by Bonnie Leon
“He was a fine boy. He was the serious one, wasn't he?”
“Yes. You noticed? You didn't even know him.”
“I knew more than you thought. I wasn't hard all the way through. He was smart. I wish I'd known him.” Ray's voice faltered.
“Ray, what is it?”
He blinked hard. “Just thinking about my own boy. I wish I'd known him too.” He looked at Jean. “You and Will did a fine job of raising your children. You can be proud of them, all of them—even Luke.”
Jean smiled softly. “It was more God than us.”
“That Luke can be a hothead, but I understand that,” Ray said with a grin. “He's mad at me, but a big part of his anger is because he loves you and he feels protective.” Ray picked up a rock and tossed it into the creek. “He's a fine young man.”
“I'm worried about him. He's still so angry. And since Alex died, he's withdrawn.”
“He'll be fine. I can't envision God leaving him to muck around for too long.”
“I hope you're right.”
“I know what it's like to feel the way he does and it's no fun. Hopefully he won't fight God as long as I did.” He took Jean's hand. “I see a nice spot down here.”
Ray moved ahead of Jean, walking sideways down the bank and holding her hand. When they reached the bottom, he kept hold of her hand. His grip was strong.
He sat on a log and gently pulled Jean down beside him, then circled an arm around her shoulders. It felt natural to nestle close, so Jean did.
For a while they silently watched the stream sweep past, tickling grasses along the bank and dancing over rocks. Then Ray cleared his throat and said solemnly, “I meant what I said.”
Jean gave him a questioning look.
“I do love you. I tried not to. I knew it would be complicated if I did, but I couldn't help myself. You're so beautiful and so decent.” He gently brushed her auburn hair back off her shoulder.
Jean trembled. She had never been this close to any man except Will. She felt something like love for this uncommon man. But could she trust her feelings? “I've been doing a lot of thinking.” She hesitated. What if she was wrong? “I've been thinking, and … I believe I love you. I guess I do.” She chewed her lip and searched his face—his serious, gray eyes probed hers. “I do love you,” she said. “I love you.”
Ray cupped her face in his big hands and kissed her forehead. “I never thought I'd hear you say those words. I prayed… but I had a hard time believing.” He smiled. “I'm not like Will. I still have a hot temper, and my faith is puny, but I have a powerful love for you.”
“What about Ellie?”
Ray took Jean's hands and held them against his chest. “I love her. I always will. But that doesn't mean I can't love someone else.” He pressed her hands to his lips. “I believe God gave us hearts big enough to love lots of people.” He pulled her against him and held her for a few moments. Setting her away from him, he asked, “And Will? It hasn't been very long.”
“I know. I've been lonely.” She glanced away, then back at Ray. “I was afraid that my loneliness would keep me from thinking clearly.” She turned his palms up and ran a fingertip across his callused hand. “You have good, strong hands.” She rested the back of his fingers against her cheek. “You aren't Will—and you shouldn't be. You're Ray Townsend.” She hesitated. “I love Will, but my heart has room for you too.” She smiled.
“I want you to be my wife.”
Jean took a deep breath. She knew this had been coming, and the idea of it took her breath away. She glanced up the bank. “What about Luke?”
“You can't wait to live your life until he's ready to live his.”
“I know. But he hates you. How will you abide that?”
“I'd rather tussle with Luke than live without you.”
“Does Celeste know?”
“Yes.” Ray smiled. “She was sure you'd say yes.”
“I have to admit, it's all I've thought about since the storm.”
“You haven't answered. Will you?”
“Yes. I'll marry you.”
Ray pulled Jean into his arms and held her as if he were afraid to let go. Finally he set her away from him. “I don't have a ring yet, but I'll get you one.”
“Rings don't matter.” Jean felt as if she could melt into this man, and as she thought of Will, she was certain he was smiling and grateful that she and the children wouldn't be alone anymore. Then Luke's angry face intruded into her thoughts. He hated Ray. Would he hate her too?
