Hometown Cinderella: Hometown CinderellaThe Inn at Hope Springs

by Patricia Davids

  Mara turned to the kitchen in anticipation of seeing her son. Funny how she hadn’t worried at all, knowing he was with Gideon. “He doesn’t have to come by. I could go and fetch him.”

  “He said he had to come anyway. He wants to help Paul with something.”

  Mara began supper preparations, all the while unable to stifle a sense of expectancy at seeing Gideon step in at any moment with Dietrich. Lizzie’s words came back to her, filling her with concern. She could dismiss Carina’s insinuations with a shrug. It was much harder to do so with an innocent girl’s.

  If Lizzie began to read things into Mara’s friendship with her father, Mara must have done something to have the girl misconstrue their relationship.

  She’d tried so hard not to evince any interest in the widower. She’d only agreed to stay to dinner because she’d seen no way to refuse politely. She’d helped Gideon pick out the material for his daughter’s dress because she truly wanted to help the girl.

  The kitchen door banged open and she whirled around to see Dietrich run in. “I’m back, Mama. The kitties are growing so big. Mayn’t I bring one home soon before they get too big?”

  Gideon came into the kitchen and closed the door softly behind him. Mara found herself blushing as her eyes met his. He dipped his head, removing his battered hat. “Evenin’, Mrs. Keller.”

  She wiped her hands dry on her apron. “Good evening, Mr. Jakeman.” Before she could say more, Carina entered the kitchen.

  “Goodness, boy, you mustn’t bang the door like that. I could feel the house shudder all the way to the parlor. Good evening, Mr. Jakeman. We do seem to be seeing a lot of you these days.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed the remark. Mr. Jakeman clutched at his hat. “I’ve just come to fetch Lizzie.”

  “I’m all ready, Papa.” She grasped her cloak and scarf from the peg by the door.

  “I also wondered if I could come by soon to help Paul bank up the house before we get the first snow.”

  “That would be very kind of you. You know you’re always welcome here.” Carina’s tone had become as sweet as molasses. Mara turned away from her, always amazed at how easily her stepmother could change her demeanor.

  “Dietrich, wash up, supper’s almost ready. Please thank Mr. Jakeman for bringing you home.” She didn’t dare meet Gideon’s eyes again as she spoke his name.

  Her words seemed to remind Dietrich of his original purpose. “Mama, may I bring home the kittie?”

  “Kitten? What’s this about a kitten?” Carina looked pointedly at her.

  “Our cat had a litter, Mrs. Blackstone. Dietrich has taken a fancy to one little fellow. Pure Coon, he is. But Mrs. Keller wanted to wait to ask you.”

  Carina folded her hands in front of her skirt. “Well, I should think so. I have my own Miss Lettie, our barn cat. She wouldn’t like any more of her kind around. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Oh, Mama, please—”

  Mara shot him a warning glance. “Shush, Dietrich. We can talk about it later.”

  He tugged on her arm. “But Mama—”

  “Come along, Lizzie, we’d best be going. So long, Dietrich.” Gideon stepped forward and gave the boy a squeeze on the shoulder with his large hand. “Mind your mama.” With those quiet words, he winked at Mara and then turned and headed to the door.

  Mara watched his departing back. Lizzie gave her a quick wave and smile. “Thanks, Mrs. Keller, for your help.”

  Mara lifted her hand, hardly aware of her surroundings, her mind replaying Gideon’s kind yet firm tone with Dietrich and his understanding look at her.

  The next afternoon Gideon spent a good part of the day hauling hay and leaves to put around the foundations of his house to insulate it from any chinks where the cold could get in. He glanced at the gray skies. Any day now they’d have the first snow.

  Lizzie came out to help him after their noonday dinner.

  “Are you going over to Mrs. Keller’s this afternoon?”

  She brought a rakeful of hay to the edge of the house. “No, she’s not home this afternoon. She went to town.”

