Maggie let out a shriek as he tumbled off the back of the sled . . . and took her along. They logrolled in the shallow snow and ice, none of it providing decent padding. When the dizzying rotation stopped, Maggie realized Mr. Valmer hadn’t let go of her. Somewhere in the tumult, he’d gotten her turned around and curled one arm around her waist, the other about her shoulders to cup her head against his chest. His protective-instinct reflexes shielded her as they kept skidding, and he’d made sure he was downhill so he took the brunt of the impact.
Ice tinkled and rained down from the barren shrub branches. Maggie lay there for a moment, cold and stunned. She could hear his heart thundering – or was it hers? “Mr. Valmer? Are you hurt?”
“Nein. How are you?” Concern etched his features and roughened his voice as he stroked her cheek with his gloved hand.
She pulled away from his gentle touch. Tiny shards of ice continued to shower around them. She cocked a brow. “See what being reasonable got me?” Cuddled up with a warm, caring man. I should have followed my instincts and run. Pressing her hands on his chest, she pushed away and huffed. “ ‘Rose That the Wind Blew Down.’ ”
“It was not the wind. It was my doing. I – ”
“The jig the fiddler played. It’s called ‘Rose That the Wind Blew Down.’ My uncles delight in teasing me and are likely fighting about which tune to use. I don’t mind it, but when we get home, I’ll make a big to-do.” While speaking, Maggie fought to get her skirts all back down and in order.
Thankfully, Mr. Valmer turned his head to the side to allow her privacy. Even so, the rustle of cotton and the heavier flop of flannel petticoats would let him know just what a sight she’d become.
“Music is particularly important to mountain people. Someone from the Arkansas 3rd fiddled a square dance as they marched into battle at Antietam. The Flinn twins declare it kept them alive because they were so proud, they had to go shake that man’s hand.” Skirts in order, she let out a sound of relief. “There.”
“You aren’t hurt?” She assured him with a shake of her head, and a blinding smile lit his face. “So will you sled again with me?”
I wanted to escape this, but now I wouldn’t trade it for the world. “I’m too selfish to let you have all the fun.”
The next run showed very little improvement, but Maggie didn’t care. Neither did Mr. Valmer. He kept hold of her hand afterward. “So what was that song?”
“ ‘Maggie Lauder.’ ”
His lips twitched. “Louder?”
“Goodness, no. As much as you’ve set me to laughing, no one would urge more noise from me. Lauder is an old Irish word for strong.”
“They’ve used your given name and your family name. Is there a song for your middle name?”
“I don’t believe so. ‘Maggie’s Apron’ gets played when the men are hungry and want me in the kitchen!”
Sweeping his arm about her waist, Mr. Valmer assisted her uphill. “Let’s hurry and have several more rides before we hear that one.” His arm about her felt warm. Strong.
Looking down at her, he gruffly ordered, “Your arm – twine it about my middle. Given the icy ground we climb, it is rea – prudent.” When she complied, he gave her a tiny squeeze of approval.
Prudent and practical never felt like this.
“Third time’s the charm.” His lips barely grazed her temple, and Todd set them in motion before he caved in to the temptation to kiss her. A perfect run. This third run will be perfect, and then I will propose.
Wind blew past them as they gained speed. His eyes burned and cheeks stung from the cold, but holding Miss Rose – that warmed him clear down to his toes. Detecting the slightest lean on her part, he’d tilt his shoulders, then immediately straighten out when she did. When the sled finally scraped along the ice at the bottom of the hill, he let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Ahh. To do it right brings great satisfaction!” He stripped off his gloves, rose, and helped her to her feet.
She grabbed his arm. “Let’s go for another run!”
Before he’d lose the opportunity, Todd went down on one knee. “Miss Rose, I’d gladly go on another run. But first, you have the ability to make this the proudest day of my life. Will you marry me?”
Eyes and mouth wide open, she stared at him.
“I owe you complete honesty, Miss Rose. My farm in Texas is only two years old, and so much work remains to be done. But the land is rich. I’ve prayed long and hard for a wife, so though I readily confess I need someone to care for my mother, it is not only because of her that I now propose.”
