on the warpath that I thought blood might be shed."

"But they seem so close now," Friday said after taking a long swig of the refreshing drink.

"They are, but it took time for them to get there." Harley John leaned close to Friday and lowered his voice. "I won't admit it if you tell anyone I said it, but they both can be bossy and think they are right. That's why they locked horns so often when they were younger."

Friday laughed as a picture of the two sisters in a sparring match filled his head. Before he could comment on it, Molly returned outside, appearing ready to go.

"I'm driving the car since you two are a mess." Molly sashayed by them, spread the blanket Aundy had offered over the seat, then slid behind the wheel.

Friday and Harley John divvied up the remaining cookies, gulped the last of the juice, and handed the glasses and plate to Aundy's daughter.

Harley John started the car while Friday slid in next to Molly. On the way back to Dogwood Corners, the two men teased Molly relentlessly about her driving skills between munching cookies.

When Molly stole one of the cookies from Friday and bit into it, he pretended to be terrified. "Hands on the wheel, Mame. Both hands on the wheel. Golly, but we are dead ducks, Johnny boy!"

Molly and Harley John were still laughing at his antics when she parked the car in the automobile barn at Dogwood Corners, and they all walked into the house.

"Oh, gracious!" Shea said as they stepped into the kitchen. "You boys are a disaster. Upstairs with you, and don't you dare make a mess on the way there."

Harley John kissed the woman's cheek, then raced up the back stairs. Molly had knocked most of the chaff off them with the hose. Anything left was going to require diligent scrubbing to remove.

Friday took a bath, scrubbing away the grime, then emptied the tub and went through the process again before he felt clean. He finished off with a spray from the shower, then dressed in his last pair of clean jeans and a shirt.

He pulled on his new boots since he'd left the ones he'd worn today outside. They were far too dirty to wear in the house, at least until he could clean them. His preference would have been to leave off his socks and shoes and go barefoot, but that seemed incredibly impolite. He'd just stood to head downstairs when there was a tap on his door, and Harley John poked his head inside.

"Mama Marnie said for me to fetch your dirty clothes, and we'll wash them because she can't possibly send you home with those filthy things in your bag."

Friday shook his head. "I can wash them if you show me where to get the job done."

"You'll make one of the females downstairs mad if you try. Believe me. You don't want to rattle that cage." Harley John waited as Friday gathered his dirty clothes, then they went down the back stairs and into a room off the kitchen where there was a washing machine unlike any Friday had seen.

"How does this work?" Friday said, forgetting his dirty clothes as he examined the parts and pieces of the Liberty washing machine.

Shea charged into the room. "You boys better not be taking anything apart to see how it works, or you'll get no supper!"

Friday stood and held his hands in front of him in a gesture of innocence. "We didn't touch anything, Mrs. Meade, but I would sure be beholden to you if you could show me how this works. It doesn't look anything like the washing machine my Ma uses."

Shea's frown lifted into a smile. "Well, of course, Friday. Marnie just bought this machine a few months ago, and it works like a dream. I'll show you just how it operates."

Harley John joined Friday in watching the operation of the washing machine as Shea ran Friday's clothes through the process. When she finished, Friday thanked her, then he took his clothes outside, and Harley John helped him hang them on the clothesline.

"At least you have something clean to wear home tomorrow, unless you want to stay awhile longer." Harley John looked over the line at him as he secured a clothespin to a pair of jeans. "I don't think Molly would mind in the least."

"What would I mind?" Molly asked as she stepped around sheets that were flapping in the breeze on the line behind them.

"If Friday stayed awhile longer."

Molly looked at Friday, and the way she did, with her mouth soft and a light glowing in her eyes, made him trip over the clothes basket someone had left to collect the sheets. Only by grabbing on to one of the support posts that held the clotheslines did he remain upright.

"I'll … uh, be around if you need me," Harley John said, and jogged off around the corner of the house.

"Help me with these sheets?" Molly asked as she reached up to unfasten the corner of one.

Friday was far more interested in watching her, watching each movement, than he was about folding the sheets, but he managed not to drop any on the grass as he helped her fold them and then set them neatly in the clothes basket.

