by Janet Dean
Anna crossed her arms across her chest. “I can do it by myself. I don’t want his help.”
“We all need to rely on others, Anna,” Ted said.
“I don’t.”
Robby’s face flattened, his gaze throwing up a wall between him and Ted’s family. In the blink of an eye, Anna had undone what little progress Ted had made.
Chapter Fifteen
A vanilla cream cake. What should have been a simple creation. Elizabeth had fretted over the layers as if they were newborn babes. That morning when she’d examined her handiwork, she’d realized she’d created a cake not merely for the Sumner’s silver anniversary party, but for her husband.
To show Ted she could master more than biscuits. That she was a wife he could admire. Her heart skipped a beat. If she could, she’d have tossed the cake into the slop jar. Because no matter what that adage said about the way to a man’s heart—
She had no intention of letting one vanilla cream cake take her any closer to Ted Logan.
The entire town had been invited to the ice cream social, including Richard and Lily, who’d moved into the boardinghouse and showed no signs of leaving. Elizabeth had been practicing her cake baking on Rose’s parents, even learned a few tips from Lily, who delighted in being the superior cook. She and Lily had gotten off on shaky footing, but Lily’s willingness to pitch in and her kindhearted treatment of Robby had eased the tension between them.
With the fields planted, the men crouched before ice cream freezers, wearing smiles on their faces, hats shoved back on their heads, eagerly cranking the handles that transformed the glob of eggs, cream and sugar into a luscious treat. Around them, children played kickball, marbles and jacks and giggled their breathless way up and down the hills.
“Looks like everyone is having a good time,” Elizabeth said to Ted.
“You look mighty happy yourself.”
She gave him a smile, surprised to realize she was. “I love parties. And I’m hoping Robby will make a friend.”
With Henry in his arms, Ted reached up to help her out of the wagon. “I’ll have to remember your love of parties.”
Looking into that handsome smiling face, she marveled that Ted wanted to please her and strived to help Robby feel at home. As he helped her down, the warmth of his touch shot through her. Her insides felt like a cup poured full to the brim, ready to spill over.
Surely this couldn’t last.
Anna joined the other children while Robby plodded along with Ted and slouched nearby as Ted set up then cranked his own freezer, with Henry perched on his knee.
Elizabeth carried her basket to a long table covered with a white cloth flapping in the gentle breeze. Women gathered around it, putting out their cakes.
“Hello, Elizabeth.” Gertie Wyatt squinted up into the sky. “Not a cloud in sight. All this sunshine gives me the willies.”
Ruth Johnson set out a cake frosted with a burnt-sugar icing. “It’ll rain, Gertie. Always has.” She raised her eyes to the heavens. “Though sooner’s better than later, Lord.”
Gertie opened her basket, lifted a cake sprinkled with coconut. “Remember when that evangelist came here for a prayer meeting? We had terrible storms all week. But all that rain didn’t douse his fire-and-brimstone sermons.”
“Yeah, that podium pounding cost us our building fund besides.”
“It’s the Sumners’ anniversary. Let’s enjoy the party.” Rebecca Harper shifted Faith in her arms. “I hear enough dreary talk at home.”
Elizabeth put her basket beside the others and lifted the lid. Inside rested her masterpiece, a towering cake with peaks of white frosting gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Rebecca peeked inside. “What a beautiful cake. You’ve outshone all of us.”
“Don’t be silly.” Elizabeth looked around at all the marvelous cakes, secretly pleased by Rebecca’s appraisal.
Ted came up behind her just as she lifted the cake plate from the picnic basket. The top layer slid toward her. Elizabeth tipped the platter to reverse the momentum, but that only sent the layer toward the ground. She yanked it back and the top layer slid across the bottom, coming to a stop against the front of her dress. “Oh!”
“Let me get a knife,” Rebecca said, handing Faith to Ted, then turning to her own basket. Rebecca slipped the spatula under the wayward half and lifted it back in place, then smoothed the frosting over the crack in the top. “There.”
