by Heather Gray
Just Dessert
By Heather Gray
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
JUST DESSERT
Copyright © 2013 HEATHER GRAY
ISBN 978-1-62135-208-2
Cover Art Designed by BOOK BEAUTIFUL
in celebration of my Savior
in memory of my daughter
with pride in my son
with gratitude for my husband
And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten… And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.
Joel 2:25-26 (KJV)
Part One
Those fears that grip us in the most visceral way are sometimes obvious.
Prologue
Larkspur, Idaho Territory
May 1878
Seventeen-year-old Mary Fitzgerald stepped up next to the deacon, a beautiful looking strawberry pie in her hands. Today was the day she would start taking lasting steps to protect her family. Pa was passed out at home, having drunk so much there was no way he would be waking up to come to the festivities at the church today.
She had been taking care of and protecting her younger brothers and sisters, the four of them, as far back as she could remember, but her pa was getting meaner and nastier with each passing year. Her brothers were getting angrier and more volatile, too. It was important to get them all out from under Pa's thumb before her brothers were ruined for life, sentenced to turn into men like their pa.
Hoping to find a man willing to wed her and take her brothers and sisters in, too, Mary had entered herself in the dessert auction at a picnic hosted by the church. The auction was one of many events at the picnic, but it was the only one in which Mary was interested. Only eligible men were allowed to bid, and she hoped to use the auction to find a husband. How old, ugly or poor – Mary didn't care as long as he didn't beat or terrorize them. That was her highest hope, to find a man who did not cause her to cower, who did not break her bones, who would not harm her brothers and sisters. She had poured all her hopes for escape into making this pie to help her find a husband. Harboring no illusions about love, Mary didn't even really care if the man was kind; she only needed him not to be too terrible.
As the diminutive deacon with thinning grey hair was about to begin the bidding, Mary glanced up. Fear grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed so tight she thought she might faint right there. Neither the sea of curious faces nor the beautiful blue Idaho sky drew her attention. Pa was coming, and he looked madder'n a hot, hungry bull. Mary couldn't move. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she tried to stay conscious. She was terrified of this man. They had been so certain Pa would stay passed out all day, that he wouldn't be able to discover their plan until it was too late. The kids had all dressed in their finest clothes and promised to be on their best behavior – no small feat for the boys – and now here came Pa, ruining their chance for escape.
The deacon had not seen Mr. Fitzgerald yet and was taking a big breath in preparation to start the bidding. His mouth was still open, sucking in air, when the bellow came from the back of the crowd, "That's my young'un and ain't nobody biddin' on her pie! I ain't raisin' no harlot to get paid for her favors!"
Mary could hear the shocked intake of breath from the crowd. She vaguely wondered if it was his words or the belligerence in his tone that upset people. The kids and she had become accustomed to both, but he was definitely ratcheting it up a notch today. Mary sighed. Her shoulders sank down and curled forward. She knew she would not be able to avoid this beating, and she probably wouldn't be able to protect her siblings from it, either. Normally she could take the blame and keep his fists away from the kids, but he would know they had been in on this together by the way they were all dressed up with shiny clean faces.
Pa weaved his way up toward the front of the crowd. His hair, so dirty the color was indistinguishable, was plastered to his head. The pallor of his tall lanky form was sickly. Mary figured it was clear to everyone that he was drunk. He could barely stay on his feet, and she was sure he stank of drink and who knew what else. Sometimes he would puke and lay in his own filth. She used to try to clean him up when he was passed out like that, but he'd get so angry at her for disturbing him she eventually learned to leave him be. The stench and the grime crusting his own clothes didn't even garner his notice.
The nondescript Reverend Green approached Pa. "Now Charles, there's no need to yell. We can sort this thing out."
When Pa lunged at Reverend Green, a deputy jumped in and grabbed him from behind. The scrawny, freckled deputy, still more child than man, was no match for Pa's fury. Enraged, the older man threw the deputy to the ground and made another move toward the reverend. Hate emanated from Pa like heat off the ground during a long summer day.
Reverend Green held up his hands in a placating manner as Pa continued to yell obscenities. Sheriff Spooner, stalwart in build and character, quickly moved up behind Pa. As if from a great distance, Mary heard Reverend Green saying, "I understand where you're coming from, and we'll take care of it, but I need you to control your language. There are ladies here, including your daughter…" Mary almost snorted. A lady! By the time she returned her focus to the men, Reverend Green was backed all the way up to the podium and had nowhere else to go.
Mary knew she should be fleeing in terror, but instead, she stood there cemented in place by hopelessness. It held her there like the bonds of repression and servitude. She could see no escape for herself, and she dared not look to where her brothers and sisters were seated to check on them for fear of drawing Pa's attention their way.
