by Rose Jenster
* * *
The Albee boy didn’t come to school the following day and Verity felt relieved. She went about her instruction and was pleased at the progress her youngest students had made. That afternoon, she bought the dried fruits she needed and baked a loaf of Irish soda bread for Adam. As soon as it was cooled, she wrapped it in a towel and carried it to his house. She knew he wouldn’t be at home but she loved the idea of his returning to find fresh, fragrant bread on the table awaiting him. Verity let herself in the unlocked door. What she saw made her drop the loaf of bread and give a high-pitched cry.
The floral carpet runner had been slashed to shreds, there were holes in the wall at boot height. She rushed forward, unthinking, to see what other damage was done. There on the kitchen floor, shattered into a hundred pieces, was the earthenware jar where Adam’s savings had been kept. All that money he had saved, money he would need to repair all the damage even was taken by some destructive thief. Shaking, Verity dropped to the floor as if her knees would hold her up no longer. She thought to scrape up the bits of the jar and try to put it back together. She didn’t want Adam to find it like this, his home torn to pieces.
Verity cut her finger on a shard of the jar and cried out again, wrapping her hand in a dish cloth she snatched from a drawer before she could make a bloodstain on the floor or on her skirt. Patched up and weeping, she gathered the pieces of the jar and scooped them into her skirt to carry them to the table. Verity heard the door open and she gasped, dropping every bit of crockery she’d picked up back onto the floor with a clatter.
She turned, looking left and right, until she seized a kitchen knife, gripping it as one would a weapon. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t even hear Adam call her name. Verity thought it was the thief, come back to hurt her.
Adam came into the kitchen and found her there, clutching a kitchen knife, her bloodied hand wrapped in a cloth, surrounded by broken dishes. He stared at her, horror clutching at his chest.
“Are you hurt? Verity?” He spoke with deep concern and shock.
She backed away from him, so terrified she almost didn’t know it was him. He came toward her, caught her wrist and dropped the knife harmlessly into the sink. Adam scooped her up and carried her out of the kitchen, his boots grinding crockery into the wood floor as he went. He set her down on the sofa and knelt before her. Adam unwound the cloth from her hand and looked at the cut.
“What’s happened to you?” He asked, his voice quiet, urgent.
“I—I---I made bread!” Verity wailed and with a hiccup she began to sob.
Adam put his arm around her and waited for her calm down.
“Did you do this or did someone else?” He spoke in an even tone of voice.
Shocked, she pulled back and looked at him in astonishment, her eyes round with horror. “I didn’t! I made bread, Adam. I brought you a loaf of bread only I think I dropped it when I found the carpet all cut up and I went into the kitchen and your jar—“
“You saw the place was ripped apart and you came inside? Never, not for anything, you silly girl—to risk yourself—I’d have told you to run away, to keep yourself safe. Not one thing in this house means anything to me like you do!” Adam said in all sincerity as he embraced her.
“I wasn’t thinking. I saw your jar broken and the savings gone and I wanted to clean it up. But, I cut myself and then I heard the door and I thought it was somebody who’d come back to steal more or hurt me and I panicked. I’m sorry I—I’m so sorry, Adam!” she said.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it does. You’ve had a fright, the cut isn’t deep, I think I’ve some ointment about in a cupboard.”
Adam rose to find some medicine for her injured hand and he turned to see the piano. The entire instrument was demolished, buckled on one side where a booted foot or some blunt object had slammed into the wood. Keys littered the carpet like broken teeth. It was appalling and beside him, Verity began to weep again.
Adam caught her up in his arms.“Don’t even look at it. You weren’t hurt. We can fix anything that’s broken.”
Verity subsided into his arms for some time, letting him stroke her hair, letting his heartbeat soothe her. She wanted to stay in his arms forever, warm and secure and never have to worry about the outside world again. The outside world was dreadful, it seemed now. The more that she thought of it, the more certain she became that her student had done this terrible thing.
