Reluctant Brides Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Barry grinned at her. “You’ll have to teach me some of your tricks, Saundra, so’s I can at least give you a run for your money.”

  “After Christmas,” Saundra promised.

  “Thanks for the game. Good night,” he spoke softly to Saundra. “Good night, Angie,” he said abruptly and headed out the door.

  Angie didn’t have time to return the good-bye. She looked up, startled, as the door closed.

  “I suppose he’s tired,” Saundra said, taking a seat at the table. “He kept yawning while we were playing.”

  Angie chose not to comment on Barry’s rudeness. Instead she picked up a scrap of red gingham. “You’re full of ideas, Saundra. What could we make with this? To decorate the tree, I mean.”

  Saundra’s eyes narrowed. She stroked the fabric. “We could starch it and make some snowflakes.” She took the material in her hand. “Maybe we could make some cones to put candies in.” She beamed at Judy. “That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

  They talked until Judy’s eyes began to droop.

  “Let’s wait until tomorrow afternoon to start any projects,” Angie told the girl. “We’ll set these things in my sewing basket until we’re ready.” She patted Judy’s back. “Off to bed with you now. It’s been an exciting day, and you’re tired.” Angie yawned. “So am I.”

  Saundra stood. “I’ll go up with you, Judy,” she said, lifting a lit candle and saucer from the table. “Good night, Angie.”

  “Good night,” Angie said gently. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She picked up the fabric scraps and stacked them in a neat pile.

  Despite Barry’s fascination with Saundra, Angie couldn’t help but like her. Saundra was a real lady all the way to the core. She was hardworking but with a lively sense of humor. Add beauty to that combination and what man could resist her?

  Angie’s lips quirked. What man besides Lane? He seemed to resist Saundra just fine. She paused, staring at the dark window across from her. Maybe she was wrong, though. Maybe Lane had fallen to Saundra’s charms since he became sick. Sighing, Angie stood and blew out the lamp. She lifted the last candle and saucer from the table and walked softly down the hall to the living room to place the fabric in her sewing basket.

  The house creaked overhead, something that happened on every cold night. Setting the candle on the chess table, Angie looked at the fireplace. She stepped closer and sat on the low stool before the hearth where the banked fire smoldered in a black-and-orange glow.

  What was Hans studying so hard when he’d sat there that evening? It must have been something on the stones. She turned her head one way and then the other, squinting hard. Finally she shrugged. Nothing was there that she could see except brown stones and gray mortar. She’d have to look again in daylight. Maybe she was missing something. But what?

  It didn’t make sense. Hans must have a habit of staring when he was lost in thought. She must be misreading him. Weary, she picked up the candle and trudged up the stairs.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning after breakfast, Saundra boiled some starch paste and taught Angie and Judy how to fashion a six-pointed star from fabric cones edged with lace. By noon they had six perfectly formed specimens. Angie laid them on the mantelpiece to dry while Judy set the table for lunch and Saundra took steaming meat pies from the oven.

  Bending over at the waist, Angie again searched the fireplace stones for some pattern, some odd formation that might have caught Hans’s eye last evening. Nothing was there but smooth creek stones the original builder had hauled to this site so many years before. Angie had polished these stones hundreds of times. Surely if something were unusual about them, she’d have seen it before now.

  The back door banged, and she hurried toward the kitchen to help Saundra. The men had been splitting wood again that morning, and they’d be starving. On her way out, she met Lane at the bottom of the stairs. Still thin and pale, he had on his work clothes.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked him, taking his arm.

  He grinned, and her heart felt a sweet ache. She’d been so afraid she’d never again see him smile in that casual, easy way again.

  “I’m going to get some lunch.” He covered her hand where it lay on his arm.

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. “And then back to bed, right?” She plucked at his sleeve. “These clothes don’t give you permission to step outside, Mr. Phillips.”

  He nodded, amused. “Seriously, Angie, I’m doing much better. I ate a full breakfast, and I’m already hungry again. In a few days I’ll be splitting wood with Barry again.” They reached the kitchen door, and Barry looked up.