Sheriff Spooner was about eight feet away when Pa turned his attention to Mary, who was now within arm's reach. He began cursing at her and lifted his arm, fist tightly balled, ready to strike. As he began to swing, Reverend Green dropped to a crouch, turned his shoulder toward Pa, and rushed straight into the yelling man's midsection. Pa was not prepared for the attack and went flying backward, straight into Sheriff Spooner's arms. Sheriff Spooner dropped him onto the ground, twisting Pa around so he landed belly first. The sheriff planted his knee on Pa's back, effectively restraining him.
Seeing opportunity, Mary had to at least attempt to get the kids out of this mess unscathed. She would suffer for today's fiasco, but as Pa lay there pinned to the ground, she saw a glimmer of a chance to get her brothers and sisters out of there before Pa noticed them. Mary, pie still in her hands, ran swiftly over to her siblings. The four of them had already folded their blanket and gathered their few belongings.
Mortification and fear warred for dominance on the faces of the two younger girls. The boys radiated anger, hot and red. Together, the five of them quickly left the gathering. The sound of Reverend Green calling the church choir up to sing again followed her. Mary heard feet in rapid pursuit and urged her family forward as terror chased her like a rabid beast.
Chapter One
Mary and her brothers and sisters fled the church gathering, hampered slightly by the slower gait of Gigi, the youngest sister. The boys carried all their belongings and even took the pie from Mary before she could drop it in her haste. Dessert of any kind was a spec
ial treat, and Mary was sure the boys were thinking with their stomachs. That was okay. Worrying about Pa was her job.
As they reached the dirt road bordering the church property, a wagon approached from the left where the town of Larkspur lay. Mary put her arms out to hold her siblings back, keeping them from stepping in front of the wagon. Rather than zipping past as she expected, the wagon slowed to a stop a couple yards before it reached them. The man driving the wagon was vaguely familiar with his unshorn blond hair, muscular build and smoke-colored eyes, but Mary couldn't think where she'd seen him before or what his name might be. "What d'ya need, Mister?" she asked, shuffling the kids behind her as a mother hen would to protect its chicks.
"Mary Fitzgerald, is that you?" asked the man as he jumped to the ground and advanced on her.
Desperate to escape before they drew more attention than they already had, Mary asked, ""Do I know you?" Her one consuming thought was getting her brothers and sisters safely away before Pa was allowed up off that ground to where he might be able to see them.
The man with the wagon was slowing her down, and she couldn't allow that.
****
As the man from the wagon got closer to the family, he could see the expressions on their faces. Shades of anger, belligerence, defiance, and curiosity met him, but there was also fear deeply etched into each pair of eyes. His attention arrested by Mary's palpable anxiety and familiar sable hair and blue eyes, he struggled for a moment to find his voice. "It's me, Grady Carlisle. My grandparents own the farm up the road. I used to come visit a lot in the summer, but it's been a while."
Recognition dawned on Mary's face as Reverend Green, the source of the chasing feet, converged on them.
"Mary, I'm so glad I caught you," said the reverend in a voice stronger than his winded appearance should have allowed. Reverend Green ran a hand through brown hair liberally peppered with grey as he said, "Please don't run off like this." His brow was beaded with perspiration, evidence of his long pursuit across the open field separating them from the church picnic.
"I need to get everyone home," Mary replied.
"Mary, if you need to get home, I can give you and the young'uns a ride. It's on my way." Grady hoped she would agree. The intense look of fear in these five pairs of eyes tore at him, but the fear in Mary's got his insides churned up and made his palms sweat in a way he'd never experienced before. He needed to do something to help her.
While parking his wagon at the church, he'd witnessed the scene with Mary's father unfold. Every loud insulting word had assaulted his ears. When Grady saw the way her pa swung at Mary as if to hit her, he pulled his wagon back around and out to the road. He knew Mary probably thought he'd been coming from town when he stopped, and he wasn't going to tell her otherwise. She would likely never agree to a ride home if she knew he'd witnessed the whole humiliating scene.
Another man coming from the direction of the picnic was drawing near to them. With his dark grey hair, brown suit and air of authority, Grady thought he recognized the man as the mayor. Nodding briskly to Grady, Mary said, "Thank you for the ride. We accept." Turning to the kids, she ordered, "Everyone up now!" None of the kids argued but instead all quickly climbed over the tailgate and into the open wagon. Mary was up and sitting on the front bench before Grady could assist her. Having seen her pa's behavior, Grady could understand why Mary was in such a hurry. No one would want to stick around after a scene like that. Even if he'd had no idea, though, he still wouldn't have been able to stop himself from responding to the urgent plea in her eyes. Exchanging a meaningful look with the reverend, Grady jogged back around to the other side of the wagon and climbed up, released the brake, and began the steady trot down the road toward the Fitzgerald farm.
Hoping to take her mind at least partially off of her problems, Grady tried to start a conversation. "So, Mary, tell me who your brothers and sisters are. I can't remember all their names."