Ted eyed Elizabeth’s dress. “You look mighty delicious covered with frosting, Mrs. Logan.”
The women chuckled.
He stepped closer. “Better even than wearing biscuit dough,” he murmured in Elizabeth’s ear.
Scrubbing at her dress, Elizabeth’s hand stilled. She didn’t want her husband drooling over her like she was a confection made only for him.
Winking at her, Ted handed Faith over to Rebecca then wandered back to the men.
Rebecca grinned. “You’re perfect for Ted.”
“A perfect wife wouldn’t be covered with frosting.”
“You must not have seen the look in his eye. He’s smitten.”
Elizabeth’s gaze followed Ted. Her heart took a little dive. Did he care about her? What did it matter, really? She wasn’t perfect for Ted. She couldn’t fill Rose’s shoes and was a sorry substitute for Sally. She’d married to give Robby a good home and now that he’d arrived, her brother wasn’t happy the way she’d expected. She had no idea why. Or what to do about it.
“Elizabeth Logan, you’d better do something with this girl!” Cynthia Atwater stomped over with Anna, her hand clamped on Ted’s daughter’s shoulder.
Tears streamed down Anna’s face, her eyes wide with fright, her breath coming in hitches. All conversation ceased.
Elizabeth grasped Anna’s hand and caught her gaze. “What’s wrong, Anna?”
“She took a big hunk out of my cake, that’s what’s wrong.”
Anna shook her head, her body shaking even harder.
Robby tapped Elizabeth on the arm. “Anna didn’t do it.” He swallowed hard. “I ate the cake.”
“Robby, I saw you over with the men. You couldn’t have done it.” Her brother’s bravado waned. But his attempt to save Anna warmed Elizabeth’s heart. “Thanks for trying to help,” she whispered into his ear.
Elizabeth knelt and pulled Anna into her embrace.
“I didn’t do it,” Anna said against Elizabeth’s neck, her voice soft, pleading with Elizabeth to believe her. “Honest.”
This wasn’t the Anna with attitude; this child needed a defender, deserved one. Anna had her issues but she wasn’t a liar.
“She was right there when suddenly a big hunk of my angel-food cake disappeared. My Betsy saw her take it. Do you have any idea how many eggs it takes to make that cake?”
Elizabeth rose and tucked Anna against her side. “I’m sorry about your cake, but Anna says she didn’t do it. I believe her.”
Mrs. Atwater’s hands rested on her heart-shaped hips. “She’s not above a prank like this, I’ll tell you. Why, she’s got a mouth on her, that girl. Everyone knows it.”
Anna hung her head, tearing at Elizabeth’s heart. “She’s a girl with…opinions. Perhaps at times she needs to express them in a milder way, but she does not lie.”
Mrs. Atwater harrumphed. “And what am I going to do with a cake that’s half-gone?”
Rebecca marched down the table to Mrs. Atwater’s cake and turned the missing part to the back. “It’s only missing a chunk. There’s plenty left.”
“This isn’t just any cake. This is a prize-winning recipe.”
Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Atwater’s daughter, who ducked behind her mother’s skirts, but not quickly enough. “Are those crumbs on Betsy’s mouth?”
Betsy poked her head out and scrubbed a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t eat the cake, Mama. I didn’t!”
“Let me see that hand, daughter.” Mrs. Atwater examined the small palm, dusted with evidence. “Betsy Marie Atwater! You
’ve embarrassed me in front of my neighbors and accused Anna of something you did.”
“Your cake is tempting,” Elizabeth said softly. “Betsy probably couldn’t help herself.”
Betsy’s head bobbed like a small sailboat on Lake Michigan during a storm. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Apologies were given to all concerned. Betsy and her mother fell into each other’s arms, crying. The ladies went back to unpacking their baskets.
Elizabeth felt a tug on her hand. She knelt in front of Anna and ran her palms over the little girl’s damp cheeks. “You okay?”
Anna nodded, opened her mouth, shut it again.
“What?”
“You believed me.” She leaned close and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, her eyes filled with regret for the trouble between them.
