Jenny waddled out of the other room. Duncan had no idea what she’d managed to stuff in the pillowcase she held.
Carmen smacked him on the chest. “Put me down. You can carry Jenny’s bag.”
“I willna!” He shouted at Jenny, “Drop that and come on!”
Jenny shook her head.
Duncan wanted to drop the quilt, grab the lass, and haul them both across the street. He couldn’t though. A woman in Jenny’s condition oughtn’t be squashed about the middle. He dropped the quilt anyway and grabbed her wrist. “I’ll come back for that junk.”
In the blink of an eye, Jenny shoved her bag into Carmen’s hands, jerked free from Duncan, and slapped him. She scooted back and wrapped her arms around her ribs. “Don’t grab me. Don’t ever grab me.”
He hadn’t let go of Carmen yet. She wiggled away and ran to Jenny’s side. “It’s okay. He’s not mad at you.”
“We’re wasting dear time here.” Duncan swept Carmen into his arms again. “Let’s go!”
“You go ahead.” Jenny’s words were hard to hear over the wind.
“You run ahead of us, lass.” Duncan jerked his chin toward the door. “I’ll no’ leave you behind.”
He finally got them to his house, and Mercy called from the basement, “Come on down here!”
Duncan didn’t want Carmen to have to limp down the steep stairs. “Jenny, scamper on down. There you go.” He followed right behind her with Carmen held close to his chest.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Mercy set Elspeth in a crate she’d lined with a blanket and then hugged the women.
Duncan headed back up the stairs. “Stay,” Carmen called to him.
“I’ll be back.”
“Hail starts to fall right before a twister.” Worry vibrated in her voice.
“I’m sorry.” Jenny’s voice sounded shaky.
Duncan turned around. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. When I return, I’ll give you my apology. You stay put.” Duncan turned to his sister-in-law. “Mercy, what about Elspeth? What do you need for her?”
“I already have blankets and diapers here. Please stay.”
He didn’t reply. After carefully closing the door to the basement, Duncan ran to the clinic. “Rob!”
Nothing but the sound of wind met him. Satisfied that his brother wasn’t there, Duncan scanned the street. Not a soul stirred, so he went back to the women.
“What do you need down there?”
Carmen shouted, “You!”
His heart soared.
“Ismelda!” Carmen embraced her sister. “I’m so relieved that you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. So is Mercy’s grandfather. The twister was small. It left a zigzagging path about a mile from us.”
“So no one got hurt?”
“We’re all fine.” Ismelda grabbed Carmen’s hand and cast a quick look over at Jenny. Since Jenny didn’t speak any Spanish, Ismelda said very quickly, “I think it’s wonderful how you’ve taken this girl in. My mother-in-law is very upset, though. She feels you’ve tainted yourself by association. Otto and I talked it over. We want you and Jenny to be sure to sit by us in church tomorrow.”
“Of course we will,” Carmen replied in English. “After church, you and Otto ought to come here for Sunday supper. I’m teaching Jenny how to make tortillas. For a gringa, she does a good job.”
Jenny let out a small laugh. “When I was small, my grandmother would give me the scraps from pie dough. When I pat the tortilla between my hands to flatten it, it feels just like when I played with that dough.”
“We’ll make lots of them and bake enchiladas. Why don’t we have the Gregors over for supper, too?”
“There’s not enough room at the table for that many of us.” Jenny hitched a shoulder as if it didn’t matter to her one bit as she said, “I’ll just eat in my room.”
“No. Absolutamente. ¡Absurdo!” Ismelda and Carmen said in unison.
Ismelda giggled. “Mama used to say that.”
“And she’d say that here and now, too.” Carmen shook her finger at Jenny. “There’s always room at my table for you.”
After Ismelda left, Carmen and Jenny sat together and made tortillas. Carmen hesitated, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her remain silent. “You’ve mentioned your grandmother. Since she was a dressmaker, why didn’t you go into that profession?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Jenny slapped down a tortilla and began another. “I was thirteen when she died. No one would hire me—no one but Bart.”
