Love Comes Home

by Kit Morgan

  “You and Jonathan don’t have to come with me. You two can make your home here.”

  “What?”

  “Maisie, anyone can see he’s in love with you ...”

  “WHAT!?”

  Her mother put a hand to her temple and sat. “Why do you keep saying ‘what,’ dear?”

  Maisie threw her hands in the air. “Mama, Jonathan Bridger is not in love with me.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes! He just told me!” She pointed at the window, even as she recalled that no, Jonathan hadn’t told her that. Or anything else.

  Her mother glanced at it and back, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

  Maisie sighed, her arms hanging at her sides, the picture of defeat. “Yes. When do you want to leave?”

  Fourteen

  Days turned into weeks. Thanksgiving came and went. And Jonathan felt as if his world had gone black. Maisie spoke to him only in passing and rarely came down to supper anymore. Everyone noticed her sink deeper into despair, as if whatever dark cloud had been hovering over her mother had transferred to her.

  But he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her how he felt. He had no guarantee Sarah Woodhouse was fully healed, had no way of knowing if he’d be tossing his life into a wellspring of constant chaos. He’d lived in one most of his life, and wasn’t about to swim in those waters again. Self-preservation silenced the words “I love you.” He was even beginning to avoid Abigail and Aggie, both of whom had noticed the growing affection between him and Maisie.

  “Is Maisie too tired to eat with us again?” Mr. Martensen asked.

  Jonathan glanced at the staircase in the hall. In other words, was she avoiding him again?

  “I’m afraid she’s not feeling well,” Mrs. Woodhouse said, looking at Jonathan. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  He chewed his bottom lip. “I pray she feels better.”

  Mrs. Whitehall entered the dining room and set a pot of stew on the table. “There, this will warm everyone up.” She pulled out her chair and sat. After the blessing, she glanced at Jonathan and Mr. Martensen. “I have a job for you two gentlemen.”

  “Yah?” Mr. Martensen said. “And what would that be?”

  “Bring the Christmas tree in after supper so we can decorate it.”

  Mrs. Woodhouse’s face lit up. “My heavens, is it that time already? I suppose I’ve been knitting so much I’ve lost track.”

  “That you have,” Mrs. Whitehall said, “but you’ve made some fine things, Sarah.”

  “So have you.” Mrs. Woodhouse smiled at Jonathan, and he wondered if Maisie’s mother had made him something. Christmas was only a few days away. Thankfully, he’d already bought gifts for Eldon, Aggie and their children; for Lucius Judrow’s family; Jasper and Abigail ...

  “Why, there you are, Maisie!” her mother said with a smile. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

  Maisie sat. “A little.” She stared blank-eyed at the stew pot.

  Jonathan studied her. She looked awful. In fact, she reminded him of her mother when he’d first come to town, as if part of her had died. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  She slowly looked at him without expression. “Thank you.” She turned to her mother. “I’m making arrangements tomorrow, Mama.”

  Her mother blanched, her eyes flicking to Jonathan and back. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Maisie looked Jonathan right in the eyes. “Yes.”

  He stared back as an icy ball of guilt mixed with something he couldn’t come close to describing formed in his gut. His jaw twitched as he looked at her, saw the despair and heartache in her eyes. And suddenly he knew it was all his fault.

  Jonathan closed his eyes as the stew was served. How was he going to fix this?

  “A WORD, YOUNG MAN, if I may?”

  Jonathan looked up from the book he’d been reading. “Mrs. Woodhouse – yes, of course.”

  She sat in Mrs. Whitehall’s usual chair in front of the fire in the parlor. Everyone else had gone up to bed, after staying up late decorating the tree. Except Maisie, who hadn’t participated at all.

  “It’s about my daughter,” Mrs. Woodhouse began. “And it’s about you.”

  Jonathan felt himself stiffen. “Mrs. Woodhouse ...”

  “Stop.” She held up a hand. “Let me have my say.”

  He sighed and sat back in his chair.

  “Maisie’s in love with you. You know that”

  Guilt punched him right in the gut. He did his best not to let it show.

  “And I know you love her.”

  Jonathan managed to resist the temptation to bolt for the door.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I can see it. But I’m wondering why you’re not doing anything about it? I’ve kept quiet all these weeks, waiting to see if you two would come to your senses, but apparently you both need a little help.”

  He shook his head, still trying to find his voice. What was wrong with him?

  “I understand you come from a ... difficult family.”

  That’s putting it mildly, he thought. But it also got him talking. “You have no idea.”

  “I have some idea – I’ve asked around a bit. Everyone agrees on what they were like. They also agree, by the way, that you weren’t at all like them.” She wiped her palms on her skirt and swallowed hard. “I know I’ve been difficult too. For months I made my daughter’s life miserable. Then Maisie gave me something I had no idea would help bring me back to myself.”

  “What’s that?”

  She bit her lower lip as her jaw trembled. “Forgiveness.”

  He sighed and nodded. “Forgiveness is very healing. I’m glad Maisie’s helped you so much.”

  “That’s not all that did. I had to forgive myself.” She looked into the fire. “One of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

  He froze.