  “Sorry, Lane, but you won’t be splitting wood with me for months to come.”

  Lane’s face formed a mock scowl. “Says who?”

  “I do,” Barry said, enjoying the moment. “We finished splitting the whole pile this morning.”

  Lane sank slowly into the head chair at the table. “You don’t say.” He glanced at Hans to his right. “I’ve got you to thank for that, don’t I?”

  Hans’s fair cheeks turned pink. “It was nothing, Mr. Lane. I just helped Barry stack the wood. He did all the hard work.”

  “He’s a good hand, Lane,” Barry said. “Even though you’re on the mend, I’d hate to give him his walking papers in the dead of winter like this.”

  At the stove Angie waited. She knew what Barry was hinting at. Would Lane get the message?

  “You’re right,” Lane said, some spirit coming into his voice. “How would you like to stay on until spring?” he asked Hans. “The same arrangements as we have now: You help with chores and whatever else needs doing in exchange for room and board.”

  Angie turned to catch sight of Hans’s head bobbing. “Thank you, Mr. Lane. Thank you again and again.”

  Lane glanced at Angie, the only one still standing. “Angie, are you ready to start? We need to ask the blessing.”

  Angie slid into her chair, and Barry prayed, “Thank You, dear Lord, for the food we are about to enjoy and for Your bounty. Amen.”

  Saundra gave Hans a wide smile. His full red lips spread outward and upward. “I know God led me here,” he said. “It had to be God.”

  “Do you believe in God?” Judy asked.

  “Ya”—his head bobbed again—“my mother was a God-fearing woman, and she always took me to church with her.”

  “That’s good, Hans,” Angie said gently, “but have you ever trusted Christ to forgive your sins and make you a new person in Him?”

  Hans’s cheeks grew pink. He slurped his coffee. “I’m not sure about that,” he stammered.

  Angie handed him the meat-pie dish. “We’ll talk about it later,” she told him, smiling. “Have some of Saundra’s good cooking.”

  His expression relaxed, and he grasped the porcelain pan. “Thank you very much,” he said and dug in.

  That evening Saundra found a yellowed, handwritten pattern she had brought with her. Using it, she taught Judy to crochet a lace angel to top the tree. Angie watched the child’s progress from the living room sofa while she darned socks. Worn out from a hard day at the woodpile, Barry and Hans had already gone to their room.

  Lane took a seat near the fire in the living room. “I ought to go upstairs,” he said, “but I can’t face crawling into that bed yet.” He leaned back and stretched out his legs. “That bedroom feels like a jail cell. I’ve been in it too much since I’ve been sick.”

  “Lane,” Angie said, looking up from her work, “is there anything unusual about the fireplace?”

  He squinted at her. “What’s that?”

  “I thought I saw Hans staring at the stones on the fireplace as though he were looking for something in the mortar—or something.” She glanced at Saundra then back to Lane. “Do you have any idea what he may have been doing? This morning I looked at it myself, but I can’t figure it out.”

  Lane shrugged. “You must have been imagining things, Angie.” He chuckled. “You do have a
wild imagination sometimes, you know.”

  Judy giggled.

  Angie quirked in one corner of her mouth. “I’m beginning to wonder if I was imagining things.”

  Saundra looked up. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you this, Angie, but I think you ought to know.” She paused, her hands restless against the crochet instruction page. “Whenever we’re alone, Hans starts speaking German. He asks me question after question about the house. It’s happened three or four times.” She laid down the crackling page. “I’ve wondered if he speaks German so no one else will understand what he’s saying.”

  “What does he say?” Angie asked.

  “He wants to know how long you’ve lived here. He asked if anyone has changed the house in the last twenty years—added rooms on or anything, I mean.” Her perfect eyebrows arched upward. “He even asked me if I’d find out the answers for him.”

  “What did you tell him?” Judy asked. Her bright eyes told that she was enjoying this discussion more every minute.

  Saundra’s expression grew indignant. “I told him that I wouldn’t trouble you good people with unnecessary questions.”

  Angie drew her elbows close to her middle. “Hans is such a nice man. I can’t understand why he’s so interested in this place. Do you think he came here for a reason?”