“It had to be Marcus, didn’t it,” she said dully.
“And his uncle, possibly.”
“So it’s all my fault! I made him angry and he’s destroyed your house and your mother’s piano and taken all your money. I’m so sorry, Adam!” Verity was both afraid and sad.
“Stop this now. Enough. This isn’t your doing. We’re going to the sheriff.” Adam spoke firmly and with authority.
“Do you think the sheriff can recover your savings?”
“I’m not sure. But I reckon he can lock up the Albee boy, and his uncle, too if need be,” Adam said grimly.
“I’ll have to freshen up before we see the sheriff. Why, I didn’t even wear a bonnet! It isn’t—“
She rushed to the hall to look in the mirror, only to find it smashed to bits, the silvered glass scattered beneath her feet. Verity turned to look at Adam who bent down and picked up an ivory piano key, turning it over in his hand mournfully. She knelt beside him and hugged him.
“The table’s still whole,” he said gruffly into her hair. “We still have that.”
“We have what we need,” she said stoutly and kissed his cheek. “We are still whole. You said yourself this is nothing. We haven’t lost one another, Adam. We never will.”
Adam put his arms around her again and they knelt there among the piano keys, holding one another, each vowing silently to make this right.
Together they went to the sheriff, a bachelor in his thirties called Lane. Adam did most of the talking to spare her, but Verity chimed in to repeat the things Marcus Albee had said to her before her students. She bit down on her lip to hear Adam tell Sheriff Lane what the uncle had to say about the situation.
“I’ll attend to matters,” Lane said grimly, “You’ll hear from me in the morning if not before. I expect he’s at his uncle’s farm yet. You get this young lady back to Mrs. Hostelman’s and give her a strong cup of tea.”
“Thank you, sheriff.” Adam said and ushered her out.
At the boarding house, Mrs. Hostelman bustled about providing them with tea and sandwiches and broth. Verity managed to drink a cup of tea and eat part of a very overcooked biscuit. Mrs. Hostelman insisted on putting her right to bed with a hot brick despite the fine weather. Adam promised to check on her in the morning.
Verity tossed and turned, half convinced that Marcus Albee would not be caught, that he would come looking for her and break down her door. She lay there and trembled and fretted until the first gray fingers of dawn stole across the sky. Wearily she rose and dressed to write a letter resigning her teaching post. She could not go back there, not after this violence had been done by one of her own pupils. This broke her heart because she loved her students so much.
A soft knock came at her door and she hurried to open it to Mrs. Hostelman.
“I figured you’d be awake. The blacksmith’s here. He was fixing to leave you a note but I made him wait downstairs. You’ll want to see him, I think.” Mrs. Hostelman said knowingly.
“Oh, thank you!” Verity said, rushing past her and down the stairs to meet Adam.
She realized at the bottom of the steps that she hadn’t put on her boots in all her haste, so she stood there in stocking feet before him, her hair still loose about her shoulders. He looked at her half in amazement.
“I must look wild, forgive me,” Verity said. “I couldn’t wait to see you!”
“All is well. Sit down and I shall tell you all.”
Verity sat down and Adam sat next to her on the sofa in Mrs. Hostelman’s comfortable sitting room.
<
br /> “Sheriff Lane arrested Marcus Albee last night. He confessed to the crime and he acted alone. Even his hateful uncle is disgusted with his actions and has disowned him.”
“Did he still have your money?” Verity made a silent prayer.
“Yes, every bit of it was returned to us. I have come to urge you, though, to take me as your husband sooner than planned.” Adam looked at her, his eyes brimming with love.
“That is just as I have hoped. I was awake all night, Adam—I was so frightened and worried and I knew if only you had been there—oh, I shouldn’t speak of that, I know. It’s improper!” She blushed at the admission, but was glad she said it.
“You only meant that you wished we were married already and I wish it, too. If you will go with me this day to the minister, we shall be joined man and wife before the sun sets, and you will make me the happiest of men.”