"Gertie said dinner will be ready in about half an hour. While there aren't children pestering us, or anyone spying on our every move, would you like to take a walk along the lane?"

"Sure," Friday said, taking the clothes basket from her and setting it inside the back door. He figured this way, the sheets at least had a fighting chance to make it to the linen closet while they were still clean. Left outside, one of the dogs, cats, or youngsters would likely have them filthy again.

Together, they meandered down the lane lined with dogwoods. The trees provided welcome shade against the sun.

"Did you enjoy your day, Friday?" Molly asked, moving closer to him once they were out of sight of the house, taking his hand in hers.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "I had a grand day, Molly. I'm sorry I didn't spend much time with you. You looked awfully cute when you came out this morning pulling the little wagon full of doughnuts."

"You looked like you fell off the combine and rolled in the dirt," Molly said with a teasing smile. "I didn't think about the doughnuts until I was already out there. I'm sorry. I should have brought out some cookies for you and Harley John."

Friday shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Mame. I used to love hot doughnuts more than almost anything, but after being in France and that being something we got, especially when we were out on the front, I just can't stomach them anymore. Apparently, Harley John feels the same way."

"I'll remember next time."

"Next time?" He lifted an eyebrow in question. "You think Garrett would let me come back again?"

"Definitely. I heard him tell Aunt Aundy that you and Harley John were worth six of the threshing guys who travel around as a crew."

Friday felt pride swell in his chest. He'd tried to work hard, not get in the way, and listen more than he talked. He'd enjoyed the hard work, and it felt good to do something he saw as productive. Since he'd been back on the farm with his family, he'd discovered his father had turned over most of the work of the nut orchard to Friday's brothers-in-law. Friday had been relegated to jobs like fixing the fence, milking the cows, repairing equipment, and that sort of thing. Not that he minded greatly, but it just left him feeling left out and like he wasn't doing anything of importance.

"I think the bigger question would be if you want me to come back, Molly girl."

Molly stopped walking and stared at him. "Did you loosen the bolts holding your brains in place, Fitzpatrick? What do you mean asking me that question! If you don't know the answer, you might as well keep on walking straight to the depot and not bother to come back."

She turned and started to march toward the house, but he caught up to her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and swung her back around.

"Don't be mad, baby. Don't be mad. I just want to be sure of what it is you want," he said, turning her so she faced him, then brushing errant wisps of hair from her face.

"You, Friday. I want you." She surprised him when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly, then continued walking down the lane toward the road. "Now that you've settled that in your mind, what else are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm going to have to sharpen my thinker if I want to keep up with you."

Molly laughed and plucked a handful of grass, tossing it at him. "Just give it a try, ol' chap."

Friday rolled his eyes, then caught her again, kissing her neck before he let her go, and they twined their fingers together once more.

A thought had been simmering in the back of his mind since the evening of Molly's party, but it hit full stride at that moment, and he blurted it out. "Would you come home with me, Mame? To Dundee? Will you come with me and meet my parents? I'd sure like for you to meet them before anything else."

Molly seemed to know what he implied by anything else . They hadn't spoken of their future, but they both seemed to know the direction they were headed. On one hand, Friday wanted to slam on the brakes and tell Molly he didn't even have a real job or a place for them to live, so he couldn't possibly consider marrying her. On the other hand, Friday had felt more like his old self the past few days spent with Molly than he had since he got his draft notice in the mail two years ago.

He could have proposed right then and there, but neither of them was ready. Several matters needed settling in their own minds and hearts before they could move into a future together.

However long it took for Molly to be his bride, Friday knew he would wait. No one else would do, of that he was certain. Only Molly.

He realized she'd stopped walking again and was staring at him like he'd taken leave of his mental faculties.

Friday held her hands between his. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking through what you asked. You've met my parents three times, spent time with my family and friends. I never thought about meeting your family, Friday. What if your sisters hate me? What if your mother deems me unworthy of her only son? What if—"

Friday placed a finger on her lips to silence her. "What if they all love you? What if you enjoy them in return? What if you have a grand time?"

