“Judy!” Angie called as the horse backed away from the hitching post. “Judy!”
Her bonnet bouncing on her back, its strings around her neck, her braids loosened and hair sweeping her face, Judy vaulted into the buggy. “Do we have to go already?” she asked, panting. “We’re playing freeze tag.”
Angie held up the robe for Judy to slip under it. Laughing, she said, “We can freeze together right here, love.”
Judy threw herself to the seat. “Oh, Angie. You know what I meant.”
“We have to go,” Angie told her, tucking the robe around them. “Your daddy is waiting for us.”
Barry clucked to the horses, and the buggy rattled out of the churchyard. Quieting down at the rhythm and sway of the buggy on the dirt road, Judy laid her head on Angie’s shoulder and seemed to doze. Barry chatted with Saundra about the church services, and Angie stared at the passing landscape.
Her carefully laid plans hadn’t turned out anything as she’d imagined. Now that things had been set into play, she felt like a small child on a toboggan skidding down a slippery slope and unable to steer. Who knew where she would land?
Finally Barry pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the kitchen door. Angie was the first to reach the house. When she stepped inside the kitchen, she drew up at the edge of the open door, shocked. A pair of short legs covered by overalls seemed to be sprouting from under the kitchen cabinet. Hans lay on his back, his upper body completely inside the cupboard next to the stove.
Judy pushed in beside her. “What are you doing, Hans?” she cried, stooping down beside him to look inside the cupboard.
“Judy! You startled me!” he said, a laugh in his voice. He scooted out and sat up on the floor. His white hair stuck out in five directions. His chin had a dust smudge. “I was checking to see if I could make Angie a drain going from the basin in here and emptying outside. Then she wouldn’t have to carry her dishwater outside in the cold.”
Angie turned to glance at Saundra’s flushed face beside her. They shared a meaningful look. What was Hans up to?
“A drain?” Angie asked, stepping inside so that Barry could shut the door.
“Sure.” Hans’s head bobbed. He turned to rest on his hands and knees and pushed himself upward to stand. Using his hands, he framed a space on the counter. “We could put a metal bowl with a hole in the bottom here and attach a hollow pipe to it. The pipe would go from here,” he pointed, “to the outside wall and down to the ground.”
“If the bowl has a hole in it, it’s no good,” Judy said.
“We’d make a cork stopper,” Hans replied, as though it were no problem. He turned to Barry. “I saw it done in Rapid City.”
Angie pulled at her bonnet strings. “It sounds wonderful, Hans, but right now I’ve got to get dinner on the table. We can talk about it later, all right?”
He nodded, eager to please. “I’ll put these pots back,” he said. “Maybe next week we can work on this.”
Angie hung up her cape and headed for the stairs. She wanted to change out of her Sunday dress before she started cooking. Three strides later she paused in front of the living room’s double doors, surprised to see them closed. She tried the handle. Locked.
She knocked lightly. “Lane? Are you all right?” she called.
“Are you back already?” came his reply.
Judy pressed close to Angie. “What are you doing, Daddy?”
Lane chuckled. “Didn’t I ever teach you not to ask questions at Christmastime?” He paused. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Angie grasped Judy’s shoulders and turned her toward the stairs. “Let’s change clothes. I’ve got to put those roast chickens on the table, and I could use your help.”
Saundra swished past, and Judy fell into step with her. A few seconds later, Saundra’s amused voice drifted down from the staircase. “Slow down, child,” she said. “When you chatter so fast, I can’t understand you.”
At Angie’s call for lunch, Lane emerged from the living room, a pleased grin on his face. He smiled into Angie’s eyes, and her heart lurched. She hadn’t seen that look since Charlotte died. Suddenly she felt like singing. Maybe things would turn out all right after all.
A moment later she realized she was staring at him and turned away, confused. “Judy,” she said, “come and sit down—we’re ready to eat.”
