Lane hugged his daughter then acknowledged Saundra’s presence with a brief handshake. The woman stretched out her hand—what else could he do? He stepped to his chair at the head of the table.
Barry drew up short in the narrow doorway, face still, eyes wide. Flushing, he clasped the woman’s hand as if it were made of blown glass. Angie saw his Adam’s apple bob just before they took their seats.
As always, Barry prayed before the meal. Lane hadn’t prayed or led in family worship since Charlotte died. He wasn’t sullen. He was sad, the kind of deep sadness that went all the way to the soul. Tonight he wore a black expression that made even Judy take a second look at him.
When they started to pass the food, Angie spoke. “Lane, Saundra tells me she’s from Germany. Isn’t that interesting? Her father was a professor at Harvard.”
The big man filled his plate. He scarcely seemed to hear.
Barry leaned forward. “You must have had some interesting experiences at a place like that.” Angie nudged him with the bowl of beans. He took it, still watching the woman across from him.
Saundra smiled, her dimple in full display. “I was only in my teens at the time so I didn’t get to many of the functions. My father made me stay at home to practice English and mathematics.” Her lovely lips twisted provocatively. “Would you like to hear the logarithm tables recited?”
He let out a delighted chuckle. “Maybe on Sunday afternoon when there’s more time.”
“What’s Harvard like?” Angie asked.
Saundra smiled and laid down her fork. “It was a place like any other place,” she said. “At first I thought that America would be a fairyland with a gigantic mansion and handsome carriages for everyone.”
Judy giggled.
Saundra beamed at her. “But when I arrived, I found stern-looking men wearing black gowns over their clothing and carrying fat books under their arms. The only ones who smiled were the freshmen boys. They hadn’t learned what it meant to be a Harvard man yet.”
Her eyes twinkled. “One of my favorite hobbies was playing tricks on them to see if I could make them human again.” She tilted her head toward Judy. “I was just a little older than you then, my dear.”
Judy leaned toward her, eyes big as her dinner plate. “What did you do?”
Saundra laughed in her throat. “I’ll tell you about the very first one I ever did. You see, there was a smooth stone patio outside the dining hall. One time I grated a bar of soap and put it into a bottle of warm water. I shook it up very well then added some oil to it. While the men were eating, I emptied that bottle over the patio floor. When they burst out the door on the way to their next class, they started skating as if they were on a pond in January instead of at college in May.”
She laughed again. “You should have heard them calling out and shouting. They grabbed each other and slid into the grass.” She chuckled. “My father made me stay in the house for a month after that.”
“Did anyone fall down?” Judy asked.
“Oh, lots of them did.” She turned to Angie and said, “I was too young to realize how dangerous a slippery floor could be. It was all in fun, but I’m glad no one was hurt.” She turned back to Judy. “My father had Maria, our housekeeper, lock up the soap for a couple of years after that.”
Gasping, she remembered another story. “Speaking of soap, one time I shook Maria’s grated soap through a strainer and got a fine powder. I sneaked into the college dining room one morning and mixed the powder into the sugar bowls where they sat on the sideboard ready for breakfast.” She laughed and covered her mouth with slim fingers. “You should have seen the suds coming out of the coffee cups at breakfast.”
“Did your father catch you that time?” Judy asked.
Saundra sobered. “That was two years after we came to Harvard, Judy. By then whenever anyone pulled a prank, he automatically looked at me.” She picked up her fork. “I had to scrub floors for Maria for the entire month of February for that one.”
Saundra kept Barry and Judy entertained for the rest of the meal. As soon as she finished one story, they’d coax her into another. Twice Angie tried to draw Lane into the conversation, but he focused on his meal—not rude, but not interested in chitchat either. Not once did he look at Saundra.
After the second round of coffee, Angie stood to clear the table. Judy gathered the cups and silverware.
Barry lurched to his feet. “Let me help you with that, Mrs. Dryden.” He took a single plate from Saundra’s hands and stacked it on his own.
“Call me Saundra. Please.”
He gulped. “Of course—Saundra.” Fumbling to get around his chair, he strode toward the kitchen.