“You were just a baby!” Carmen stared at her in shock.
“It was a long time ago.” She shrugged. “But I want better for my baby than what I had. My mother—she wasn’t married. She died when I was a small girl, and all I had was Grandma. This baby—the doctor promised it will go to a husband and wife. There will be grandparents and cousins, too.”
“Your baby is fortunate, Jenny. Not just because of the family it will go to. It’s blessed because you’ve thought matters through and are giving it to a better home than you can provide.”
“I can’t keep it, you know. After I have the baby, I thought I’d take the train west. Now that I’m sixteen, maybe someone who doesn’t know about my past will hire me. But I won’t be able to work if I keep the baby with me, so I couldn’t even keep a roof over our heads.”
Aghast, Carmen echoed, “You’re sixteen?”
“Unh-huh. I don’t know if this is going to be enough tortillas. Those Gregor men eat a lot.”
“Why don’t I go over and make sure they can come for supper? You ought to lie down and rest awhile, anyway. Dr. Gregor said you should nap more.”
Carmen stumbled into Mercy’s parlor and finally gave vent to her outrage. “Mercy?”
“Yes?” Mercy remained in the rocking chair. The Gregor tartan draped over her shoulder, hiding Elspeth as she suckled.
“Jenny’s only sixteen! I thought she was much older.”
Duncan appeared beside Carmen. He pressed his handkerchief into her hand. “Hard living ages a body. ’Tis plain to see that’s the case with Jenny.”
She should have been surprised or even embarrassed, but Carmen didn’t feel either emotion when she realized she was weeping. She let Duncan pull her close, and she soaked his shirt with her tears. “It’s so dreadful. We have to help her. She can’t go back to a life like that.”
“Sure and enough, you’re right. We’ll come up with a plan, won’t we, Mercy?”
“Of course we will.”
“Now dry up.” Duncan tilted her face to his and brushed away the last of her tears with astonishing tenderness.
How can a man be so big and strong, and yet so gentle?
He reached down and took her hand. “I’ll walk you home. I have a little something to give to you and Jenny.”
“Actually, I came over to invite you all for Sunday supper tomorrow—enchiladas.”
Duncan’s eyes lit up. “Those are the rolled up tortillas with stuff in them and sauce atop?”
Mercy laughed. “Carmen, he’ll eat an entire pan of them all by himself. What can I bring?”
Carmen thought for a moment. “Do you mind giving me a little cheese?”
“Duncan,” Mercy asked, “could you go fetch a wheel?”
He went down into the basement.
Drawing the baby out from beneath the tartan, Mercy chided softly, “Since when didn’t I have enough cheese to share?”
“But it’s such a chore to make it.”
“Going to Grossvater’s farm twice a week is a joy for me. The things I do while I’m there—they’re no burden. I’d have no room here to make cheese. It’s my excuse to go, because Grossvater worries that I should be here all of the time.”
“Here we are.” Duncan reappeared with a twelve-inch wheel of cheese. “I need to stop by my workshop for a moment.”
After saying good-bye, Carmen accompanied Duncan to his workshop. He snatched something off his table. “Okay.”
&n
bsp; Jenny hadn’t gone to take a nap, after all. She’d been making more tortillas and was just now washing her hands. “I couldn’t seem to stop.”
Duncan set the cheese on the table and stepped closer to her. “I made you something.” After she dried her hands, he placed a green leather book in her hands.
Jenny ran her fingertips over the vine pattern he’d tooled into the center of the leather to form a heart. “This is so pretty.”
“I thought that maybe you’d like to write letters to the bairn. That way, when he grows up, he’ll hae some of your thoughts and hopes to let him know you loved him. I asked Rob, and he said ’twas okay.”
Clutching it to her bosom, Jenny didn’t say anything. She just nodded.
Duncan then turned to Carmen. “And this, ’tis for you, Carmen. Mercy tells me you keep a journal, but ’tis spring already. I thought you might like to hae plain pages so you could sketch or keep a record of your garden since it’s always brought you such great joy.”