  “That’s right, to give lessons.” He’d forgotten it was Thursday. He wondered if he could come up with any reason to go to town. It would be a cold, windy walk home for her. “How’re your lessons with her going?” he asked.

  Her face lit up. “Very well. The dress is more’n halfway finished. We decided we are going to have a tea party—a real one, where I can wear the dress and Mrs. Keller will use her best tea set—one that she’s had since she was a girl,” she said. “It was her mother’s. You’ll be invited, you and Dietrich.” Her lips turned downward. “And Mrs. Blackstone, I suppose.”

  He leaned on his rake. “Sounds like quite a party.”

  She gave him a mischievous look. “You’ll have to dress up just like if you’re going to church.”

  “Hmm.” After getting another load of hay, he asked, “When’s this tea party going to be?”

  “Probably after Thanksgiving. Mrs. Keller said I’d better not risk spilling anything on my dress.”

  “I’m sure you won’t do any such thing.”

  After some moments of working together, she said, “Do you think Mrs. Blackstone likes them?”

  He frowned, bringing his thoughts from Mara and the help she was with his daughter, to the older widow lady. “What’s that?”

  “Mrs. Blackstone. Have you noticed how she always seems to be scolding Dietrich for something, and even though she seems polite to Mrs. Keller, there’s always something a little mean in her words? Do you know what I mean?”

  Gideon chewed on a stalk of hay, not wanting to encourage his daughter in seeing more than there might be. “She seems pleasant enough.”

  Lizzie shook the hay from her skirt. “Pleasant like an adder before she bites.”

  He gave his daughter a sharp look, surprised at the perspicacity in her words. “Well, don’t go saying anything to them about it.”

  She cast him an affronted look. “Of course not. I’m not that irresponsible!”

  “Of course you’re not. I apologize. I just think if there’s anything going on there, Mrs. Keller probably has enough trouble handling it. She doesn’t need any fuel added to the fire.”

  “Maybe we can have them over again for supper. That was fun the other night, don’t you think so?”

  He remembered the good feeling of having both Mara and Dietrich sitting around the supper table. He’d like nothing better than to repeat the event. But he sensed a hesitancy in Mara. She reminded him of a doe, beautiful to look at, but the moment one made a sound, she’d bolt through the woods.

  Well, he shouldn’t be thinking of her anyway. She was way out of his league. He wanted too much to help her without causing her to bolt from him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gideon pulled the carryall up before the main doorway of his cousins’ place. For this Thanksgiving, the McClellans had thrown open that little-used front door. Already the long driveway was filled with wagons and buggies of other relatives traveling from near and far for the holiday.

  He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at his three passengers, in addition to Mrs. Blackstone who sat beside him. Mara sat in the middle with Dietrich on one side and Lizzie on the other. They’d already been to the special church service in the morning, so he’d gotten a glimpse of their appearances there although Mara and Mrs. Blackstone had sat on the other side of the church from Lizzie and him.

  But both Lizzie and Mara sure looked pretty, even all wrapped up in their dark cloaks now and Mara with only her small black bonnet atop her dark curls, its black ribbon fluttering in the wind.

  Lizzie sported her straw bonnet but he noticed a new green velvet ribbon, which matched her new gown.
He’d been awestruck at how grown-up and ladylike she’d appeared at his side in church. Her bright red hair was dressed in a braided coronet atop her head. She’d told him that Mara had taught her how to arrange it.

  Lizzie had spent a good portion of the past week with Mrs. Keller either in his kitchen or at Mrs. Blackstone’s, baking for the big day. The carryall was loaded with pies and cakes they were contributing to the feast.

  “I’ll leave all of you here and see to the horse,” he told them, getting down to help the ladies alight. Dietrich jumped down and ran off when he caught sight of some boys his age. Ever since that day when he’d been teased, he had steadily won those boys over.

