“I would love to help you.” A speculative gleam twinkled in Holly’s eyes. “You can tell me all about why Mr. Collins would do such a thing.”
When Holly arrived the next morning, she carried a basket over her arm. The tantalizing aroma of cinnamon wafted through the room even before she removed the towel covering the food.
“I baked these this morning.” Holly went to the cabinet and removed a couple of plates and took them to the table where she forked two of the hot rolls onto them. “Hans likes pastries for breakfast. I thought I’d share them with you. By the way, Hans won’t be coming for lunch. He’s going to town to have some horseshoes replaced. He’s planning on eating at Rose’s with Henry.”
“My mouth is watering already.” Maggie lifted the dish containing her roll and took an appreciative sniff. “I set a pot of tea to steep only a few minutes ago.”
After they finished eating, Maggie went to Valter’s room and picked up John’s quilt, which she had spread across Vally’s bed. She brought it out and laid it across the settee. “Isn’t this lovely?”
Holly studied the handiwork. “Now tell me why he brought this to you.”
When Maggie finished the story about John bringing Rascal wrapped in the quilt, Holly asked where the puppy was.
“I put him in the barn. We wouldn’t get much work done with him tearing things up. I’ll introduce you to him when we take a break.”
Maggie sat at one end of the quilt and Holly at the other. While they talked, they worked their way around the cover, repairing every place that had pulled loose.
“Tell me about Mr. Collins.” Holly didn’t waste any time getting to the point.
“Well, first he killed my dog.”
Holly’s eyes widened, and her work dropped into her lap. “I wondered what happened to Rolf. You never did say.”
“It was an accident, and John has been coming out and doing chores before I get up in the mornings. Then last week, he showed up with Rascal. What a blessing that little puppy is! I’m not as lonely or as fearful as I was before.”
At lunch Maggie brought Rascal in so he could eat at the same time they did. Holly enjoyed the exuberant puppy as much as Maggie did. After they finished their meal, both women sat on the floor and played with him. When Maggie put him in his box for a nap, she and Holly went back to working on the quilt.
“Maggie.” Holly looked up from her stitching. “I’ve been missing you at church. People ask about you all the time.”
Maggie had expected this question to come sometime, but she dreaded it. If she had to explain how she felt to anyone, she was glad it was Holly. They had been friends most of their lives, so she should understand.
“I haven’t even read the Bible since long before Vally died.”
Instead of the shock that Maggie expected, Holly’s expression contained only sympathy. “Why not, Maggie?”
“I can’t understand how a loving God could let all these things happen to me.” There, she had finally said the words out loud. “I’m not sure I even trust Him anymore.”
Holly put the edge of the quilt down and stood. She looked around the room. Then she turned to Maggie. “Where’s your Bible?”
“It’s on a table by my bed.”
Holly marched into Maggie’s room and returned with the book in her hands. She sat in the rocking chair and leafed through the pages. Finally, she started reading silently. Maggie tried to ignore her, but she was aware of every move her friend made. With renewed vigor, Maggie worked on the quilt, making tiny, almost invisible stitches.
“Here it is.”
When Maggie looked up, Holly held the Bible with her finger marking her place.
“I read this chapter just this morning, and I wanted to share a portion with you. It’s from Psalm 51: ‘Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.’”
Maggie listened to the words her friend read. She often felt as if God had broken her bones. That was why she didn’t know if she trusted Him or not. But this passage said a lot more. She put the quilt down and went to stand behind Holly so she could read over her shoulder. Holly pointed to verse 8, and Maggie started reading there.
“I really like verse twelve.” Holly handed the Bible to Maggie then went over to the quilt and lifted the edge, running her fingers over a place that had been badly torn. “See how we’re restoring this. God wants to restore your relationship with Him in the same way…if you’ll let Him.”
Chapter 5
Finally, summer arrived. John had always thought that North Dakota was lovely in summer, but Wayzata had a special beauty that touched his soul. Working at the train depot added to his blessings. To see the most spectacular panorama, all he had to do was look out the window. The rippling waters of Lake Minnetonka reflected the blue of the clear sky. Tall trees framed the picture postcard scene. Occasionally he would glimpse the City of St. Louis as the side- wheeler traversed Minnesota’s largest lake, carrying passengers to various towns scattered along its banks. Other times, small fishing boats bobbed like corks on the surface.
Whenever John feasted his gaze on the soothing water, his thoughts returned to Maggie Swenson. Her eyes often flashed the same shade as the deep water outside his window. Of course, lots of things reminded him of Maggie. Since he took Rascal to her, Maggie had changed. Sometimes when John saw her, he detected the remnants of sorrow in her expression, but she was finally moving on from the devastating sadness she had experienced after the death of her brother.
