Serendipity Page 15

  Cold as the night was, Maggie tried to determine whether she ought to put her other quilts beneath the Rose of Sharon. She’d freeze half to death wearing her summer-weight nightgown.

  Good thing Ma slept like a hibernating bear. Maggie thought she might work up the nerve to take her bath once Ma fell asleep. Only then could Todd come back into the house. If she blew out the lamp. And kept her eyes closed. Oh, dear goodness . . . Try as she might, she couldn’t make herself take another step.

  Her pretty quilt as a backdrop, she could see her handsome groom in the window. More to the point, he saw her. He waved.

  Todd must know I have feelings for him, but they run far deeper than he’s guessed. What if he finds out? She let out a rueful laugh and waved back. A husband discovering his wife was fond of him wasn’t a bad thing. No, it truly wasn’t at all. Ma said Todd didn’t love her – or if he did, the how and how much were to be considered. Well, the time had come to explore the possibilities. And with the lamps extinguished, her groom would have to know she was blushing clear down to the tips of her toes.

  In the last twenty-four hours she’d developed tempered-steel composure, she reminded herself. Sure and for certain, after all that the day brought, she’d cope with whatever came up and not be upset.

  Then she opened the door.

  Eleven

  “Almost done.” Standing on their bed because the proximity of the beds left him no floor space, Todd beat a nail into the wall with a solitary slam of the hammer.

  Almost dead. What was Todd thinking? All he needed to do was build their bed opposite Ma’s, keeping the dresser in between. It would provide ample room for Ma’s wheelchair, give them some privacy, and split the space in half. But he didn’t do that. Todd scooted the dresser where the bed was supposed to be. Ma’s bed filled the middle third of the wall, and their bed . . . he’d crammed it where Ma’s had been. The quilt that divided the room in half now draped down the center of Ma’s bed.

  Todd finished moving the divider, but the whole thing was ludicrous. The sides of the beds lay all of three inches apart, and they had perhaps a foot of space between their bed and the wall. They didn’t have room to make their bed. Certainly, they wouldn’t have the room or privacy to –

  “It took you half of forever. I still want my bath.”

  “Ma.” Todd’s voice stopped her. As he reanchored the rope, the quilt swung off Ma’s bed and hung free.

  The full extent of the division sent Maggie reeling.

  “Margaret?”

  “I brought things in the wheelbarrow.” Clutching the wire handle of the lantern, she rasped, “If you’ll excuse me . . .” A before-bedtime trip to the necessary – it was reasonable. No one else would give it a second thought. But she was having plenty of second – and even third – thoughts. What have I gotten myself into, marrying this man and coming clear out to Texas? A few minutes later, Maggie heard Todd calling her. She buried her face in her hands. Even in the outhouse, she couldn’t have privacy.

  “Margaret, I want to talk to you.”

  “Go away.”

  “A wife does not speak thus to her husband.”

  “That might well be the case.” She gave up and exited from behind the ridiculous flapping blanket-door of the outhouse. Chin high, she glowered at Todd. “But you and I are not husband and wife yet. With that arrangement, I promise you, we won’t be, either!”

  His brows slammed together. “We are married. You are my wife.”

  “Nay.” She shook her head. “I’m your bride.”

  Even in the slight moonlight, she could see his eyes spark as they had just a while ago. “Ja. I have readied a bath for you, and Sharon’s Rose will be across our bed.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close and murmured, “And two shall become one.”

  Maggie rested her forehead in the center of his chest. It kept some distance between them. “And a man shall leave his mother – ”

  He lifted her face to his. “You knew Ma would be with us.”

  “Not in our bed!” Maggie caught herself before she added, “Not even in our bedchamber.” She’d made assumptions, and that was her fault.

  “Ma begged for a change, but tomorrow, I will measure. Things must be moved.”

  Relief poured through her. Any change would be a vast improvement. Rubbing his rough thumb down her cheek, he rumbled, “Besser, ja?”

  “Aye, that would be better.” The heat of her embarrassment nearly roasted her, yet she couldn’t remain silent. “But tonight – ” Her throat closed up.