When everyone was settled, Barry asked the blessing, and the meal began. Angie kept her attention on her plate. Something was happening to her, and she couldn’t understand it. She wanted to be alone to sort it out. The trouble was, she couldn’t decide if she was glad or sorry about it.
The moment her plate was clear, she excused herself and rushed upstairs. Saundra had already offered to finish the dishes, and Angie had to have a few minutes of quiet. By the time Judy came up to their room, Angie had drifted into a light doze, one arm curled under her pillow. She had a deliciously warm feeling way down deep.
Afternoon shadows grew long on that short winter day when Angie knocked on Saundra’s door. The German lady opened it a crack. “Why, Angie, come in.” She pulled the door wider. “This is the first time you’ve paid me a visit.” She wore a flannel wrapper over a nightgown, her hair about her shoulders.
Feeling timid, Angie entered the room and glanced around. The thick eiderdown quilt was Saundra’s. Six cut-glass bottles sat on the dresser scarf beside a silver brush and mirror set. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Angie said. “Were you resting?”
“Not sleeping, dear—just relaxing. I wanted to get out of those stiff clothes for a few hours and rest.”
Angie brushed at the flyaway strands around her face. “I was wondering—” she hesitated, embarrassed, then rushed ahead. “I wondered if you could give me some help with my hair.”
Saundra laughed softly, a rich musical sound. “You have beautiful hair, Angie. You could do a hundred things with it.”
“I’ve tried a bun, but it always falls out.”
“Here—sit in this chair, and I’ll help you.” With a quick movement she snapped the thread holding the braid together at the bottom. “Would you like a twist like mine or a pompadour?” When Angie shrugged, Saundra came in front and put her hand on Angie’s chin, turning her head. “A pompadour, I think.”
“Whatever you say.” Her voice turned wistful. “You always look so nice.”
Saundra lifted the wide brush. “When I was a teenager, I looked like a plucked chicken, all legs and beak.”
Angie chuckled, not believing her.
“Oh, it’s true. My mother always told me I was beautiful, but I thought she was only trying to cheer me up.”
“What happened?”
“I went to a girls’ school the summer after my mother died. They had classes in etiquette and appearance.” She brushed from Angie’s crown to her waist with rhythmic strokes. “Who knows how I would have turned out if not for that summer?”
“I wish I could go to something like that.”
“Now that I’m here, I’ll teach you. Then you can teach your daughters.” She turned away and picked up the mirror. Handing it to Angie, she said, “When I tell you, watch me so you’ll know what to do.” She put a dozen long hairpins between her lips and tried to talk around them. “Bend upside down.”
“What?”
“Bend over!”
Wondering, Angie leaned forward until the tips of her hair touched the floor. Saundra brushed it downward then loosely gathered the whole mass a few inches behind Angie’s forehead.
“Sit up now and look in the mirror.” She twisted a loose rope of hair and coiled it neatly on top of the girl’s head, tucking in pins as she went. “There now. How does that look?”
Angie held up the mirror. “It looks nice now, but in two minutes all kinds of strands will spring loose.”
“It will look charming,” Saundra said, smiling. “You need to learn something, Angie.”
“What?”
“You are Angie McDonald.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “So?”
“So don’t try to be Saundra Dryden. God gave you lots of curly dark hair. It falls around your face sometimes. Is that so bad?” Using a hairpin, she gently pulled tiny ringlets from the edge of Angie’s hairline. “They soften the angles on your face.” She backed off to eye the effect. “Lovely.”
Angie stared at herself in the mirror. She had to admit she’d never looked better. She laid the mirror on the dresser. “I have some dark green wool I’ve been saving for a new dress. Would you mind helping me make it? There’s still time to finish it before Christmas.”
“That’s a marvelous idea.” Saundra sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you get it now?”
Angie skipped to her room to fetch the fabric. Face alive with curiosity, Judy followed Angie back to Saundra’s room and leaned against the bedpost. A few minutes later the girl scooted back onto the quilt and drew her half-finished angel and a crochet hook from her pocket.