  Gideon went over to Mara, who’d already climbed down and was beginning to unload the boxes of pies, and touched her arm. “Don’t you bother with those. I’ll bring them.” He nodded to some of the young men lounging around the driveway. “I’ll get one of them to help, never you worry.”

  “Th-thank you,” she answered in a rather breathless way before backing away from him.

  He watched her a few seconds as she walked with Lizzie and Mrs. Blackstone to the opened front door. She was tall and elegant yet she never gave off any airs the way Mrs. Blackstone did.

  He shook his head to banish the uncomplimentary thought of the older widow.

  After unhitching Bessie and seeing her fed and watered in the barn, Gideon entered the house through the woodshed, followed by a couple of young men, Paul among them, bringing in the baked goods.

  “There you are, Gid.” Sarah left what she was doing at the kitchen table and came up to him. “Just set those down over here.”

  As soon as he’d emptied his hands, she leaned up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you were able to bring Mrs. Keller and her son.”

  He brushed aside the thanks, feeling uncomfortable with it. “Since I had to bring Mrs. Blackstone anyway…”

  “My, but Lizzie looks pretty.” Sarah clucked her tongue. “My Paul and the other young men are all looking at her as if they’d never seen her before.”

  Instead of being gratified by the news, he frowned. “She’s only a child. They’d better not be getting any ideas.”

  She laughed as she bustled over to the stove area. “Not for long! Now, go on in and say hello to Cliff. Dinner will be on the table soon.”

  He made his way toward the front parlor to obey, though his thoughts were driven like a dowsing rod toward Mara.

  She was seated between Lizzie and Mrs. Blackstone on a small horsehair love seat. His lips drew down as he observed a distant cousin standing in front of Mara, and two adolescent boys around Lizzie. His gaze traveled to Mrs. Blackstone, who held herself as if she wanted nothing to do with either companion.

  “See you’re getting your wood in.”

  Gideon turned to Clifford, Sarah’s husband. “Yep. I need to get a few more cords split before snowfall.”

  “Any day now. Thanks for the turkeys you brought.” His eyes roamed over the parlor room. “With this crowd, we’ll need every bit. Though the way the women have been baking and roasting all yesterday, I think we have enough food for the whole county.”

  Gideon chuckled, though his gaze continued on Mara, the little he could see from the fellow planting himself in front of her. He tried to stem his annoyance.

  “Dinner’s ready!” Betsey, Sarah’s oldest daughter, poked her head in the doorway to announce, “Come along, everyone, before it gets cold.”

  Gideon waited with most of the men as the women and children made their way into the dining room. The two leaves of the table had been put in and still a smaller table had been set up in one corner of the room for the youngest children.

  “You come sit here beside me at the head,” Clifford beckoned with a slap on the back before Gideon could see where Mara was seated. “Seems we’re always too busy to catch up on much until the winter holidays.”

  “That’s right. Summer goes by so fast and there’s always something to do.”

  He took the seat indicated, even as he glimpsed Mara standing behind Dietrich’s chair, making sure he was settled at the children’s table. He turned his attention back to Clifford. Shouldn’t matter to him where Mara sat. She’d probably sit beside Lizzie, who was down the length of the table on the other side. Paul was just asking permission to take the seat beside her.

  “Make way, here come the turkeys!”

  Betsey jostled his shoulder as she brought in one of the large platters. Gideon stood immediately and took it from her to lay it before Clifford for carving. “You should have called me. Do you have another one for me to bring in?”

  She shooed him back to his seat. “You just sit yourself down. Everything’s taken care of.”

  “Sure smells good.”

  Clifford patted his stomach. “Hope you’re hungry. This is only the beginning of the food. Ah, here come the chicken pies and the turkey for the other end of the table.”

  More women began setting down steaming bowls of mashed potatoes, relishes, cranberry sauce and roasted vegetables.

  “Now, Mrs. Keller, you sit down right here. Place of honor for you,” Sarah said with a chuckle.

  Gideon turned to see his cousin practically dragging Mara by the elbow to the chair beside him.