A lump swelled in Elizabeth’s throat until she could barely speak. “You’re a truthful girl. I had no reason to doubt you.”
“I…I say…mean things to you.”
“I know how hard it is to lose your mother, Anna. I understand. I understand it all.”
As if they’d been given an order, Anna and Elizabeth flung their arms around each other, sharing the pain of their losses. When they pulled away, they shared something else—a new harmony.
Anna spun to Robby. “Want to play with us?”
Before he could answer, she led him to a group of children kicking a ball across the way. Anna glanced back one last time and gave Elizabeth a smile, her gaze filled with warmth, something close to adoration.
Tears pricked the backs of Elizabeth’s eyes. Her heart swelled with conflicting emotions that battled for control. What was she going to do now? She cared for Henry and Anna, cared more than she wanted to admit. She’d opened that door to Ted’s children leading into her heart.
But she wouldn’t open it for Ted. He didn’t merely want a mother for his children. He wanted a wife. To kiss. To hold. To share his life. But loving a man could destroy her.
She pivoted, all but running into Ted, who blocked her way.
“I heard you stand up for Anna. I can’t thank you enough.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “When I met you at the depot that day, I was afraid you wouldn’t fit. But you’re a terrific mother.” He cupped her jaw with his large hand, his expression intense, full of longing. “A wonderful wife.”
Elizabeth pulled away. Ted’s words might have meant something if she shared his wish for intimacy. But she didn’t.
She wasn’t a wonderful wife at all.
Around Ted, neighbors gobbled ice cream and cake, having a good time. Good people doing the best they could with very little other than love and hard work—two things that had been foreign to his family. New Harmony was such a welcoming place. Such a family place. But Ted didn’t see the other families. He saw only his own. That Elizabeth had defended his daughter in front of the whole town rumbled through him.
His mother had been an ineffectual woman who’d never taken a stand. Not for her children. Not against her husband. Not for herself. He’d hustled over, ready to defend Anna. Certain with all the grief Anna had given her, Elizabeth wouldn’t uphold his daughter. He felt like one penny short of two cents. His wife and daughter might clash at home, but when the chips were down, Elizabeth reminded him of a mother bear with a cornered cub.
“You’re looking mighty sober, Ted Logan,” Rebecca said. “An ice cream social is no place for that face.”
He smiled. “Guess you’re right.”
“Now what you need to do is ask that pretty wife of yours to join you in the three-legged sack race. Lily can watch Henry and Anna.” She took Henry out of his arms and gave Ted a little push toward Elizabeth.
“What about you and Dan?”
“He wouldn’t miss the chance to be in the sack with me.”
Ted laughed and headed toward his wife. Though he found her surrounded by women, he saw only her. The prettiest, most vibrant of them all.
The ladies stepped back when he arrived, opening a path to his wife. He took her hand and led her aside. “Want to enter the sack race?”
“What do we get if we win?”
He tugged on the brim of his hat, a smile curving his lips. “I heard the prize is a slightly dented angel-food cake.”
Her eyes lit with mirth.
Couples donned the feed sacks, not an easy task with the volume of the women’s skirts and petticoats. A chorus of giggles and chuckles peppered the starting line.
Ted grabbed a sack from the pile and laid it out on the ground. “Step into it.”
Elizabeth did as he asked. “Wish I had on my pants.”
Grinning, he joined his left foot to her right then pulled up the sack until it reached her waist and divided her skirts. “I’ll hold it while you arrange your skirts. I don’t want you to step on your dress.”
Everyone lined up. The starter raised his hand.
He tucked her close in the crook of his arm. “Hold the sack with one hand and me with the other.”
Her arm inched around his back slowly, as though she expected him to bite. Her gaze slid to his mouth then quickly returned to his eyes. “Which…foot do…we start with?” she stammered.
“Start on the foot in the sack. We’ll try to swing them out together.” He tucked his arm around her waist and gave it a squeeze. Their eyes met and collided, but only for a moment. “We’ll go as fast as we can without falling. If we fall, we’ll lose for sure.”