"Well, I suppose that is a possible outcome."

"You think?" he asked, and wrapped a hand around her slender shoulders. "You are one of the bravest women I know, Molly Thorsen. Surely, the prospect of meeting my family isn't enough to push you into coward status."

Molly stiffened while straightening her posture, then she jabbed his side with her elbow. Unfortunately, it was in the exact spot where his shrapnel wound still seemed to be deciding if it would heal or not. Once in a while, the thin layer of skin over the wound would break open and bleed. Like it did at that moment. Friday hoped Molly wouldn't notice and kept walking with her down the lane.

"I'm not a coward. I'll go home with you, but I assumed you were flying home with Harley John."

Friday grinned at her. "We could try that trick if you want to sit on my lap the whole way. Otherwise, I'd planned to take the train."

"All right. I'll go. Do you still plan to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, if that works for you."

"It's not like I have anything pressing to do." She stared off into the distance, appearing lost in her thoughts for a moment, then glanced at him. "Thank you for inviting me."

"I just want everyone to know you and love you even half as much as I do," Friday said, stopping to pull her close and kiss her tenderly.

The sound of a horn broke them apart as Noah drove up the lane and stopped. "You two at it again? You're nearly as bad as Mama and Dad when it comes to smooching."

Molly blushed as Friday opened the door of the auto for her to slide in. Friday got in beside her, and Noah started toward the house. They were halfway there when Molly gasped and pushed at Friday's arm.

"You're bleeding!"

Friday glanced down at the blood that was seeping into his shirt. Good thing he had a few clean ones on the clothesline. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a wound that hasn't quite healed."

"Let me see it," Molly said, yanking on his shirt.

"Hey, none of that in my vehicle," Noah joked as he parked in the auto barn.

Friday barked with laughter while irritation settled on Molly's brow. He managed to keep just far enough away from Molly that she couldn't yank on his shirt again until they were nearly to the back door. She tugged the tail free from his jeans and lifted it up to see the angry red wound on his side that seeped blood. Noah ducked inside as Molly's brows furrowed nearly together, a definite sign she was upset.

"It's been like this since when?" she asked, putting pressure on his back so he turned toward the light, giving her a better view of the wound.

Friday shrugged. "I think I got that one in early October."

"There's more than one?" she asked, her voice rising in volume as she lifted his shirt higher, as though she intended to locate every last one of his wounds.

"It's fine, Mame. It's fine." Friday tried to pull down his shirt and push away her hands, but before he could succeed, the door opened ,and Marnie stepped outside with Noah.

"Oh my!" Marnie said, bending to look at the wound when Molly pointed it out, then turned to Noah. "Phone Nik, please."

"Sure, Mama," Noah said and disappeared inside.

Marnie turned back to Friday and placed a piece of clean gauze over the wound. Her fingers were cool and gentle—a mother's hand—as she dabbed at the blood. "From the war?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Friday said, embarrassed to be caught in such a predicament. He didn't think anyone needed to make such a big fuss over such a little wound. It was only a couple inches long and not too wide, but it was deep, and it simply refused to heal. In France, he'd given up on wearing a bandage over it the day after he left the medical tent and marched back into the battle against the Germans. He could either fight in the war or baby his wounds. Fighting and surviving had trumped everything else, which probably hadn't helped the healing any. He'd attempted to take better care of it now that he was home, but it still wasn't healing like it should.

"I don't mean to be a bother, Mrs. Thorsen." He took the gauze from her and held it to his side.

"You aren't being one, Friday. I'm concerned about that wound, though. It looks so angry and red. Is it hot all the time?"

"Pretty much. It grows skin over it, and I think it's healing, then the skin breaks, and I start all over again with the bandages and ointment and whatnot."

"Maybe you need to rest awhile, give it time to heal," Molly suggested, as though he hadn't thought of that.

He had, but he wasn't a man of leisure. It would have driven him out of his mind if he couldn't be up and active these last few months. There were days he felt as though his sanity hung on a tenuous thread as it was.

