The Elgerson’s wedding was as generous as the couple, offering beverages and food to suit every palate. There were numerous games for the children. Most parents caught only glimpses of their youngsters all day. For the very young children, the nannies of the county had been fully employed and supplied with suitable amusements.
The ballroom was soon emptied of chairs by a busy staff and a succession of musical groups provided music, playing everything from the most sophisticated waltzes to foot stomping fiddle ensembles.
The receiving line eventually concluded and, as Rebecca turned to accompany Timothy to the beverage table, Emma caught her eye. The bride barely recognized her once boisterous cousin. The girl was lanky and thin, deep hallows beneath her large eyes. Rebecca gathered her skirts and ran to her, and Emma felt overcome to finally be in the arms of her only relative.
“Oh! Emmy! I was afraid you didn’t make it. How are you? It’s such a joy to see you!” Rebecca restrained herself from fussing over the girl’s gaunt appearance.
“This is quite a place you’ve got here!” Emma avoided the question and faced Timothy. “If I had known what Becky had signed up for answering that ad, I would have fought her for the missive and become a mail order bride myself.”
“Emma, it is wonderful to finally meet you,” Timothy Elgerson bowed formally.
“And you as well.” Emma searched his eyes and found the genuine man within that Rebecca had written of so often. “I wish you both nothing but continued happiness.” She took each of their hands warmly.
“Where are your things? I’ll have someone set you up in a room immediately!” Rebecca thought Emma looked as if she might fall over at any moment.
“In the coach, there. I rode in with a nice couple from town. It seems as if every vehicle in the whole area was appropriated to come here today.” Emma smiled solemnly.
“Mark,” Rebecca called to her son. “Please meet my cousin Emma Harris.”
“My pleasure,” the young man bowed, his voice now deep and self-assured. It was plain to Emma that the boy had acquired his father’s elegant manners.
“Emma’s things are in the Freid carriage. Would you mind terribly making sure someone takes them up to the third floor bedroom and then shows her around the house a bit?”
“I’d be pleased to do that myself.” Mark smiled handsomely and tucked Emma’s hand into his arm.
Rebecca watched them cross the lawn to the house and turned anxiously to her husband. “Tim, she looks awful. I’m worried.”
“Perhaps the journey was exhausting,” he speculated.
“No, it’s more than that. She’s so thin. You didn’t see her like I always knew her. Emma was almost a bit pudgy, and always the loudest and funniest in the crowd. This is a different girl.”
“Then she’s come to the right place, Rebecca. There is a lot of healing going on around Stavewood these days.”
“That’s true.” Rebecca took his arm as he led her to the refreshment table. “She’s certainly in good hands. In that suit, Mark is growing up to be quite the well-mannered, young man,” she smiled.
“I can’t take much credit for that, my dear. I think you have tamed us both.”
“Now, if I could only do that with our rambunctious daughter.” Rebecca caught sight of Louisa, already having been changed out of her dress and into her play clothes, bouncing happily on the pony.
Timothy smiled proudly. “Wait until she’s got a little brother to ride with.”
Rebecca shook her head at the sight of the child and smiled.
“So, that’s the place. My Pa’s pretty proud.” Mark smiled as he led the girl into the guest room. “If you need anything the cooks in the kitchen will call you a maid. There’s a bath right here, and, of course, plenty of food outside. Rebecca was so happy to hear you were coming. I’m sure she’ll want to spend time with you after the celebration. Are you going to stay for a while?” Mark showed Emma to her room courteously.
“I may never go home again.” She surveyed the comfortable room.
“That’d probably be okay too,” Mark chuckled. “Is there anything else you need? There’s a riding contest starting out by the back barns in a little bit and I have my eye on a nice horse they’re offering up as first prize.”
“I’m fine,” Emma smiled at the young man, delightfully caught up in his youth. “Good luck at your race.”
“Thanks Ma’am,” he waved back as he headed down the hall.
Emma roamed the room slowly, running her fingers along the fine wood furniture and feeling the plush rugs beneath her feet. Her shoes looked acceptable from above, but they had worn thin now, threatening holes in her stockings. She turned to her reflection in the tall mirror and studied herself carefully for the first time in months.
She saw a tall woman, looking several years older than her actual age. Her soft, golden hair was pulled back severely, dry now from rough soaps, and her eyes were sunken and weary. She lifted her arm and noticed that her thin wrist looked even more frightening in the mirror. She sat on the bed and fought back her tears. In shame she admitted to herself that Becky’s wedding invitation, and the accompanying travel arrangements, were just an excuse to get out of London. Becky was doing wonderfully well, and had always been so good to her. Maybe if she could just get back on her feet, things would be different.
Her doctor had prescribed keeping busy, which was not easy on her voyage, but now she was able to do what was recommended. She decided to stop feeling sorry for herself and go down to the celebration. Maybe a few good meals and a dose of the bright Minnesota sunshine would help her heal. She rubbed her temples to ease the constant ache, and found her way downstairs.
Despite her unpredictable stomach ailments, Emma enjoyed the astounding food and found herself not only dining on several hearty meats and fish, but for the first time in a long while, relishing a generous dessert.
