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.”Laney couldn’t move.Galen’s words and action tore at her.“Wow!” Dale stared up at Ishmael.“You got a twin?”“They can’t be twins if she’s a girl.” Sean wrinkled his nose.“Twins gotta both be boys or gotta both be girls.”Ishmael hunkered down in front of the boys.“Now that ain’t quite the truth.Twins cain be a matched set, or they cain jist be two borned at the same time.”“Like when Gertie farrowed.Hortense and Peasley and—” “Sorta like that.”“Dale!” Mrs.O’Sullivan sounded as if she couldn’t decide whether she was shocked or amused.“Mrs.Grubb isn’t a sow.Please don’t take any offense, Mr.Grubb.”Ishmael grinned.“After seein’ jist what a fine shoat Hortense is, and with Mr.O’Sullivan saying how Dale dotes on her, I’d say he was payin’ a compliment.I reckon if ’n my ma was still alive, she’d be tickled.”Galen ruffled Dale’s hair.“With twins, there are only two babies.”“Oh.So do they look alike?”Laney dreaded hearing what Ishmael’s twin looked like, but she also desperately wanted to know.She waited to hear his answer.Ishmael rose and a slow smile crossed his face.“Me and my sis—we both got pale hair and sky eyes, but on Ivy, it’s beautiful.”“Miss Grubb and I came to an agreement,” Galen said, looking to his ma.Laney’s heart dropped clear down to the toes of her slippers.Not only did Galen indicate he’d rather have Ivy Grubb come help his mother; Ivy was beautiful.CHAPTER SEVENI’m letting my imagination run away with me.Galen’s too methodical to be swept away by a pretty face in just a matter of days.But I would have said the same thing about Josh, and he’s besotted with Ruth.Oblivious to how his words alarmed Laney, Galen continued on.“Miss Grubb’s come over and kept up your garden, Ma.She weeded and made sure to pick beans, tomatoes, and pears so you wouldn’t have to set to work till tomorrow.”Galen’s mother has had to teach me about gardening.Ivy already knows so much, she can take care of that on her own.A farmer like Galen needs a wife who can work by his side and do those practical things.I didn’t learn them fast enough.Laney’s stomach clenched.Weak laughter bubbled out of Mrs.O’Sullivan.“I should have guessed you’d found some help, Galen-mine.You were never one for cleanin’ the house, and my stove’s gleaming brighter than a diamond-dust mirror.”“Elaine Louise,” Hilda said, tugging at her.“You’re to put on water to boil and make noodles.Stop daydreamin’ and be useful.”Laney nodded.She didn’t trust herself to say anything.Her faith and prayers hadn’t made any difference.Galen still treated her like she was Josh’s bothersome baby sister instead of seeing her as a mature young lady who’d be a good wife, so he’d grown interested in someone else and given her his heart.Ivy winced as she hefted the pail from the stream.She’d burned her hand last night—something she hadn’t done in ages.The calluses on her hands usually protected her, but she’d been distracted by Pa.By morning a blister as big as a robin’s egg had formed in the crease of her hand.The rope handle of the pail grated across it.“What’s takin’ you so long?” Pa hollered at her.“I only got two more rows to water,” she called back.Under her breath, she muttered, “If ’n yore in such an all-fired hurry, you could holp me out.”“Stop by me so’s I cain have a drink.” He didn’t even bother to look up at her.He kept shaving his knife across a small branch, making wood form curls that fell into a huge pile around him.She backtracked and switched the bucket to the other hand.Pa stabbed his knife into the side of the stump he sat upon and crammed that hand into the bucket.Yanking his hand back out, he snarled, “That ain’t cool ’nuff.”“I’ll use it to water the corn and fetch another.”He pushed the bucket, causing water to slosh all over her skirt.“Yore as stupid as yore ugly.How many times do I gotta tell you, a gal’s s’posed to put the men in her life first?”Ivy trudged back to the stream.The thin, soaking wet material of her skirt stuck to her legs.She dumped out the water, then chose a shady spot to refill the bucket.As she knelt, she studied the faded red and blue marks on the material.B-E-S-T.“That spells best,” Ishmael had told her years back as she’d used the flour sacks to stitch the garment.“And that’s what you are, sis.Yore the best sister a man e’er got.”Fine quality flour came in pretty calico; middlings were sold in simple white sacks with some lettering across them.A quick glance, and folks could tell how her clothes marked her as mangydog poor.Nobody but Ishmael could look at her one and only dress and think of something nice to say.“What’s keepin’ ya?” Pa spat loudly.“I’m so parched, I cain barely e’en spit!”Pa’s sore as a billy goat with a boil on his tail.Ishy don’t know how lucky he is to get away.“Gal!” Pa let out a stream of curses.Ivy hoisted the pail and headed back to her father.“Here.It’s cool as cain be
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