“I will be so happy to be your wife today, Adam. And to have the protection of your name and to be under your roof. I have only just completed the resignation for Mr. Woods. I can’t go back there. I only want to leave that all behind me now. Mrs. Hostleman has someone that will deliver it immediately for me.” Verity said impetuously.
Adam took her hands and kissed them. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve never said much about it, but you are. You took my breath just then when you came rushing down the stairs, your hair all undone.”
Adam took a lock of her hair in his hand, rubbed it between his fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. Verity leaned in to kiss his cheek but he turned and her kiss fell on his lips instead. Embarrassed, she retreated to the corner of the sofa, blushing.
“I would marry you this moment, Verity,” Adam said. “You needn’t be shy of me at all.”
“I didn’t mean to kiss you so,” Verity said barely above a whisper, so bashful.
“Of course you did, and when we’re married you can admit to it,” he teased.
“You’re impossible!” she said. “I’m meant to be rejoicing that the person who caused such havoc is in jail now, but here you are tweaking me with my obvious affections for you.”
“I haven’t seen nearly enough of your affections. You’ll have to make them more obvious still once we are married. As for myself, I love you,” he said, taking his leave of her with a chaste kiss on her hand.
Chapter 9
All that day, Verity prepared for her wedding. She first sent word to Charlotte, washed and brushed her hair until it shone. Verity had Mrs. Hostelman’s help to arrange her hair into a dainty braided coronet. She thought to wear her pearl pin but she laid it aside. It felt like a frippery, something superficial that had no place at a holy occasion such as this one. Verity was so happy to be marrying Adam Rexing, to call him her own. She could even bless that wretched Marcus Albee for speeding things along.
Verity was married in her dimity dress and straw bonnet with her cousin Charlotte standing up for her as bridesmaid. Henry Rogers stood up for Adam and boasted that he had most of the credit for the match as he was the one who encouraged his friend to place an advertisement. Charlotte disagreed good-naturedly that it was she who pleaded with her cousin to move to Montana Territory in search of a good man.
Despite the merriment of their attendants, Verity and Adam were nearly silent, serious and intent only on one another and their vows. He placed a ring on her finger, not of gold but of iron that he had fashioned himself. Two threads of silvery metal twined together to make a ring that looked like vines. He had made it with his own hands.
They had fruitcake at Mrs. Hostelman’s and Adam carried Verity’s trunk to their home. She reached for the door handle, but Adam set the trunk down and scooped her up in his arms to carry her across the threshold. She laughed until he set her down with a kiss in the front hall.
“Welcome home, Verity Rexing,” Adam said and she couldn’t help but smile.
As he retrieved the trunk, she looked around in wonder. It had been the work of a day, these repairs, but the house looked entirely different from the wreck it had been the night before. A few men that Adam knew had helped make their day special.
The carpet that had been slashed only the day before was replaced with a new runner and the broken glass had been cleared away. A patch job on the plaster was visible. A new ceramic jar sat on the counter, glazed a robin’s egg blue with the word “cookies” painted on the side. Adam brought the trunk indoors and before she could lift the lid of jar, he caught her hand.
“We’re going to the forge now, Mrs. Rexing,” he said happily.
Bewildered, Verity went along with him. “You’re not putting me to work already are you? I still have my wedding dress on.” She protested with a laugh wondering about this.
“Not at all,” Adam promised.
When they reached the forge, he pulled aside a tarp and uncovered a beautiful wrought iron gate. Curving slats like vines framed the monogram A-R-V, their initials. She knew at once it was to replace the gate before their home and she loved it.
“You made this for us. It’s wonderful,” she said. She loved it so much and it took her breath away.
Adam hefted the gate and carried it home. Verity changed into her plain work dress to help him hang the gate, not because he needed help but because she wanted them to place their gate together. She braced the gate as he attached it to the hinge. It swung easily and locked securely. Together they closed the gate and went inside their new home.