  Sarah Woodhouse returned her attention to him. “Jonathan, have you forgiven your family? And for whatever it is you’ve done, have you forgiven yourself?” She stood and left the room, letting Jonathan ponder that.

  MAISIE STUDIED THE room and saw there was little to pack – they could be ready to go in a very short time. She’d had to work late due to Christmas shoppers and had been unable to purchase the stage fare to Billings, but that could be taken care of tomorrow. Well, the day after tomorrow – tomorrow was Christmas.

  She went to the bed and picked up the present she’d purchased for her mother – a new hairbrush and comb. Currently they shared a brush, but now Mama would have her own again. She would have a lot of things if Maisie had her way, but that would take time. Maybe she’d find better work in Richmond – even after the war’s devastation, it was much bigger than Cutter’s Creek. She was sure to find something quickly.

  She stood, put on her coat, picked up her reticule and headed out the door. The sooner they left town the better. She didn’t think she could take looking into Jonathan’s eyes anymore. They were tortured, and she wondered why he wanted her gone so badly. Had her humiliation at confessing her feelings not been enough? She left the room and headed for the stairs, hoping that the weather would cooperate and they’d at least make it to Billings the first day ...

  “Maisie.”

  She stopped at the top of the stairs to see him standing in the hall. “Jonathan?” she whispered. What was he doing home?

  “Maisie, I want to talk to you.” He came down the hall, looking tired.

  She wondered if he was coming down with something. “Are you ill?”

  He sighed wearily. “Not so much ill as, well, not right in the head, I guess. Maisie, I’ve been thinking, a lot. Maybe too much.”

  “About what?” She’d take a step back but would tumble down the stairs. She turned and walked to the side instead.

  He turned with her. “Maisie, remember when your mother first left the house and how scared she was?”

  She nodded. How could she forget – her poor mother had been terrifi
ed. But now she was past the fear, past the notion that she couldn’t survive without her husband.

  “I’ve been going through something like that, fighting something I didn’t know was there. It’s ...” He looked into her eyes. “It’s cost me.”

  Her stomach flipped at that. He had to be talking about her – what else could it be? Was he going to finally apologize, say he was sorry he never said I love you back? At least she’d regain a little dignity. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered ...” She wasn’t sure what else to say.

  His expression went blank a moment, then he smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you and your mother something for Christmas.”

  “Oh, Jonathan,” she said without thinking, caught the breathlessness in her voice and swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Well, you can put it under the Christmas tree,” she replied, trying to keep control of her emotions. In truth she wanted to scream at him. Why haven’t you spoken to me? Why don’t you say something? Why don’t you love me? She closed her eyes against unshed tears.

  She didn’t know when she realized she loved Jonathan Bridger. Maybe a Sunday in church while listening to Rev. Latsch’s sermon. She had pictured the three of them sitting in that same pew year after year: Jonathan and her, their children, her mother shushing them when they became too rambunctious. She took a deep breath to still her mind, but it didn’t.

  “I’ll do that,” he said.

  “What?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Put your presents under the tree.” His eyes roamed over her. “You’re going out?”

  She stiffened. “Yes, to take one more look at the town. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  Jonathan went white as a sheet.

  Maisie watched him a moment, knowing he’d say nothing to stop her. With a sigh she turned and started down the stairs, disconsolate ... until she reached the bottom and he screamed her name.

  JONATHAN FLEW DOWN the stairs, his throat raw from that one word. Maisie. It had taken all his strength to do it – a silly notion if he stopped to think about it, but he didn’t have time to stop and think. Shouting her name was like forcing a huge piece of wood out of a logjam and now it was breaking free. His feelings gushed forth now that there was nothing there to hold them back.

  She’d hurried out the door – probably frightened by his outburst, he realized. By the time he caught up, she was already at the end of the front walk. “Maisie, wait!” He latched onto her coat sleeve. “Don’t go!”

  He saw her jaw tighten. “I’m just going for a walk –”

  He shook his head. “I’m not talking about a walk.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” she snapped. She sounded like her mother had when he first came to town.

  He had to stop this before it was too late for both of them. Sarah Woodhouse, in one moment, had made him look at himself and look hard. He’d come out of his family situation more damaged than he’d imagined, and he’d let it fester. Now he was suffering the consequences. But no more – and he knew of only one way to fix it. He dropped to one knee.

  Maisie’s eyes popped wide. “What are you doing?”

  He laughed, and didn’t care if he sounded like a loon. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “But ...”

  “Maisie Woodhouse, I love you. I should’ve said it before, I know, and I’ve been going through Hell because I didn’t. But I love you, and you’d make me the happiest man on Earth if you’d become my wife.”

  She took a step back, tears in her eyes.

  Jonathan jumped to his feet, praying he wasn’t too late. “I’m an idiot, I know. A fool. But staying a fool isn’t worth it if it means I lose you.” He took her by the shoulders and pulled her against him.

  Her shoulders shook under his fingers. “But ...,” she sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me when I said it? What took you so long to make up your mind?”

  He put his arms around her “No, honey, my mind was already made up. I fell in love with you a long time ago. But I was afraid.”

