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  Yet she scrutinized his face. He hoped and prayed she’d see what she sought in his steady gaze. A slow exhalation shivered out of her. Hesitantly Miss Rose extended her hand, as if to shake on a business deal. “Then I’ll marry you.”

  “Come here, my little magpie!” He brushed aside her hand, swept her up, and spun around. She let out a shriek of laughter and insisted on being put down. He leaned close and rubbed noses with her. “Margaret?”

  “What?”

  “Waiting to kiss you was worth it.” His head dipped.

  “Was?!” She jerked away. “Oh no. You promised me all day today. You got my decision about marriage, but you asked about the kiss separately. You won’t have my kiss until tomorrow.”

  He groaned. Loudly.

  It wasn’t until almost the end of lunch that she spoke to him again. “Mr. Valmer?”

  “Hmmm?” A spoonful of jam hovered an inch from his lips. He felt guilty as a hound with a maw of feathers – about the jelly, not about coaxing her to wed him.

  “I’d like to make a proposal.” She rushed on, “If, perchance, you went home and your mother stayed here awhile, then you and I could wed comfortably.”

  Ma shouted, “Absolutely not!”

  Seven

  “Absolutely not!” Mrs. Crewel repeated. “I’ll not stay here one minute longer than necessary. Furthermore, girl, you have no couth or manners. A lady waits for the gentleman to propose. She doesn’t pounce upon him and decide they’ll wed.”

  While Maggie gaped at her, Uncle Bo started chortling.

  “Todd, you must get us away from here at once. They’re – ”

  “Going to be family by this time tomorrow, Ma.” He reached across the table and took hold of Maggie’s hand. “My Margaret didn’t propose marriage; she proposed delaying it. I won’t stand for such a notion.”

  My Margaret. Why did every thought in her mind flutter straight out her ears once he took her hand and spoke in that deep, sure voice? She’d assumed Uncle Bo’s hopeful thinking made him see a glimmer of love in her eyes . . . but dear mercy! He was right. She could sit and listen to Todd Valmer forever. Look at him, too. But that was attraction, not love.

  Mrs. Crewel wailed, “Nein! You are not marrying a backwoods hillbilly. We will get a nurse to take care of me.”

  “Hold your horses.” Uncle Bo’s knuckles rapped the table.

  But Todd cut in. “I’ve longed and prayed for a wife, and well you know it, Ma. A man can’t build a defense against what he yearns for. Sure, I need help with you, but had I met Miss Margaret under other circumstances, I still would have pursued her. A finer bride I’ll never find.”

  Very well, this was more than attraction. Her heart was involved . . . and it did a little jig. Then she looked at his mother and every bit of warmth melted in the ice of her glare.

  Todd squeezed Maggie’s hand to gain her attention. “This surprised Ma – that’s all.”

  “Appalled is more accurate,” Mrs. Crewel snapped. “Before you proposed, you should have spoken to me. I would have talked sense into you.”

  “I chose my bride with prayer and care. I’d not be swayed.” Todd gave his ma a stern look.

  The other men mumbled under their breaths or stayed silent. Paw-Paw rose. “Mrs. Crewel, I’m leastways old as your parents, probably older. So I’m gonna stand on my age and speak a truth that you’d best hear. My Maggie’s cosseted me aplenty through my infirmities, and I’ve done my best to show my thanks. Knowing how much care she’ll lavish on you, what with you lying about needin’ her help and you not lifting a finger about the farm – ” He shook his grizzled head. “A kind heart ain’t gonna cost you nothing. Best you sow love instead of strife.” He sat down amidst hearty “Amens.”

  “Mrs. Crewel is fatigued. Let’s help her retire.” Maggie turned loose of Todd’s hand and rose.

  Todd lifted his mother into bed. “Once you’re finished, come out to the parlor. We’ll start off right by having devotions together.”

  “That would be nice.”

  He wrapped his arm about Maggie, pulling her close to his side. “Ma, I don’t ever again want to hear you speak to or about my bride the way you just did.”

  Mrs. Crewel’s lips quivered. “I-I’m sorry. I w-was s-s-surprised, is all. Margaret, stay with me now. You and Todd can start having devotions tomorrow.”

