by Linda Ford
Chastity laughed. "I never even thought of it."
"Yes, I suppose you had other things on your mind."
She gave her mother a startled look, but the older woman's face was innocently expressionless. "It was so unexpected." Chastity stared up at the ceiling. "He was so sweet."
Her mother chuckled low in her throat. "One would rather expect him to be at this point."
Chastity giggled. "One would, I suppose."
Mother grew thoughtful. "I hope you can put off your marriage until I'm well enough to take over the boardinghouse again."
Reality slammed into Chastity's chest, driving her breath from her. For a moment she had flown away on her dreams—marriage, a little house of her own, raising a family with Michael. But now the cold hard facts had to be faced. Her mother wasn't able to run the house on her own and may never be. If only she would sell the place—perhaps now she would consider it.
"I know what you're going to say. You want me to sell." Her mother picked up her little ivory angel from the bedside table. "To you it makes sense, but I can't. Not yet. It's too final a choice. I can't even contemplate it."
"I know how much it means to you," Chastity said. "And to be perfectly honest, Michael and I never even discussed a wedding date. But I promise I will not leave you to manage on your own. Somehow things will work out. God will provide a way. Isn't that what you've taught me all my life?"
Mother grasped Chastity's hand. "I have indeed, ma cherie. And I know He will. Let's turn it over to Him."
Chastity closed her eyes and bowed her heart before God as her mother prayed aloud, first thanking God for sending Michael into Chastity's life and then laying out the problem before Him. "God, from the moment You sent an angel to rescue me, You have never failed to provide my every need, and I know You won't fail me now. I'm asking You to meet our need, and I'm suggesting the best way would be for my leg to get better. Thank You. Amen."
Chastity giggled.
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Grinning, Chastity explained. "I was thinking how funny it is for you to tell God how He should answer your prayer. Maybe He has a different plan in mind."
"If He does I'm sure it's better than mine, so I won't have any trouble accepting it."
Chastity laughed at her mother's pleased-as-a-cat expression.
They remained there quietly. Chastity let contentment slide through her. The future was as bright as the stars in the sky. Suddenly she jumped to her feet, pausing to kiss her mother's cheek before she went to her own room, where she did a little dance across the narrow space, hugging herself as she drew to a halt in front of the table.
"Thank You, God," she murmured, picking up her Bible. Dropping to the chair, she read a few verses and let the pages fall open to the piece of paper bearing her father's name. She stared at it for a second and then picked up the bit of paper and pressed it to her chest.
The next morning Chastity greeted Emma before the girl got through the door. "Guess what?"
Emma closed the door behind her and faced Chastity, looking her up and down slowly. "Someone left you a fortune?"
Chastity pulled herself taller. "Nope. Something better."
"Your mother sold the boardinghouse?"
"Not a chance." Chastity stepped aside to allow Emma to unhook an apron from behind the door and tie it around her waist.
"Then Adam must have come calling."
Chastity jabbed her fists to her hips. "You couldn't be further from the truth. Michael asked me to marry him."
Emma dropped to a chair and stared at her. "So he finally got around to it?"
"You make it sound as if I've been waiting for ages." She thought Emma would have been a little more enthusiastic.
But then Emma sprang to her feet and threw her arms around Chastity. "I'm very glad for you. When's the big day? Where are you going to live? What's to happen to the boardinghouse? And your mother?" She pushed away and studied Chastity with wide eyes. "Wow! I can't believe it."
Chastity laughed. "He only asked last night. We haven't had a chance to discuss any of the details." She sobered. "I guess the most important thing is Mother's needs." She took a pot holder and removed six golden loaves from the oven. "Somehow things will work out."
"I'm sure they will." Emma picked up a pot and filled it with water. "I guess this means Adam is out of the question?"
"Oh, you." She flicked a towel at Emma. "He's a free man as far as I can tell. If you're so interested—"
Emma gave her head a toss. "I've already found what I want."
The girls grinned at each other.
"Life is good, isn't it?" Chastity said, as she tipped the loaves onto a clean towel.
Around the table that evening, Emma, having asked Chastity if she meant to keep her engagement a secret and being told no, said to the assembled group, "Chastity has some very special news."
Every eye turned toward her. Chastity wished Michael were there to share the moment, but he wasn't, and she had no choice but to answer the babble of questions.
"Michael and I are going to be married."
Beryl bounced forward. "Congratulations, Chastity. I'm sure you'll be very happy."
"Yes, congratulations," Louise said.
John added more slowly, "He'll be staying on as teacher then?"
"Thank you." Chastity smiled at the two girls, then turned to John. "I would assume so."
Mr. Elias sat up straighten "May I add my congratulations? Young Michael is a good man. I'm sure you'll be very happy."
Mrs. B tugged at Mother's arm. "What's all the fuss?"
Mother leaned close. "Chastity announced her engage-ment to Michael Martin, the young teacher who visits here."
"Michael Martin, you say? Isn't he that quiet young fellow who comes and goes all the time?"
"The teacher, yes."
