by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris
Eric ran his thumbs around the edge of his mug. “We moved out here wanting something we could call our own. Lots of people went out west to California to look for gold, but we decided to stay a bit closer to home.
“Rebecca came right away, and every few years there was a little one arriving. Susanna loved babies. She said she always wanted to have a baby in the house because they added so much joy. The sad thing is that what brought her joy is also what brought me and the children so much pain.” He sobered. “She died giving birth to Ruby.”
Michaela took another sip of her coffee, feeling the depth of his pain from her own experience. “I know you miss her tremendously.”
“I do. I’m reminded of what we made together every day, and yet, over the years, the pain has lessened, to a degree anyway.”
Michaela leaned back in her chair and studied the man sitting across from her. Here was someone who understood the pain of losing a spouse. On the outside he seemed to have found a measure of peace over the event. The familiar question returned. How long would it take for her pain of losing Ethen and Leah to lessen?
“I remember when Daniel and Emma went back East to be with you.” His gaze softened. “Our church prayed for you.”
“Thank you so much.” She turned and watched the orange and yellow flames of the fire, reminding her of the flames that had taken the lives of her family and Anna’s parents. “I’m sorry, it’s just that …”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand.” He seemed to sense her need for them to change the subject. “Tell me about Boston. I understand you taught piano there.”
An hour later, Michaela glanced at her watch, surprised they’d talked so long.
She pushed aside the partial cup of coffee that had long since grown cold. “I really need to go. I told Daniel and Emma I wouldn’t be long.”
Eric placed a few coins on the table, then pushed back his chair. “I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”
“Not at all. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.”
He helped her put on her coat before they walked toward the front door. “Rebecca’s excited you’re helping her plan Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Hopefully Emma will feel up to coming.”
A cold wind greeted them as they stepped outside the hotel restaurant. Michaela pulled her long coat closer.
“She had to grow up so fast when her mother died, and I’ve always felt guilty about that,” he confessed. “The truth is, now she really has grown up.”
Michaela untied Honey from the post and turned to Eric. “She came to talk to me the other day. I hope you don’t mind.”
Eric’s brow lowered, and Michaela wondered if she’d made a mistake in talking to Rebecca.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds—”
“No, please don’t feel that way. It’s just that …” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and shook his head. “It’s hard raising a family alone. Rebecca was so angry with me, but I have to do what I think is best.”
“And she knows that, trust me. You’re a lucky man to have such a wonderful family.”
He grasped her hand and helped her into the saddle. Slowly, she pulled away, still feeling the warmth from his touch. She felt the wind whip around her and shivered, wondering if she would ever find the courage to open up her heart and love again.
Chapter 9
The sun shone Thanksgiving Day, and though a thin layer of snow still covered the ground outside, the Johnson house stayed warm from the fire in the living room. The day before, after preparing the turkey, Michaela had helped Rebecca make three pumpkin pies and what Michaela had been told was Eric’s favorite, Marlborough pudding, a traditional dish made from stewed apples, sugar, and nutmeg that was baked in a piecrust. Today they worked to finish the rest of the special meal before the guests arrived.
“I can’t believe you talked my father into letting me invite Jake’s family over for Thanksgiving dinner, Mrs. Macintosh.” Rebecca looked up from the onion she was chopping and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Michaela finished peeling the last potato that she’d later mash and serve with cream and butter. “Didn’t I tell you that you just needed to let your father get used to the idea?”
Starting on another onion, Rebecca nodded. “He still hasn’t agreed to let Jake call on me, but at least maybe this way he’ll get to know him better.”
“Exactly.”
Rebecca set her knife down on the counter and leaned forward. “Have you ever thought about letting someone court you again, Mrs. Macintosh? You’d be good for my father.”
Michaela’s eyes widened in surprise as she poured the potatoes into the boiling water. Surely Rebecca wasn’t trying to play matchmaker. “Not really. I—”
Her answer was interrupted as Eric walked into the kitchen. All she could do was pray he hadn’t caught the last of their conversation. Yes, she had thought about courting again, but with Philip, not Eric Johnson.
“How long until supper, ladies?” Eric leaned over and kissed his daughter on the top of her head. “I understand that a certain young man is joining us.”
A soft blush crossed Rebecca’s face as she began vigorously chopping one of the onions.
“Everyone should arrive about four o’clock.”
“Good.” Eric walked near to where Michaela was working on the potatoes and picked up a spoon. “That will give me plenty of time to talk to Jake.”
Rebecca’s knife clattered against the counter. “Father, promise me you’ll be extra nice to him.”
Eric didn’t answer but instead began peeking under several of the covered dishes. “Did you make any Marlborough pudding?”
Rebecca nodded. “It’s already finished.”
Spoon in hand, Eric stopped when he found the dessert.
“All right, Eric Johnson.” Michaela set her hands firmly against her hips. “You’re about to be in trouble with both of us.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Someone’s got to sample the food.”
Michaela shook her head like a stern schoolteacher. “No sampling until dinner, and promise your daughter you won’t do anything to embarrass her.”