  She drew back. “What?”

  He gazed into her eyes. “I thought getting away from my family would cure everything, that it would all just wash away. Some of it did, but I had some healing to do, just like your mama. Just like ... just like you.”

  “Me?”

  “You had to forgive yourself for letting her be so demanding and all that for as long as she did, right?”

  Her brow knit as his words sunk in. “Yes, I did.”

  “And your mama had to forgive herself for acting the way she had, right?”

  She nodded. “She told me a few days ago that she finally did,” she whispered.

  “Well, I had some forgiving to do before I’d be fit to be your husband.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I can’t imagine what the three of us would be like if none of us sought that forgiveness. How scared we’d all be.”

  She stared at him as realization sunk in. “Did you think ... that my mother ...”

  “... would be just like mine. Trust me – you suffered for months, but I lived it all my life.”

  “Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered. “Jonathan, I’m so sorry. But my mother would never ...”

  He kissed her, slowly, gently, letting himself go. He’d been as awful as Maisie’s mother, what with the way he’d let his fear grip him. But now it was time to let it go, as Mrs. Woodhouse had, and start living in freedom.

  He broke the kiss and gazed at her again. “I know now your ma would never treat me as poorly as mine did. Some folks don’t get better. But I’m glad your ma did.”

  “So am I. But if you knew my mother was healed, why didn’t you tell me how you felt until now?”

  He shrugged. “Because I wasn’t. I didn’t want you to have half a man, Maisie. A person has to be healed and whole before they’re fit to be with another. Half of me was still with my family, still ducking their arguments, still trying to play peacemaker, still ...”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I understand. After dealing with my mother while she was like that, I can’t imagine what a lifetime of it was like. But if you’re willing, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Jonathan Bridger, and be the happiest bride in the w–”

  A sudden clapping from the porch made them jump. Mrs. Woodhouse stood on the top step applauding. “Finally! Now when’s the wedding?”

  Jonathan laughed, took Maisie by the hand and pulled her back up the porch steps. Once there he wrapped his arms around Mrs. Woodhouse and kissed her on the cheek. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  She blushed head-to-toe as he released her and pulled Maisie into his arms. “Land sakes, young man, tomorrow’s Christmas. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until we can make arrangements with Rev. Latsch.”

  Maisie’s face lit up. “You mean it, Mama?”

  “Of course I do, dear. Anyone could see the two of you were a good match – except the three of us, for awhile. The more fools us, for letting anything stand in the way.”

  Maisie sagely nodded. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, for thinking the worst. Mama tried to tell me you felt differently, that you ...”

  “Loved you? Yes, she talked to me too.”

  Maisie’s mouth fell open. “Mama!”

  “Well, someone had to do something! Now come inside – it’s freezing out here.”

  And, with smiles on all their faces, they did.

  Epilogue

  Cutter’s Creek, June 1878

  Maisie twirled and twirled until she was dizzy. She wore the purple-and-white ball gown Jonathan gave her for Christmas, at the same time he’d given her mother the green day dress she’d fallen in love with at the mercantile.

  The three of them were at the annual town picnic, a tradition started back when Merritt and Rafe had gotten married. Now Maisie and Jonathan had been married in that very place, right before the picnic started. He’d wanted to get married immediately,
but knew he wasn’t ready – not if he was to give Maisie and her mother a proper house to live in. Now it was nearly completed, and he was ready to provide for them properly. In the meantime, the three had become a family, and Jonathan couldn’t be happier.

  Nor could Maisie or her mother. “I love you,” Maisie called as she twirled again.

  “You’re going to wear that dress out,” he joked. “Besides, the dancing hasn’t even started yet.”

  She stopped, shaded her eyes with a hand and pointed. “Look, there’s Jasper with his fiddle. Now it will.”

  Jonathan followed her gaze. Most of the town had turned out for the double event, bringing plenty of food, fun and more congratulations than he could count. And to think he’d almost lost it all because of fear. All three had their battles with it, but they all won. For Jonathan and Maisie, they hadn’t realized there was a battle. Thank Heaven Mama did, having just won her own. Freedom from fear was a beautiful thing.

  “Eldon told me we should finish the barn next week,” Jonathan told his wife as he took her by the hand. They heard the soft sound of a fiddle being tuned and headed in that direction. Now that everyone’s belly was full, the dancing would start.

  “That’s wonderful news. Is the roof all done?”

  “On the house or the barn?”

  “The house, silly,” she said with a playful slap.

  “Of course.”

  She sighed in contentment. “It will be wonderful to sleep there tonight. Mama’s going to love it.”

  He grinned. “Mama won’t be there – not on our wedding night. She’s staying at the Petroffs’ – she and Mrs. Petroff are making pies tonight.”

  “But it’s her house too ...”

  “And she’s been married before,” he said in a sing-song voice.

  “Oh yes, well ...” she said with a blush. “Then she ought to know ...”

  “She ought to and she does. You mother is a right smart woman, Maisie.” He stopped and took her by the shoulders for a quick kiss. “I’m so glad I found the two of you. I wish I could’ve met your pa.”