Chapter 33
NORMA PROSSER LOOKED AT THE LADIES SITTING AROUND THE QUILT. “Would anyone like some apple cider?”
“I'd love some,” Jessie said, pushing a needle through the quilt and directly into her finger. “Ouch!” She glanced at the wound, then pulled a handkerchief out of her blouse pocket and wrapped it around her finger to stop the bleeding. “I was never very good at this. I'm much better with a paintbrush.”
“We appreciate your efforts,” Norma said.
“I'd love some cider,” Miram Dexter said in her high-pitched voice. “However did you manage to keep from drinking all of it? Ours never lasted past early spring.”
“I guard it with my life,” Norma said, holding up a wooden spoon like a weapon. She chuckled. “My family loves cider, so if I don't keep a close eye on it, it's gone long before spring.”
“I just can't seem to discipline myself,” Jean said. “The children and I drink it right up.”
Jessie looked at Jean. “So, when is the wedding?”
“We decided August 14 would be a good day. The weather should be good; we'll have a few weeks to plan.”
“Where are you going for your honeymoon?” Norma asked.
“Into the mountains—the same place we went hunting.”
“That's so romantic,” Miram said.
“I hope you'll let me take care of the flowers,” Jessie said. “August is a perfect time. Lots of different varieties will be in bloom. The narcissus will be out, and daisies, of course, and the asters. Oh, and geraniums are beautiful, plus lots of fireweed …”
Jean laughed. “Of course, you can take care of the flowers. You know them all.”
“It's just that I love wildflowers.”
“I trust you completely,” Jean said. “Whatever you choose will be perfect. And wildflowers are just right. Ray and I both want a simple wedding … since we've been married before and all.”
Miram abruptly left the table and walked to the counter.
“Oh, I forgot your cider,” Norma said, quickly getting the jug out of the icebox and filling Miram and Jessie's glasses. She set the juice on the counter and looked at Miram who stood sipping. “Is everything all right, dear?”
“Yes, fine.” She returned to her chair, careful to keep her eyes on the quilt. The room turned quiet. Miram tried to sew but finally let the fabric go and looked at her friends, sad eyes finally settling on Jean. “I don't mean to take anything from you. I'm very happy you and Ray found each other, but… well, I just wish I was the one getting married. I'm beginning to think Ed is never going to ask. And my mother isn't making it any easier.”
“Yes, I heard she was in town,” Norma said with a gentle smile.
“You know she's welcome to stay with us,” Jean said.
“No. She wouldn't hear of it.” Miram resumed her sewing. “She's just as happy to stay in town.”
Norma rested a hand on Miram's shoulder. “You don't need to worry about Ed. I've seen the way he looks at you. He'll come around.”
“I hope you're right.” Miram's eyes filled with tears. “And I don't know what to do about my mother. She doesn't like Ed. She's always saying something about the way he dresses, his work, or his .. . well, his everything. I wish she'd never come.”
“You don't really mean that,” Laurel said. “She's your mother.”
“You know what she's like. And, well, she's not like your mother.” Miram dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I wish she
were.”
“Your mother loves you,” Jean said gently.
“I know.” Miram blew her nose. “But I wish she were a little kinder—not just to me, but to everybody. She's been going on about everyone in town, and especially about you and Ray.”
Jean felt a stab of anxiety. Margarite Dexter and Luke weren't the only ones unhappy about the wedding. Others were also nettled. “I know our getting married doesn't sit well with everyone; even my own son says he won't be there.” Jean felt the sting of tears and quickly blinked them back. She pushed her needle down through the material and up again, then stared at the square of gingham in front of her. “I pray we're doing the right thing,” she whispered, then looked at her friends and smiled. “I have to admit, I'm nearly as surprised as everyone else. I never imagined Ray and I would get married.”
“I think it's wonderful,” Miram said.
