Everyone except Nathan, has at least flinched when they see the scars on my face. Why didn’t you?”
Martha handed her a bowl. “There’s all kinds of scars, honey. Inside and out. I’ve seen Nathan’s scars. Yours are not different to me. Just part of the life you’ve had.”
“Scars? From what? What kind of scars?”
“Those are questions best answered in the privacy of your bedroom. You can ask him yerself.”
Ella closed her eyes and knew she blushed. “Of course. How rude of me.”
“Not at all. Ya need to ask questions to learn.” She pulled a chair out from under the small work table. “Now sit down and eat. I ken hear yer stomach growl from here. I’ll have ta get after Nathan fer that.”
“Get after Nathan for what?” he said from the doorway.
“For not feedin’ yer bride. She’s starving. Listen to her stomach.”
Now it was Nathan’s turn to blush. He bowed his head and ran his hand around his neck before he looked up at Ella. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it. Are you alright? Is Martha feeding you enough?”
“I’m fine. But you need to eat as well, you haven’t eaten either.”
“You’re right.” He got a bowl and heaped it with the steaming stew. Then he pulled biscuits from the bread box. “Would you like some?” He held up a biscuit.
“Oh, yes, please.” She turned to Martha. “The stew is delicious. Thank you.”
Martha blushed under the praise, but brushed it off. “It’s easy ta make, I’ll show ya tomorrow. Today you should rest from your trip.”
“Actually, after we finish eating, I need an iron and ironing board, if you have one.”
“They’re in the pantry. But if ya bring me what ya want pressed, I’ll do it. Our iron doesn’t heat properly and it would be best if I do it for ya.”
“But I need to learn. I’ll be back down after we finish and you can show me how it’s done.”
“I’m finished,” said Nathan as he rose from the table and took his dishes to the sink. “I’ve got chores to finish before supper.” He bent and gave Ella a kiss on the cheek and walked out of the kitchen whistling.
Ella touched her cheek where he kissed it, expecting to find it burning to the touch. Instead, it was cool and she only burned on the inside.
“Okie dokie. If that’s what ya want,” said Martha.
“What?” said Ella, giving her head a shake to clear it and remember what she and Martha had been talking about. “Oh, yes, It is. The sooner I start learning how to do things for myself, the better. I don’t want you to have to take care of me in addition to everyone else here.”
“That’s kind of ya, but unnecessary. It’s my job to take care of everyone including you. And I like my job. Besides, have ya ever ironed anything before?”
Ella shook her head. “No. But I watched our maids do it once.”
“You can watch me. After that, if ya still want to try it, I’ll let ya try it on a dish towel before ya do yer clothing.”
“Why on a dish towel? Do you iron those?”
“Nope. But if you burn it, it won’t matter none.”
“Fair enough. I’ll go get my clothes.”
When Ella got back, Martha had the ironing board set up and the iron on the stove to heat.
“How long do you let it heat?”
“The first time, when it’s cold out of the cupboard, I leave it on the stove for five minutes. After that no longer than two minutes and that will depend on what I’m ironing.” She touched her finger to the iron. “Okay, it’s good and hot. Give me your skirt first.”
Ella handed over the bombazine skirt. It was terribly wrinkled and probably needed the most work of any of her clothes. Martha made short work of it. Sprinkling it with water from a mason jar with tiny holes poked in the top, then running the hot iron over it, she never let the iron rest in one place for more than a second.
After she practiced on a dishtowel to Martha’s satisfaction, Ella tried it with the blouse and it worked. She also had a skirt,