Mrs. B sat back and squinted at Chastity. "Well, I declare."
Chastity smiled at the old lady, having no idea what her comment meant.
Roy leaned forward and asked in a cautious way, "What about the boardinghouse?"
The quietness following his question told Chastity the answer was important to everyone at the table. "We have made no plans as yet, but selling the house is not something we're considering."
She felt the room swell with a collective sigh of relief.
"I'm planning to continue running this place even after Chastity marries." Her mother's look told them she would contemplate no other option.
"But, Miz LaBlanc, what about your leg?" Beryl asked, her voice filled with concern.
"We would make other arrangements if it came to that," Louise added, her voice soft.
Mother waved away their concern. "I'm expecting to get better faster than any of you think."
Even the Knutsen boys looked up with sudden interest.
"We all hope you do," Beryl said and asked for the bread to be passed.
As if by some signal, the conversation turned to other matters, and Chastity knew no one wanted to argue with her mother about her chances of getting better.
* * *
On Saturday Chastity knelt in the warm dirt of the garden, plucking weeds from around the pea plants. The sun was warm on her back. The birds sang from the tree branches, their songs ringing through her heart.
After a while, Chastity sat back on her heels, turning her head about to ease her muscles. The beautiful Saturday afternoon would soon be more glorious when Michael arrived. Each evening she had hoped he would come, and when he failed to appear, she had consoled herself with the knowledge he was busy with year-end tests and preparations. Suddenly she chuckled. It had been all of two nights since she'd seen him, and here she was acting as if it had been weeks.
She bent back to her task, a smile on her lips.
"Chastity?" A familiar voice called her name.
Her heart leapt to her throat, and she turned around. Adam stood at the gate, his arms resting on the top bar, his hands hanging over into the yard. She star
ed at his hands—long fingers, flecks of red and blue paint under his nails.
She stood to her feet, dusting her skirt.
They were several feet apart, but not so far that Chastity failed to see how dark his eyes were.
"Hello, Adam." She brushed her hair out of her face. Why was he here?
He watched her without speaking.
She took a step and another, bringing her within reach of the gate. She halted, twisting her hands together. Now she could see smudges of green on his thumb and a black mark on his index finger.
His hands pulled away, and she looked up. His eyes glittered with silver. "I had to come and hear for myself."
"Hear what?"
"That you and Michael are getting married."
The tension drained from her, and the sun was again warm. She smiled. "Yes, we are."
He nodded. "Then I wish you every happiness. I hope he loves you very much."
"Thank you." She paused. "How are things at your shop?"
He rubbed the top of the gate post. "Good. Very good."
She couldn't think of anything more to say.
He cleared his throat. "I've come to tell you I'm going away for awhile. I'm taking my display on tour across Canada."
"I'm not surprised. I always knew you'd be leaving sooner or later." The news didn't upset her. She had Michael's love to protect her.
"I hadn't planned on leaving so soon, but suddenly it seems like a good time."
She knew he meant because she had agreed to marry Michael.
"I'll only be gone a few weeks. I have shows lined up down east, Winnipeg, Toronto, and a few other places." His eyes found hers.
She knew he still hoped she'd give him a reason to stay. But she couldn't. "I hope you have a good trip."
"Maybe you'll be married by the time I get back."
"Maybe. We haven't discussed a date yet." She shrugged. "There are a lot of things to consider."
"Of course." He glanced past her to the house. "Say goodbye to your mother for me, will you?"
"You're welcome to tell her yourself."
For a moment he looked at the house and then shook his head. "No, you tell her."
"I will."
His gaze found hers again, and she gasped at the stark emotion in them. Then he blinked, and his expression deadened. "I'll miss you."
She nodded. He meant more than the impending trip, more than her engagement to Michael. He was saying good-bye to a dream he had carried for the better part of ten years. She saw the pain in his eyes and wished she could do something. But there was nothing left except to say good-bye.
"Have a safe trip," she murmured.
He gave a tight smile. "And you have a good life."
He looked at her a moment longer, as if memorizing every feature, and then turned and walked away.
She stared after him a long time. Finally she muttered, "There was never anything to miss," and returned to weeding the garden.
Later, as she prepared for supper, she made frequent trips to the dining room window to check for Michael's arrival.
"Why don't you set the table while I mash the potatoes?" Emma finally said. "That way you won't have to make so many trips into the dining room." She shook her head. "I've never seen you so anxious for visitors."
Chastity wrinkled her nose. "It isn't just any visitor. It's Michael." At Emma's raised eyebrows, she added, "I know he's been coming every Saturday for months, but now it's different. Now I can't wait to see him and see if he's still the same or"—her voice was muffled as she pulled aside the curtain—"if he's changed." Her voice dropped so low she knew Emma couldn't hear. "As I've changed." Suddenly Michael was so dear, so important she half expected him to have grown several inches.
Finally she saw him coming. If he glanced at the house he would see her waiting, but he turned in at the front gate and headed for the door without looking in her direction.
Chastity raced for the door, throwing it open before he could give the bell a twist. "Michael. I thought you'd never get here." She leaned forward, lifting her face for a kiss.