  Several niggling doubts beset Maggie. But Paw-Paw’s words of wisdom never failed to open eyes, and the Holy Spirit would convict Mrs. Crewel if she kept on this mean path. The calm support in Todd’s eyes reassured her. “That’s a right nice offer, ma’am, but I was taught to start on the path I intend to follow. My man wants us to have holy time, and I agreed. Harkening to my Master and my man – that’s what’s right. When you wake up, we’ll talk about the wedding. Mayhap you can think on a hymn for the ceremony.”

  “Very good! Margaret, each day I read a chapter of Proverbs. Surely our marriage is ordained by the Lord, because today is the thirty-first: the qualities of a godly wife. I’ll get my Bible and meet you in the parlor.” Todd left the room.

  Immediately his mother’s expression changed. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. Clearly, she believed the marriage would be anything but good.

  “Ain’t you the purdiest sight?” Uncle Bo’s breath caught. “Proud I am to have you on my arm.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Bo.” Maggie turned to the mirror. She’d not slept much last night. Had she known Uncle Bo was ironing the wedding gown she’d taken in trade years ago, she wouldn’t have slept a wink. Funny little crinkles puckered a few spots on the skirt, but all the love Uncle Bo showed more than made up for it. God be praised, the fragile-as-a-fairy’s-wing bobbin lace sleeves and bodice escaped her uncle’s ministrations. The swath of the Rose clan tartan Daddy draped over Mama’s shoulder when they were wed now graced Maggie’s.

  “Your aunt talked with you about the special union betwixt a husband and wife. Don’t go blushing on me. Inside marriage, those feelings are pure. God wouldn’t order us to be fruitful and multiply if He didn’t intend us to share that intimacy. It fosters a special closeness.” Uncle Bo gave her a crushing hug and added, “You’ll see ’tisn’t a duty, but a joy.”

  He’d ordered her not to be embarrassed, and then he said that? As soon as he turned loose, Maggie reached for Mama’s veil. Even ten times thicker, it wouldn’t hide her virulent blush. She took a few deep breaths. Todd had waited until today for a kiss. Perhaps he’d grant her time before they’d become . . . close. Comforted by that thought, she pinned the veil in place with her most cherished possession: the small oval hatpin of a girl sitting beneath a tree. With painstaking skill, Daddy had depicted the very tree she often read beneath. On the day he died, he’d given it to her, kissing it and sticking it through her old straw hat as though it were a fancy silk bonnet. Mama’s veil and Daddy’s kiss on her hatpin – they were with her on her wedding day.

  “You’re giving me away, but I’ll always be yours.”

  Uncle Bo’s eyes glistened. “I wouldn’t give you away if I wasn’t sure of the man. More, though, I wouldn’t let you go if you didn’t love him. You do, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” The admission suddenly steadied her shaking hands and voice.

  Uncle Bo walked her out, and Jerlund jumped in front of Todd. “Maggie, I’m th’ bes’ man!”

  Todd stepped to the side. Maggie said to both of them, “You make me proud.”

  Jerlund whispered loudly, “Todd Valmer don’ got no plaid.”

  The enormity of that comment shot through her. Showing her honor and support in the Scots-Irish way, all of her uncles wore their plaids; her husband had no tartan, no clan, no inkling of all the traditions and lore steeped into her bones. By marrying this man, she’d step into a completely different way of life. But he’d told her their children would hear her stories, learn to carve, and learn her music.

  “Constant and True” – Uncle Bo spoke her father’s clan motto – “ ’tis th
e stock you come from. This man will be both constant and true.”

  “Maggie, you gotta plaid on th’ chair. If you don’ want Todd Valmer stuck in pants, he could wear it.”

  She looked into Todd’s steady gaze. “I’ll take him just the way he is.”

  Uncle Bo escorted her to the parson he’d sent for, and everyone formed a horseshoe about them. Maggie said her vows, looking at Todd’s chin. She pledged her love honestly, but if he saw the tenderness she already felt for him in her eyes, it would make her too vulnerable.