The hand went down, a shout went up. In unison Ted and Elizabeth threw out their sacked legs. Gripping each other like their lives depended on it, they lurched ahead. Ted held Elizabeth tight, keeping her on her feet. The Wyatts went down beside them but they kept going, laughing from the exhilaration but never taking their eyes off the finish line. They sped along with only the Harpers in close competition.
At the rope stretched across the ground, Ted lunged, dragging Elizabeth with him. They stumbled over the line, inches ahead of the Harpers, and landed in a heap on the grass, laughing while their neighbors clapped their approval.
Ted gave Elizabeth a quick kiss on her forehead. “We make quite a team, Mrs. Logan,” he said, then extricated them from the sack and tugged her to her feet. “I’ve never had a better partner.”
As he had earlier, he read the panic in her eyes. Why was Elizabeth afraid to get close?
Chapter Sixteen
The woman must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Elizabeth had no other explanation for the harsh expression on the teacher’s face as she stood outside the one-room schoolhouse swinging the brass bell. Children formed lines in front of her, girls on one side and boys on the other.
Not that Elizabeth didn’t have some sympathy for her, grouchy face or not. She couldn’t imagine facing all these children of different ages and intellects every day.
At least no one was telling her whom to marry or where to put the slop. Or pressing to get close. Like Ted.
Jason Harper leaped from the back of the wagon and trotted over to a group of boys while Robby lagged behind, head down, shuffling along like an old man.
Elizabeth tugged at Anna and Grace’s hands. “Come along, girls. You don’t want to be late.”
Anna skidded to a stop. “I don’t want to go.”
“You have to go to school.”
“Why?”
Because Rebecca is watching Henry for the day and I’m free as a bee on the first day of spring. “Because I said so.”
Anna scowled. “That’s a dumb reason.”
Evidently, regret for past behavior didn’t mean Anna wouldn’t question Elizabeth’s authority.
“Whenever I ask my mama anything she says ‘because I said so, that’s why.’” Grace rolled her eyes. “Every time.”
Well, if Elizabeth sounded like Rebecca, then she must be doing something right. She retied the bow on Anna’s pigtail. “Don’t you want to grow up to be smart?”
“Why? To bake biscuits all day?” Anna thrust out her lip in a perfect p
out.
She’d hit a nerve, that girl. Exactly the life Elizabeth had now. A biscuit maker, for pity’s sake. Talk about lowering her aspirations. “No, so you can teach or be a nurse or a doctor. Education gives you freedom.”
Anna arched a brow in disbelief.
“Education gives me freedom—when school lets out,” Grace said, with a giggle.
Only six and already as smart-mouthed as Anna. “Well, go on, your classmates are marching inside.”
The girls whirled toward the schoolhouse then took off at a run, barreling up the stairs, their boots clunking on each step.
Elizabeth pulled herself onto the wagon seat, vowing she wouldn’t be a biscuit maker all her life and clicked to the horses. In front of the Sorenson Mercantile, she set the brake and tied up to the hitching rail. She’d sell the eggs, not much of a career but a start.
When she’d packed Anna and Robby’s lunch bucket, she made a sandwich for herself. She couldn’t waste money eating in town. Not that she knew exactly what she’d do with her day.
A sign caught her eye on a storefront next door to the mercantile: For Lease
This building was available for someone with gumption. Someone with ideas. Someone like…
Her.
Elizabeth peered through the grimy window into a room littered and dirty and in need of paint. But light streamed in the window, throwing patterns on the plank floor. Cleaned up, this would be a cheerful place. Elizabeth ran a finger down the pane. Here women could gather and exchange books and ideas, find ways to improve the community. For a brief time, free from children and homes and men.
She closed her eyes and pictured it all clearly. In front of the window a table, perhaps on the back wall a bookcase brimming with books and magazines.
Her eyes popped open. She’d collect books for a library, maybe start a book club. Ladies could gather once a week to improve their minds. To instigate improvements in the community.
