Winds of Change

by Leah Atwood

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Liza sat in front of the mirror and ran a brush through her hair. “I’ll miss this vanity to sit at every morning, but I can’t wait to have a home again.”

  “Patrick said it should be completed by next week.” Composure regained—Liza had a way of making people feel at ease—Candace and tamed her curls into a neat knot.

  “I can’t wait. The Simpsons have been wonderful, but I miss the ranch.” Finished with her hair, Liza set down the brush. “Will you and Patrick join us in the new house?”

  Candace laughed at Liza’s unsubtle attempt to glean information. “We’ll make an announcement later after breakfast.”

  Crinkling her eyebrows and pursing her lips, Liza pretended to pout. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me wait.” She gave up her ruse and smiled. “But I suppose it must be good news with the smile on your face.”

  “It is. Mostly.” News of her father’s death had been eclipsed by Patrick’s love. That should make her feel bad, but it didn’t. She was sad for the life Pa had chosen, wished their relationship could have been different, but she’d shed her tears and couldn’t focus on it any longer.

  Love trumped anger. Joy overruled bitterness.

  Liza stood, resting a hand on Candace’s arm. “Patrick’s always been a bit unruly, but it really turned for the worst when Pa died. Since you came into his life, he’s changed. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you for bringing him back to us.”

  She didn’t think it was anything she had done, so she only nodded to acknowledge Liza’s words. “We should get downstairs. Breakfast won’t cook itself.”

  “I’ll meet you there in a minute.” Liza sat back down at the vanity, peering into the mirror and pinching her cheeks.

  Candace left the bedroom and went downstairs. The parlor was empty, but she heard multiple voices coming from the kitchen. She followed the sounds until she saw Ma Holden sitting at the table next to Patrick. Maeve stood at the stove, Jeanette by her side. Glen and Rosie were nowhere to be seen, neither were the two youngest Holden brothers or Sam.

  “Good morning.” Ma Holden gave her a grin as she stood from the table. “Did you see who made it home?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks at Ma Holden’s farce, but she smiled sweetly. “Yes. We had the chance to speak this morning.”

  Ma Holden laughed and moved to the stove. “Sam, Lucas, and Benjamin are shoveling the steps and pathway to the mercantile. Looks like a good two feet of snow out there.”

  “More than that, I’d wager.” Patrick, no longer sitting at the table, moved to her side.

  “You’ll wager nothing, Son.” Ma Holden waved a spoon at him. “You’re not too old I can’t swat you with this still.”

  “She would, too,” Patrick whispered in her ear.

  Candace laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

  His head remained close to her, and when he spoke his breath tickled her ear. “I didn’t tell her yet about us, sticking to our plan of making the announcement to everyone at once.” He took a deep breath. “When she asked about your pa, I did tell her about his fate.”

  Her heart skipped a beat—not in a good way—at the mention of Pa. “Thank you. I’d rather not have to talk about him anymore.”

  “You’re welcome.” Patrick looked at her with a narrowed gaze. “Are you okay?”

  “Today’s a day to give thanks, not wallow.” Avoiding his inquisitive raised eyebrows, she took a step to the counters. She turned back to give him a brief smile. “And I’m thankful for you.”

  “Thank you.” The softly spoken words washed the worry away from his countenance. When he returned her smile, the indents in his chiseled cheeks appeared. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I should help the others with the snow.”

  She was still watching him walk away when Liza and Mrs. Simpson appeared. Mrs. Simpson nudged Liza and whispered something unintelligible to Candace, but sounded suspiciously similar to “lovebirds”.

  Maeve set a plate bowls of fluffy biscuits on the table. “Don’t worry, the teasing will fade soon. We’re all just happy to see you and Patrick really in love.”

  She didn’t deny the truth anymore. An affection for him had existed for some time, but when she thought he could have been lost in the storm, she knew for certain that she loved him. This morning had only cemented that love, even before they’d talked. The second he’d announced his presence, and she knew he was safe, relief as she’d never known had swathed her. Her heart would have broken if he’d perished in the storm, more than if he’d returned with a different outcome than their conversation this morning.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about that. For once in her life, security and love were hers.

  A half hour later, the entire family, plus the Simpsons, sat around the rectangular table. Mr. Simpson sat at the head, Mrs. Simpson catty-corner to him. Ma Holden sat across from Mrs. Simpson. Jeanette, who insisted on sitting beside her eldest brother, was sandwiched between her mother and Patrick. Candace sat beside Patrick, almost at the end of the table where Liza was crammed. Sam, Maeve, Lucas and Benjamin lined the other side where Mrs. Simpson sat.

  Platters of fried ham and eggs were on either side of the bowl of biscuits. A platter of flapjacks was at each end of the table. They’d prepared a large breakfast because there would be no midday meal due to the Thanksgiving supper later in the day.

  Assuming the role of the group’s leader, Mr. Simpson held out his hand. “Shall we join hands and pray?”

  “May I say the blessing?”

  Everyone stared at Patrick with wide-eyed surprise, even Candace. She squeezed his hand, specks of pride sifting through her.