"Am I late?'
"No, I was only anxious to see you." She waited, her face upturned.
"Well, I'm awfully glad to see you too." He dropped a kiss to her hps, warm but so short she swallowed her disappointment.
"Come on in. Supper's ready." She pulled her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked to the table.
Besides her mother, only Mr. Elias, Mrs. B, and the Knutsen boys were there.
Mr. Elias stood and offered Michael his hand. "Congratulations on your engagement, my boy. You'll make a fine couple."
Carl and Orsby each mumbled their congratulations without lifting their heads for more than a moment.
Chastity drew Michael to her mother's side. Mother took one of Michael's hands, looking at him with a keenness that made him stiffen.
"You're a fine young man," she said. "I'll expect you to take good care of my daughter. Always."
Michael held her gaze a moment. "Yes, Ma'am. I aim to."
He smiled at Chastity, and she knew she had never seen anything as wonderful as the way his expression softened as he looked at her.
"Good. Now everyone sit, and we'll have our supper."
Chastity was grateful the others weren't with them. It allowed her and Michael to eat in peace without the questions she knew they would direct at him—questions she and Michael hadn't yet had a chance to discuss.
As soon as the dishes were washed, dried and put away and Emma had departed with a waiting Gordon, Chastity drew Michael out to the veranda. They sat elbow to elbow on the bench, Chastity letting the peace of the evening envelop her, hoarding to herself the joy of Michael at her side.
It was Michael who broke the silence. "Your mother sounded as if she doesn't like me much."
At the injured tone of his voice, Chastity placed her hand on his forearm. "Oh, no, Michael. She likes you fine. She's just protective of me." Chastity sighed. "I guess it comes from her being my only parent. She feels she has to do everything twice as well. But don't take it personally."
He nodded. "It's not as if I don't intend to take care of you."
"I know that. So does she. I told her about us on Wednesday, and she was pleased about it, so stop worrying."
He took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. "I will then. After all I don't want to ruin such a nice evening and the company of such a beautiful girl." He beamed at her.
His eyes were as warm and gentle as liquid chocolate, and she let herself float on her dreams. "Don't be looking at me like that, Chastity."
He tweaked her on the nose, and she giggled, shifting on the bench to look out on the yard.
"Now that you've had time to think about getting married, are you having any second thoughts?" he asked.
"Of course not, Silly. You and I will make a fine match." Only one thing would make her happier than she was this moment—for him to say how much he loved her.
"We will, won't we?"
She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. "We have so many things to discuss."
He pulled back. "We do? Like what?"
"Now it's you who's being silly. We have to decide when we're to be married, where we'll live, what to do with the boardinghouse. All that sort of thing."
He remained quiet so long that Chastity shook his arm and asked, "Have I overwhelmed you?"
"No. It's just—" He cleared his throat. "I sort of thought it was pretty obvious."
Her mind went round and round seeking answers. How could he have found them so quickly and simply? She shook her head. "It's certainly not obvious to me."
Smiling, he continued, "Probably because you're too close to see what's right in front of you."
"So explain to me what I'm not seeing."
"Let's take things in order. First, when should we marry? I propose we marry as soon as I've finished teaching for the summer.
"As to where we'll live—why, this house is ideal." He pr
essed her hand to stop her from arguing. "You and I can move into the private quarters. Your mother could move into the room she insists on keeping empty. It's time it was put to good use."
"It's for emergencies."
Her mother insisted the small room next to Mrs. B's be kept unrented so they could offer it to people in distress.
"We must be prepared to take in strangers," she insisted every time the subject came up. "We never know when we might be entertaining angels. Or simply helping travelers in distress—'as ye have done it unto one of the least of these.' "
The room had been used numerous times over the years.
Once a young woman went into labor on the train, and Chastity's mother had taken her in and cared for her and the new infant until the frantic husband could be contacted to come and get his wife and new son.
Another time, an elderly man rode into town, hungry and befuddled, and her mother had nursed him until he was strong again and could remember who he was. They never knew for sure what happened. Her mother said he must have banged his head somehow.
Then there was the young couple, their wagon on its last legs, their money gone. Her mother had allowed them to stay until he earned enough money for repairs so they could continue their journey.
Others had stayed there as well.
Michael waited for her response.
"I don't know what Mother would say."
"I'm sure she'll see the reasonableness of it."
"You think we should continue to operate the boardinghouse then?"
"Of course. It makes good money, and it isn't too much work." He turned toward her. "You don't mind the work, do you?"
She shook her head slowly. It wasn't the work she minded. With Emma's help she managed very well. No, it wasn't the work at all.
"Good. Then it's all settled. I told you it was simple."
He made it sound so reasonable—all the problems taken care of. Except one. "But, Michael, I thought we'd get a place of our own."
He turned and stared at her. "How would you manage the boardinghouse?"
She plucked at her skirt. "I hoped Mother could be persuaded to sell it," she mumbled.
He sat back. "I never even considered that. You've discussed this with your mother, and she agrees?"
