Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Holding an immense wicker hamper, Karl grunted, “Just meeting Todd’s missus would have made me visit.”

  Maggie couldn’t smother her smile. “That’s right friendly of you. Todd’s on the other side of the barn. Adam – the stallion – is a mite touchy.”

  “The male of the species usually is. Drop off the food and go admire the horses.” Leaning forward, the doctor murmured conspiratorially, “Mercy, my sister-in-law, is a commendable cook. Every half mile or so, I’ve had to rescue your supper from Karl.”

  “You should stay for supper. We’d be honored to have you.”

  “Perhaps some other time. This is really just a quick stop, because I need to visit one more patient before supper.” The doctor patted her outraged-looking husband’s chest. “I must abide by my instincts, and something tells me I’d best be home this evening. Maternity cases are notorious for ignoring the calendar.”

  Karl Van der Vort set the hamper just inside the door and disappeared. Introducing the doctor to Ma, Maggie assisted her with her wool cloak. Scrubbing her hands at the washstand, the doctor changed in a way Maggie understood quite well. She’d set aside the neighborly-ness and became briskly professional. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Crewel.”

  “That pretend healer there already had her chance and didn’t make a lick of a difference. Get me a man. With a degree.”

  “I assure you I am a real physician with a medical degree.” The doctor walked over to Ma. “The only one for miles around. After I’ve examined you and posed several questions, you may decide it’s far less embarrassing to have a lady for a doctor.”

  Maggie transferred Ma from her wheelchair to the bed. Ma put no cooperative effort into the move. Her answers to the doc were surly, but Doc kept right on. When she finished, the doctor folded her arms across her chest. “Mrs. Crewel, you suffered a vascular incident in your brain commonly called an apoplectic fit.”

  “A fit.” Ma spat the word as if it were dirty. “Like I’m demon-possessed. Next thing you’ll tell me it was a ‘stroke of God’s hand.’ ”

  “Ma!” Maggie started to reach for her hand, but the doctor waved her off.

  “It’s unfortunate that in the unenlightened past, when we didn’t have medical knowledge, people attributed things they didn’t understand to the spiritual realm. Stroke is a medical diagnosis and no longer carries such implications. Only the very foolish or ignorant would stand in judgment of another’s walk with the Lord. You’ll work yourself into worse health if you suppose anyone using fit or stroke is disparaging you.”

  “Easy for you to say. They aren’t judging you.”

  The doctor lifted a brow. “Like most others, you made a snap judgment because I’m a professional woman. Just as I had to earn the community’s respect, you will have to earn back your abilities. It is urgent that you exercise daily. Any delay, and the rehabilitation will be fruitless.”

  Maggie’s admiration for the doctor grew even more.

  “You’re starting off in prime condition.” Doctor’s brisk, positive approach robbed Ma of the pity she both wanted yet hated. “You were blessed to keep a sharp mind, and your right limbs are strong. Ten days after a stroke, your joints are supple and your hands haven’t begun to claw up. For most patients, they’d be curling and stiffening. A fair number would have bedsores, too, from lying in one position for prolonged periods of time.”

  “Stiffen? The way Magpie picks on me, yanking and twisting on my limbs like I’m a rag doll, it’s a marvel I’m still in one piece.”

  “The marvel, Mrs. Crewel, will be how much you’ll be able to do if you cooperate. There’s no reason you can’t stitch, button, shell peas, or do dozens of other tasks.” The doctor produced a suturing needle and took two stitches on the edge of Ma’s sheet, then she switched the needle to the other hand and stitched another pair. All four were identical. “Learning to be ambidextrous is a challenge, but you’re a strong-willed woman. If you completely regain your left hand, you’ll be twice as useful; if you don’t, you’ll become independent again. I’m sure you’d rather tend to yourself than need your daughter-in-law, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Ragged with emotion, the word promised cooperation.

  “Excellent!” Doc’s features pulled. “I need to go, yet I ought to see those Belgians, too. Men admire horses the way women admire babies, but the men in my life and your husband are particularly knowledgeable and discriminating. You see, my husband and his brother run the smithy and livery, and my twin brother is the veterinarian. I’m bound to hear all about Todd’s new horses.”