  Saundra lifted her shoulders. “I have no idea, Angie. He may be German, but that doesn’t mean he’s automatically a special friend of mine.” She sighed then went on. “I’ve been around hundreds of people in my life, and I’ve always thought I could judge a man’s character from the moment I meet him.”

  Saundra’s smooth face creased between her brows. “Hans has me puzzled, Angie. He’s friendly, and he seems so kind. But sometimes he says things that seem peculiar.”

  Lane turned in his chair so that he faced Angie. “Do you think I should let him go? I don’t want to take any chances. He may be a thief or worse.”

  “No, Daddy!” Judy cried. “Don’t send Hans away. He’s not a bad man. I know he’s not.”

  Lane’s expression grew tense. “Judy, I have to think of what’s best for the family even if it’s hard to do.”

  “Don’t send him away,” Angie said softly. “I don’t think he’d hurt us.”

  Saundra nodded. “I don’t think he’s dangerous, Lane. I think he has some kind of secret.” She glanced at Angie with an impish smile. “My feminine curiosity wants to know what it is.”

  Angie chuckled. “So does mine, Saundra. I never could stand it when I knew that I didn’t know something.”

  “Me, too!” Judy added.

  Suddenly Lane tilted his head back and laughed. “With you ladies on his trail, Hans will have to cry ‘Uncle’ and admit to whatever he’s up to or get worried to distraction. I almost feel sorry for him.”

  “See this, Daddy?” Judy held up a flattened white crocheted ball with half a body hanging beneath it. “Wait ’til I get the wings finished. Then Saundra will soak it in starch so it’ll hold its shape.”

  Lane took stock of Judy’s progress. “That’s beautiful already, honey.”

  “How nice of you to take time with Judy,” Lane told Saundra, his smiling eyes on her face.

  “It is my pleasure.” She glowed.

  He seemed confused and fumbled to get his feet beneath him. “I’m still a little weak. I’d best get myself off to bed while I can still climb those stairs.” He laid his palm on Judy’s head. “See you in the morning, chipmunk.” He turned toward the sofa but didn’t meet any one person’s eyes. “Good night, ladies.”

  Angie dropped her sewing. “Do you need anything, Lane? Should I come up with you?”

  “No, no.” He waved her back. “I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll light the lamp and read awhile.”

  A chorus of good nights followed him out of the living room.

  Angie watched his back until he disappeared up the staircase.

  Judy immediately forgot her crocheting. “Shall I follow Hans around and see what he does?” she asked. She leaned toward Angie, tense excitement in her voice, her eyes dancing.

  Angie reached forward to clasp the child’s arm. “Don’t you dare, Judy. You leave him alone.” She glanced at Saundra then back at the girl beside her. “I don’t want you to make him feel like he’s being spied on. If there’s anything going on, we’ll catch on to it sooner or later.” She gave Judy a pat. “Now off to bed with you. Scoot.”

  With a reluctant sigh Judy wrapped her cotton thread around the incomplete angel and carefully laid it in Angie’s sewing basket. The tilt of her head told that she knew better than to argue when Angie gave her a direct command, but tonight she had a very hard time obeying. Her steps lagged, and she paused at the door.

  “What could he be looking for?” Judy turned back to ask. “Do you think there’s buried treasure on the farm—or maybe gold?” Her eyes grew round as saucers.

  “Judy!” Angie made a move as though to rise from her seat.

  With a loud giggle, the girl dashed up the stairs. An instant later the door slammed overhead.

  Angie winced at the noise. “I hope Lane wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “That child is unstoppable sometimes.”

  “Like her aunt?” Saundra said in a teasing tone.

  When Angie looked at her, surprised, Saundra let out a short laugh. “You have a wonderful quality, Angie—an indomitable spirit.”

  “Indomitable?” Angie asked.

  Saundra nodded. “Right. You just said it. Unstoppable.” She picked up a sock that Angie had laid on the sofa between them. “You should be thankful. I wish I had more of it myself.”