"Nik's on his way," Noah said, sticking his head outside then disappearing back into the house.

"Why don't you two go into the family room to wait," Marnie said, pulling open the door and motioning for Molly and Friday to precede her.

Friday had no desire to drip blood all over the fancy parlor at the front of the house, but Molly led him into a homey room full of worn, comfortable furniture. A bank of windows faced the east, so the room was cooler than some since it didn't get the afternoon sun. The rugs on the floor were simple and worn. There were scars on the floor and the furniture. Children's books filled the bookcases, while toys spilled out of a big chest on the far side of the room. This wasn't a room for company and afternoon tea. It was a room where the children could play, and the family could relax.

"This is an outstanding view," Friday said, looking out the window at one of the pastures where cattle grazed. He'd seen several different breeds of beef cattle in Pendleton, but he most liked the looks of the Hereford cattle. If he seriously wanted to pursue raising them, he might make some inquiries about the initial cost of buying a few cows that were bred.

The only hiccup in that plan was land on which to run the cattle and money to buy them. Friday had been careful with his money all his life. He'd saved most of what he'd earned in the Army, and he'd put back most of what he'd earned working on the farm with his family. He just didn't know if what he had was enough to buy land, build a house, and get started in some form of farming. He might have to do a little at a time and work as a hired hand for someone, much as he did now for his father. That wouldn't be all bad if the end result would allow him to be with Molly.

"I've always liked this room," Molly said, gazing around it with fondness. "The children can't really damage anything, and we've had a lot of fun playing in here, especially in the winter."

"I can see how it would be a nice place to play, and the big windows almost make you feel like part of the outdoors." Friday moved behind Molly as she stood by a window and pressed a light kiss just beneath her ear.

"Enough of that, Friday Fitzpatrick." She sidled away from him, but was smiling in a way that brought out the dimple in her cheek. "You behave yourself. Your tomfoolery is what got you into trouble in the first place."

"Not that it matters, but I think it was your elbow digging into my side."

"Truly? I'm so sorry, Friday. Had I known you were weak and wounded and in need of fragile care, I wouldn't have let you do anything strenuous." From the tone of her voice, Friday knew she was teasing him, but then she frowned. "What were you thinking, working in the wheat harvest all day?"

"I was thinking I was having a grand time, that's what. As for that nonsense about me being weak and wounded and fragile, you better just shove those thoughts into the incinerator and send them up in smoke. I'm as hale and hearty as anybody, at least anyone with a leaking hole in their side."

"Leaking hole, is it?" Nik Nash asked as he strode into the room with his doctor's bag in hand. "Nice to see you again, Friday."

"Good to see you as well, Doctor Nash." Friday nodded to Molly's cousin, the man with whom Sadie was going to share a medical practice when she returned to Pendleton. "I hate that we bothered you."

"No bother at all. Noah caught me just as I was leaving my office." Nik set down the bag, rolled back his sleeves, then moved toward the door. "I'll wash my hands, then be right back."

He soon returned with his hands appearing well scrubbed, then nodded to Friday. "Mind removing your shirt?"

Friday did mind. He minded Marnie deciding he needed to see a doctor. He minded everyone fussing over him. He especially minded that some filthy piece of shrapnel had cut into his side and that the wound stubbornly refused to heal.

Instead of giving voice to his thoughts, he removed his shirt and set it aside, doing his best to ignore Molly's horrified gasp.

"Molly, would you get a glass of cold water and a bowl of hot water, please?" Nik asked as he bent close to study Friday's wound.

Friday watched as Molly left the room, knowing her gasp was from seeing the assortment of scars across his back. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been cut by shrapnel, barbed wire, flying debris, and even once when a German had tried to stab him with a knife and sliced a thin line along his shoulder as Friday had frantically rolled away from him.

Nik probed around the wound, took out a small flashlight and studied the gash, pressed Friday's skin, then straightened with a deep sigh. "I wish I could consult with Sadie on this. I'm sure she'd have a much better idea of treatment than I do. Did you ever show it to her?"