  “Oh, mercy.” Maggie gave her an empathetic look. “Men are all full of vinegar and beans. They’re liable to feed you a crock of nonsense just for the fun of it.”

  “Precisely.” The doctor gave her a wry smile.

  “You don’t have to dirty your pretty boots out in the barn. I got a much better way of handling this. It’s a foolproof cure against men’s shenanigans.” Maggie pulled a box from beneath Ma’s bed. Jars rattled merrily. “Take one apiece – the cure’s specific, you see. What’ll work on your husband might not take hold of his brother or yours.”

  The doctor inhaled sharply. “I won’t turn you down. Only I’m not promising the men will get any of it.”

  Maggie laughed. “Of course they will. But I have plenty. Do you trade goods for services?”

  Jars of jelly conveniently tucked inside the doctor’s bag, Maggie and the doctor exited the cabin. Having left the barn, Todd and Karl came over to join them.

  “Doctor?” Todd’s voice held a thousand questions. Maggie slipped her hand in his. Being engulfed in his larger hand warmed her clear through.

  “The stroke was significant, but she’s mentally sharp. Time will tell how much she’ll regain – time, and repetitious exercise. Your wife’s kept her limber.” She finally smiled. “Maggie’s given her extraordinary care.”

  Todd flashed Maggie a grateful look and squeezed her hand.

  “I’ve challenged Mrs. Crewel to learn to use her right hand. Urging her to do things for herself and helping with small chores will aid recovery and improve her mood – though she’s likely to resent it at the beginning. Suspend a trapeze-like arrangement over the bed. Your mother could then assist with moving herself and strengthen her arm.”

  While their first visitors drove off, Maggie waved good-bye. “We’ve been blessed with supper by someone named Mercy. I’ll go – ”

  Instantly Todd tugged her toward the house. Maggie laughed as he washed up and she set out the food. “I was going to warm up things.”

  “Should have done that when the doctor was here,” Ma accused.

  “It will all taste fine.” Todd scooped Ma from the bed and put her in the wheelchair. For an instant, Maggie’s heart stuttered. Did he plan to seat Ma next to himself again? “Margaret.” To her joy, he seated her beside his place.

  A loud gasp filled the house. “Son, I am not hungry anymore. Put me back to bed.”

  A big fuss over who sat where at the table? Todd gave his mother an exasperated look. Maggie started serving food onto his plate. Still warm from being in cast iron and surrounded by cloths, the casserole steamed. Irritated and hungry, he started shoving the wheelchair toward the vacant spot.

  “I said, I’m not hungry!”

  “Hungry or not, everyone joins at the table in my home.”

  “But it is my turn. To sit beside you. I yielded it at dinner.”

  “The other place is for you. You have more space, and your chair fits in more easily.” He positioned her chair without another word.

  Todd sighed heavily as he sat. Ma was being childish, yet Maggie filled a teacup with corn and a high-edged saucer with casserole. Generous of heart, my wife. With her loving care, Ma can’t help improving. Todd bowed his head and asked a blessing.

  Maggie turned to Ma and draped the dishcloth over her bodice. “I thought we’d try something new.” She threaded Ma’s left forefinger through the teacup handle and curled her
hand about it, resting it on the tabletop.

  “I can’t lift it.” Ma sounded on the verge of tears.

  “I didn’t intend for you to.” Maggie tucked the saucer against the cup and put a spoon in Ma’s right hand. “Your left hand will steady the dishes, and you can feed yourself. How is it, Todd?”

  Todd took a quick gulp. “Sehr gut!”

  Turning back to her plate, Maggie served herself. “If it’s as toothsome as it smells, I’ll have to get the recipe.”

  Pleased as could be, Todd shoveled in the meal. His bride treated his mama nice even when Ma was in a rare mood – though it seemed less and less rare these days. Ma’s low opinion of his bride vexed him. A wife deserved her husband’s honor – and he’d see to it Maggie got her due. He owed Ma his respect, too – but Ma knew where he stood. Maggie figured it out, too, when he ignored Ma’s snit and seated Maggie in her rightful place at the table.