  Mr. Simpson nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Everyone followed Patrick and bowing their heads. The next thing Candace knew, Patrick ended the prayer with an Amen and everyone was releasing hands. She’d missed the entire thing, too distracted. She couldn’t stop marveling at the changes in him and her, plus his very near presence was addling. Still, she should have focused on the prayer. She recited her own silent blessing over the good and reached for the plate of bacon in front of her.

  Her hand stilled before lifting it. No one else ate or made any attempts to fix a plate. They all looked back and forth between her and Patrick, expectancy and impatience imprinted on their features. It would have been comical if not a tad overwhelming. Their scrutiny left her uncomfortable—her transformation from timid to confident was slow, a work in progress.

  “Son, I think we’d all like to know what news you discovered in Pine Prairie that you risked your life last night to come share with us.” Ma Holden’s tone put him at task for the danger he’d put himself in during the storm.

  Patrick wove his fingers, resting them on the table. “My discoveries weren’t encouraging.” He glanced at her as though seeking permission to share about Burl. She inhaled and gave a short nod, wishing the subject of Pa’s death would go away, but it only seemed fair that the others should know. “I’m afraid we may never know what brought Burl to the ranch Monday because he passed way sometime after returning to Pine Prairie that evening.”

  Liza’s arm immediately went around her shoulder, offering sympathy. Words of condolence were directed her way from around the table. It only last a minute, two at the most, but it seemed to drag on for an hour.

  Ma Holden, in her infinite intuitiveness, refocused the conversation. “And what of your marriage?”

  “There is no marriage, to the most of my knowledge.” Patrick coughed. “Who we thought was Judge Thomas is actually Roscoe Dalkin, an old drifter, and gambler.”

  “In that case, I’m glad I made the trip to the parsonage yesterday morning.” Ma Holden beamed. “Pastor Gibbons is willing to perform a wedding tomorrow to make your marriage official.”

  Patrick gave Candace a quick wink before addressing his mother’s comment. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “What do you mean?” Ma Holden’s face scrunched and looked
downright mean. “I know you’re not telling me you don’t plan on marrying her. I raised you better than that Patrick James Holden.”

  “It means that there won’t be a wedding tomorrow.” He stood and drew Candace up with him. His arm went around her waist, and they faced Ma Holden as a couple. “We’ve talked, and we want to do this the proper way this time. I want to court Candace, let her plan the wedding she wants. With your permission, we’d like her to continue living with you for the time being.”

  Ma Holden didn’t say anything. Candace couldn’t tell if she approved of the delayed wedding or not.

  Continuing, Patrick pleaded his case. “Ma, I love Candace but have done a poor job of showing that. I know you’d like this settled now, but Candace deserves a real wedding this time, not something rushed because of circumstances.”

  Candace’s eyes misted over. She darted a glance around the table. Maeve wiped at her eyes as did Liza. Patrick had said as much this morning, but hearing him announce it in front of his entire family was another thing altogether. The announcement made it more real, tangible.

  She stole another glance at Ma Holden. The family matriarch still remained silent, but Candace was certain there was a sheen of moisture in her eyes.

  Finally, she stood. “If the Simpson’s don’t mind, I don’t mind either. When we move into the new house next week, Candace is welcome to stay there, but not as a guest.” She walked behind Jeanette’s chair, past Patrick, and stopped in front of Candace. “You will stay as a family member. I’m delighted my son has come to his senses.”

  “Me too,” Candace whispered.

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you think Ma will be surprised?” Patrick jerked his head backward, to the freight they carried in the wagon.

  Sam guffawed. “Seeing as how I was surprised, I think Ma will be as well.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day when The Ladies’ Auxiliary of Weatherton bought the Holden family a new stove.” Patrick gripped the reins before they slipped off his lap. “It’s amazing how much can change in such a short time.”

  “It truly is. Our lives have changed completely since the summer.” Sam glanced at his watch. “I hope Maeve isn’t upset. She’ll have expected us an hour ago.”

  “All will be forgiven when she sees what we’re bringing.”

  “That’s right, we’ll get our little stove back. Maeve has missed cooking our meals in the cabin.” Sam’s mouth curled in a half smile.

  “Something tells me you’ve missed her cooking among other things.” Patrick elbowed Sam’s ribs.

  A long sigh came from Sam’s throat. “Evenings were a special time for just her and me. Don’t misunderstand me—I love our family, but this past week has seen a tad too much togetherness.”

  “It’s not been so bad.”

  “You just haven’t noticed because Ma won’t give you and Candace time alone anyway.” Crossing his arms, Sam also winked.

  “Not for much longer.” The wagon hit a rut and Patrick bounced.

  “January first still the day?”

  “Yes.” Less than a month to go before he and Candace recited wedding vows for the second time, legally, for the first. “What better day to symbolize our new beginning?”

  Sam placed the back of his hand against Patrick’s forehead. “Are you sick, brother?”

  “No.” His eyebrows wrinkled with confusion. “Why?”

  “Because you don’t sound like the brother I know.” Sam laughed.

  Patrick rolled his eyes. “The brother you constantly complained about?”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time.” Sam gave his shoulder a quick pat. “I like the new Patrick though and hope he decides to stick around.”

