Dietrich jumped down from the wagon and Mara followed more slowly, relieved at being left alone, although not looking forward to unloading all the bushels of apples she’d just had to load.
Dietrich was already trying to unlatch the back of the wagon. “Mama, it’s stuck.”
“That’s because you can’t quite reach it.” She let down the back and began to drag one of the bushel baskets forward.
“I can help you take one of those.” The farmer named Charlie reached over and took up a bushel of small, tart apples and swung it onto his shoulder. With an effort, Mara dragged another bushel basket by its handles.
“Come, Dietrich, you take one handle, and I’ll take the other just the way we did at home this afternoon.”
He did as she asked, and the two carried the heavy basket which swung awkwardly between them. They walked slowly toward the barn, where she saw others gathered. The load was heavy. Her arms ached from the afternoon’s hauling.
“Here, let me take that.” Before she could protest, a strong pair of arms reached for the basket.
Dietrich relinquished his side immediately. “Watch out, Dietrich—” Before she could say anything more, he’d run off. Mr. Jakeman, however, grabbed the basket before it could fall.
“Th-thank you, Mr. Jakeman.” The tall farmer had appeared behind her as if out of nowhere. Mara brushed back a wisp of her hair, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Telling herself it was due to Carina’s awful insinuations about setting her cap for him, she took a step away from him.
Mr. Jakeman only nodded and in a few long strides was at the barn, setting the basket beside some others on the straw-covered barn floor.
Mara went to fetch another basket. When she turned, Mr. Jakeman was at her side. With only a mumbled “Excuse me,” he took the basket from her.
She tried to protest. “That’s quite all right, I’ve got this one.”
“These are too heavy for a lady.”
She couldn’t help a short laugh. “You’d be surprised the things I’ve carried.” If he could have seen her picking the apples and loading them onto the wagon this afternoon!
He gave her a quick look and said no more but took the basket from her, nevertheless. She looked after his broad back with a bemused smile at having found gallantry in the most unexpected quarter. Her smile faded. She hardly remembered what gallantry was like—nor did she trust it.
Remembering her son, she scanned the barnyard. Where had he gone? Several children were running around. With a sigh of relief she spotted Dietrich among them. The next second her breath caught as she watched him tag along after some older boys. She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t get hurt. Would he fit in? He wasn’t accustomed to being around other boys. But it would be so nice for him to have some companions.
“Mrs. Keller! You came!”
With a smile Mara turned to the excited girl skipping toward her from the house. “You look pretty this evening.”
Lizzie’s two red braids were tied with dark blue ribbons. Her flowered dress was a becoming shade of navy blue against her pale skin.
“Aw, you don’t have to say that.”
“Of course I don’t, except that it’s true.”
The girl twisted her hands in her skirt and Mara said no more, realizing the gawky girl was truly embarrassed. “Would you like to show me where I ought to go, since it seems your father is not allowing me to carry any of the baskets?”
Lizzie gave a careless wave. “Oh, he’s used to heavy work. Come on, I’ll show you the cider press and then we can go indoors where the ladies are. They’re setting out the food.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I brought a cake. I hope it’s all right.” Suddenly, she felt unsure of herself. Would they like a Sacher torte?
Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’m sure everyone will like it. May I see?”
Mara led her to the wagon seat and retrieved the cake basket she’d stowed underneath.
“It looks delicious. Such dark chocolate. Let’s set it in the kitchen first and then I’ll show you around.”
With a deep breath, Mara followed the girl who seemed so at home. This would be her first social foray into the world of Eagle’s Bay, a small community her father had chosen to get away from city life and paint its physical wonders of rocky coast and turbulent sea.
Would they receive a woman who knew little of country life and felt bruised and battered by life’s circumstances?
Gideon chewed on a piece of hay as he stood in a semicircle in the roomy barn. The apples had been pressed and the men had loaded the various barrels and jugs into the appropriate wagons.
As more of the guests moved toward the house, he heard laughter and music spill out from the doorway. When he entered the warm parlor, he glanced around, looking for Lizzie but didn’t see her anywhere. With a shrug, he headed toward the heavily laden tables set against one wall.
“Hello there, Gideon. Come, let me fix you a plate.” Sarah, the hostess and his first cousin, beamed at him. She took an edge of her ruffled apron and wiped her perspiring forehead.
“Thank you, don’t mind if you do. Everything sure looks good.”
“Everyone’s brought her best dish, I’m sure.” She took a plate and began heaping up food for him.
He thanked her again and took the plate to a corner of the room where he stood alongside a fellow farmer from the neighborhood. Soon he saw Lizzie entering from the kitchen area with a large tray of cookies. Behind her followed Mrs. Keller, carrying a cake.
The two smiled and spoke to one another as they set down their platters. Lizzie, instead of coming over to him, hurried after the widow when she returned to the kitchen.
Another man nodded to him. “Evenin’, Gideon.”
“Evenin’, Mike.” The men continued eating, standing and watching the crowd in the room.
He spied Mrs. Keller’s young son darting in and among the adults with some other boys.
“Here, take a mug of this fresh cider.” One woman handed each of the men a cup of the frothy amber drink. “Let me take that empty plate from you,” she told one of them, “unless you’d like to fill it up again?”
