Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Ma’am, you stayed abed yesterday and had time to accustom yourself to the news. But the longer you laze, the less you’ll recover. I have breakfast here for you, too.” Having made her point, Maggie took full possession of the pillow.

  Mrs. Crewel lay stubborn as a board nailed every two inches to a foundation. “I choked on water and broth. It’s no use trying anything more.”

  “Once we kept fingers pressed to that side of your throat, you didn’t choke.” Maggie stuck the pillow against the headboard and tapped an arm of the chandelier. “Reach on up here with your good hand. Bend your good knee and push against the bed whilst I scoot you upward. We’ll work together, and you’ll be pulling your own weight.”

  “I know I’m fat; you didn’t have to tell me. But it’s all the more reason why I won’t eat.”

  “I spoke of responsibility, not weight. When you get to Texas, your son needs to rig up something similar. That way, as you start to regain use of your limbs, you can work the muscles for strength, as well.” Ignoring her patient’s grumbling, Maggie sat her against the headboard. “And now for a treat!”

  Mrs. Crewel spied the invalid cup. “I’m not using that! I used one just like it to feed my babies.”

  The device looked much like a teapot with the handle reglued to be at a forty-five-degree angle from the spout. Instead of a lid, half of the top remained open. “Nonsense. I’ll brace your throat muscles. You hold the cup and keep control of the flow.”

  A truculent expression warned Maggie the woman had dug in her heels. “Once you’ve eaten, we’ll wash you up and sit you in my wheelchair. Just think how much that will please your son.” Those words earned her instant cooperation.

  After his mother successfully ate some breakfast, Mr. Valmer helped set her in the wooden wheelchair. A deep, pleased chuckle rumbled out of him as he stepped back. “Look at you!” Almost immediately, she sagged to her left. “Ma!”

  In less than a blink Maggie propped her with a pillow in a strategic spot. Next, she took a wide strip of cloth and draped it across her patient’s shoulder and tied it to a thick grosgrain ribbon by her hip. Now Mrs. Crewel wouldn’t slump and slide straight out of the chair. “You look regal as a queen a-wearing her ceremonial sash.”

  “I can’t believe you have a wheelchair.” Mr. Valmer stared at the back of the wooden, cane-seated premier model.

  “The mark of a professional barterer is that they anticipate needs. If I waited until someone got hurt, they’d have to wait two weeks to get one.”

  Mrs. Crewel stared out the window and gasped. “The storm blew over someone’s house! How heartbreaking. They’ve lost everything they owned. Just look at that pathetic mess out there.”

  Mr. Valmer went ruddy. “Uh, Ma?”

  Maggie raised a hand and shook her head. No need trying to correct the poor, misguided woman. Her heart was in the right place.

  Combing the woman’s hair, she reassured, “In time, everything out there will wind up right where it belongs.”

  Each day for five days, Todd grabbed every opportunity to pass time with Miss Rose, exchange stories, and pitch in with anything Ma needed. Convinced Miss Rose was the one for him, he strove to give her cause to trust and rely on him.

  He needed her, if any hope remained of keeping his farm. He could picture his winter wheat withering, weeds abounding, and wolves eating his chickens – or worse, preying on his hogs or horses. He’d almost lost his colts to the wolves weeks ago. Though the vet had discounted his fees significantly, it drained what little Todd had stashed away. He needed bumper crops this year to keep his head above water.

  At any moment he could state how much time had elapsed since he’d worked his own land and how much more time remained before he’d return. Two more nights, two more days, and he’d finally be on the train for thirty-one hours. Somehow, he had to convince spry old Bo Carver to give his blessing, appeal to Miss Rose with a proposal she’d accept, and marry her – all before the train came.

  One step at a time. Tonight, the consent. Tomorrow, the proposal. Then Monday, we’ll marry and depart. Todd knew he’d petitioned the Lord for a string of miracles. Heal Ma. Keep the farm going and the animals well. And now this desperate timeline . . .

  Todd had noted that occasionally, Mr. Carver helped him wrangle a little time with Miss Rose. He’d think of something urgent to tell his niece, then send Todd as his messenger. No matter where Miss Rose sat at the table, one of the men beside her would move – allowing Todd to take his place. Those things ought to have boded well.