  When they knelt for Holy Communion, his knee landed on the edge of her gown, and as they rose, he stepped on her dress. His mother laughed outright, and he didn’t seem in the least bit embarrassed or apologetic. Maggie noticed an odd little trail of grain across the floor, a small pile where he’d stood, then some on her dress. He glanced down as she twitched her gown to dislodge the grain, and a smile creased his face. So he was being a bit mischievous? Joyous events like weddings seemed like a perfect time for a little lightheartedness. He’d best know he’d gotten himself a lively woman who’d get in the last word. She knew exactly what she was going to do, too. . . .

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Todd, you may greet your bride.”

  Todd curled his hands around her waist, lifted her a little, and dipped his head. Before his lips met hers, he murmured, “Salt and grain for the pie.” She let out a nervous giggle. This was the first kiss of her life, and they had an audience. At the touch of his lips, her laughter died out. . . .

  Once the kiss was over, his hands squeezed tighter still. “Now you are mine!”

  “Are you so sure of that?”

  His eyes widened. “You’re standing on my toes?!”

  Witnessing her son marry so far beneath himself tore at Helga. It was her fault; he needed help and she’d let him down. Now she was a burden – just as she had been with Arletta. Only instead of sending her away, he’d bent over backward and married this no-account hillbilly to be her nurse and his housekeeper. Magpie said it all – both her endless chatter and vast collection of junk.

  She’d failed in her first duty as a bride to carry salt and bread in a small purse to represent plenty. Todd made sure to have grain in his pocket to represent wealth and good fortune. If her failure stemmed from ignorance, that proved what an unsuitable wife she’d be. But Magpie knew the custom of stepping on the groom’s toes. Todd knelt on her hem and stepped on it for good measure to symbolize how he’d keep her in control; but her action countered that with the traditional sign a defiant bride used to declare her husband wouldn’t keep her in line!

  Now that strong-willed girl plucked ugly dresses from a crate, measured them, and chose three. Until Helga could lace up her corset extra snug so she’d fit in her own gowns, she’d be stuck wearing frumpy hand-me-downs like a charity case. “Put in the mauve and take out that blue stripe. It looks like cheap mattress ticking.”

  “Actually, it’s green, and specks of color are threaded betwixt them. The skirt’s generous, whereas the mauve is – ”

  “So I’m fat.” Arletta told her so dozens of times.

  “I’d say you’re sturdy-built and a fine testament to the quality of your mama’s cooking. She taught you her recipes and you stayed true to them. A woman who honors her family’s traditions and lore – that’s a lady to be admired, not belittled.”

  Helga blinked in surprise. “Todd’s father . . . he thought so, too.”

  A soft smile lit the girl’s face. “My own mama and aunt were bountiful and just as beautiful on the outside as they were on the inside. Had I not given away their gowns, I’d be buttoning them on you. My heart’s full up of memories spent at the stove and in the rose garden with Mama and Aunt Maude. Someday, God willing, you and I’ll be teaching a passel of our own daughters and granddaughters.”

  Her words warmed Helga – until she mentioned the next generation. A cold shiver went up her spine. Goodness only knew what odd things Maggie would pass down to her children. Before she has daughters that age, I’ll rub off her rough edges and polish her up.

  Magpie was nice; Helga wouldn’t mind having her for a neighbor. The problem was, she wasn’t anywhere near Todd’s match. They were as unequally yoked as a purebred quarter horse and a flea-bitten puppy. But it was too late to say so. During the ride to the train depot, she fought the urge to weep.

  Livestock, coal, and shipping cars formed a long line on the tracks. Two men yammered on about the railroad strike and how lucky Todd was that passenger cars were attached at all. The only lucky thing was, they were getting out of this benighted place.

  Maggie came over with tears on her cheeks after kissing her uncle, and Jerlund burst into sobs. Using her good hand, Helga tugged on Jerlund’s arm. “Paw-Paw needs you to keep him company and take care of him. Todd needs Maggie to keep him company, and I need her to take care of me. Give me a kiss, and we’ll send you your very own letter in the mail.”

  Convinced he wouldn’t get a letter if they didn’t leave, Jerlund cooperated.

  Maggie whispered, “Thanks, Ma.”

  The wheelchair wouldn’t fit through the train’s narrow door, so Todd carried her aboard to discover only the least-desirable seats remained: those in the very front of the car, where the metal curvature blocked the view; and those in the very back, where the car had a necessary.