“I . . . see.” The words came out faintly. A somber expression replaced her usual free-and-breezy smile. Fiddled music swept over them on the chilly wind. “ ‘Magpie’s Nest,’ ” she identified.
She’s stalling. With her hand held firmly in his, she couldn’t run away.
“Paw-Paw’s favorite.” Love saturated her voice. Sudden panic transformed her features. “I can’t leave my family! No!”
Staying awake most of the night, he’d anticipated Miss Rose’s objections and developed several points to convince her. “Leaving your uncles will cause homesickness. But the love between you will not end just because you leave. Letters and visits will keep ties strong.”
“That’s not enough. My love for them runs too deep. I can’t – ”
“You can’t believe your uncles want you to sacrifice having a husband and sweet little babies to love. You are the last generation from Carver’s Holler. Passing on your people’s tales and lore is the ultimate way of showing your respect. You’ll tell your father’s stories. Uncle Bo will visit and teach our sons to whittle. Our children will learn the songs from today.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You barely know me. I know even less about you.”
“In the early morning hours and late at night, I’ve seen your constancy and kindness. The men speak to me of your virtues and talents.”
She cleared her throat. “They’re biased.”
“The truth stands, nonetheless. You work hard. And with a willing heart. It makes for a happy home. You respect your elders.
Finer food I’ve never eaten. Most important: you hold your faith most dear.”
“So I’d be an acceptable helpmeet.”
“Far beyond acceptable! My future sons and daughters could have no better mother.” There. They’d agreed, and he’d paid her the ultimate compliment. Todd rose and sought a kiss.
Reclaiming her hand, Miss Rose compressed her lips. Clearly she didn’t agree. Hugging herself, she whispered, “Have you prayed about this?”
“For years. And also specifically about us since I met you. To marry is the right thing.”
Her lashes dropped, hiding her expressive eyes from him. “How can it be right? It’ll start with a lie if you vow to love me.”
“Oh, Miss Margaret.” He dared to use her given name as he slid his hands across her shoulders, turned them to cup her neck, and used his thumbs to lift her face to his. “There are many things to say here. Some very frank. You must excuse me, for there is no other way to speak.”
Chewing on her lower lip, she thought about it, then nodded.
“There are different kinds of love. Between us, there is already Christian love. Since that is understood, I will talk about romantic love. You are most fair – so beautiful to look upon. Happiness glows on you, and your hair is a crown of glory I would relish taking down at night.” He indulged in lifting his right hand a little higher and finally discovering the softness of her hair. Up this close, faint freckles showed beneath the scarlet of her cheeks. He’d love to brush them with his fingers, then his lips. . . . He cleared his throat. “Physically, I am drawn to you – but to call such attraction love is to . . .” Lord, please give me the right words. “To say such stirrings are love is like us calling one apple an apple pie. It cannot be a pie until many other important elements are included.”
Blushing from his earthy honesty, she dipped her head. “What other elements?”
Todd cupped her cheek and tilted her face back to his. “Faith. It is vital. Hard work. Nothing worthwhile comes easy. Honesty and forgiveness – they are the soil of trust and cleansing rain. If you think on it, those things are what it takes for love to blossom in a sound marriage – for God to be the head, for the husband and wife to work hard and honor one another, and for them to appreciate the special gift of unity marriage brings. From all this, love and a family grow. On these things do you agree with me?”
“They seem . . .”
Don’t say reasonable. It would be the same as saying no.
“Sensible.”
“What is not sensible is that I want to kiss you silly. So now I ask you two questions. Miss Rose, will you marry me tomorrow, and – ”
“Tomorrow!”
“My farm – I must get back to it.” Todd didn’t pause to take a breath. “Will you marry me tomorrow and permit me the joy of a first kiss now?”
“Now?” Tension sang through her, but Miss Rose didn’t blurt out a refusal.