  They didn’t. For every instance when Mr. Carver assisted his courting efforts, there was another when he just as surely blocked it. Today Miss Rose’s uncle volunteered him to repair a neighbor’s roof. That reeked of keeping him away from his niece. It worked, too.

  Absence didn’t just make the heart grow fonder; it made Todd more stubborn. Miss Rose’s stunning appearance caught his attention, and her kind ways and spirited nature charmed him. Most of all, her Christlike heart captivated him. He’d waited for the right woman. Now that he found her, Todd wasn’t going to let go.

  Barely quelling a snort, he cast a rueful glance at Mr. Carver as they headed toward the barn. Those trips to carry messages were probably his way of providing Todd with an excuse to check on Ma. And the old fellows – they’d done all the musical chairs because they teased Miss Rose. Blinded by their love, the old men probably didn’t even consider she might ever leave them. The minute he brought up the subject to Mr. Carver, the two of them would undoubtedly tangle. But Todd was determined to win this war.

  “Can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given,” Mr. Carver said as Todd opened the barn door.

  “I’m happy to be of help.” Todd followed him inside. “Though, tonight, it was a sacrifice to stay and finish that last section while the other men went ahead and ate supper.”

  “Nothing’s better’n one of my Magpie’s meals.” Mr. Carver set his toolbox down in the barn and looked up with glee at the roof they’d repaired a few days ago.

  “One thing sounds better to me.”

  Bocephus Carver looked at him, agog. “Something sounds better than Maggie’s food?”

  Todd nodded curtly. “The girl herself.” Seeing the old man suck in a deep breath, Todd paused for a second. Yep. He’d just dealt a big shock. But now was the time to make his points before Mr. Carver shouted out his refusal. “Miss Rose cooks well, but she is more. Kind. Healthy. Pretty. And she is good with Ma. I want your niece to become my wife.”

  The old man cupped one hand over his eyes for just one moment, then dropped back his head and exhaled loudly. Pain radiated from every line on his wrinkled face as he finally stared Todd in the eye. Slowly he extended his right hand. “Son, you don’t know how I’ve prayed for God to send the right man for my sweet Magpie.”

  Todd didn’t accept the old man’s hand. Omitting a truth was every bit as bad as lying. Honor forced him to lay out the facts. “I’ll protect her. Provide for her.”

  The lantern spat and sparked in the sudden silence. Withdrawing his hand, Miss Rose’s uncle glowered. “But you don’t love her.”

  Five

  The old man cut to the heart of the issue – or the lack of heart, repeating the stark fact. “You don’t love her.”

  Unflinchingly, Todd stood his ground and met the man’s stormy eyes. “Miss Rose is a remarkable Christian woman. I admire her and like what I’ve seen so far, but that’s as much as I can admit.”

  “That ain’t much, son.”

  Raising his chin a notch, Todd clipped, “Any man who declared his undying love after a few days – he’s the one you ought to be wary of.”

  Shaking his head side to side, her uncle groused. He turned and walked off a few paces, wheeled around, and narrowed his eyes. Then waggled his finger as he came stomping back. “That child grew up reading happily-ever-after fairy tales. She saw her daddy and me doting over our wives with overflowing hearts. You expect her to se
ttle for less? You haven’t even courted the lass.”

  “I’m honorable. I won’t pretend what I don’t feel, but a woman of her caliber is certain to fill a home will love. As for courting – that can happen on either side of the wedding ring.”

  “You’re wrong. A wise man knows courting never ends. A little effort on his part cultivates a garden in her heart. Him not bothering – what should have taken seed, sprouted, and flourished just blows away.” His eyes narrowed. The corners of his mouth went tight, as did his voice. “Supposing I put Maggie’s hand in yours . . . just supposing . . . would you give her the courtship she deserves?”

  “I could do that.” Was the old man softening?

  Mr. Carver leaned a little closer. “You sure you don’t love her maybe a little?”

  A slow smile slid across Todd’s face. “If your niece turns out to be half as sweet as her jams, falling in love with her will be easy.”