There was a hardness to Mary's voice, something he didn't remember from summers past, as she answered. "The oldest is Clive. He's fourteen." Grady glanced into the back of the wagon and saw the smoldering anger in coffee-colored eyes almost hidden by the curly mop of brown hair atop the boy's head. "Bobby's the one with the red hair. He's thirteen." Grady took in the intelligent blue eyes and the concern that sent shadows skittering through them. "The girls are Lizzie and Gigi. Lizzie is ten, and Gigi is nine." Both girls watched him warily. Lizzie, with her pale skin and red braids, appeared far too worn for a girl her age. Gigi looked like she might want to smile at him, but then she tugged her long brown braid around in front of her face and tried to hide behind it.
Facing forward in his seat again, he asked, "Does Gigi stand for something? It's not a name I've heard much."
Before Mary could answer, the nine-year-old spoke up softly from the back of the wagon, saying, "Margaret."
"Margaret, huh? Well, Margaret is a fine name, but I've always been partial to G names myself. You know, like Grady. And Gigi." Grady pushed barely enough humor into his voice to make it clear he was teasing but not so much that any of the kids might think he was making fun of the youngest member of their family.
Grady couldn’t have smothered the protective instincts rising in him if he'd wanted to. He was going to have to find a way to help this family. After seeing the fear and distrust in their eyes and catching a glimpse of their pa's behavior, though, he knew it wouldn't be an easy undertaking. Having considered them all, he decided that if he was going to win them over, his best bet would be to start small and get Gigi on his side. If she liked him, the others would eventually warm up to him. He held no illusion this would be quick or easy. He had come to help his grandparents, though, and would be in the area for at least four or five months. Time and patience were something he had to spare.
****
As Grady pulled the wagon off the road and began the trek up the drive to the Fitzgerald farm, he was surprised by the neglect he saw. The drive was nearly overgrown with bushes and brambles, terribly rutted in some places. "Don't get out much, huh?" he asked lightly, hoping to garner some information from the young woman sitting quietly beside him.
"Not much, no," was the only answer he got. He was willing to bet Mr. Fitzgerald had sold off the wagon or the horses or both. The condition of the drive, coupled with the fact they had planned to walk home from church today, lent itself to the belief that the family had no conveyance—which meant the kids walked to school in the weather when it rained and snowed. Grady gritted his teeth in irritation.
As Grady pulled his wagon up to the front of the house, he kept his focus on Mary and the kids. He could sense their tension. Since their father was still in town and likely in a jail cell by now, he assumed he was the cause of their apprehension. Whether they expected him to behave badly or cast aspersions on their home, he wasn't sure. He instinctively knew, however, this was not the time to let his attention linger on the farm or judge the conditions in which this family lived.
Grady quickly jumped down from the wagon and, although Mary had already started climbing down, offered a hand to assist her. He was going to be a gentleman whether she liked it or not. Once Mary was safely on the ground, he moved to the back of the wagon to help each of the girls down. The boys had already jumped out, carrying the pie and other items into the house.
As Grady set Lizzie on the ground, he said, "I hope to see you again Lizzie. I'm not quite so scary once you get to know me. "The young girl gave him a piercing look with her solemn brown eyes before telling her sister she was going to change her clothes then milk the cow. Grady thought he caught a wince on Mary's face when Lizzie mentioned the cow, but he kept his gaze from lingering.
Giving his full attention to Gigi, he twirled her through the air before setting her on the ground. He lightly tugged on one of her coffee-colored braids before squatting down to be at eye level with her. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gigi." She did not smile or chuckle as he had hoped, but Gigi's blue eyes glinted
with hint of mirth. "I hope we can do this again sometime."
"Oh no, that can't happen." When Grady raised an eyebrow in question, Gigi leaned in close to him and said in a loud whisper, "We can't ever go to a church picnic again after today."
"I understand," Grady said kindly. "Perhaps we can do something different, then, besides riding home from a church picnic. Would you like that?"
Grady's heart smiled as he saw hope and joy dance across the girl's face, brightening her countenance. The moment she glanced at her big sister, though, shadows chased the light away, and her expression became shuttered, her eyes again dull, her face drawn. "I don't know. Maybe you should find other kids to play with."
"How come?" asked Grady, striving to keep his tone light and his words simple.
Gigi shrugged and said, "We have bags."
Mary spoke up then, sending Gigi into the house to change her clothes. Grady stood, looked at Mary, and rubbed the back of his neck before asking, "Bags?"
"Baggage. We have baggage."
Grady nodded his understanding, wishing Gigi's misuse of the phrase was something he could laugh about. The sadness of the situation on this farm weighed on him. "Would you really have married a stranger?"
Mary drilled him with her eyes and said, "If I could have found a man who would take me and the kids, yes. Even if he was ninety years old."
Not sure what to say, Grady put his hat back on his head and said, "All right then." As he climbed back aboard his wagon, he asked, "You told me how old everyone else is, but I can't remember – how old are you, Mary?"
"Seventeen." Her voice was solid, sure and confident, the voice of a woman who was accustomed to caring for, protecting and providing for a family. The fear he'd seen at the church earlier had slowly faded as they drove away from town. In its place, gritty determination bloomed behind her eyes.
