“James seems to be doing just fine. Which reminds me—have you heard yet from the agency?”
“No, Mrs. Turner hasn’t responded. I imagine she’s at a loss for what to do.”
“You could always stay,” Delia said quietly.
Ann’s heart fluttered. “You know why I can’t,” she said firmly.
Delia sighed. “It will all work out in the end, you’ll see.” She paused and chewed her lip. “I should have told you this sooner—but James and I...we almost courted once.”
A flood of jealousy and confusion stole across Ann’s chest. “You said you didn’t know him well.”
Delia colored crimson. “I said I didn’t know him well now. It’s all so silly in retrospect, but I should have told you.”
Ann squinted at her friend across the table. Tall, beautiful, kindhearted and talented beyond measure. The perfect farmer’s wife. The jealousy twisted a little deeper. “Even your mother told me on the train she barely knew him.”
“She doesn’t, Ann. That’s how insignificant the whole thing was. It was years ago.”
“How serious was it?”
Delia flashed her a sheepish smile. “So very not serious. I was fourteen, and he was eighteen. We’d shared a schoolhouse for years, but barely spoke. One day, the summer before he was to go to medical school, he began walking me home from school. We spoke of his desire to be a doctor, and I told him of how I wanted to become a dressmaker. After a few talks, it sounded as if he planned to court me once he returned home from school.”
“So what happened?”
“He met someone else. I heard he brought her home once, but no one ever saw her again. When he returned to take care of Uncle Mac and the farm, he came alone.”
The jealousy squeezed Ann in a vise. “Why didn’t he court you then?”
Delia shrugged. “He’d dreamed of becoming a doctor but became a farmer instead. My dreams remained the same. He asked me once in passing if I hoped to take over Mrs. Williams’s shop one day. I told him I wanted to leave sleepy New Haven and strike out on my own. We both saw how far our paths were destined to diverge.”
Ann’s heart quivered. “So you believe a husband and wife must complement each other...for their marriage to work?”
“Yes, I do. But Mother also taught us marriage is about sacrifice. If you each hold something dear, and those two things are in conflict, love means you’ll sacrifice your own desire to fulfill theirs.”
Ann’s heart sank to her shoes. “But what if you can’t simply choose to sacrifice? What if it’s something you can’t change?”
Delia pursed her lips, and her eyes filled with tears. She knew what Ann referred to. “Ann, God can always make a way,” she whispered.
The front door creaked, and a vaguely familiar voice carried down the hall.
“So nice to see you out and enjoying yourself, Mr. McCann. Take care.” The next moment Mrs. Ludlow strode through the kitchen door frame.
“Miss Cromwell, how delightful to see—”
Ann stood and cut off her words with a tight embrace. Somehow, seeing Delia’s mother reminded Ann of all the good she’d experienced since coming to New Haven.
Embarrassment washed over her as she realized she had met this woman exactly once, and it had been many weeks before. She released her hold. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. We barely know one another.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Ludlow replied, before pulling Ann into another hug. “Sometimes people are friends in their hearts before they’ve even met.”
Ann smiled. She had a feeling Mrs. Ludlow had a wealth of pithy sayings.
Delia stood close behind Ann, and stepped in to give her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “Tell me, Mother. Was the Schneider’s home as bad as everyone is saying?”
“Worse.” Mrs. Ludlow pursed her lips. “But it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Mr. Schneider wasn’t particularly pleased when I began to clean, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Sadie and George are working on the wash right now, and their father is looking for his bottle. Without it, he should be well enough for work by this evening.”
“What if he finds it?” Ann asked.
“That’s doubtful—unless he has a habit of looking for things at the bottom of his privy. How did the two of you get along?”
“Ann proved herself a quick study.” Delia gestured to the leftovers from their lunch on the table and began to fix a plate for her mother, but Mrs. Ludlow waved it away.
“All this work today has suppressed my appetite.” She patted her ample stomach and winked. “If only I could say that more often.”
“Mother, if you’re ready, I think Ann has had enough of me today.”
This was far from true, but Ann knew it would be selfish to monopolize any more of Delia’s time on her free day from work.
“Anything else?” Delia asked.
“I only hope I can survive without you until your next day off.”
“We’ll see each other before then. Write down any questions you have and I’ll try to answer them.” Delia’s eyes opened wide. “I completely forgot—Mrs. Williams asked if you could come to town tomorrow with the lace you’ve completed. She has a fitting with Priscilla this week but needs to attach the bodice lace first.”
“If she needs me, I’ll be there.”
“Excellent!”
With no more excuses to detain them, Ann accompanied her guests to the barnyard.
“Will you be visiting the Schneiders every week, Mrs. Ludlow?” Ann asked.
Delia’s mother frowned. “I’m afraid not. That’s why I was working with the children on some lessons today, rather than doing all the work myself.”
“Lessons?” Ann asked.
“Cooking, laundry and gardening. Very quick learners those two, like you. They should do fine the next few weeks while I’m away. I’d always planned to teach them these things eventually, but when I last visited, Hal appeared to have things in hand.”