Laurel patted her mother's hand. “It's a shame Luke can't see what a good man Ray is. For a long while I tried to believe he was a fine person beneath all his bluster, and now I know. Poor Celeste used to try to tell me about the man she knew. Now she says her father's whistling again.”
“Oh, I've noticed a big change in him,” Jessie said. “He's the old Ray I used to know.”
“Where is Celeste?” Norma asked. “I was hoping she could join us.”
“She had to work. Guess she takes all the hours she can. Business is down.”
“So many colonists are leaving.” Norma shook her head. “I thought we'd made it.”
“We haven't lost the battle yet,” Jean said. “A lot of us are still here.”
“Yes, but for how long? It looks like the country is heading back into hard times.”
“We'll make it, don't you worry.” Jean returned to working on her portion of the quilt, her mind more on Luke than the economy. She couldn't imagine the wedding without him.
Jean woke early to bright sunlight. She climbed from beneath her blankets and walked to the window, shivering slightly in the morning coolness. Gazing at the pastures dotted with clover and wildflowers, she thought about the day. In a few hours, she would become Mrs. Ray Townsend. It didn't seem possible. Fifteen months ago she'd considered Ray Townsend a life-long enemy.
The back door banged shut, and Luke trudged toward the barn, a milk pail in each hand. Taking long strides, he kept his eyes on the ground. He didn't swing the buckets but held his arms stiff, his shoulders rigid.
He's angry. He won't be there, she thought with a sinking heart. Lord, what will it take? Am I going to lose him? I couldn't bear it.
She walked to the bureau, picked up a brush, and ran it through her auburn hair. Gazing at her reflection, she studied her face. She wasn't the beautiful young woman Will had married, but she had to admit, she was still attractive. Her hazel eyes were spirited, and her skin looked soft and smooth. She smiled. “You're not bad looking for a grandma.” She turned from side to side and studied her still trim figure. “Forty isn't that old,” she said, turning away from the mirror and heading for the kitchen.
Brian and Susie were already sitting at the table. They each had a glass of milk and a piece of bread.
“You're up awfully early,” Jean said.
“We couldn't sleep.” Brian took a bite of bread. “We're too excited.”
“Are you hungry enough for some eggs?”
“Yep. I could eat a bunch.”
“Me too,” Susie added, dipping her bread into her milk and taking a bite. “Could I have toast?” she asked, her mouth full.
“Certainly,” Jean said, setting a cast-iron skillet on the stove. She cut several slices of bread, buttered them, and set two in the pan. She melted bacon grease in another skillet and broke eggs into it. She glanced at the clock. Seven o'clock. Only six more hours. Jean's stomach did a little tumble. It would be strange not to be Mrs. Hasper.
She turned the eggs, took out the first pieces of toast, laid in two more, then filled a cup with coffee. “Luke made coffee?” she asked, looking at Brian.
“Yep. Before he went out. Said he couldn't wait. He needed some good strong coffee right away.”
Jean looked at the dark brew and took a sip. “It's strong, all right.”
Brian shoved the last of his bread into his mouth. “Are you scared?”
“No, but a little nervous. Are you?”
“Nah. I know all about weddings. I was in Laurel and Adam's, remember?”
“I remember,” Jean said with a smile. Sadness touched her. It had been such a joyous day. They'd had no clue Will would be gone a few weeks later. She brushed aside the memory and looked at the youngsters. “Did you know that you are two of the most important people in my life?” She smiled.
“Yep. I know. Especially because today I'm going to carry your rings.”
“I get to carry flowers,” Susie said petulantly, “and I'm going to wear a real pretty dress.” She smiled, her cheeks dimpling. “It's pink and has ruffles.”
Brian stood. “I'm wearing a suit, and I have new shoes.” He ran to get the shoes he'd left in a box on the back porch. “Ray helped me pick them out. He said they look just like his.”
“How come I didn't get new shoes?” Susie asked, sticking out her lower lip.