  Their eyes met briefly before she averted her gaze. He swallowed, tensing, as his body was conscious of her every move sitting down, taking up her linen napkin and spreading it on her lap. The people’s voices and the clink of china around him faded away; his every sense fixed on the lady beside him. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, puzzling over why he was reacting like a schoolboy. His gaze strayed over to Paul, who had managed to sit beside Lizzie. The boy’s—and his daughter’s—color was high, though neither was looking at the other.

  Part of him wanted to laugh—or turn to Mara—and show her the absurdity of the situation. Instead he could feel his own cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson because he understood their position completely—was reliving it himself at the ripe old age of thirty-four.

  What was he thinking? He’d been content with his life, the ache over Elsie’s absence gradually easing so that he didn’t find himself having those twinges of agonizing pain that would rear their head even years after her death, creating a wanting in him that only now, five years later, had abated into remembering his wife with fondness and the faith that someday he would see her again.

  Clifford clinked his knife against his glass. “Let’s bow our heads and thank the Lord for all this bountiful feast, and as Reverend Grayson reminded us this morning, all the blessings the Lord has given us this past year.”

  Gideon closed his eyes and listened as Cliff led them in the blessing. He added his own silent thanks for God’s gifts. It had been a good year; he’d enjoyed a good harvest; they had plenty of stores laid up for the winter. Next month they’d slaughter some of their livestock for their winter’s supply of meat. He had several cords of wood stacked in his shed and more to split. Fishing had been plentiful. Lizzie had shot up like a weed in this past year and was well on her way to young womanhood.

  Clifford said a resounding “Amen!” and immediately everyone echoed him and began dishing out the food.

  “Amen,” Gideon said more slowly, opening his eyes, his thoughts still on the year’s many blessings.

  Clifford took up the large carving knife and two-pronged fork. “Pass me your plates and I’ll heap on the turkey.”

  Gideon turned to Mara. Since she had not yet begun serving herself anything, he took her plate with a mumbled “Allow me.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured back, her eyes downcast.

  He set her place back down as soon as Clifford had served her. The next few minutes were busy with passing plates back and forth. Finally, everyone settled down to eat.r />
  He was one of the last to have turkey served. He unfolded his napkin.

  “Would you care for some potatoes?”

  “Thank you.”

  He started to take the warm bowl from Mara but she said, “I’ll hold it while you serve yourself.”

  “Thank you,” he repeated, feeling as awkward as he had around girls when he’d been Lizzie’s age.

  She inspected his plate. “What else do you need? Cranberry sauce, turnips, peas…” She ticked off the items and turned away to ask her other neighbor to pass those serving dishes.

  When his plate was full, he took up his fork and knife. As he ate his first few mouthfuls, his mind was busy trying to think of conversation to engage in with Mara. He glanced across the table at Lizzie and found Paul saying something to her and she replying.

  Gracious, he thought to himself, his shy fourteen-year-old seemed to be holding her own with a boy better than he was with a neighbor he’d seen pretty nearly every day for the past month.

  He swallowed his food and wiped his mouth then reached for his glass. He took a sip of the cider to clear his throat. Before he could get any words out, Mara said softly, so only he could hear, “I’m glad to see Lizzie has overcome her antipathy of Paul and is able to talk in a friendly way with him.”

  Funny that they’d both noticed the same thing. He followed Mara’s gaze back across the table. Lizzie and Paul were now smiling at each other and talking freely as if they were old friends, dividing their time between their food and conversation with each other.

  “Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not.

  As if reading his thoughts, Mara said, “Are you concerned about them?”

  He glanced at her, feeling unsettled at how closely she seemed to follow his thoughts. No one had been able to do that since Elsie. He’d never allowed anyone that close to him, for one thing. “No, of course not.” He tried to laugh. “They’ve known each other all their lives. And he’s too old for her anyway.”

  She tilted her head. “How much older is he, three years?”