“Come here.” Drawing her into a loose embrace, he sighed. She failed to hug back, turned her face to the side, and rapid breaths warned a firm denial was still a heartbeat away. “Shhh. Quiet your heart. Under normal circumstances, such questions deserve consideration.”
“Then why ask me for an answer now?” A plaintive quality ached in her voice.
Resting his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair, he murmured, “In this situation, there is no luxury of time. I’m not proud to push so fast. Neither am I ashamed.”
“You ought to be,” she muttered. “You didn’t take my no for an answer and are debating like a Yankee senator.”
At least she’d gone from tears to being disgruntled. He could handle anything but tears . . . or a refusal. “On my tenth birthday, my father directed me to pray for the woman who was to become my wife. Each day for a whole decade I’ve lifted that girl in prayer.” Gently tipping her chin so their faces were inches apart, he said, “You are the one. Of this I am sure.”
She pulled away. “Anyone could claim that. A woman would be a fool to act on a man’s say-so.”
“You have time today to think and pray. Deep in your heart and soul, you will see God’s will.”
“What I need,” she sighed, “is a burning bush like God provided for Moses.”
“Moses hesitated at first. Still he set out on the journey.”
She arched a brow. “He was concerned because he couldn’t speak well. I, on the other hand, more than make up for that lack.”
“Then you can come with great confidence.” Todd stepped to the side and kept his arm about her waist. “You promised me another ride. I’m claiming it.” Of all songs, the fiddler started to play “Johnny Todd.” Todd sang along,
“If you’ll wed with me tomorrow
I will kind and constant be.
I will buy you sheets and blankets
I’ll buy you a wedding ring.
You shall have a silver cradle
For to rock the baby in.”
Pushing free, she went whiter than the snow. “Mr. Valmer, Uncle Bo takes notions at times. If he’s put you up to this, you didn’t have to go through with it. For true, you didn’t. I’ve a happy life here. Their bothersome nagging to make a strange mountain girl your wife is scarcely reason to ask.”
“You have it wrong.” Pulling her into the lee of his body, he stared into her wide eyes. “This is all my idea.”
Mr. Valmer’s proposal set off a cavalcade of emotions. He wanted her? It wasn’t at Uncle Bo’s urging? For true? They’d scarcely met, yet she felt . . . tingly. Confused. Undeniably impressed by his strong presence and protective ways. His thoughtfulness. And, she admitted, his deep voice and warm looks disturbed her in a thrilling way. Yet fear gripped Maggie. How could she ever leave Uncle Bo? And Carver’s Holler? Jerlund and Paw-Paw? Her uncles?
She shouldn’t pass more time with Mr. Valmer, allow him so close if she wasn’t seriously considering his suit. Before, it was innocent fun – now it wasn’t. But Maggie had promised another sled run. She endured the tumult of emotions long enough to sled twice more, then claimed she needed to go see to lunch.
Ever since proposing, he’d called her Miss Margaret. No one ever called her that – unless they paired it with Titania, and then she knew she was in trouble. Hearing the sound of her full name on this handsome buck’s lips confused her even more. Formal, yet oddly personal. She still addressed him as Mr. Valmer, though. If Uncle Bo heard him address her informally, he was liable to plunk himself square in the middle of everything.
When they returned home, Uncle Bo was waiting to meet them about twenty yards from the barn. “Margaret Titania, I need to have a word with you.” Slowly, she nodded. They needed to talk. Alone. Uncle Bo looked at her with an intensity he reserved for the few times she’d gotten herself into a sore and sorry mess. She shivered, but not from the cold. A chill swept through her soul, warning her of the utter desolation she’d feel if she left Uncle Bo.
“I will put the sled away.” Mr. Valmer strode off.
Her uncle took her hands in his. “Margaret Titania, I’ve important things to say.”
“So do I. Uncle Bo, I love you. You’ve been with me – ”
“For a long spell. Todd Valmer’s a good man. Could you come to respect him?”
The question caught her off guard. “I already do. Look what he’s done for his mama and how he’s helped out everyone I love.”