The other man patted his belly. “I couldn’t fit another swallow. Delicious, though.”
Gideon handed the woman his plate with a smile and took a sip of the tangy, sweet cider. Though some would prefer it a few weeks from now when it had a chance to ferment, for him there was nothing like fresh-pressed cider.
Soon, a group of men took out their fiddles and headed for a corner of the room. “Come on, Gid, did you bring your fiddle?”
“Yep. It’s in the wagon. I’ll fetch it in a bit.”
Young people formed lines down the middle of the room. Tapping his foot to the lively beat of “Turkey in the Straw,” he glanced around once again, expecting to see Lizzie reappear at last. She always liked to listen to the music.
Sure enough, she soon emerged from down the kitchen way. She turned her head, laughing at what someone had said to her. Mrs. Keller appeared behind her again, this time with her son at her side.
When she smiled, she looked so appealingly lovely. He shook his head as if to clear it of such a notion. He hadn’t looked at a woman in that way since Elsie had died. To have such a thought about a lady like Mrs. Keller was unseemly.
The room with its press of people and woodstove going in one corner felt too warm.
Lizzie came over with a small plate. “Pa, have you tried some of Mrs. Keller’s cake?”
He shook his head.
“Good. I brought you some. It’s delicious. I asked her for the recipe.”
He took the plate and fork offered to him. The cake was a rich dark chocolate with a dollop of whipped cream on top. A burst of sweet jam surprised him as he chewed the bittersweet chocol
ate. “It’s good,” he said slowly, savoring the intense flavors. His glance drifted across the room until he spotted the widow.
Lee Sanderson, the handsome, dark-haired blacksmith, approached her. Lee had been widowed only a year. A wisp of distaste curled in Gideon’s belly at the thought that the widower was already looking for a replacement. He chided himself immediately. He of all men knew how lonely that first year was.
Although she seemed friendly enough, Mrs. Keller gave a small shake of her head and what appeared a regretful smile, and the man wandered off.
Had she turned down an offer to dance? Of course, she was still in mourning. Gideon continued looking at the widow, his taste buds once again assaulted by the sweet mix of apricot and chocolate.
He felt a surge of compassion for the still-young lady. Despite her severe black gown and kindly air, she shone like a queen in the crowded parlor. What could she possibly find in common with the plain folk of Eagle’s Bay?
He remembered her father, an artist of some renown who had settled in this area from Boston. He had kept pretty much to himself. Everyone had been surprised when in a short time, Mrs. Blackstone—Mrs. Flynn then, who’d only been widowed a short time—had married the famous painter.
Funny how Gideon didn’t recall Mrs. Keller then. Well, he’d been in his early twenties, married and busy starting out, so he hadn’t paid much attention to his neighbor “from away.”
How long would such a sophisticated lady like Mrs. Keller stay this time, if she had hardly made her presence known the last time?
Mara stifled a yawn as she watched the dancers. Her feet were tired from standing against the wall, her muscles ached from carrying the bushels earlier. She’d been up since dawn, baking the cake and picking apples.
For a while she amused herself listening to the fiddle players. As his daughter had said, Mr. Jakeman did indeed play. Even though they were simple tunes, she admired the way he gave his heart and soul to the music as his bow skipped along the strings.
Lizzie gave her father a smile and quick wave and moved to stand beside her again. “He liked your cake. What did you call it again?”
“Sacher torte,” she said with an effort to appear lighthearted. But the truth was she felt more alone in the crowded room than she did at home with one of the books off her father’s shelf. For a while she’d made friendly conversation with the ladies as they set out the dishes on the table, each woman commenting on each other’s specialties.
Dietrich tugged at her hand. “Mama, may I go outside?”
“I think it’s too cold and dark.” She motioned to some children across the room. “Why don’t you go and play with those children?”
He looked to where she pointed then bent his head, shaking it.
“I sure love to watch people dancing.”
Mara looked at Lizzie in surprise. “Why don’t you dance?”
The girl’s cheeks reddened. “I couldn’t dance.”
“Why ever not? How old are you now?”
“Fifteen in a few months.”
Mara said nothing but continued watching the girl.
“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like to have this dance?”
She turned to a gentleman addressing her. “Oh, thank you, but I’m not dancing this evening. Thank you just the same.” She’d never expected to have anyone ask her to dance tonight. It had been years since she’d danced. So far, three gentlemen had approached.
The dancers finished the set and started forming another.
As Mara divided her time watching the dancers and talking with Lizzie, she noticed the longing in the girl’s eyes. “Would you like to learn how to dance?” she asked on an impulse.
Lizzie turned her head slowly and stared wide-eyed at her. “Me?”
“Yes. Everyone has to learn sometime. I was about your age when I had my first dancing lesson. Our instructor was an old lady, who scared me half to death she was so strict.” She smiled in recollection. “But she taught me to waltz. Wouldn’t you rather I taught you than someone like that?”
Lizzie laughed. “Well, I guess so. Could you really teach me?” Her voice sounded wistful. “I’m real clumsy.”
