Year of Jubilee by Peggy Trotter

shoulder.
    “More proper, huh? You know, there’s not too
many folks watchin’ us eat our meals that I’m aware of. I’m all
right here.”
    Jubilee stared at the plate to avoid his
eyes. Heat spread up her neck.
    “Well, I suppose I didn’t really mean
proper. Maybe I meant more comfortable.” Checking his reaction, she
caught his crooked grin.
    “More comfortable for me, or for you?”
    She cleared her throat, hoping the shadows
of the barn hid her hot cheeks. How do I answer that? Her
hands clasped behind her. She refused to shrug again. “Well, I
wouldn’t have to carry all this out here and back inside. If you
wanted seconds, I’d be right there, and you could sit down at a
table and…”
    He grinned again. “Fine. As long as this
arrangement suits you, it suits me. But I won’t be in tonight. I’ll
be plowing ’til dark-thirty.”
    Jubilee swung around and all but flew to the
cabin. Glory be, she hoped she didn’t regret doing that.
    * * *
    That night, Rafe settled in on the small cot
and arranged the new quilt over his body to suit him. He couldn’t
help but smile as the smell of fresh hay surrounded him. The
blanket warmed him, and he admired the muted colors, which
satisfied a masculine taste. No, what made him grin was her
nervousness at asking him to take his meals inside the cabin. That
oughta be a hoot. She’d probably sit across the room, right next to
the back door, with her breakfast balanced on her lap. If he even
spoke, her plate might tumble to the floor. He grunted, yet the
smile slid from his face. The image was humorous, but the reasons
behind her fear were definitely not. Perhaps sharing a meal would
take the fear from her eyes.
    He couldn’t complain. The food was good and
filling. And, even though she was hardly bigger than a bird, she
didn’t shy away from hard work. This quilt was proof of that. He
stretched his arms out and laid his hands behind his head, elbows
out.
    Yep, things were coming around. Most of the
fields he’d planned on planting this year were plowed. He’d fixed
the fences, hacked down weeds surrounding the cabin, fixed the roof
and replaced the porch. The garden was ready to plant, the new cow
would soon drop her calf, and the old one was healthy enough for
breeding again. After planting the garden and the fields, he’d
start digging up the rest of the stumps from the front yard.
    Thoughts of his family crept in to dampen
his spirits. He’d sent off a letter to let them know of his
marriage. He’d kept the note short and sweet. There really wasn’t
much to say. His younger sister, Sarah, would be heartbroken to
learn of his unexpected wedding. He sighed. This certainly wasn’t
what he would’ve chosen.
    Rosemary’s face crossed his mind. He shook
his head to deny a stab of pain. His pride still stung to think of
her sneaking off and marrying Dale. If it’d have been anyone but
his best friend, it wouldn’t be quite so hard to take. He groaned
and pushed away the disturbing thoughts.
    What did it matter anyway? He’d married
Jubilee, and as far as folks knew, this was a normal marriage. His
family would support him, and soon everyone in his hometown would
receive the news. The distance might aid in appearing as a regular
married couple. He and Jubilee, just an average man and wife.
    Suddenly he grinned in the darkness. He at
the table, and Jubilee sitting primly at the back door with her
plate in her lap.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Jubilee scurried around, flour flying into
the air. What was wrong with her? Her usual morning routine seemed
shot to pot. Now the biscuits were burnt. She huffed. Too late to
fix another batch since Rafe’s heavy boots sounded on the new porch
floor. She scooped the eggs and bacon to the plate, almost throwing
the biscuit basket on the table when she heard a small knock on the
door.
    “Come in.” She had to utter it twice to be
heard, then caught her breath as his huge form filled the
doorway.
    “Mornin’,” He removed his hat