“You can always count on a good meal around this place,” a deep voice from behind startled her and she turned to it. Silhouetted against the bright mid-day sun she could only make out a tall, dark man leaning on a substantial cane. She rose to her feet and brushed her skirt, stepping to the side to see the man’s face.
Roland Vancouver was a few inches taller than she, his dark hair pulled back from his face, which featured a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee. His suit was pressed and expensive, but Emma got the impression that the man was likely more comfortable in working trousers. He greatly favored his left leg and leaned heavily on his cane. He was quite handsome, rugged and well built, yet his face bore the cloud of a dark disposition.
“Would you like my chair?” she offered. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Emma Harris, Rebecca’s cousin.”
“No, thank you,” he shifted his weight. “I’m told if I walk on my leg I might get use of it again. I’m trying.” He shook his head as if uncertain of that advice. “Roland,” he nodded slightly.
“Becky wrote to me about the mill accident. I’m sure she mentioned your name. You’re the foreman, right? Is it very bad?” She could see the man was in considerable pain and admired his fortitude.
“That’s me. The leg’s still attached, so I suppose I have no right to complain.” He studied the girl curiously. She looked at if she might be very attractive, but chose to conceal her good looks rather than call attention to them. Her hair was drawn back severely and her dress ill-fitted. He looked up and caught her searching his eyes and he looked away. He stared off into the distance with frustration. Even the doctors couldn’t tell him if he’d ever be a man again. He had his leg, but if he could never be with a woman it might not be worth it.
“This is a fine piece of land out here,” he continued.
Emma was overcome with the strange desire to touch the man, to help him somehow and understand his struggle. “It most definitely is. Do you live close by?”
“About a mile to the south of here. It’s nice there, too. I’ve got a good place, not the size of this, of course, but ple
nty of room to move about. When I can, that is.” He laughed dryly.
“This fresh air must have given me an appetite. I don’t recall when I’ve been so hungry. Maybe I should stick around a bit and enjoy it more.” She wished to dispense with the small talk and feel comfortable enough with someone to discuss what was really on her mind.
“Will you be visiting for a while?” He looked back to her.
“I hope to. I’ve got nowhere else to be, or that I’d care to go to anyway.” She lowered her gaze.
“That’d be nice,” he smiled.
Emma looked up at him and returned his smile.
“I’ll be out in a few days for supper to talk about reopening the mill. Maybe I’ll see you then.” He nodded and stepped away.
Emma nodded in return and watched him struggle to cross the yard. She found a shady spot near the porch where she could see most of the open areas of the property and watched the celebration. Finely dressed couples crossed the lawn, arm in arm, chatting easily. Some of the men who had been injured sat in chairs, some with wheels, beneath the tall tree on the front lawn and joked good naturedly. Roland did not join them she noticed, but instead found a tree on the edge of the adjoining woods and watched, as she did, from a distance. Children occasionally ran boisterously across the porch, and she could hear men cheering in the far distance. Now and again she would see Timothy, or Rebecca, or the two of them together, enjoying their guests and mingling with them around the yard.
Becky was stunning, healthy and beautiful and Timothy was more handsome than she had imagined. Becky’s descriptions of him were very clear, but the warmth in the man’s eyes made him even more attractive. They were obviously in love and shared an ease and comfort together that Emma found herself envying. She looked across the lawns and saw Roland leaning against the tree watching her closely.
“What have I got to lose?” she muttered, and dusted herself off, heading for the beverage table.
“I would like beer, please,” she boldly announced to the server. “Two, in fact.”
“As you wish, Miss.” She was handed two generous ceramic mugs spilling over with foam.
She stepped across the lawn swiftly, but cautiously, and walked up to Roland.
“Do you drink beer?” she asked plainly.
“On occasion,” he replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “Do you?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I have never tried it.”
“You decided to try one now? Why would that be?” This girl was odd, he thought.
“I thought you might like one and I hear that no one should drink alone.” She took a healthy drink of the foamy brew and her eyes flew open. “Oh, my,” she sputtered. “That is quite unusual!”
Roland laughed over his mug, saluted her with the cup and took a long pull.
Timothy found himself amid a gaggle of elderly women, each one attempting to outdo the others in the group, with compliments over his attire. He watched Roland and Emma over the lady’s heads with some concern. He was very aware of the complications from Roland’s accident. He was frankly surprised to see the man looking at all comfortable in the company of any woman. He wondered if the plain appearance of Emma somehow made him feel less threatened and he was happy to see his foreman more at ease.
Rebecca too noticed Roland and her cousin talking. She knew the man had suffered violently and from the looks of Emmy, she had not been well either. An odd pair, Rebecca thought, but was glad to see her cousin had rejoined the celebration. She found her thoughts wandering to the day of the mill accident and tried to block it from her mind as she walked across the yard to watch the children riding ponies. Louisa was hopping happily in front of the stables on a pogo stick, a toy Mark had purchased for her for Christmas. She was too small to maneuver the toy well, but, having watched Mark use it successfully on several occasions, little Louisa would be a master at the contraption in no time. Rebecca surveyed the surrounding area and sighed. Her life felt complete now and she walked towards the table, admiring her tall groom there enjoying a mug with the men.