Angie sent an irritated glance after her fiancé. What on earth had gotten into Barry?
Chapter 3
That night, tucked between snowy flannel sheets, Angie and Judy had a conference. Judy had given her room to Saundra—a small sacrifice, since icy winter nights were much cozier with two bodies under the eiderdown instead of one. Most nights Judy used to creep into her aunt’s bed in the wee cold hours anyway. The upstairs had no heat.
“Papa hardly looked at her,” Judy said, her face close to Angie’s ear in the darkness. “She’s beautiful, and he didn’t even notice.”
Angie let out a slow breath. She didn’t want to worry Judy with the news about the spoiled timber. “He was tired and half-frozen when he got home tonight. Maybe when he’s feeling better, he’ll pay more attention to Saundra.”
“We’ve got to make him pay attention to her.” Judy threw her arm over her aunt. “What am I going to do if we can’t find Papa a nice wife before you get married? I’ll be all alone.”
Angie returned the hug. “Don’t worry, Hon. I’m not going anywhere until we find just the right woman.”
Hot, flannel-wrapped bricks warmed their feet and relaxed taut nerves. The passage she’d read to Judy for that evening’s devotions replayed through Angie’s mind: Rebekah and Jacob and their deception. This situation, she told herself, was different.
With Judy’s warm, sleep-quiet form next to her, Angie eased her neck onto the pillow and stared into the blackness.
As far back as she could remember, Angie had idolized Charlotte. Ten years older, Charlotte always seemed grown up to her sister. Angie wanted to be like her more than anything in the world.
But she couldn’t.
Charlotte had the face of a princess. Angie was plain. Charlotte could make a feed sack look like a ball gown. Angie looked like a scarecrow in her Sunday best. Charlotte was dainty. Angie had a boyish heart tucked inside a gangly body.
Charlotte had married Prince Charming. Angie would settle for Barry Kimball, friend and fellow tree climber.
“You shouldn’t feel so bad about your appearance,” her mother had told Angie. “You are just as attractive as Charlotte in your own way.”
Angie tossed her frizzy braids, certain her mother was only trying to make her feel better.
When Mom and Dad died of cholera, Angie came to live with Lane and Charlotte. Judy was four years old at the time. Angie had watched Lane’s adoring eyes follow his wife’s movements. Charlotte had a slim figure and glistening black hair that always looked fresh. No wonder Lane never tired of looking at her.
Angie had heard their laughter, had seen their delight in their tiny daughter. She had believed in their dream of a long life together.
When Charlotte died in childbirth with her second child, Angie felt betrayed. Where was God when Charlotte needed Him? Where was God when Charlotte’s family needed Him?
Lane hadn’t smiled since.
For weeks Angie didn’t smile either. But nine-year-old Judy still had life in her, the boundless energy of a healthy child. Judy’s fun-loving heart joined with Angie’s until they became comrades, confidantes, conspirators.
The thought of leaving Judy brought a catch to Angie’s breath. Turning, she pulled the quilt higher until it covered her ears and blocked out her doubts.
/> The next morning Lane and Barry had gone outside to do the chores before Saundra came down for breakfast. Wearing a dark blue dress that made her eyes glow, she appeared in the kitchen looking eager and well rested.
“What can I do to help?” she asked as soon as she finished a pancake and two eggs. “I didn’t come to be waited on like a queen.”
Angie lifted the egg basket. “You could gather the eggs, if you don’t mind. I usually do it this time of morning.” She took her to the window and pointed. “That’s the chicken coop there. Next to the barn.”
Throwing Angie’s long, heavy shawl about her head and shoulders, Saundra slipped the basket handle over her arm and picked her way across the snowy ranch yard. The day had dawned clear and calm. Angie hoped today would be a little warmer than yesterday.
The moment Saundra stepped off the porch, Judy pressed her nose against the windowpane.
“Get away from the window!” Angie scolded her. “She’ll see you. Or worse, your father will see you.”
“He can’t see. He’s inside the barn hitching the horses to the buggy.” She snickered. “I wish I could sneak out there and spy.”