  “Let me flip the seat. I did it for my family.” A stranger fiddled with something, and soon the seat tipped backward to face the one directly behind it.

  “Isn’t that a cozy arrangement? Thank you for your help,” Magpie chattered. “You’re so kind.”

  Worry speared through Helga as Todd lowered her onto the wooden bench. I cannot sit up alone – I’ll fall to the side. But Todd understood; he’d sit next to her. Immediately she started slumping sideways.

  “I need rope to tie Ma in,” Todd said in a low tone.

  Horror shot through her. Her own son would bind her up like a common criminal and make her a spectacle?

  Someone boomed, “Easiest fix is to hook the nice old lady to the seat with suspenders. I just got new ones, so you can have the old. They’re in my carpetbag.”

  “Thank you, but we already have a better solution.” Magpie whispered, “Don’t fret. I know just what to do!” She hurried to the door and sent someone running. “Jethro’s gone to fetch you his favorite chair. For him to let you take it away is a mark of his honor and respect.”

  A favorite chair. Helga hoped it had a well-cushioned seat. The train’s wooden benches ceased to be tolerable after a few hours. A nice tall back would help support her head. Maybe Jethro’s chair had arms, too. “The train’s going to depart,” Helga worried.

  “In a few minutes.” Someone shouted her name, so Magpie went back to the door.

  Helga breathed a sigh of relief. “Lift me up, Son. I want to be in my chair. Anything’s better than this miserable bench.” As he did, she scrunched her eyes to shut out the pitying looks people gave her.

  Thumping and rustling sounded. “I’ve padded the sides with a quilt. Settle Ma in.”

  Helga letting out a long aaaahhhh of bliss. Cocooned in softness, she eased into unbelievable comfort. That little gal did know what she was talking about this time. Helga owed Magpie her thanks. “Child . . .” She opened her eyes as she began but halted as every scrap of benevolence evaporated. “You put me in a whiskey barrel!”

  “It hasn’t held a drop of white lightnin’ in ages. Jethro took away nigh unto half the staves and glued a seat inside to fashion himself a gambling chair. The staves here on either side . . . ? He hinged them. We can open them in daytime, and at night, shut, they’ll hold a pillow close.”

  A gambling chair made from a whiskey barrel. What has the world come to? “I will not sit in this. It held whiskey.” Then Helga Valmer Crewel spoke words she had never considered uttering: “I’ll wear the men’s suspenders.”

  “No need now. This’ll
work far better, and your comfort matters.”

  “Margaret,” Todd took her arm and seated her. “The train is departing.”

  He’ll teach his bride proper behavior. A dirt-poor farmer already had far too much to do without shouldering the burden of a bad bride. More than anything, Helga wanted better for her children. She’d married Mr. Crewel because he’d agreed to provide a good education for both of them. Arletta went away and soared. Indeed, she’d done so spectacularly, she’d caught the attention of a very eligible bachelor and married into a family of class and distinction.

  The minute Helga moved in with her daughter, however, she realized she didn’t belong. A self-sufficient farmwife with a German accent and homemade clothing stuck out like wooden bucket amidst hand-painted china teapots. Two years of Arletta’s suggestions, complaints, hints, and lessons certainly changed her into a woman with a modicum of polish. No matter how hard she tried, though, Helga still said or did something wrong. After nearly every outing, Arletta highlighted her mistakes so she wouldn’t repeat them.

  If Arletta saw me now! The things she would say!

  Two years passed, but no grandbaby; then Arletta and her husband planned a trip overseas, and Helga jumped at the chance to live with Todd. And though a lady was not to travel alone, Arletta didn’t instruct any of the staff to accompany her to Texas. Instead, Todd came – at great sacrifice both financially and for the state of his farm. And know-it-all Arletta set off on her voyage without leaving so much as a cent for this grueling trip halfway across the continent. Helga slumped slightly, and the side of the barrel kept her from tipping. Bitterness filled her.

  Land rich and money poor, Todd clearly had money concerns. Helga winced along with him as he stuck his hand in his pocket. Suddenly a puzzled expression chased across his features. Turning to Maggie, he slowly said her name. “There is something in my pocket.”