  Bocephus clamped his hand around Todd’s arm and plowed over toward a pair of hay bales. Once they both plopped down, Maggie’s uncle said, “What if I give my blessing for a courtship? Your ma could stay here with Maggie, and you could write letters for a spell.”

  “They both go with me now.” Todd wasn’t taking any chances. Some other man might steal his bride. Besides, when he was alone with Ma for even a second, she begged him to get her out of here.

  Carver scowled. “You sound mighty sure of yourself.”

  “You can come visit us anytime. Ma’s got only me. Leaving her when she’s helpless and struggling – even with my bride-to-be . . . I can’t. Especially with my bride. I’ll not ask Miss Rose to bear such a responsibility alone. A man takes care of his own.”

  Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Mr. Carver studied him for a long moment. “Then . . . you might could be betrothed. The women live in your house whilst you stay in the barn.”

  “You’re more likely to find a barking cat than an eligible woman where I come from. I’d be ten kinds of fool to dangle a prize like her around a hoard of randy cowboys. I won’t endanger her like that.”

  “Hmmm.” A slow grin crossed Mr. Carver’s face. “My Maggie Titania’s a princess, and any man would be blessed to be her husband. I ain’t about to send her off to someplace full of woman-hungry bucks with slick ways and smooth words.” His smile faded. “ ’Tis my duty to see she’s with a good, solid Christian man who’ll follow God’s Word. The Bible instructs a man to love his wife as Christ loves the church – to cherish her so much he’d be willing to give himself up for her.”

  He’s laid it on the line. And because I stuck with the truth, he’s going to turn me away.

  “I got the biggest decision of my life to make, and it’s only right you answer me.”

  Todd nodded. “Fair enough.” I’ve still got a chance.

  “A man whose heart is right with God and grounds his life in the Holy Scriptures – he can’t help but love his woman. Might take some time, and there are bound to be some bumps in the road, but that’s the truth. The questions are, do you love God that much? Are you a man to study the Bible each day and follow it in word and deed? Do you trust Him enough?”

  “You’re making it downright easy. The answer to all of those – ”

  Mr. Carver lifted his hand. “Don’t you answer me yet. You see, there are some other things that might make a difference.”

  Nothing would make a difference. Nothing . . . except if she couldn’t have children. He wanted several. But they’d adopt if it came to that. Any child under their roof would wriggle right into his heart in no time at all.

  “There’s things you ought to know. First off, I’m not talking outta my hat. My own marriage wasn’t a love match. I took Maude to wife and said my vows, leaning on the promises of God. She, too, loved the Lord with her heart, mind, soul, and strength. I know it’s not the way of things in these modern times, but there are still times when the hand of God reaches down to arrange situations. We have to recognize them.”

  “I’ve been praying for a wife. Ma took sick, so I prayed for the best of care, and the train kicked us out right here. Miss Rose is the answer to my prayers, and – ”

  “Son, you’re eager to get her hand. I’m making sure the details won’t become burdensome.”

  His jaw clenched. “Ma’s not a burden. I wouldn’t want a wife who viewed her as such. Miss Rose – ”

  “Dotes on your ma. You’re plowing off course. I’m talking about legacies. My niece has one she counts most precious.”

  “Thus I would wish her to keep it.”

  “Mountain women are tough, but they’re also tenderhearted. They know their minds, too. There’s a wildness that love tempers but won’t tame.”

  “Intelligent women have spirit. I’d want it no other way. What else could I tell you to put your heart at ease?”

  Mr. Carver glanced away. “Your actions speak louder than anything comin’ out of your mouth. I saw you beseeching the Lord for your ma’s sake. A man who can love so much he’d risk his own life – he’d be a good husband.”

  He’s softening. I actually have a chance!

  “I’ve been on my knees, praying about the right man for my niece for years. Only in the last two weeks, the matter weighed heavy on my heart, and that’s how God let me know things were due to change.” The old man’s voice quavered with emotion. “In the six days before you set foot in Maggie’s parlor, I told her each day that God was going to be bringing a husband her way. I prayed. You came.”

  Todd looked him in the eye. The old man met his gaze, unashamed of the tears wending down his careworn face. “Sir, you asked if I would lay down my life. Now at this very minute, you are setting the example. For your niece’s future, you are making a great sacrifice, letting her go.