From their position in the barnyard, Ann could make out tiny white dots dancing between the Schneider’s evergreens. Freshly washed linens and clothing hung out to dry. She swallowed hard. “I thought you were back for good.”
Mrs. Ludlow smiled weakly. “I thought so, too.” She sighed. “It’s my dear sister. After this last baby, she hasn’t been herself. Doesn’t want to hold the sweet child or even look upon her face. Frankly, I don’t know what’s the trouble. All I know is she needs me. I’ll be returning to Pittsburgh in a few days.”
“What about the Schneider children? Who will watch after them?”
Her mouth turned down. “I truly wish it were me. I suggested to Hal a few who’d be happy to drop in and help. The Zwebels’ daughter, Zelda, Mrs. Gibbons down the lane—even you, dear! He said no to them all. We’ll have to trust and pray God is watching over them.”
After the Ludlows left, Ann turned toward the Schneiders’ house. If she squinted, she could make out the children in the yard, and she guessed by their movements they were checking the wash to see if it was dry. Mr. Schneider was nowhere to be seen. In the fields if he knew what was good for him and his family. The pulling on her heart returned, but she forced it down. Whether Mrs. Ludlow was here to check on them or not, she soon wouldn’t be.
Mrs. Ludlow was right—she could only pray.
Chapter Seventeen
James entered the kitchen and was greeted with a scent of sweetness and spice that made his heart ache. The house hadn’t smelled like this since Uncle Mac stopped baking and shut himself in his room. Uncle Mac now sat at the table, his head thrown back with snores emanating from his open mouth.
Ann stood at the wash basin and smiled sheepishly. “He ate four servings of Apple Brown Betty and fell promptly asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.�
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“Who would?” James agreed. It was nice to find his uncle in the kitchen or on the front porch more often than not these last few weeks. His wan cheeks had gained color, and he no longer resembled a wizened old man awaiting death. It was as if Ann’s arrival had sparked something inside him, even if he couldn’t give a voice to it.
“We missed you at lunch.”
“I heard the bell, but I was in the middle of something at the time. I suppose there’s no chance of leftovers.”
He’d hardly said the words before Ann uncovered a nearby plate with a flourish.
“It wasn’t too hard to keep Uncle Mac away from the beets and greens. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the next Apple Brown Betty is out of the oven before you can have a piece. Uncle Mac even licked the dish clean.”
“You made another?” Ann was responsible for this delicious smell...after one lesson? He should have known she’d be a natural with a little guidance.
“And Delia showed me the proper way to make coffee.”
She poured a cup and set it before him. He took a sip. It was good, like the kind of coffee he was used to, but something was off.
Ann’s eyes widened expectantly. “What do you think?”
“Truthfully?” He paused and considered his answer. He was sure he was going to mess this up. “I like your old coffee better.”
Ann raised a slim brow. “Don’t tease me, James,” she scolded.
“I’m not, I’m not!” He raised his hands in protest. In surrender. “I prefer the way you made it before. And Doc Henderson did, too, remember?”
Ann’s brow dropped, but her delicate face remained contorted in suspicion. “If you’re serious,” she said slowly, “I’ll make it the old way in the morning.”
Ann left the room and returned with a large roll of lace. “Mrs. Williams wants this by tomorrow,” she explained. “Would you be able to take me into town?”
James nodded. “I had plans to go there myself. I’m going to ask Frederick a bit more about the extra work at the mill.”
Uncle Mac startled awake. “Mill?” he grunted.
“Yes, I’m going to Renner’s Millwork tomorrow. Would you like to join me?”
The older man screwed up his mouth in thought, but then shook his head. “More books,” he demanded, pointing a stern finger in James’s direction.
“Absolutely, Uncle Mac. I’ll bring home a bundle for you.”
James sipped his coffee and observed Ann over the rim. Her slight fingers moved over the lace so quickly his eye barely followed the movements. She chewed her lip in concentration.
“Are you working on a difficult section?” he asked.
“A little. Priscilla specifically requested dozens of these rosettes. I’ve made so many these last weeks, I may choose to never make one again.” She looked up and winked, her fingers neither halting nor stuttering as she maintained her fluid pace before looking down again. Either rosettes weren’t all that difficult, or Ann truly was a master lace maker.
He leaned forward on his elbows, mesmerized by her work. Despite the speed at which her hands flew, the lace grew at a snail’s pace. “Will you finish it all by tomorrow?”
“She doesn’t need all of it by tomorrow, but I’ve decided to finish it anyway. Mrs. Turner’s letter is already overdue.”
His heart skipped at the reminder. “But can you—really?” he pressed.
Ann’s shoulders dropped a hair. “Yes, even if I have to stay up all night.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “I must confess, I’ll likely be awake until dawn.”
So Ann had spent all morning and much of the afternoon learning how to do chores around his farm, all the while needing time to do this. He would never understand her motivations for keeping herself occupied the way she did, or for learning tasks she would soon have no use for, but he would always admire her work ethic.