He’d stained her book’s cover the shade of a pomegranate. An odd interlocking circle design filled the center. She traced it with her finger.
“That’s a Celtic endless knot called the Four Seasons. It represents not only time, but friendship.”
Her fingertip kept going round and round. “It is endless. How clever. Thank you, Duncan.”
That night, Carmen lay in bed and stared at the book. Friendship. Duncan extended friendship to everyone. The man could charm a rabbit into a stewpot. But the book he made for Jenny had a heart on it. Was he falling in love with her? He’d been coming over much of the time—and that started after Jenny’s arrival.
Rob married Mercy and they’re raising her baby. I can see Duncan marrying Jenny and loving her baby, too.
Tears filled her eyes and slid onto her pillow. Lord, I don’t understand. I try to live according to Your will. Your Word says man looks on the outward appearance and You look upon the heart. I’m so tired of my twisted leg scaring men off. Why can’t You send me a man who sees me through Your eyes?
Chapter 9
Well, what do you think?” Duncan stepped back and grinned at Carmen.
She looked at the windows. “It sort of reminds me of that design you made on my book.”
“Aye, it does.” Duncan stepped forward and dabbed paint on one last little wooden curlicue. Once he’d put up new screens, he’d used that as an excuse to sand and paint all of the windowsills—and now he’d tacked on some of the gingerbread left over from the Gregor house kit. “As long as I’m painting, I’ll do the veranda, too.”
“You don’t have to, Duncan.”
“I know I dinna, Carmen. I’m happy to, though. I brought o’er a few odds and ends. Let’s decide what pieces of that wooden lace will look best where.”
“Jenny!” Carmen beckoned. “Come here.”
The lass knelt over by a row of flowers. Getting up had to be difficult, so Duncan strode over and assisted her. She always looked stunned when he extended common courtesies to her. Puir wee lassie doesna count herself worth anything. If only she could see that the King of Kings longs to have her as His daughter!
“I’ll go get some sweet tea and bunuelos,” Carmen murmured as soon as they approached.
“Better still, I’ll go fetch them.” Duncan grinned. “Whilst I do, why dinna ye both lay out a blanket, and we’ll hae a picnic. ’Twill be easier to move about those bits of wood if we’re already on the ground.”
“Those are pointy; these are round.” Jenny pushed away a few pieces. “Since Duncan put swirly ones for the windows, I think the roundish pieces would look best.”
“Thank you,” Carmen said as Duncan handed her a glass of sweet tea. “Jenny’s leaning toward using these pieces.”
Duncan took a gulp out of his own glass. “You dinna hae to limit yourself. You can hae e’ery last piece there. There’s still more in a crate at the back of my shop.”
Carmen smothered a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Jenny’s brows knit.
“Suppose,” Duncan said as he sat between the women, “you tell us what’s amused you.”
Carmen gave him a sly look. “Am I to assume you’re keeping a supply on hand so you can nettle Chris?”
“Trials build character.” Duncan smirked. “I’m doing my best to see that Chris’s character is fully developed.”
“Chris isn’t fond of architectural embellishments,” Carmen explained to Jenny.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Jenny craned her neck to look across the street. “He built the house and workshop, and they’ve got all sorts of fancy details.”
“Much to Chris’s dismay, the kit we ordered came with a plethora of frills.” Duncan reached across the blanket and flipped a piece of gingerbread.
“Depending on his mood, Chris has called the place everything from an Easter bonnet to a wedding cake,” Carmen said.
Jenny laughed.
“Dinna be forgettin’ him sayin’ the place has enough scales to cover a legion of dragons.”
“Oh. The last time I heard, it was only two dragons.”
“Chris was just a tad surly that day. When he’s vexed, it’s a legion.” Duncan grinned. “He’ll be none too happy tonight, once he sees what I’ve done.”
“What?” Carmen and Jenny asked together.
“I took two of these and one of these and tacked them together just above his washstand.”
“A gingerbread heart? Oh Duncan!” Carmen dissolved into giggles. “Chris is going to have a conniption.”
“Oh, that’s only half of it. I hung his razor strop from it—with the help of a wee porcelain knob that has roses on it.”