Did Friday lift his shirt to his best friend's wife and ask her to have a look-see? No, sirree, he had not.

"I didn't."

"Hmm," Nik said, then rummaged in his bag. "I've read some medical texts about treating shrapnel wounds. It greatly depends on the type of shrapnel, what it dragged into the wound with the metal, that sort of thing. What treatment has it been given?"

"One of the camp doctors flushed it out so thoroughly I passed out from the joy of the experience. Another one tried some sort of ointment on it and told me to apply it twice daily, which was fine the first day, but the ointment got contaminated by the second day, and I used the bandages to pack the gaping wound of a man who had half his arm blown off. The last treatment was from an ancient quack who told me to keep a cloth soaked with urine on it until it healed. I chose to ignore his terrible advice."

"Like I said, Sadie would have a much better plan of attack than I do. I'll do some checking and see if any of my colleagues have suggestions. If you aren't opposed to it, I'll give you some salve to put on it and bandages to keep it from seeping onto your clothes. Honestly, though, Friday, I think the best thing you can do is to rest, and let it air. Give it sunshine and fresh air. I've found that along with a good diet of healthy food is a grand curative."

"Makes sense to me," Friday said as Nik gently applied salve and then placed a gauze pad over the wound. The doctor finished by wrapping a bandage around his midsection to hold it in place.

"Has it ever closed?" Nik asked as he tied off the bandage.

"Yes, a few times. It seems like it's healing, then that fragile layer of skin breaks, and I'm back to bleeding everywhere."

"You aren't helping matters by overuse," Nik said as he inspected Friday's other scars. "Speaking of which, I heard you made quite an impression on Dad today. How did you like your first wheat harvest experience?"

Friday grinned. "I loved it. Your father was very kind to let me ride along and learn today."

"Mom said you worked as hard as anyone." Nik took several gauze pads, a roll of bandages, and a small tin of salve from his bag and gave them to Friday. "Use these when you need to wear a shirt. When you don't have to, get all the sun on that you can and try not to stretch it too much. Favor that side as much as possible. I think if you give it time, it will heal. The fact that it has formed skin is an encouraging sign."

"Thanks, Doc. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. I was on the way out to Mom and Dad's place anyway, so I was practically driving by."

"I'm happy to pay, Doc."

Nik settled a hand on Friday's shoulder. "Seems to me you've already paid plenty with your service, Friday."

"Thank you." Friday held out his hand, and Nik shook it just as Molly returned with a glass of water in one hand, and a deep bowl of steaming water in the other.

Nik took the glass from her and drained it in a few gulps. He winked at her as he handed back the glass, and then left.

"Now, that was sneaky," Molly said, glaring after Nik. "He did that just to get me out of here."

"Yep. Smart man, your cousin." Friday slipped his arms into his shirtsleeves, but he could see Molly taking an inventory of every scar.

"Do they hurt?" she asked quietly when he'd finished buttoning his shirt.

"Some more than others."

"Why didn't you say anything? Does Sadie know? Does Harley John know?"

"Sadie does not know. Harley John does. He's got his own wounds to deal with, of which Sadie knows each and every one."

"Oh." Molly gave him one more glance, then left the room. Friday gathered the supplies Nik gave him and carried them up to the guest room, packing them with his things.

In the morning, Harley John took Friday to see a few of the farms in the area. While they were out and about, Friday sent a telegram to his parents to let them know he would arrive on the late afternoon train and Molly was coming with him. He hoped someone would deliver the telegram out to his parents so his mother would have time to do whatever it was she would deem necessary before company arrived.

If luck were with him, January would decide it was a grand day to stay in town with Mabel, or maybe with one of their sisters. He supposed he would need to warn Molly about January before they got to Dundee. And maybe prepare her for the onslaught of questions the rest of his sisters were sure to ask if they got wind of her visit.

After lunch at Dogwood Corners, Harley John drove Friday and Molly to the depot. They said their goodbyes to the man who was a good friend to them both, then boarded the train.

They were soon on their way to what Friday concluded would either be a wonderful visit or an unmitigated disaster.