“The shoes you have are beautiful,” Jean said, sliding an egg out of the pan and onto a plate. Carrying it to the table and setting it in front of her daughter, she added, “You'll both look perfect.”
“I'm going to like having Ray for my dad,” Brian said.
The back door slammed, and Luke walked in with the milk. He looked like a thundercloud. “He's not your dad. You already have a dad.” He slammed the pails on the counter, spilling milk.
“I know that, but he's kind of like a dad.”
“He's not.”
“Luke, let it be. If Brian wants to think of Ray as his father, that's just fine.”
Luke glared.
“I can have two dads,” Brian said.
“Yeah,” Susie added. “We can have two dads.”
Luke headed for the door.
“Please, Luke, can't we talk?” Jean asked.
“There's nothing to talk about.” He yanked open the door and walked out.
“How come he's so mad?” Brian asked.
Jean shook her head. She had no adequate answer for a nine-year-old boy.
Brian walked to the door and stared after Luke. “I like Ray. I'm glad you're going to marry him.”
Jean kneeled in front of the youngster and pulled him into her arms. “I'm glad too. Maybe Luke will be one day.”
A knock sounded at the back door. “Who could that be so early?” Jean walked to the door and opened it. Mrs. Dexter stood with gloved hands clasped over her bulging stomach. She straightened her pillbox hat and smiled, then pursed her red lips. “Why, hello, Mrs. Dexter,” Jean said, apprehension rolling through her. “I didn't expect anyone so early.”
“I know, but I figured I ought to get over here first thing.”
“Please, come in.”
Holding her purse close to her chest, Mrs. Dexter squeezed her bulk past Jean.
“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
Jean knew Margarite Dexter hadn't come calling simply for pleasure. She grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it. “Do you like anything in it?
“Milk and sugar.”
Jean set the cup on the table along with a spoon and sugar. Then she retrieved milk from the icebox.
Brian and Susie stared at the woman. Margarite nodded at them.
“Brian, why don't you take Susie upstairs and help her get dressed,” Jean said, knowing that whatever Mrs. Dexter had to say the children didn't need to hear it.
Brian took Susie's hand and led her out of the room.
Mrs. Dexter poured milk into her coffee, then added three heaping spoons of sugar and stirred. She looked around the bright room. “This is very nice, especially compared to that Townsend house—if you can call
it that. I wish Miram was still here with you.”
“She felt it would be better if she stayed with Celeste since they're both single women and Ray will be moving in here.”
Margarite gave a little sniff. “That man has animal heads mounted on the walls and skins on the floor and thrown over the sofas. It's downright heathen.”
“He's a hunter and a trapper,” Jean said, feeling her anger rise.
“I suppose a person can't expect much from the folks up here.” She scanned Jean's kitchen. “At least it hasn't affected you too badly.” Margarite took a drink of coffee, then set her cup on the table in front of her. “This place has some semblance of civilization. I just can't bear the thought of Miram living in that hovel. And if she marries that Ed fellow … well, I hate to think.”
“He's a nice young man.”
“He's slovenly and uncivilized. Miram is far too well-bred for a man like him.” She took another sip. “I haven't been able to get her to listen to reason.”
“I know Ed cares for her.”
“Well, if that's so, why hasn't he asked her to marry him? Not that I'd like him to.”
“Ed's kind of quiet, a little shy. I'm sure he'll get around to it.”
Margarite rested her arms on the table. “If only Miram would leave with us. She'd be much better off. Do you think you could talk to her?” She added another spoon of sugar and stirred, the spoon clinking against the sides of the cup. “She thinks a lot of you. I thought maybe you could help her see she doesn't belong here.”
“Miram's a grown woman, and if she's made up her mind to stay, I'm not going to try and change it. She's done wonderfully here. She has friends and a good life. She's happy.”
Margarite's eyes narrowed. “I expected you to say something like that. How do you know she's happy? I understand her better than anyone, and I can see she's not.”