Overcome by her own curiosity, Angie stayed a few feet from the window and peered over the girl’s head.
Tail waving, Tip stayed at Saundra’s heels. The tiny lady gripped the door handle of the chicken house, a lean-to attached to the sprawling barn. She tugged and twisted, but the door wouldn’t budge.
Judy giggled and looked back at Angie. They shared a secret smile. Things were going exactly as planned.
At that moment the barn doors eased open. Dan and Sheba trotted out, the black buggy’s iron wheels rumbling behind them. The horses stopped in the yard, heads bobbing, noses blowing out twin blasts of steam. The next instant a man wearing a sheepskin coat came into view from the other side of the buggy.
Barry.
Saundra turned toward him. He spoke with her a moment, pulled on the brim of his Stetson, then ambled over to the chicken house. He gave the door a fierce yank. It popped open.
Angie’s teeth clamped her lower lip. “Why didn’t Lane hitch the horses this morning?” she wailed. “One morning out of fifty he has Barry do it. Why today?”
“Look!” Judy said.
Barry entered the chicken house with their German guest. A few moments later they reappeared with Barry carrying the basket, a smiling Saundra at his side.
Angie yanked Judy away from the window and pulled her to the dish drainer. She shoved a cup and a dish towel into the girl’s hands as the back door swung in.
Saundra stepped through the door then turned back. “Thank you, Barry. You are a real gentleman.” She leaned down. “You, too, Tip!”
The dog barked once.
Chuckling softly, Saundra closed the door and set the basket on the table. She carefully lifted the shawl from her hair. “A full dozen. Is that what you usually get?”
Judy lifted the cup into the cupboard. “Give or take a few.” She watched Saundra a moment. “Did you know Barry and Angie are engaged?”
Elbow deep in the dishpan, Angie had an urge to pinch her niece.
“How nice,” Saundra said, smiling broadly. “He’s a fine man, Angie. You’re a lucky girl.”
“Thanks,” Angie said, her cheeks burning.
Saundra grew serious. “Do you think Lane is pleased that I’m here? He’s hardly spoken to me.” She picked up a damp cloth from the counter and wiped the table with smooth, wide swipes.
Angie dipped her hands in the rinsing basin and grabbed a towel. “That’s what I was talking about on the way home from the depot. Lane’s painfully shy. He takes awhile to warm up to anyone new.
“He’s probably a little embarrassed to meet you face to face,” she added. “You’re very beautiful, you know. He may be overwhelmed.”
Angie pulled up an encouraging smile and took a step toward Saundra. “Don’t worry. He’ll come around in time. Use your feminine charms on him.”
The German woman studied Angie’s face. “From his letters I expected that I would be fending him off, not chasing him. I am not sure I like the idea.”
“Give him some time,” Angie coaxed. “He needs you, Saundra. He’s been desperately lonely since my sister died. Please give him a chance.”
“Well, I came all this way. The least I can do is stay awhile.” She smiled softly. “He is very good looking.”
Angie grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Saundra drew in a breath and smoothed the wave covering her ear. “I will finish ironing my things this morning, and then I’ll wash my hair.”
Judy opened a cupboard. “Here’s the iron.”
Filling the hot water reservoir in back of the stove, Angie suddenly cried, “Hurry, Judy! You’ll be late for school.”
Judy raced upstairs for her books, her feet thumping on every step. Angie set down the bucket to pull on her wool coat and flannel-lined bonnet. She was in the buggy, reins ready, when Judy burst out the door with her coat half on and her bonnet swinging.
Sheba and Dan set off at a brisk trot, trace chains rattling. Angie handled the team with habitual movements, her mind on the problem that haunted her. There had to be a way to wake Lane up. If she thought long and hard, she knew she could come up with something.
Chapter 4
Two days later, Angie got the chance she’d hoped for. That afternoon Barry left for a short visit with his folks, and Lane came in early for supper. They ate beef stew and rolls at the kitchen table—special treatment couldn’t last forever—and Saundra was at her most charming. Best of all, Lane listened to her. He even grinned a few times.