The ladies spent the rest of the afternoon snipping and fitting, chatting and laughing. Like a butterfly turning inside its chrysalis, Angie felt her spirit move and change. It was exhilarating—and a little frightening.
The next morning Lane came to breakfast dressed in overalls for chores. He stopped dead in the kitchen door, his gaze on Angie for a full ten seconds. Blushing, she turned away from him.
Pouring coffee, she glanced up to find his gaze on her again and ran the hot brew over into the saucer.
“Judy!” she scolded her niece. “Why are you taking so long packing your school bag?” Immediately she regretted the words, born of her own agitation and not anything Judy had done.
Barry opened the door, letting in an icy gust. Hans came in at his heels. Shedding their coats, the men slid into seats.
“Gud morning!” Hans said, beaming. His cheeks had filled out, and his coat no longer hung like a loose feed sack. His twinkling eyes paused at Angie’s flushed expression. “Very nice, Angie,” he said, glancing at her hair. “Very pretty.”
“Thank you, Hans.” She poured his coffee without spilling a drop.
Saundra set a pitcher of warm sorghum on the table in front of Hans.
“Thank you kindly.” Hans’s blue eyes lost some of their twinkle as he looked up at Saundra. Instead a slow warmth kindled there. Angie glanced up in time to see it and to see Saundra’s cheeks turn pink as the German lady turned away from him.
Barry picked up the platter of hotcakes and looked at Angie. His jaw sagged. “Say, where are you going so slicked up?”
“No place,” she said, blushing. “I decided to do my hair different—that’s all.”
“Why? I liked it the other way.”
“Don’t tease her, Barry,” Judy said wisely. “She’ll get mad.”
“I will not!”
Judy sent Barry a look that said I-told-you, and Angie struggled to get her nerves under control. Lane forked hotcakes into his mouth. He kept his gaze on his plate and took a wide path around Angie to fetch his coat and wool hat before he ducked out the door. Barry darted frequent glances at his fiancée while he finished breakfast.
When Judy had drained her cup of the last drop of milk, Saundra handed the egg basket to the girl. “Ten minutes ’til time to go.”
“Don’t let’s be late for school this morning,” Angie added, jabbing a fork into her last bit of pancake. “I’ll be ready in two shakes.”
Grabbing the basket’s handle, the girl reached for her wrap and scooted outside as her father appeared at the barn door. “Wait for me!” she cried out to him from the open door. “Daddy!”
With a murmur of thanks to Angie and Saundra for the meal, Hans caught the door as Judy swung it closed and stepped outside behind her.
Still tugging on his coat, Barry paused by Angie’s chair after Hans stepped outside. “Your hair looks good, Angie,” he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “Maybe Saundra can tell you how to keep those strands from falling down like that.”
“Barry, please.” She moved away from him. He shrugged and clumped out the door.
Angie sighed and picked up her coffee cup. “Why does Barry always make a scene?” she asked no one in particular.
Saundra rattled the dishes in the wash pan and didn’t answer her.
After dropping Judy at school, Angie slowed Dan and Sheba to a steady trot. The wind had a brisk feel this morning that made the air a combination of pleasure and pain. She enjoyed the steady rhythm of the horses’ movements, the grating of metal wheels on sand and gravel, and the utter stillness of a winter’s morning. Gazing over the horses’ heads, Angie’s thoughts swooped and swayed.
Why had Lane looked at her that way this morning? Why, he acted as though he’d never seen her before. Her cheeks tingled, and she pulled the scarf from her neck up over her nose.
The buggy rolled into the lane. Out of habit Angie looked across the stubbled fields on both sides. Everything was brown now. Not a blade of grass or a single leaf in sight. The only green came from the pines and firs among the trees in the hollow.
As the buggy drew near the house, a flick of blue caught her eye. Had someone ducked behind the corner of the house? She squinted at the weathered siding, straining to remember what she had seen. Her heart doubled its pace. For the first time in years, Angie felt afraid.