Isabel held her skirts up clear of the dusty path as she passed through the narrow gate in the fence surrounding the cemetery. She found her husband’s grave easily, the blooming lilac bush alive with bees beside the head stone. She lowered herself onto the stone bench and shaded her eyes momentarily from the midday sun.
“You would have been so proud today, Phillip.” Isabel worked hard to keep a smile on her face. She wanted happiness today. She wanted to be thankful for the lifetime of love and companionship she had lived with the man. The horrors of the accident and even the ache of missing her man could not hold her heart today. Isabel was ready to go on with her life and to keep her memories fulfilling and content.
“Rebecca was a vision, and Loo did such a fine job as a flower girl, I can just imagine the proud smile on your face. And Timothy, oh Phillip, you would have been just busting at the seams. He’s done so well. He did so much for all of those injured men. He’s a fine son, my dear. You did a great job, we did a great job. We only got the one son, and I know we always tried to do our best. I was proud for both of us.
“Rebecca is expecting again. Perhaps a son for them this time?
“I miss you Phil, more than you can imagine. I’m doing well, you would be proud of that too, and I know it is exactly what you would want for me, as I would for you had I gone ahead without you. I’ve moved down to the cottage now. It’s more my size, alone, and easier you know. The house just reminded me too much. I knew you’d understand.
“I’m going back to the celebration now, my love. You are always in my heart.” Isabel stood up to go back down the path and saw Timothy waiting several feet away.
“Paying a visit?” The man took her arm and walked beside her back towards the house.
“I wanted to tell him how proud he would be today.” She smiled up at her son warmly.
“I miss him too, Mom.” The big man hugged her warmly and then led her back down the path to the celebration.
Chapter Four
The gala lasted late into the evening and as dusk approached many of the guests waved goodbye appreciatively. The remaining couples moved indoors to the ballroom, most dancing with high spirits.
Emma watched the pairs closely, enjoying their energy and the wholesome attitudes of the people. She tapped her foot to the strains of the music and longed for the vitality to dance again. In the late evening she walked out to the gardens for a breath of fresh air before retiring and found Roland had finally sat down on a wooden bench.
“Worked your leg enough for today?” she asked candidly.
Roland eyed her calmly and nodded.
“I fear I have no knowledge of your injury, so it puts me at a disadvantage as to what are appropriate questions and what might be considered prying.” She tucked her thin shoes under the bench and arranged her skirt neatly.
The man turned to her, without speaking, and studied her profile. She was so thin it was difficult for him to decide if she might be attractive, but her manner was very forthright he found her very disarming. No one talked to him about his injury any more. Everyone knew what had happened. They all knew he had nearly lost his leg and that the surrounding nerve damage affected how he might perform as a man. The doctors said it might change in time, but he was not up to the humiliation of finding out either way. They tried to explain to him that he would be perfectly capable of living a normal life otherwise, once the leg healed, but it would be a slow process. But after that was all said, the topic was avoided by everyone. He couldn’t help but feel a combination of relief and a bit like he was being shunned at the same time. It was as if everyone were afraid to bring it up to him. He understood that, but the girl’s curiosity was not unappreciated.
“What do you want to know?” he studied his cane and scowled.
“Whatever you would say to me about it,” Emma faced him squarely.
Roland bowed his head and began h
oarsely.
“Nearly lost my leg, and more. It’ll come back they’re telling me, but not without time and working at it.” His mind traveled back to the horrible night of the accident.
“Lightning hit. Never seen anything like it. Broad daylight, the mill was running hard. We had a big order and more men than usual in the place. It was hot, we had been hoping for rain all morning and every opening to the mill was wide open to let the air in. It was a loud snap. Like when you fell a tree, right before it goes. Then…” his voice trailed off and his face grew dark. “I tried to cut off the power to the blade, it slowed it down, but not soon enough. It came right off, right into the mill. Three men hurt badly. It took Phillip, Tim’s father, right out the door.
“There was blood everywhere. Tim went crazy tying on tourniquets and piling us up on the wagon to get us all up to the house. That tiny wife of his was white as a ghost, but she never turned away. That woman is something else.
“Tim took care of us all. Bringing in some fancy doctors and turning his home into a hospital practically. He hired nurses and put in things to help us all get about. Paid for everything. All that talk about how the mills need unionizing. Not the way Elgerson runs it. No union would give us what that man has. His mother had just lost her husband, but that didn’t stop her. She was spooning food into us every day, changing some nasty bandages. She never stopped. I worked for that man for years and he’s been nothing but good to me. I owe him and his family a lot.”
Emma sat quietly and listened to the man’s story. She was sure he had never told it to anyone.
“I got up as soon as I could. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just a bad roll of the dice. We’re meeting in a day or two about reopening.”
Emma studied his face as he looked up to her. She sat silently, waiting for him to continue.
Roland watched her. He saw no pity in her eyes, but instead a calm acceptance, as if she knew what he hadn’t said, or, if she didn’t know, then a feeling of understanding. She returned his look openly, never turning away.
South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) Page 2