  He continued to caress her cheek. “After a time, when Ma has fallen asleep – ”

  As she shook her head, her hair cascaded down.

  “You ask much of me.” His voice sounded strained.

  She felt his fingers threading through her hair, and the intimacy of the act made if difficult to speak. “I’ve done my best to do everything you’ve asked of me. Aye, and I’ve agreed – until now. So for me to ask we wait until you set our home to rights . . .”

  “I’m not sleeping in the barn.”

  Negotiations could be difficult, but this was nigh unto impossible. Maggie knew they’d both have to yield to some degree. She whispered, “I’ll settle Ma, then I’ll go sleep in the barn.”

  “No, you will not.” He yanked her back into his arms. “We have a bed. We are sleeping in it.”

  “Only if I nail barbed wire between the headboard and footboard.”

  He let out an impatient sound. “Okay. For tonight. Tonight, I will stay on my half.”

  “If that was meant to reassure me, it didn’t. I saw your idea of half in the house already.” She poked her finger in his ribs. “And don’t tell me you’re bigger. I’m meaner.”

  “Ja, Wife, you are.” Scowling, he pushed away her fingers.

  “Agreed!” There. That had to be the toughest bargain she’d ever made, and she closed it before he had a chance to add on any additional terms or have second thoughts.

  Helga sat in her wheelchair and looked out the window the next afternoon. When Todd looked up, she made it a point to wave. Ja – that went along with her telling him how she needed to be able to sit by the window in her chair.

  When Magpie hung the dividing curtain yesterday, Helga felt closed in. By getting her son to promise her the window side, then insisting she’d be too cold at night with her bed directly against the glass, she got her own little reception area. A caller could pay her a visit and sit with her by the window. Coming and going at will, Todd and Maggie didn’t need much room. Stuck inside like this, Helga deserved more space.

  Magpie didn’t see it that way, though. While oatmeal cooked this morning, she’d put photographs of her family on the dresser! Wasn’t it enough that Helga’s dresser had five drawers and she’d only kept two for herself? The space should be hers, alone, so she insisted Magpie put her things atop the washstand. After all, it was on her side of the house.

  Tight-lipped, Magpie then went about the cabin, hanging pictures. Without asking, she hung two samplers and a mirror in Helga’s space. Samplers – a reminder that she couldn’t read or stitch anymore. That doctor showed off yesterday, but whipping out a few simple stitches with both hands didn’t compare with the tiny, precise stitches required in needlework. And the mirror? With Helga’s face now drooping, having her image reflected back mocked her. That was so cruel, she’d burst into tears. Magpie took down the mirror and hung it up elsewhere – but that didn’t lift the sadness weighing on Helga’s heart.

  This wasn’t the woman for her son. Uncouth and uneducated, Magpie certainly wasn’t the mother for his children. The hillbilly wasn’t simply thoughtless – she was mean. She ordered her husband around, telling him to fetch jam or the Bible. Had she baked anything in the dish from last night’s supper and arranged for it to be returned to that nice woman? Etiquette dictated a dish never be returned empty. Heathenish girl probably didn’t know that.

  If only I could write! It is hard for me to remember
so many things at once. It never was before. But these are all things I should fix, or she will disgrace the family. Speaking aloud to the empty cabin, she declared, “It is my fault for getting sick. So it is my responsibility to fix the problems I cause.”

  Helga stared at her left hand. Useless thing. Come, now. Move. Open just a little. Or my fingers. If I can wiggle them . . . Nothing happened. Why not? Why couldn’t God heal her? Hadn’t she been serving Him? With that left hand there, had she not crocheted and quilted blankets for orphans? Following the doctor’s suggestion, Maggie unearthed a canvas and yarn so Helga could do some crewel stitching. But Helga knew she’d never manage.

  What good was she without her hands? She couldn’t roll out pie dough or make noodles. She couldn’t braid hair. Crocheting, knitting, tatting, sewing – those were all lost to her, as well. Such simple, everyday activities and things. How many dozens of hankies had she tatted a lacy edge around? How many hundreds of pies had she baked? How she’d loved to brush Arletta’s long hair and braid it! And to read. She’d read stories to her children. Now she would have to be like a child and have others read to her.