Saundra wasn’t in the kitchen when Angie stepped inside. The dishpan sat empty and gleaming on the counter; the damp towel hung on its rod.
“Saundra?” Angie called. “Saundra? Where are you?”
No reply.
She stepped toward the back of the house. “Saundra?” Angie hurried to the back door and lifted the curtain to peer out the window. No one was there, not even any footprints. Maybe she was imagining things again.
“I’m up here,” a lilting voice called from upstairs. “I’m collecting sheets to start the washing.” Saundra appeared at the top of the stairs, her arms full of white linen. Her expression stiffened when she saw Angie’s face. “Angie, what’s the matter? You’re pale.”
“I thought I saw someone running out of the back of the house just now. How long have you been upstairs?” She pulled off her cape and scarf.
Saundra walked down a half dozen steps and stopped, thinking. “I finished the dishes shortly after you took Judy to school. Then I came up here.” Moving deliberately with her bundle, she reached the bottom of the stairs. “I must have been upstairs about half an hour or maybe more.”
With Angie beside her, they returned to the kitchen. Saundra dropped the sheets to the table. Angie hung up her wraps and lifted the washtub from its hook behind the door.
“Did you see who it was? Maybe it was Barry or Lane.”
Angie shook her head. “Neither Barry nor Lane moves that fast. This was a kind of scared jerking motion, like a child who’s playing hide and seek.” She shrugged. “All I saw was a patch of blue near the ground like a pants leg or something. I didn’t see the top half of whoever it was.” She rubbed her chin. “Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe no one was really there.”
Grating a bar of soap over the basin, Saundra straightened to look at her doubtfully. “Practical Angie? Dreaming? You are the last person in the world I’d expect that from.”
“Don’t count on it,” Angie said ruefully. “I seem to be doing more than my share of dreaming these days.”
Saundra paused, soap in one hand and the flat grater in the other. “Speaking of dreaming, I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
Saundra avoided meeting her gaze. “I’m afraid—no, that’s not what I want to say.” She rubbed the soap slowly across rough metal, and flecks of tan fell to the washtub floor. “What I want to say is that I’m very confused. I know that I came here with an understanding between me and Lane”—her chin lifted—“and I mean to keep my word, but—” She sighed and searched for the right words. “I mean, the last couple of days I’ve been wondering—”
Suddenly she turned a shoulder toward Angie and lean
ed over the tub, grating furiously. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid of me.” In seconds she finished the soap and stood back.
Angie lifted a steaming kettle from the stove and poured it into the washtub. Billows of steam rose in the faces of both women. Suds rose like a tidal wave. Angie added some cool water from the bucket on the counter, and washday began.
The kitchen was unusually silent that morning. Questions flitted through Angie’s mind like butterflies through a clover field. Who had been around the house that morning? Had he been inside? And what had Saundra nearly told her just now?
Chapter 11
At noon, Angie grabbed her cape and scarf and followed Lane outside after lunch. Barry and Hans were still at the table with Saundra, lingering over coffee and fat slices of walnut cake.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Angie asked Lane, flinging the wool cape around her shoulders.
His head lifted, alert. “What’s the matter?” White puffs came from his lips with every word.
“Let’s walk. I don’t want to be overheard.” She draped the scarf around her hair.
They stepped off the porch and naturally headed toward the lane, their steps brisk in the cold. Tip came to join them. He looked twice his normal size with his thick fur coat now fully in.
Angie didn’t waste time getting to the point. “When I came home from taking Judy this morning, I thought I saw someone around the back of the house. He seemed to be running away.”
Lane scowled. “Who was it?”
“I didn’t see his face, only some blue cloth like a pants leg or something.”
“We’re all wearing blue overalls,” he said, “so that doesn’t help any.”
“Were you or Barry working up by the house today?” she asked.
“No. We were fixing a leak in the water trough behind the barn.”
“Was Hans helping you?”
Lane’s expression turned cold. “I’m going to have to let him go, Angie. Like it or not.”
Reluctant Brides Collection Page 7