“Of course I won’t.” Eric winked at his daughter, then left the room.
Rebecca turned to Michaela. “You don’t really think he’d do anything to embarrass me, do you?”
“He’s your father, Rebecca. He loves you. He’s probably just as anxious as you are.” Michaela added some salt to the boiling potatoes. “This is new territory for both of you, and you’re going to have the normal ups and downs in your relationship with your father, but he would never hurt you on purpose.”
Rebecca nodded. “I know you’re right. I’m just so nervous about today. Don’t you think Jake’s handsome?”
Michaela laughed as Rebecca proceeded to tell her how his eyes were the clearest blue she’d ever seen and how, being interested in politics, he knew absolutely everything about Governor Long. Michaela listened intently to the young girl’s stories about Jake and remembered similar conversations shared with Aunt Clara about Ethen. It was good to feel needed. For the first time in a long time, Michaela felt truly happy.
Two hours later, the three families finished the meal. The entire day had been a success. Even Emma had felt up to coming to the celebration.
Michaela helped Rebecca serve the pumpkin pies and Marlborough pudding.
“This looks fantastic.” Eric smiled at his daughter and took the plate Rebecca offered him that held a thick slice of each dessert.
Michaela served Jake and smiled. True to his word, Eric had helped put the young man at ease and seemed to take today as an opportunity to get to know him better. It was obvious by the smile that hadn’t left Rebecca’s face that she was pleased with the way the afternoon was turning out.
A fork clattered against the china plate. Perplexed, Michaela watched Adam gulp down his glass of water.
She eyed her piece
of pumpkin pie, wondering if something could be wrong with the dessert, but it looked perfect. She sampled a bit of the pie and froze. Instead of the sweet pumpkin flavor she’d expected, it tasted as if she’d just taken a spoonful of salt.
“What’s wrong?” Rebecca noticed the startled looks on everyone’s faces.
“It’s the pumpkin pie.” Michaela felt a wave of nausea wash over her. This dinner meant so much to Rebecca.
Rebecca took a bite, then promptly spat it out. “What happened?” She sat motionless in her chair beside the one person she’d tried to impress all day.
“I think you switched the sugar for salt, sweetheart.” Eric’s sympathetic smile didn’t faze Rebecca.
“I couldn’t have. I …”
A quiet giggle came from the other side of the table. Sarah sat hunched down in her chair, her hands across her mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“This is not funny, Sarah,” Eric warned her.
Michaela stood from the table and began gathering up the plates of uneaten pie. Jake sent Rebecca a sympathetic glance but seemed to be at odds at how to remedy the situation. Sarah’s giggles continued despite the sharp look from her father.
Eric crossed his arms and leaned toward his middle daughter, who sat across from him.
“Sarah Phoebe Johnson, if you know anything about the extra salt in your sister’s pie, you’d better tell me right now.”
Sarah’s giggles stopped.
“Sarah …”
She bit her lip and looked at her father out of the corner of her eye. Michaela set the stack of dishes at the edge of the table, wondering what she should do. Rebecca had spent days planning this meal, and if Sarah had something to do with the ruined pie, she knew it would crush Rebecca.
“I …” Sarah stifled another laugh.
“You still think this is funny?” Eric kept his voice low, but it was laced with anger.
“Yes—no.” Sarah’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I switched the sugar for the salt in the filling when Rebecca wasn’t looking yesterday. She was so busy, she didn’t even notice what I did. It was supposed to be funny.”
Rebecca let out a sob, then fled from the room. Eric stood and threw his napkin on the table. Sarah slid down farther in her chair.
“Eric.” Michaela took a few steps toward him until they were only inches apart. She knew she shouldn’t interfere, but Rebecca was the one who needed her father right now. “Let me talk to Sarah. Go find Rebecca. She needs you now.”
Eric nodded and stepped out the front door to find his daughter.
“I’ll get the dishes.” Mrs. Markham stood to finish clearing the table, while Michaela nodded at Sarah to follow her up to the girl’s room.
Sitting across from her on the bed, Michaela watched as Sarah chewed on her thumbnail. “I remember one summer when I was eleven years old. It was the worst summer I’d ever had. I’d been sick a lot and wasn’t allowed to go outside and play most of the time. Then, in late August, we celebrated my brother’s eighteenth birthday. He would be leaving soon to go to school, and my parents wanted the day to be extra special. I was in charge of serving the punch at the party. The more they planned, the more jealous I got. They’d never thrown a party like that for me, so I decided to do something so no one would forget I was around.”
Sarah leaned forward. “What did you do?”
“Attempting to make it look like an accident, I dumped the punch off the table and onto my mother’s beige carpet.”
“Guess your parents didn’t think that was funny, either.”
“No, they didn’t.” Michaela prayed for the right words. “Truth was, I loved my brother a lot, and I didn’t like the changes that were taking place. I knew he would be leaving, and I didn’t want him to go.”
Sarah shook her head. “Sometimes it seems like everything’s changing.”
“What are you really afraid of, Sarah?”