  “There is a word: serendipity. It is when something unexpectedly good happens in the midst of the trials of life. For me to meet my wife now – it is because God has worked in a bad situation. Let Margaret become my bride. I will heed God’s commands, and I will come to love her as you loved your wife and as Christ cherishes the church. Until that love blooms, your niece and I have serendipity – this providence from God – that brought us together. It is a fine start.”

  For a moment, they shared a profound silence. A bittersweet smile tugged at the old man’s lips. “Son, you’re gonna have to talk her into it. I’ve done my best to get her ready. Problem is, Maggie’s as headstrong as you are proud.”

  “Ah, but just as the man is to love his wife, the woman is to respect her husband and submit to him. I’ll be good to her.”

  “You have my blessing.” The funny old man chuckled softly and extended his hand. “Just remember; there’s a world of difference between submitting and submission.”

  A blast of cold air blew out Maggie’s lantern just as she reached the barn. For all the work Mr. Valmer accomplished, he ought to be triplets.

  “Mr. Valmer, a strong young man like you could undoubtedly spell Atlas and hold up the world for a while, but my uncle’s recently taken to telling me he’s so old, I almost believe he and George Washington played marbles together. Come inside, eat a hot meal, and rest.”

  Chuckling, Mr. Valmer reached her side. He offered his arm, and she readily took it. For a moment, she looked up into his handsome face, and her heart pitter-pattered. Oh my. Granny would have laughed and said the sap was running a mite early.

  “What’s for supper?”

  “Sap. I mean, soup.” She didn’t even tell him what type. The less she said, the safer she’d be.

  A few minutes later, they were inhaling the soup.

  “Maggie? Maggie?!” Panic edged Jerlund’s voice.

  Maggie dashed toward the back door to help her friend. But Mr. Valmer had shot to his feet, too. Gripping her securely, yet gently, he murmured, “I’ll help. No man wants a woman to see him frightened. Go check Ma.”

  Everything within her railed. “He’s . . . Jerlund’s . . .”

  “Yet a man.” Mr. Valmer turne
d her shoulders and ducked his head to whisper in her ear. The warmth of his breath tickled and made her shiver. “I’ve trusted you. Trust me.”

  He had trusted her. Now the tables were turned. Jerlund wasn’t on death’s door, either. I do trust him. Maggie nodded.

  “Sehr gut. Very good.” Mr. Valmer squeezed her shoulders and turned loose. The loss of contact left her feeling . . . alone. Adrift. In the past few days, she’d had more contact with a man of her own age than the entire rest of her life, and it left her breathless. Before she blurted out something to embarrass herself forever, she fled to the sickroom.

  Mrs. Crewel was stirring. Gently, Maggie stroked a few wisps of hair behind the woman’s ear. Mrs. Crewel’s right eye opened. With her left eye drooping, it didn’t open much unless she was wide awake. “Let me sit you up and give you some nice, thick soup.”

  After a few sips, Mrs. Crewel signaled she’d had plenty. “That ruckus – it’s the child-minded man, isn’t it? Go help him, girl. Strife in a home is hard on anyone, but that boy must be in anguish.”

  Maggie kissed her fingertips, pressed them to Mrs. Crewel’s temple, and whispered, “I now know where your son got his kind heart.” She went out and started stacking dishes. “Hi, Jerlund.”

  “Hi, Maggie. I’m gonna sleep in your bed – the one at Uncle Bo’s.” Nodding, Jerlund added, “Bo Carver said I can. It smells like your perfume.”

  Uncle Bo puffed up his chest. “My Maggie Rose makes it herself. Has nothing a-tall to do with her daddy’s family name, neither. My Maude, she taught her how to coax things from the rose. ’Twas the legacy she passed on.”

  Turning his head toward her, Mr. Valmer inhaled deeply. Gazing into her eyes, he rumbled, “A sweet one indeed.”

  The next morning, Maggie looked at the bottles of her perfume while brushing her hair. He liked her perfume. Should she dab on a little as was her custom, or omit using it because he might consider it flirtatious? He’d leave tomorrow, and he’d forget her perfume . . . and forget her.