“I’m wanting to see you settled with a godly man, one who’ll fill your heart with love and house with laughter. If it means I travel a ways to dandle your children on my knee, so be it.”
Most of what he said was a repeat of his marry-you-off speech. But the part about him having to travel was new. It never occurred to Maggie that she’d leave the holler, but Uncle Bo suspected it. How could she do without his wisdom and insight?
A bittersweet smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Growin’ you up as I have, I can read your heart like your daddy could read a book. Don’t let your worries for me and the others hold you back. Elding’s got women coming in who can cluck and fuss over us.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Aye, but to everything there is a season. Glowing inside you is a spark I recognize well. Your mama and aunt both wore the same radiance, and it gained more luster every year. Love’s budding in your heart, and happily-ever-after dreams are beckoning you.”
She couldn’t deny her feelings. Were they that strong, though? Love? Could her heart have turned to a man she barely knew?
“I’m shovin’ you outta the nest, Magpie. Even if it means that man don’t ask until he puts his foot on the train, you fly away with him.”
Rattled by his order, she gulped. “He asked.”
A rusty chortle bubbled out of Uncle Bo. “The boy didn’t let grass grow ’neath his boots.”
“You suspected?”
Her uncle nigh unto bust his buttons. “More than that. He asked for your hand last night.”
“And you didn’t warn me?”
“Stop fighting the inevitable and take care of essentials – like your legacy.”
Maggie folded her arms across her chest. Mr. Valmer didn’t even know about that. Goodness only knew he’d tossed every other skill and tradition into his argument. But her legacy was rooted in the holler. “My legacy dictates I stay. A duty to the generations before me rests on my shoulders. I owe them – ”
“A daughter to whom you pass the legacy. All the history and generations gone by are for naught if you die without passing those roses on. They crossed the ocean and took root in this holler six generations back.” Uncle Bo wagged a finger at her. “With the weather gone so cold, the bushes are dormant. Couldn’t be a better time to take ’em to a new home. By the time you get settled in and have a plot ready, they’ll be eager to grow and bloom.”
“Uncle Bo . . .”
“Maggie-mine, you’re a woman full grown. Sto
p clinging to your past and open your heart.”
Leaning against a barren tree, Miss Rose stared toward the house. Todd made no attempt to muffle his steps. Edgy as she was, he owed her fair warning that she wasn’t alone anymore. “Tell me you see a burning bush and have made up your mind.”
She turned to glower at him. “Uncle Bo made up his mind. For me. I haven’t decided anything, but he’s in there, packing my things!”
“Your uncle is a ball of fire.” Todd waited a heartbeat while she nodded. His lips twitched. “God used a pillar of fire to direct Moses and the Hebrews. When the time came, they left quickly. Look where it got them.”
She turned away, buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shuddered.
He moaned. “Miss Margaret, there is no call to weep.” He moved so his chest grazed her back and wrapped his arms around her. She couldn’t muffle the sound any longer.
Turning, she looked up into his eyes. Choked laughter shook her voice. “Have you forgotten all the wars the Hebrews fought throughout the exodus?”
Relieved she wasn’t crying, he gave her waist a tiny squeeze. “No doubt we will disagree on occasion, but the only weapon would be the sword of truth.”
“Next you’re going to tell me the pillar of fire will bake that silly apple pie of love and the sword will cut it.”
“Nein. I misspoke. I will have to get a sword – to fight off men when they discover how well you cook.” He softened his voice. “But the apple pie – that will be something only you and I share. Come, Miss Margaret. Be my bride.”
She studied him. Indecision played across her features. At long last she set her jaw and lifted it, and his heart missed a few beats. “I’m a magpie through and through. If I agreed, would you allow me my treasures and legacy?”
Six silly boxes and one more thing mattered that much to her? Undoubtedly she’d fill a crate with her clothing and a few more with kitchen necessities and bedding. All brides brought such essentials to their marriage. She’d expect that, and they needed those things. Ten. Maybe twelve crates, considering her magpie-like nature. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t mind at all.”
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