She was still for a moment. “If Rebecca gets married, things will never be the same again.”
Michaela smiled and patted Sarah gently on her arm. “You’re right. Things won’t ever be the same again. But it also means that before you know it, some handsome boy will be calling on you.”
Sarah groaned, but it was obvious she wasn’t totally displeased with the idea. “I suppose I would hate it if Ruby or one of the boys did something like that to me.”
“I think you’re exactly right.” Michaela smiled. “Besides that, you’d have to come up with a better idea to chase Rebecca’s beaus away, because I don’t think some extra salt in the pie would deter very many of them.”
Sarah dropped her gaze. “It was awful, wasn’t it?”
Michaela nodded in agreement. “I think you have a few people you need to talk to, starting with your sister.”
Eric hurried out of the house and into the barn. Climbing up the sturdy ladder to the loft, he found Rebecca sitting on a bale of hay with tears silently streaming down her face.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” Rebecca looked up at him. The hurt in her eyes broke his heart.
“You told me one time this was your favorite place to think.”
Eric rubbed his hands together, more from nerves than the cold wind that blew through the cracks in the walls. Sitting down beside her, he prayed for wisdom. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Why would Sarah do something like that?” Rebecca wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and shook her head. “I know it’s silly to care about a bunch of stupid pies, but—”
“Your feelings aren’t silly.” Eric took his daughter’s hands in his. “Today was important for you. I know that.”
Rebecca looked up at him; her gaze seemed to plead with him to understand. “I really care about Jake. I know you’re not ready for me to grow up, but I’m seventeen. You married Mother when she was barely eighteen.”
Eric let out a soft laugh at the truth behind her words. How come his own daughter seemed so much younger than he and Susanna had been when they married? The truth was, his daughter was just as mature and responsible as he had ever been at eighteen. He just didn’t want to admit it.
“I never thought I’d have to go through all of this alone, Rebecca.” It was times like this when he missed Susanna the most. Missed her support and encouragement. Her wisdom. A man wasn’t meant to raise six children alone. For the first time in a long time, he felt the cold reality of being a widower.
Eric turned and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “Rebecca Margaret Johnson, you are my firstborn, and I love you unconditionally. I know that I could never take the place of your mother in raising you. There are simply too many emotions you feel that, as a man, I can’t understand. But what I do know is that you and I are going to get through this together. Just give me some time to get used to the idea of another man caring for you.”
Rebecca cocked her head and lowered her brows in question. “Does that mean you’ll let Jake court me?”
“I didn’t say that.” He saw the disappointment in her eyes. It was time, and he knew it. “Though I suppose I should consider it. Especially if it means I’ll get more dinners like tonight’s.”
Rebecca’s face lit up. “Do you mean it? Will you talk to him?”
Eric nodded, realizing that in agreeing to Rebecca’s request, he was letting go of her. Before he knew it, he’d be walking his daughter down the aisle, and she’d leave his home to live with someone else. He’d known the day would come, but he wasn’t ready yet.
“I suppose this means Jake will be coming around a bit more?”
“You like him, don’t you?”
He had to admit the truth, even though he doubted he would ever meet someone good enough for his daughter. “He’s a fine young man.”
“What about you?” Rebecca reached out and straightened the collar of his shirt.
He raised his brow in question. “What about me?”
“Have you thought about courting again?”
Eric lea
ned back, pushing the palms of his hands against his thighs. Had Rebecca noticed his interest in Michaela? “You think we need a woman in our lives?”
“After tonight?” She flashed him a broad smile. “Yes.”
He combed his fingers through his hair. “Courting would mean a lot of changes for us. We’re used to doing things on our own. You’d have to stay with the children while I’m out eating at a restaurant or taking her out on a picnic.”
Eric liked the idea but had worried about his children’s reactions. He had thoroughly enjoyed having coffee with Michaela earlier this week. In fact, since Susanna’s death, he hadn’t felt as comfortable talking with another woman as he did with Michaela.
Rebecca folded her arms across her chest and smiled again. “Of course, it would have to be the right person.”
“Are you thinking about anyone in particular?”
Rebecca nodded, and he caught the gleam in her eye. “There is one person I’ve thought for quite a while now would be perfect for you. Michaela Macintosh.”
Michaela handed Mrs. Markham the last dish to dry, then wiped down the long counter. She’d found the woman’s company pleasant but couldn’t keep her mind off Eric and the conversation he was having with Rebecca. Silently, she prayed that God would give him the wisdom he would need, not only for tonight, but also in the weeks and months to come.
Eric stepped into the kitchen and addressed Michaela. “Can we talk?”
Michaela nodded at Eric’s request and followed him outside onto the front porch, where they could have a semblance of privacy. He leaned against the porch rail and looked at her, his brow furrowed into deep creases. Michaela’s stomach constricted. This time she had overstepped her boundaries. She never should have suggested talking to Sarah. It wasn’t her place. It was Eric’s.
“Eric, I need to apologize—”
“Wait, please.” He held up his hand in protest. “I need to say this.”