  Snipping off a thread, Angie folded another finished sock and laid it in the pile at her side. “Can you remember exactly what Hans asked you? His exact words?”

  Saundra considered. “As I said, he asked me how long you had lived here.” She drew in a slow breath, thinking hard. “He wanted to know if there were any hiding places where a child might play.”

  “Hiding places?” Angie thought about that. “Judy and I used to romp through this house by the hour. We know every inch of it, and I never saw anything like a hidey-hole.” She shrugged and let her shoulders sag. “I’m tired, too. I guess I’ll go up to bed.”

  She stood and looked back at Saundra. “I’m afraid we’re all borrowing trouble. Hans probably has a habit of staring whenever he’s thinking about anything serious. Maybe he misses his mother or something like that.”

  Saundra nodded. “Good night, Angie. Don’t let it worry you. I’m sure our Hans isn’t a bad man. I’d have spotted him right away if he was.” She turned toward the smoldering fireplace. “I’ll sit here alone for a few more minutes before I come upstairs. I enjoy the quiet.”

  “Good night,” Angie said and climbed the cold stairs.

  When she crawled into bed beside sleeping Judy, Angie tried to picture Hans’s posture and the expression on his face when she’d seen him beside the hearth, but the image had already faded. Tired of thinking about it, she turned over and went promptly to sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Lane’s strength grew with each new dawn. Sunday morning he said good-bye to the family at the back door when they set off for church. “I’m going to eat another biscuit and read a book by the fire,” he told Angie as she tied on her bonnet.

  “If you get tired, go up to bed,” she told him, scanning his thin face. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

  He grinned. “Hans is in his room in the barn. I can call him if I need something. Besides, I’m not an invalid, Angie. I’ll be fine.” He drew in a deep breath. “Tomorrow I’m going to start doing the chores with Barry and Hans.”

  At her raised eyebrow, he took a step back and chuckled.

  Angie pulled her wool cape over her coat and fastened the frogs. Her shoes clumped on the wooden porch and down the steps to the buggy. She was the last one aboard.

  Saundra sat in front with Barry, and Angie huddled under a thick robe with Judy.

  Inside
the church doors Saundra let Barry help her off with her coat in spite of the chill. Angie kept her wrap on. Her Sunday best was a brown wool dress with a deep yoke. Next to Saundra’s cranberry gown, she felt like a frontier sparrow lighting beside a cardinal.

  Barry had been right. Every lady’s eye traced the seams on Saundra’s silk dress. Every man under eighty nodded toward her with that special expression reserved only for the beautiful. Shoulders back, head high, Barry introduced her to anyone who would listen. Angie watched him, irritated. He never wore that look when she was on his arm.

  “Good morning, Angie,” willowy Mrs. Coldwell murmured at Angie’s side. “How’s Lane?”

  Summoning a smile, Angie turned and said polite words she couldn’t remember ten seconds later. She kept herself from looking at Barry until the service began, and then she glanced at him only once. What had gotten into him? He hadn’t been the same since Saundra came to Chancyville.

  Outside the church two hours later, Saundra put an arm around Angie’s waist for a quick hug as they walked to their buggy where Barry was untying the horse.

  From behind them came Judy’s shrill scream: “You didn’t tag me!”

  “Yes, I did!” a boy’s voice shouted back.

  “What a wonderful congregation you have here, Angie,” Saundra said with a bright smile. “And what a wonderful sermon!” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m so glad I could come here. You can’t know what it’s meant to me to get away from Chicago.”

  A second later the sparkle vanished. “If only Lane wasn’t so shy.” She glanced at Angie. “I thought he’d start talking to me by now. Even after spending so much time with him while he was sick, he still keeps a distance between us.” She sighed. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Angie said. “You’re very charming, Saundra.” She squeezed the German lady’s hand. “Lane will come to his senses soon. I’m sure of it.”

  They reached the buggy, and Barry dashed forward to help Saundra climb up. When she had reached her seat, he turned to give Angie a hand then drew back, puzzled, at the arched look he received from his beloved. He shrugged and climbed into his seat, leaving Angie to board on her own.