“What can I do to help?” he offered.
Ann’s head snapped up, startled. “What do you mean?”
“How can I help you finish this lace, save for doing it myself?”
She shook her blond head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”
He would try a different tack. “How about this? First I’ll make supper. Then I’ll sit here with you until you’re done. I can make coffee. I can tell stories. I can jump up and down or moo like a cow. Anything to keep you awake.”
Ann stifled a laugh. “I appreciate the offer of supper, though I can manage without everything else.”
“Supper it is.” James slapped a hand on the table, hard enough to jar a nodding Uncle Mac awake.
“More books!” he ordered, before dozing again.
* * *
The next morning, before the sun had crested the horizon, James awoke to the aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen window and onto the back porch. He stumbled groggily into the house to find Ann hovering over a table strewn with lace.
“Good morning,” she called cheerfully when he entered. No hair on her perfect head was out of place, but her rosy cheeks were a bit less pink, and faint shadows creased under both eyes.
“Were you up all night? What time is it?” Ann had never risen earlier than him. That fact, coupled with the fog of receding sleep in his head, gave the scene a dreamlike quality. He clod stomped across the floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. Its inky, almost mud-like properties proved Ann was a woman of her word. A sip confirmed it. Thick and bitter. Who could have guessed he’d ever grow to not only like Ann’s coffee, but prefer it?
“Not all night. I retired at two and was up again at four. Oh, and it’s almost five o’clock.”
The sun wasn’t due to rise for another half hour. No wonder his mind felt so thick. As thick as his coffee, which needed a healthy glug of milk.
“You didn’t milk the cow by chance?”
Ann smirked. “I’m afraid I hadn’t gotten that far. But no worries...” She began exaggerating her movements as she stitched. “Four...three...two...done!” Ann laid the lace on the table and mimed wiping sweat from her brow. She stood and stretched her slender arms toward the ceiling.
“Congratulations!” James stepped forward to pat Ann on the shoulder, but his toe caught the edge of the rug. In an instant he was falling forward. Time slowed as his cup of coffee sailed from his hand and toward the table. Not even a second could have passed, but for James it was a lifetime.
In the same moment, Ann saw what was to happen and her eyes widened in horror. Her body lurched forward and she flung herself between the lace and his cup. It collided with her skirt and sent droplets scattering everywhere in a cloudburst of coffee.
Time returned to normal, and James’s heart sank to the cellar. He lunged for Ann’s coffee-soaked hand and assessed it.
“Are you burned?” Her fingers looked fine, but it was hard to assess everything while blood pounded in his ears.
She wrenched her hand free and turned toward the table. He reached for her to continue his assessment, but she pushed him away.
“Ann, that coffee might have seriously burned you! It may still be burning you.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She waved a dismissive hand. “My skirt took the brunt of it.” She wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel and tentatively held a long piece of lace to the light.
James sucked in a breath. How many hours had she toiled over that lace last night? How many other nights had she stayed up working by lamplight? And he had ruined it all in seconds. His chest tightened and his head grew light. Minutes passed like hours.
“Two drops,” she announced finally.
“Are you sure?” He craned his neck to see for himself from the safety of several feet away. There was no telling what more damage he could do if he got too close again.
“Yes. Two tiny drops. And this pattern is the sa
me on both sides, so we can simply affix this piece with the stains facing down. Here, see for yourself.” She held the lace out toward him but James backed away. From now on, he would treat the lace like a bundle of dynamite.
James surveyed the young woman in front of him. Her light blue dress was stained brown down the front. “Ann, I am so, so sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and bestowed on him a half smile. “It’s alright. No permanent harm done. Though I’ll admit, I would have had to ask the good Lord’s help in forgiving you if more of the coffee had landed on the lace.”
“Now that we’re certain the lace is okay, please let me check you.” He reached for her hand, and this time she acquiesced.
James unbuttoned her right sleeve at the wrist and pushed the material up to her elbow. The coffee had painted her forearms with splotches and spatters of pink.
Ann’s head snapped up and her blue eyes widened as she gazed into his. “Will I be alright?” she whispered.
Her skin was warm to the touch as he traced over the evidence of his clumsiness. He broke their gaze. “You have some first-degree burns. Nothing the McCann family salve won’t soothe by tomorrow. Oh, Ann, I’m so sorry.”
“You said that already.”
He left the room and returned with the familiar salve container. How odd to have applied it to Ann on her first full day here, and now again as they neared her last. Every sensation from that first day flooded over him, mixed with guilt at having been the cause of her injury. Even her hair smelled the same. Lavender and rose petals.
She wrinkled her dainty nose as he opened the tin. “I’m not looking forward to the odor.”
“Mother said, ‘Take out the odor, and you take out the medicine.’”
Ann cocked her head and gazed upward in thought. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Really? Because Mother never said that. I just made it up.”
Ann gave him a playful shove, but he held steadfast to her hand. His heart thudded. So much like that first day.
A Mistaken Match Page 18