  “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Good.”

  A few seconds later, Patrick groaned. “I thought of something.”

  Sam looked at him. “What?”

  “Remember what a difficult time we had getting the stove out of your cabin?”

  “Oh no,” Sam grumbled. “How are we going to get it back in?”

  Rubbing his jaw, Patrick contemplated. Too bad Sam’s cabin didn’t have a nice double door for the entry like the new house did. “We’ll figure it out. It’s obviously gotten in once, and then out, so we can do it, but tell Maeve to remove all breakables in the path.”

  “Glen told me the new stove was supposed to be here last week,” Sam said. “It’s a shame it didn’t come on that freight train. Ma could have moved in with it already there and saved us the trouble of double moving mine.”

  “Be glad it made it at all, with the constant snowfall.” Speaking of, Patrick wiped a stray flurry from cheek. “Think it will be like this all winter?”

  “I sure hope not.” Sam frowned. “We’ve already lost a few cattle and can’t afford to lose many more.”

  “Tell me the truth. How bad is it?” Patrick didn’t mess with the books even in his newly participative state. Sam had always had the better head for numbers.

  “We’ve been worse, but we’ve also been much better.” Scratching his cheek, Sam looked out at the landscape. They’d crossed into their own land. “Paying off the note last fall helps because that isn’t hanging over our heads.”

  “But?”

  “All it would take is another winter like that of eighty six-seven.” Worry lines appeared on the outside of Sam’s eyes.

  “Even so, we’re better prepared. We have plenty of winter-feed stored in the barn.” Another reason the entire family was grateful the fire hadn’t reached beyond the house.

  “That’s true. Sometimes my faith isn’t as strong as it should be.” Changing the subject, Sam asked, “Have you given any more thought to where you and Candace will live?”

  “Come spring, we’re going to add on to the living quarters of the new home. From our wedding until then, we’ll live in my little cabin as before.” He’d have preferred their own home, slightly away from the others, but Candace had never had a family so wished to live with his, not away from them.

  Placing Candace’s needs and desires first didn’t faze him. If it made her happy, he’d gladly forsake his own desires. His lack of selfishness when it came to her surprised him—self-interest always had been an attribute he’d held in high esteem, but not so much anymore.

  “That will be good.” Sam’s acknowledgment brought an end to the conversation and as they crossing their land, they rode in comfortable silence. They came to the old home site, passed the ruins, what was left of them, and continued to the house farther on the Holden spread.

  When they arrived, Patrick jumped down to the ground and grinned at Sam. “Shall we find Ma and show her the town’s latest surprise?”

  Sam rubbed his stomach and winked. “Personally, I’ve been hoping she’s recently made use of the one in there. That, and regretting declining Rosie’s offer of a slice of the pie.”

  “Me too.” Patrick’s stomach rumbled. “But I didn’t want to risk getting caught in another storm.” So far, only a few flakes had fallen, but the sky held a precarious darkness.

  The newly constructed house rose from the frozen land. It was one-story high, like the old house, but spread out with more living area. A porch on the front stretched the entire length of the home. In the spring months, Sam and he planned to build a chair high railing around it. The double entry doors were the eye drawing feature. They lent the house a stately stature, and would allow for a great deal of airflow through the house during the non-winter months. There was a large rectangular window on each side of the door. One gave a view into a dining room, and the other, a parlor.

  Before Sam and he reached the door, it opened and Candace walked out. She offered a shy smile as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

  “I’ll see you inside.” Sam flashed a knowing grin before sauntering into the house.

  A few minutes alone with Candace was a treat, even if it was outside, in frigid weather. With Sam in the house, Candace’s smile widened. Mu
ch of her timidity had left her in the last several weeks, but she was still reserved, especially around other men. Only with him did she seem truly uninhibited, and he was honored that he’d earned her trust.

  “How was your trip?” She hovered close to the door, where he knew it was warmest.

  “Good.” He took the three steps in one stride. “What is everyone doing?”

  “Preparing supper and your brothers are at the barn, not expected back for another half hour.” When a hint of red touched her cheeks, he knew it was an invitation.

  He took a final step to reach her. “Are you cold?”

  “Yes.”

  “Allow me to remedy that.” His arm circled around her, and she laid her head against his chest.

  Other than a brief kiss, they were content to stand in each other’s arms, ignoring the frosty temperature and content to share a rare moment to be alone.

  “How are the wedding plans coming along?” he asked.

  “Your Ma is helping me sew a dress. That’s really all there is to do since it will be a small affair.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want more?”

  Candace lifted her head and looked at him. “More isn’t always a better option. I don’t want anything fancy or big. That’s not who I am.”

  “I know, but I want this to be special for you.”

  “It will be special.” She took a step backward and put a hand on his chest where her head had rested. “Because I’ll be marrying you.”

  His breathing stopped. He didn’t deserve her, but he’d be forever grateful for her. “I love you.”

  “I love—”

  A loud rapping against the window pane interrupted Candace. They both turned toward the noise. Ma stood at the window, giving him a steely stare.

  “Behave yourself, Patrick, and get it in here now.” The corners of Ma’s mouth twitched, belying her stern look and words.