January 26
6:40 p.m.
Rosemary pressed her foot down on the treadle pedal, the gentle whirl of the sewing machine sounding throughout the room, as she gently guided the lavender fabric. What a relief she'd talked Mr. Jameston into delivering the sewing machine to the new house. Her and Lee had settled into a pattern of sorts this past week after work. In the mornings, she'd attend to the row house chores, do the hand stitched mending and pattern cutting, and perhaps sneak in a nap before Lee came home a little early from work, around four. Then, they would take the portable ice chest with them, full of sandwiches, and drive over to the new house, where they would work endlessly on project after project until nearly 9 p.m. each night. Just this week she already cranked out two of the four gowns ordered for the Valentine Dance. And, as of just now— a finished bodice to add to the pile.
She straightened from her sitting position over the sewing machine, and cut the final strings before holding up the completed bodice in front of her and surveying her work. Out of the four gowns, this one was going to be her favorite. No, not because of the quality of material, heaven knows there were dozens of fabrics nicer than the plain cotton, but because of the fact of who it was for. It would be Mary's first "made-to-order" dress since her marriage to Dewitt Graves nearly 3 years ago. It was a surprise, ordered by Dewitt himself, and Rosemary couldn't help feeling downright giddy about being apart of it. Yesterday, she had spent a significant amount of time cutting out the pattern for the maternity gown, and today, she'd made great headway and finished sewing together most of the bodice. She'd even left a good amount of wiggle room, knowing that in the three weeks leading up to the dance that much could change in an expectant mother's body. Later this evening, perhaps, she would start on the skirt. It would come together nicely, and Mary would be glowing in her beautiful new lavender gown for the Valentine's Dance. She put the project down and stood to stretch her back. It was time to dig the sandwiches out of the ice box and have a spot to eat.
With her hands still resting on her back, she walked toward the kitchen where Lee had been working on this latest project: installing their new telephone. There he was, hands full: with one hand he was maneuvering a bundle of wires through a hole in wall, and with the other, he gripped the heavy oak wall telephone box.
He grunted. "Mind handing me that—".
She reached for the nearest tool.
"No—" he grimaced, more than likely trying to keep his hold on the oak box, then gestured, with his head, towards the tool to the left.
Her fingers gripped a small hammer.
He nodded and she handed it to him. After a few taps, he backed away slowly from the phone box, as if he was making sure it wasn't going to fall. He stood back to admire the contraption and put a hand on his side.
"That, my lady, is the newest phone this side of the Rockies". His eyes sparked with accomplishment.
She went up to it and ran her finger over the polished oak wood. "Is it working?"
Lee put his hammer back down on the floor. "No, that won't be happening for another month or so. Next time the phone company is through they'll hook it up for us."
"It's going to be so nice to be able to reach someone at the drop of a hat."
"At the tilt of a hand crank, is more like it."
Although thoroughly aware of what it took to operate a phone, she gave him a coy smile. "How's that work?"
He came closer, so close she could feel his breath. He took her hand in his and reached for the hand crank, his body warm and solid behind her. Together, they slowly twisted the hand crank until a clatter of bells sounded in the room.
"Oh, so that's how it's done." She feigned surprise. She didn't dare move, his breath tickling her neck.
"It will be nice for you and the children to always have a way to reach me." Came his whisper on her ear.
She turned, her face close to his, the wall flush behind her. "Children? As in plural?"
He grinned. "Yes, children."
She returned his smile and shook her head. "I don't know how you think we are going to handle two or more children when we have yet to try our hand at just one."
"Rosemary Coulter, don't tell me I have to remind you again."
She looked up at him through her lashes, waiting.
"You will be an excellent mother. It will come so natural to you. Just wait and see."
As soon as he said it, she felt that niggling in the center of her chest: the worry she would fail as a mother. Mothering— it was just not in her blood. She pushed it away and looked into his sparkling deep blue eyes. "Will you be getting one at the office?"
"A child?" Lee teased and rested an arm above her on the wall, bringing their faces even closer.
"No, silly. A telephone."
He gave her a sly smile. "Eventually. But for now, at least there is a direct line to Sarah at the operator's office just a few doors down."
"Well, you have thought of simply everything."
"I think I've covered all my bases." By now his scent was so close she was having trouble thinking. "Except maybe one." His lips met hers, softly, at first, with every intent of more. She could feel the roaring of his heart, or perhaps that was hers, as the kiss intensified. Heaven help her, she was deeply, madly in love with her husband.