“I’m sure that’s nonsense.” She considered the crowded dance floor. “I have an idea. Why don’t we go outside? I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air. It’s grown quite stuffy in here.”
She looked around for Dietrich but he was no longer at her side. He must have gone off with the children.
Gideon pulled at his collar, feeling the perspiration begin to roll down his neck. He’d lost interest in the company since Lizzie and Mrs. Keller had disappeared. He set his fiddle down on a nearby chair and spoke to one of the other players. “I’m going to take a short break, if you don’t mind.”
Grabbing his jacket from a peg, Gideon made his way to the front door. The clear sharp night was a welcome relief. He glanced up at the sky, pitch-black with a multitude of shining stars. The vastness above him always made him sensitive to the presence of the Almighty.
With the sounds of laughter and fiddle music ebbing behind him, he strode toward the woodshed.
He could have walked through the kitchen to reach it, but he preferred the coolness of the night air.
A number of the older men, whose dancing days were over, congregated in the woodshed with their pipes. The smell of tobacco mingled with the spicy smell of seasoned firewood which lined half the shed from floor to ceiling.
“You sell your corn yet, Gideon?”
He nodded, leaning against the chopped, stacked firewood and folding his arms across his chest.
“What kind of price did’ya fetch at Wilson’s?”
He told them and a number of the men commented on the fluctuating price over the preceding months.
“I’m taking the boat out tomorrow with the tide. Need to put down a few more herring and cod ’fore the winter sets in.”
They discussed the arrival of a schooner in town the day before.
Feeling a bit restless, and wondering whether Lizzie was ready to leave yet, Gideon finally straightened. “Well, I expect I’ll be going on home soon.”
“Good to see you, Gid.”
With a few more farewells, he wandered back outside. Instead of returning to the house, he stood a moment. The October night hit him like a bracing swallow of cold, filling his lungs and invigorating him. There’d be frost again tonight. He said a silent prayer of thanksgiving, feeling at peace.
He crossed the dirt drive and looked in the barn, checking on Bessie. “We’ll get you home soon,” he whispered, giving the mare an apple.
Exiting the barn, he slowed his steps, enjoying the stillness and feeling in no particular hurry to reenter the parlor. As he approached an ell of the house, he heard some scuffling and a giggle. He frowned, thinking it sounded like Lizzie.
His steps slowed, and he leaned forward to peer around the corner.
Light from the parlor only half illuminated the yard. A couple of the parlor windows had been opened a crack to let in fresh air. The sounds of a waltz floated out into the night air.
Lizzie stood in front of Mrs. Keller with her arms held out from her sides.
“All right, now you need to let yourself move in time to the music and follow my lead. If you look at me, I’ll let you know which way I’m going to turn next. Let’s begin again.”
“I feel so clumsy.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Keller took one of Lizzie’s hands and bowed over it slightly. “May I have this dance, Miss Jakeman?”
“Yes, sir, I’d be honored.” She ruined the effect by breaking out in giggles once again.
Gideon folded his arms and stayed put where he was, his body half-hidden by the corner of the house. Well, if that didn’t beat all. His Lizzie hav
ing a dance lesson. They had dancing schools in town, groups of young people who got together regularly with a dancing master, but she’d never wanted to go, always disdaining any suggestion of such accomplishments.
“Now, none of that silliness, Miss Jakeman,” Mrs. Keller chided in a schoolteacher’s tone. “The waltz is a serious dance.” She took one of Lizzie’s hands and held her lightly at the waist, and the two began to move in time to the music.
“That’s right. Very good,” she said softly from time to time. Lizzie stumbled a few times but Mrs. Keller didn’t allow her to stop and quickly led her into the next step.
Suddenly Lizzie’s gaze looked directly across at her father. Before he had a chance to step back into the shadows, his daughter’s face broke into a smile. “Look, Papa, I’m dancing.” The next second she stumbled over Mrs. Keller’s feet.
Mrs. Keller quickly let go of Lizzie and whirled around to face him. Gideon had no choice but to emerge from his hiding place, embarrassed at being seen.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Jakeman, I— We didn’t see you there.” Mrs. Keller stepped back a pace, her hands clasped in front of her.
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to startle the two of you.”
“Did you see me waltzing?” Lizzie stuck her hands out and began to imitate the steps by herself. “One, two, three…one, two, three. Just like Mrs. Keller taught me. It’s not so hard once you know how.”
“Yes, you did nicely,” he said softly, still amazed at how ladylike his daughter had appeared and how formal the words Miss Jakeman sounded. One of these days that’s what she’d begin to be called. He cleared his throat and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. “I didn’t know Lizzie was interested in dancing.”
“I think every young woman wants to be ready when a young man asks her to dance.”
He stared at Mrs. Keller’s soft tone. “Yes, I reckon so.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering if he should leave. Had he spoiled it for them? Before he could decide what to do, his daughter touched him on the arm. “Papa, why don’t you dance with Mrs. Keller so I can see how it’s really supposed to look? I’ve never seen you dance, Papa, not since I was a little girl. You haven’t forgotten how, have you?”
Hometown Cinderella: Hometown CinderellaThe Inn at Hope Springs Page 4