  I no longer have anything to offer. And even worse, Maggie wasted time needed for vital work tending her. Helga had to ring a bell and halt everything if she needed anything at all.

  The door opened. “Hello, Ma. It occurred to me that – ”

  Helga cut Maggie off. “It should occur to you that your whirligigs would bother me.”

  “Whirligigs?”

  “Was it not enough that you dragged your trash in here and started nailing it to the walls? Did you have to hang it from the outside so you’d embarrass your husband?” As the girl lathered up at the washstand, Helga couldn’t help herself. “The silly wooden birds are just as crude as this thing you want me to stitch.”

  Drying her hands, the hillbilly stared at her. “Whirligigs – what a fun word to say. Back home we called them woodicocks, and I thought one directly out the window might cheer you up. But I’ve reconsidered. You see, folks I love carved those pieces, and I take exception to you calling my treasures trash.”

  “Then by all means, take it down and get rid of all this garbage you tacked up today. At least the things on my side.”

  “Ma’am, the outside ain’t your side. Since you’re so set on me taking down my kin’s masterpieces from the inside, I’ll just have to honor my folks from the outside. I already moved the mirror and apologized for bruising your tender heart. ’Twas my lack of thoughtfulness that caused the problem, and I owned up to it. As for the stitch work – since you don’t appreciate it, I’ll move it. But that woodicock is staying outside. I can’t help feeling you’re sitting there, stewing and brewing up things to grumble about.”

  Embarrassed at the truth, Helga snapped, “You speak to an elder this way?”

  “You speak to the woman of the house in the same manner. If you didn’t care for the taste of your own medicine, mayhap you oughtn’t be dispensing it.”

  “Those old fools let you have your head. They – ”

  “Those fine gentlemen gave you the clothes on your back.” Magpie folded her arms across her chest. “Caring for them was my joy, yet fearing they’d encumber me from having a happy future, they nudged me out of the nest.”

  She used encumbered on purpose. Stung, Helga snapped, “We will be happy to send you right back.”

  Maggie drummed the fingers on her right hand against her left arm – a definite sign of impatience and ire. A long minute passed. “I reckon by ‘we’ you mean you and the woodicock.” She pulled her skirts close and weaseled past. Taking down the first sampler with the pansies and daisies, a funny sound caught in the girl’s throat. She took the one with a trio of roses worked with a shamrock, too.

  Trying to determine what those samplers said had nearly driven Helga crazy. Without them taunting her, her space felt . . . safer. But then she saw how that backward girl cradled those pieces. The way Magpie’s cheeks went pale and her nose got red tattled that she’d start crying any minute. Arletta hadn’t hung a single thing Helga stitched for her – a painful rejection because Helga often took the county fair’s blue ribbon for her needlework. But this girl cherished the things others made for her. She had a sentimental heart and appreciated what others did for her. And I do appreciate what she does. But I can’t let myself go soft over this. In the end, she was doing the girl a favor. Things weren’t just rough on the Texas plains; they were raw. They’d be hard-pressed to eke out a living. She needed to learn to be satisfied with what she had instead of imposing on others.

  Maggie tacked up the samplers on either side of the washstand, then turned to go.

  “He did not marry you out of love.” Helga raised her voice. “He did it to get those horses. Years ago he had a pair of Belgians that got taken away, and he’d do anything to get another set. Anything – even marry you.”

  A brittle smile creased the girl’s face. “I’ll add a matched pair of Belgians to the list. Todd also married me to get a gardener and a cook so he’d have thrifty, wholesome food grown, served, and preserved. Aye, and he covets my jellies and jams, so by wedding me he’ll enjoy those aplenty, whilst he’ll not have to trouble himself with laundry or ironing or cleaning. But you’re discounting your worth, ma’am, for sure as I stand here, your son married me most of all because of love. Because he loves his mama and needed someone to tend her. I’m supposing I can go right back out there now and hold my head high, knowing just how useful I am to your son – even if you say he had to be bribed to take me.”