* * *
Verity knelt in the grass beside her husband and planted the flower seeds she’d ordered from the mercantile. Hollyhock and columbine would grow along the porch of their house come summer. She patted the soil and sat back on her heels with satisfaction. They had planted the vegetable garden the week before and together they set to weeding it.
“I never did get to try your soda bread. What will you make with these vegetables to impress me?” He loved to tease his new wife.
“Only a stew, I’m afraid. I’m not much of a hand at cooking anything but sweets and potatoes. But I told you that before we were married. I tried to prepare you,” she teased back.
“A meat pie perhaps with parsnip and onion?” He was curious about her cooking repetoire.
“Maybe Mrs. Hostelman has a recipe for one,” Verity replied.
“If she has, let’s not ask her for it. Her meals were never her best quality. She’s a good woman, truly, but cookery…I’d rather you didn’t ask her advice.”
“I have a surprise for you,” Verity said.
“You have. What is it then?” He turned to look at her with an expectant smile.
“I’ve found a buyer for my pearl pin, in Helena.”
“Why would you sell it? You received it yourself that when you were promoted to a full time teaching position at the academy,” Adam protested.
“Because it was the only thing of real value I owned and I want the money for a new piano. We want our children to grow up in a house full of music and singing and laughter. I want to do this,” Verity insisted, “I’ve found just the piano in a catalogue at the mercantile!”
“I hate for you to part with the pin, Verity—“
“Never think of that way. It was a vanity, an ornament I bought to make myself look fancier than I was. The ring you made me means so much more than that bauble ever did. It can buy us a piano and I can play you Irish ballads. I can even take on piano students,” she said.
“You needn’t take on students if you don’t wish to do so,” Adam said. He was truly touched that she would sacrifice the pearl pin.
“Oh, I think I should have something to keep me busy until the baby comes. Of course, once she’s born, I won’t have a great deal of time for teaching lessons for a while, I should imagine.” She spoke with a twinkle in her eye.
“A baby?” Adam whispered in disbelief and she nodded, grinning.
“Yes! We’re to have a child, Adam,” Verity beamed.
Adam helped her to her feet, suddenly solicitous, and took her in his arms.
“I said the day you married me I was the happiest of men. I have been every day since. This—this is the finest news I have ever had since the day you said you’d have me!” He said this with joy from the depths of his heart.
“We’ll have another face at that dinner table soon enough.”
“You’d better be learning to cook in a hurry.” Adam teased, laughing from pure happiness.
“Oh, she won’t have any teeth for a while so she’ll have milk and then oatmeal. I can make oatmeal well enough.” Verity giggled. “I suppose I have about two years for Mrs. Hostelman to make a superb cook of me.”
“I beg you to have Mrs. Rogers or actually anyone else teach you the art of cooking,” Adam said.
“Of course, I’m only joking. I can feed her Irish soda bread until her second birthday, that and scrambled eggs!”
Adam lifted her off her feet and spun her around in the sunshine, thinking he’d never been so happy. “You are a wonder, Verity Kemp.”
“Verity Rexing,” she corrected sternly, her eyes sparkling.
“My sister Laura must meet you. We should go to Helena next week for a visit.”
“I’d love to see her, and the clever young Josiah you’re so taken with. I know you must be the finest uncle,” Verity said, picturing him on the floor with the boy.
“Indeed. And Laura can cook very well, so you might learn a thing or two.”
“Or I might be jealous of her fine china plates,” Verity said mischievously.
“Your china plates are on the way from England as we speak, my love. I ordered them before the wedding. It takes an age for them to arrive. Never think I would let my bride have less than my sister. It is the pattern of roses you showed me in the catalogue once. Do you remember?”
“We were only browsing for a lark, you said! You sneaky creature!”
“Aren’t you glad I ordered dishes instead of a piano. What would we have done with two of those?” Adam contorted his face as he was pondering this question.
“Why, had twins of course,” Verity said with a twinkle, “Twins did run in my mother’s side of the family.”