“What will he do to you?”
The worry in Jenny’s eyes and voice halted Duncan’s mirth. “He’s my brother. He’d not harm me. Oh, he’ll bellow and bluster, but in the end he knows ’tis his own fault. He didna want a single piece of it on the house, so he made a pact with Rob that I’d end up with it all. Rob’s a clever one, though. He forged the promise without Chris specifying what I could or couldna do with all those pretties.”
“So he tried to trick you and it backfired.” Jenny wrinkled her nose. “You mean to tell me the times I hear him roaring at someone, he’s not punching or throwing things, too?”
“I told ye before, lass. We dinna fight. Rob’s patched too many foolish men together to think violence solves anything. I enjoy horseplay, but when tempers flare, I know full well a soft answer turneth away wrath. Chris, he believes law and justice are the routes to peace among men. Connant Gilchrist keeps trying to convince him to become a deputy.”
“I like this corazon.” Carmen touched the example he’d made of the heart.
“Cor-a-zone?” Duncan looked into Carmen’s bright eyes and willed her to see how he wanted to please her. “Does that mean heart?”
“Yes.”
“I thought ’twould be pretty to hang this corazon to the side of your front door.”
She smiled at him. “I’d love that.”
Ahhh, lass, but if only you’d love me, too.
“I’ve never understood the whole notion of getting a certificate that stands for money when the value of it isn’t stable.” Carmen cranked the agitator on the washing machine. “First, the stock market did that crash thing in May. Now the paper says many of those certificates are worthless and there’s talk of a depression.”
“I’d never trust someone else with my money.” Jenny’s brow puckered. “You can’t trust anyone but yourself.”
“I trust a few people.” Carmen stopped cranking and lifted the lid. Judging the garments done, she drained the metal drumlike machine. “The only One who won’t ever fail me is Jesus, though.”
“Then why bother?” Jenny helped her pull out the soggy clothes and dropped them into a galvanized bucket with a splat. “If you don’t depend on anyone, then you won’t get hurt.”
Carmen looked at Jenny. “There’s pain in loneliness, too.”
; “How would you know?” Jenny shook her head. “You have a sister who adores you. You and Mercy do everything together—from cooking to canning to sewing. Duncan and his brothers are around all the time, and children drop by almost every day. Just talking about it makes me tired.”
“I do manage to stay busy. Family and community are important to me. Very important.” Carmen summoned a smile. “But you forgot to mention someone who matters a lot to me.”
“Who?”
“You, Jenny. We’ve been doing practically everything together for months now.” Carmen lifted one handle of the bucket.
Jenny automatically lifted the other. With Jenny’s waddle, Carmen didn’t have to push herself to hurry as they walked to the clothesline.
“After I have the baby, I’ll be leaving. We both know it. I’m not going to let myself miss you. You shouldn’t miss me, either.”
“Of course I’ll miss you. I’ve grown so very fond of you. Haven’t you noticed?”
Jenny turned away and started to hang up clothes. The action didn’t fool Carmen. Jenny guarded her emotions with a desperation that nearly broke Carmen’s heart. Bravado was all she had. Nonetheless, Carmen wanted Jenny to know the truth. “From the first day you came, Jenny, I felt a special spark. Our time together has been wonderful for me. I hope you feel the same way. Even if you can’t allow yourself to feel anything for me, I want you to know how I’ve come to love you.”
“You’re fond of everyone. I’m not like that. Some folks are just plain nice, but most only care about themselves. You were sheltered, so you’ve been spared learning just how ugly men can be. Women, too.”
Carmen thought for a moment and admitted slowly, “I don’t know how I would have turned out if I’d been reared differently or been through other circumstances.”
“If you’d lived like I have,” Jenny said in a jaded tone, “you wouldn’t be so trusting and caring. You’d have to look out for yourself.”
“I’m an independent woman, Jenny. I do look after myself.” Carmen detected Jenny was seeking information in a roundabout fashion. “There’s something I do know, deep down in my heart. Jesus will never fail me.”
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