  Left alone, Helga wept. Shame scalded her. She’d blurted out vicious things – some true and others not – but she didn’t feel any better for it. She didn’t even know why she did it. No wonder her hand wouldn’t move. No work of the hand would be worthy when done with an impure heart.

  “It is a stroke of God’s hand that has made me half dead.” She turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the washstand mirror. That momentary sight was all it took to assess the reality of what had become of her. “A useless leg and arm, one side of my face sagging, and a mouth that grows uglier each time I open it. How can I ask God to heal me when it is He who has done this to me?”

  “Lord, you’re going to have to do something quick, because we both know your Word says I’m to be slow to anger, but that woman in there has me hair-triggered. Do you know what I almost said to her? Of course you know. But I’m a-gonna quote Shakespeare right now anyway because he and you feel like my only friends. If I don’t shed some of this wrath, it’s bound to spill out on that crotchety old woman and hurt her feelings.” Maggie inhaled and struck the pose she’d seen her father use when he depicted Othello. “ ‘You, mistress, that have the office opposite to Saint Peter. And keep the gate of hell!’ ”

  A chilly breeze blew and birds twittered. Nothing had changed. Maggie let out a deep breath and shook her head. “Jesus, that didn’t help one iota. I acted just as self-indulgent as she is. Well, not quite. At least I didn’t do it to her face, intending to make her miserable for the rest of her days. But ’twas poorly done of me.

  “You and me and Uncle Bo – we made it through dreadful rough times together, but now it’s just you and me. I’m supposed to lean on my man, but I can’t. Not just yet. Specially when he still favors his ma over me. I can’t say anything. And if I’m wrong – I’m sure I’m not – but if perchance I were, and he didn’t favor his ma, I’m merely a convenience. I never knew a heart could be so empty and cold. Back home, each day left me brimming o’er with happiness. Weeks and months flew by. Now each hour plods by in weighty boots . . . and I have a leaden heart to match.”

  She trudged on, wondering what she had done. Loving Todd and wanting to be loved in return had brought her to this lonely place. That dreadful awful debt casts a pall over Todd, and it will for years and years to come. He’s using up all his feelings, worrying about money and Ma. Will the leftover scraps of his attention be enough to make him fall in love with me?

>   Todd met her at the edge of the field to accept some water. He drank four dippers full and gave her a sip from the next before he polished it off. Threading his fingers through his hat-flattened hair, he cleared his throat. “I have planned the house again and again. No matter the arrangement, it doesn’t work.”

  “It works if the beds are each against a wall. But you’ll need to reverse them so Ma can still get in and out on her right side.”

  “But then she cannot sit by the window.”

  “She’ll be a few feet away from it.” Maggie shrugged. “The view’s still the same.”

  He drank again. “I promised her the window, and she will freeze if her bed is against that wall. With us working, I knew you would not mind.”

  I do mind. You should have asked me rather than giving her the choice spot. “Her bed can be narrowed, can’t it?”

  “Nein. The frame – it is iron. The cabin is too narrow for the beds to go end-against-end.” Wiping his brow with his bandana, he stared past her toward the house. “The harvest – perhaps the yield will be sufficient to let me add a room. For now, I plan to push our bed against the wall.”

  Months of only fifteen inches between them and Ma – and if the harvest wasn’t great, mayhap years. Now that she saw the state of affairs and discovered they were deep in debt, expanding the house was only a dream. Todd kept track of every last cent to pay the mortgage.

  Maggie tamped down a sick feeling. Complaining wouldn’t solve the problem; hard work in the fields would. She’d get up earlier, go to bed later, work herself silly. What with the concessions he’d asked of her, he ought to grant her one tiny request as a sign of goodwill. “We’ll make do, but I have to have a door on the outhouse!”

  Todd shook his head and swung his arm to encompass the farm. “Around you, there are countless needs. Essentials, Wife. Not fanciful things.”