John continued to go to her farm and do chores early in the morning, but he no longer tried to keep from waking Maggie. Often, she and Rascal joined him in the barn. He enjoyed those times with her working beside him. John wondered what it would be like if he had her waiting at home when he finished work every day. John knew that he wanted her always to be a part of his life. If she had some family left, John would ask her father or brother if he could court her. He wasn’t sure what the proper move would be under the circumstances, and he knew his mother would expect him to do what was proper. Maybe he should ask Pastor Hardin about it.
One thing still bothered him. Maggie hadn’t come back to church. John yearned to talk to her about it, but he hadn’t felt the time was right to bring up the subject. He didn’t want to hurt her or push her away with his questions.
Maggie wearied of wearing black. She had been dressed in the depressing color off and on for most of the last year. Although she still grieved over losing both her parents and her brother, she now realized that life must go on.
The next time she went to town, she bought fabric for a new dress. Tiny light blue flowers with dark green leaves scattered in uneven clusters across the deep purple background, making it a good choice for moving away from mourning clothes. In the evening, after taking care of the chores, she worked on the dress.
Things on the farm weren’t as bad as she anticipated they would be. In addition to John Collins doing chores in the mornings, several neighbors helped her plant fields of wheat and corn, as well as her kitchen garden. About once a week, one or more of the men came to lend aid as she cared for the crops. Their assistance reinforced Maggie’s belief that God hadn’t forgotten her.
She started reading her Bible again. One Saturday when Hans and Holly came to help her, they asked if she would accompany them to church. Even though they lived in the opposite direction from town, they offered to pick her up. Probably Holly realized it would be easier for Maggie to return to church if she didn’t have to go alone.
The next day as Maggie patted her hair and pushed a hairpin to hold a curl more securely, she heard the buggy approaching. She quickly used a long hat pin to anchor a straw hat on her upswept hairstyle then pulled on her new white g
loves. After picking up her handbag and Bible, she arrived at the door just as Hans knocked.
“Maggie, what a pretty dress. Is it new?” Holly asked when Maggie sat beside her in the buggy.
Maggie nodded. “I made it this week.”
“The color really darkens the blue in your eyes.”
The trio carried on a lively conversation all the way to town. As they approached the church, Maggie’s gaze was drawn toward John Collins, who stood under a tree talking to a farmer. Just looking at him took her breath away.
When John saw her, he walked up to the buggy and extended his hand to help her alight. “You look lovely today, Maggie.”
Coming from him, her name sounded like a caress. Warmth rushed to her cheeks.
“Thank you, John.” She couldn’t keep her voice from sounding husky. Maggie cleared her throat. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the blush she felt move up her cheeks.
John accompanied the three of them inside. When they sat, somehow he ended up beside her. Maggie wondered what people thought about her sitting with John. It made them look as if they were a couple. Not that she minded the thought, but it wasn’t true.
It felt good to be back in fellowship with other believers. Maggie wondered why she had stayed away so long. The singing warmed her heart and caused a few tears to make their way down her cheeks. Before she could pick up her handbag to search for a handkerchief, John reached into his pocket and retrieved his own. He pressed the white cotton against her palm.
She patted the tears away, enjoying the scent that clung to the pristine white square. John’s scent. Woodsy, spicy, masculine. For a moment, all other thoughts fled her mind, and John filled every crevice. When she finished with the hanky, she folded the square and placed it in her handbag. She wanted to wash and iron it before she returned it to him.
After the service, John accompanied her to the Brunsons’ buggy.
“Mr. Collins.” Holly smiled up at him. “Would you join us for dinner?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose, ma’am.”
“I have plenty of food. We often ask people to eat Sunday dinner with us, so I prepare extra.” Holly put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “Maggie is going home with us, too.”
John’s gaze sought Maggie’s. “Then I would be delighted.”
All the way to the Brunson farm, Maggie couldn’t get John’s words out of her mind. What about her delighted him? The warmth in those clear green eyes ignited something deep inside her.
Although she enjoyed the afternoon spent with Holly, Hans, and John, Maggie felt a restlessness she didn’t understand. Long into the night, she relived every moment of the day, repeating in her mind every word John said. What was it about the man that touched her so deeply? After she went to bed, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
On Monday Maggie slept later than usual. John had already been to the barn and gone by the time Maggie went out. She sensed the shadow of his presence in the building when she entered, but she missed his substance. She pictured him as he was the last time he was there, muscles rippling under his shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. Maggie wished he would be there every day for the rest of her life.
Father God, why do I feel this way? What am I going to do?
That evening after she fed Rascal and sat down to eat her dinner of cold chicken and biscuits, Maggie heard horses riding up outside the house. It was rather late for company. She peeked out. Two men were dismounting. One was John, and the other one looked a lot like Pastor Hardin. Neither man had ever come to her home this late in the evening. Maggie went to the looking glass and checked her hair. She swept a few stray wisps away from her cheeks and neck and anchored them with hairpins.
When the knock sounded, she paused a few seconds before she moved toward the door. She didn’t want them to think she was watching from the window, even if it was true.
“Come in, Pastor, John.”
