The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier
Page 83
Born before they reached St. Jo, Missouri, Tomi was always impatient to get done what needed to be done, including eating. If a meal were two minutes later than he expected, he would raise a holler that could be heard in three states—or that’s what his proud grandpa claimed. Now that Tildie was awake, Jan’s seven sisters and her own Mari and Evie crowded to find seats on every available spot on the huge bed. Talking and laughing with no sense of order to the conversation, the girls relayed every bit of information they could recall on the preparations for the wedding.
Suddenly, the room fell silent as a good-natured “Ach!” boomed from the doorway. Jan’s mother entered waving a wooden spoon in one hand and flapping her long white apron much as she did when she shooed the chickens. “Out of here, out of here. Go! There’s work to be done. I send one of you up to get Jan’s Tildie out of bed, and here all of you are. How can she get up when you have her pinned by her sheets to the bed? Get up. Get out. Shoo.”
Giggling and scuffling as they left, the sisters pushed out of the narrow door, taking Evie and Mari with them. When the last skirt had swung past the door frame, Ingrid closed the door with a firm hand.
She came over to the bed and plopped down in one of the places just vacated by one of her frivolous daughters.
“Now.” She patted Tildie’s blanket-covered leg. “Are you ready for this big day?”
“Yes, Mother Borjesson.” Tildie grinned at the short, stout woman who’d taken to mothering her just as soon as she’d stepped through the farmhouse door.
“If your mother were here on the morning of your wedding day, she’d likely take the time to give you some godly advice.”
Tildie nodded as she efficiently shifted her son to nurse from the other side.
“I’ll tell you to read Proverbs, one chapter for every day of the month. All the advice in there is what keeps a marriage together. Turning away wrath with a soft answer and such. But you notice, dear Tildie, that some of the months only have thirty days and that leaves out chapter thirty-one. I know in my bones that God has ordained a wife and mother as a special minister to His families, but I also know we women can get to thinking too highly of ourselves. On the one hand, He probably was giving us a break from stewing over just how much work it is to keep a family going, and on the other…” Her blue eyes twinkled with merry humor. “He didn’t think we needed to hear how important we are every single month.”
They both chortled over the thought.
Ingrid reached for Tomi. “Is that boy finished? I’ll burp him and take him downstairs. You get ready,” she ordered, already halfway to the door. “Eleven o’clock. All the family, all the neighbors, everyone from the church. We’ll have the wedding of the year. It’s not everyone who gets to marry one of the handsome Borjesson men twice. Hurry, girl.”
A few minutes after her mother-in-law had disappeared with her baby, Tildie heard Jan’s voice calling her name from outside. She went over to the open window and looked down to where he stood below.
“I thought you were hanging decorations at the church,” Tildie said.
“I was. They’re hung. Aunt Julee is stretched out in the back pew, sleeping. Snoring, too.”
“You left her there?”
“Her house is one block from the church in town.”
Jan looked perturbed.
“What’s wrong?” asked Tildie.
“I’m just thanking God I married you in Colorado.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Because now that you’ve met my family, you might have said no.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Tildie?”
“Yes?”
“My mother is having the time of her life. She says I can’t see you until after the wedding. Ridiculous!” He paused and looked up at her with such tenderness, she almost climbed down the trellis to give him a morning hug and kiss. He sighed. “Thanks for not getting upset.”
“Jan?”
“Yes?”
“Are we going to move into the parsonage as of tonight?”
“Yes.”
She grinned, knowing he would understand exactly why she wanted to be private in their own little house after two weeks in the bustling Borjesson household.
“Then I have no reason to be upset.”
His answering expression of delight told her he, too, was ready to be a smaller family again. He blew her a kiss before turning to walk away.
“Meet me at the church, Matilda Harris Borjesson.”
“Yes, sir!”
Kathleen Paul retired early from teaching school, but soon got bored! The result: a determination to start a new career. Now she is an award-winning novelist writing Christian romance and fantasy. She says, “I feel blessed to be doing what I like best.” She mentors all ages, teaching teenagers and weekly adult writing workshops. “God must have imprinted ‘teacher’ on me clear down to the bone. I taught in public school, then home schooled my children, and worked in private schools. Now my writing week isn’t very productive unless I include some time with kids.” Her two grown children make her proud, and her two grandsons make her laugh