The meal finished, Lane left the kitchen to fetch wood for the potbelly stove and to build a fire in the fireplace. Two fires in the living room were necessary on a night as bitter as this. Angie reached for her sweater that was hanging on a peg beside the door, hoping that Barry had chosen to stay overnight with his parents. It was too cold for a body to be outside.
“Don’t worry about the dishes, Saundra,” Angie said, when the woman began to clear the table. “Join Lane in the living room. You may be able to talk him into a game of checkers.”
Saundra’s eyes sparkled. “Does he like chess? My father and I played almost every night once I learned how. I haven’t had a good game in years.”
Judy’s face creased into a toothy grin. “That’s his favorite game. He has a marble chess set that Mama gave him on her last Christmas.”
“Say a prayer,” Saundra said, beaming. She smoothed down her skirt and floated through the door.
A curious twelve-year-old tiptoed after her.
“Judy!” Angie’s whisper drew her back. “Don’t make a nuisance of yourself.” She handed the girl a bowl of food scraps. “Here. Feed Tip.”
Half an hour later, Judy scooted upstairs to fetch the mittens she was knitting for her father’s Christmas present. She sat by the kitchen stove, needles in hand, while Angie washed out the dishcloth and swept the floor.
“What should we get Saundra for Christmas, Judy? I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I haven’t come up with a single idea. She seems to have everything she needs.”
“We must think of something nice for her first Christmas with us.” The knitting needles clicked half a dozen times. “I like Saundra. She makes me laugh.”
“I like her, too.” Angie propped the broom behind the door and lifted a small cloth sack of beans from the counter. “One thing we did right in all of this was to pick her.” She dumped the dried limas on the table, sat down, and sorted out the bad ones.
“Papa seems in a good mood tonight.”
“He took this month’s quota of lumber to the yard today. So he can relax for a few days.” She reached for a pot and scooped a pile of beans into it. Moving to the bucket on the counter, she washed the beans and set them soaking for tomorrow’s lunch.
“Miss Hodgkins says we have to know our times tables by next Friday.” Judy sighed. “I’ll never get them
all memorized. Especially the sixes.”
“Why don’t you ask Saundra for help? From what she says, she knows lots of math.”
The girl brightened. “That’s a good idea. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
Angie added flour and milk to her sourdough starter and set it near the stove. A little after eight o’clock, she and Judy walked softly down the hall toward the stairs. Angie carried a wide candle on a saucer.
Lane and Saundra sat on either side of a small table in front of the fireplace, studying a chessboard. Dancing flames formed a backdrop behind them. A glass-shaded lamp added a bit of brightness to the room, but most of the light came from the fire.
Neither player spoke a word.
Angie and Judy crept up the stairs, afraid their very presence would spoil the players’ concentration.
“Is it working?” Judy asked when Angie eased the door closed behind them. “Does he like her yet?”
Angie held tight arms across her fluttery middle. “These things take time, love. People have to get to know one another.”
“Like you and Barry?”
Angie turned her head away. “Well, not quite as long as that. Most married couples don’t grow up together, you know. Your parents didn’t.”
“They met at church, didn’t they?”
“Yes, a revival meeting outside of Darby.” It was an old story, one the girl still loved to hear. “We went to one of those come-and-camp affairs that lasted a week or more. Pa drove our buckboard half a day to get there.” Angie gazed at the puffed biscuit quilt on the wide iron bedstead, reliving happier days. “Charlotte knocked over Lane’s dinner plate while we were waiting in line for a glass of tea.”
She looked into Judy’s eager blue eyes. “From then on, your father hung around our family like a bee buzzing over a clover field. I was only eight at the time. I didn’t understand what was going on until later, when he started riding ten miles just to take supper with us.”
“You think a fellow would ride ten miles to see me?”
Angie tugged Judy’s tawny braid. “I think he would. If he were the right one.” She leaned down and made a funny face. “It’s a little early for getting yourself wrought up over that kind of foolishness. Turn around so I can unbutton you. Time for bed.”
Reluctant Brides Collection Page 2