Rascal pushed past Maggie, and John hunkered down to pat him. She offered to make coffee or tea, but the two men declined. After she ushered them to the settee, she sank into the rocking chair and folded her hands in her lap.
Pastor Hardin cleared his throat. “John asked me to accompany him out here tonight. He wanted to talk to you.”
Maggie glanced at John. She still didn’t understand what was going on. Why did he need to bring someone when he wanted to talk to her?
John stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked closer to where Maggie sat and looked down at her.
“I didn’t know what else to do. You don’t have a father or brother, so I talked to Martin.” John gestured toward the other man. “Pastor Hardin.”
Maggie had never seen John so ill at ease. She wondered where this conversation was headed.
John hunkered down by her chair as he had earlier for Rascal. The dog came over and laid his head on John’s leg. John absently stroked Rascal, but he kept his attention trained on Maggie’s face.
After taking a deep breath, he continued. “Maggie, I want to court you…if you’ll let me.”
Court me? The thought grabbed Maggie’s imagination. She looked down at her clasped hands. Court me. She hadn’t thought about anything like that. She had been too busy. But she wanted to be courted. A strange fluttering sensation started in her stomach.
She raised her eyes to John’s face and smiled. “That would be nice.”
He looked relieved. He nodded and stood, never taking his eyes from her. A smile lit his face like one of those electric lightbulbs at the hotel. Maggie felt as if the sun was shining on her, even though it was far past sundown.
John whistled as he rode toward the depot. He had gone to do Maggie’s chores extra early today. She came to the barn just in time to tell him thank you before he left. Since he had started courting her, John made sure they weren’t alone for very long. He didn’t want anyone talking about them. Protecting Maggie’s reputation was essential to him.
This courtship progressed better than he had dreamed it would. He escorted Maggie to church every Sunday. Often they went to the Brunsons’ for dinner. A time or two, he took her out to eat at the restaurant in the hotel. Once, he and Maggie accompanied Hans and Holly to Minneapolis to see a stage play. Every minute he spent with Maggie made him grow more in love with her. He wanted to be with her and protect her.
Because of all her losses, Maggie had developed depth and strength of character. But John rejoiced that she had been able to move beyond her sorrows. He loved standing beside her at church as they sang hymns. Her rich contralto harmonized with his voice. He wanted to sing with her forever. Each time they parted, it became harder to leave. John yearned to take her in his arms and press his lips against her sweet, bowed mouth and pour all his love for her into the caress. But John knew he couldn’t start kissing her. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop.
When he finished work that evening, he and Maggie would take a ride on the City of St. Louis. Equipped with electric lights, the boat often floated across the lake in the evening. The day couldn’t end soon enough for him. The anticipation of being with Maggie again colored every moment.
Right after he arrived at the depot, his telegraph machine started clicking. He grabbed the pad and pencil and began to decipher the dots and dashes. When the message stopped, John sat back in his chair and smiled. Wait until he told Maggie. He hoped she would share his excitement.
Maggie stood at the railing and watched the huge wheel turn on the side of the boat. With every revolution, the large vessel slid through the tranquil waters of Lake Minnetonka. The day had been windy, but the breeze died down as dusk settled over Maggie and John while they rode in a buggy toward the pier where the City of St. Louis waited for passengers. She was glad there wasn’t any wind tonight. Even though it was late June, a strong breeze on the lake would have blown chilly air across the deck. Maggie pulled her crocheted shawl higher around her shoulders.
John stepped closer, almost touching her
back. “Are you cold?”
All she could do was shake her head no. She forgot everything around them, lost in his nearness. Even the fascinating electric lights paled in comparison to John Collins, the man of her dreams. Noise from a party inside the cabin seeped into the quiet that surrounded them. People talked and laughed while a piano player filled the air with the latest tunes. But out here on the deck, tranquillity prevailed.
Maggie wondered what John would do if she leaned back until she was in his arms. She knew a lady wouldn’t do that, but right now she didn’t care if she was a lady or not. It was as if John were a magnet and she a piece of iron. It took all her willpower to fight the force that tried to pull their bodies into contact. How Maggie wished her mother were still alive. Did other women feel this way, or was she just wanton?
John shifted to stand beside her and held on to the rail with one hand. “What are you thinking about, Maggie?”
She wondered if he would be shocked if she told him. After a moment of silence, she murmured, “It’s beautiful out here on the lake. Thank you for bringing me.”
She looked up into green eyes that had deepened in the soft light. Something dark and mysterious called out to her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She wished it were proper for him to do that very thing. Would his lips feel soft or hard like his muscles? She couldn’t even imagine what a kiss would feel like, but she really wanted to find out—and soon. Maggie turned back toward the water.
John wanted to pull Maggie into his arms and kiss her. Truthfully, John had never felt this way before. Here he was, twenty-four years old, and he hadn’t stolen a kiss from any girl. But every time he looked at Maggie’s lips, he desired them above everything else in the world.
Prairie Romance Collection Page 17