  Dealing with two emotional women after living alone tested a man. Ma had been a handful since she took sick, and as he’d told Bo Carver, she was the worst patient in the world. But his wife – he’d been wrong about her. Todd expected her to be more biddable. Back in the holler, she’d been calm, easygoing, and predictable. Today she’d shamelessly disobeyed him and could have been trampled, then gotten angry because he’d mentioned her outlandish collection of junk. Not that he was especially good at picking up what women thought, but her slamming the wedding quilt back inside the trunk wasn’t a subtle hint as to how riled up she felt.

  His bride scooped another big helping onto his plate. “Ma, you’d better start eating, else your son will inhale every last speck.”

  Ma dropped the spoon. “You expect far too much. The next thing I know, you’ll say the doctor wants me to have that vile bar over my bed.”

  Maggie choked on her coffee.

  “The doctor ordered such a bar,” Todd confirmed. “Tomorrow, it will be so. You will work hard and strengthen yourself with it. Make me proud.”

  The droop on one side of Ma’s face already made her appear melancholy, but something about the angle of her mouth transmitted more emotion. “You will be ashamed when you find out what happened. Like a tramp peddler, your wife traded instead of using credit.”

  “Ma, many of the folks here barter with Doc. My wife was clever to do so.”

  “I promise you, you will not approve. She arranged for two visits – ”

  “Then I’m very pleased.”

  “ – with jelly,” Ma tacked on.

  Todd half roared, “You gave away my jelly?”

  “No.” His wife didn’t have the decency to show a scrap of regret. Calm as could be, she reached for her glass. “Your jam and jelly are safe. I used my trading supply.”

  Drumming his fingers on the table, Todd thought for a moment. “Everything of yours is mine. Thus all of the jam and jelly are mine.”

  “Aye. You could say that.” Maggie nodded. “But Valmers don’t take charity. Paying in advance makes sure we don’t have to go begging or borrowing someday. That assurance is sweeter than any jelly.” She took a sip. “ ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ ” she quoted from Hamlet. “I’ll owe no man.”

  Sobered by her words, he grated, “Maybe not a man, but the bank.”

  “We owe money?” She sounded scandalized.

  “Of course I do. The Oklahoma ’89 Land Rush was before I came west. Land in Texas is not free. I bought enough land to support several sons, and I needed funds for the barn, to drill for water, to buy starter seed, and all the essentials.”

  “Todd, I’d like a word with you.” She turned and stepped outside, expecting him to follow, which he did despite the look in his ma’s eyes.

  Maggie didn’t stop until she was standing by the windmill. “Your family sent you here with nothing?”

  Todd looked into his bride’s shocked eyes. “I grew up in Virginia. Dad passed away when I was eleven. Ma’s second husband and I farmed the Valmer land. It was my birthright. I took on extra work for a neighboring widow, and I earned a matched pair of horses. Those horses were my pride, and that land was my joy. The week before I turned eighteen, my stepfather had an accident while cleaning his gun. Then the banker informed me Mr. Crewel used my land as collateral on a loan.”

  “He couldn’t!” Maggie grabbed his arm. “He didn’t – the snake!”

  “While I was a minor, he had the legal power. I was desperate, and I pledged to sell the horses or put them up for collateral. But Mr. Crewel already had. We lost everything – all but the furniture and dishes the banker let Ma take with her to Arletta’s.”

  “My ancestors settled Carver’s Holler,” she said in a soft, strained voice. “Land passed from generation to generation – as yours should have. Finding out about our debt – it surprised me, is all. We’ll work hard and pay it right off.”

  A new tenderness took root in his heart. Such innocent resolve on her face! That only made it worse. She deserved to know the galling truth. He should have told her before they married. Anger at the situation and at himself for saddling her with such a burden filled his voice. “It’ll take years before this farm is free and clear.”

  “Seeing as we’re going to grow old together, I reckon we’ll have plenty of years together to succeed.”

  “Years, Maggie. If a farm is in arrears, the bank can foreclose – and it has. Two farms last year, and already one this year.” He waited for that ugly piece of information to sink in. “The Panic last year only made the situation worse – costs are greater, and grain prices are low. Very low.”

  She clutched his hand. “We’ll do our best, and we’ll do it together.”

  Todd studied his wife. In a span of minutes the woman who said she’d owe no man went from thinking things were a little tight to learning she’d married a heavily mortgaged man and they were barely hanging on. She didn’t look shocked or scared or even angry.

  “I’m right proud of you, Husband. You’ve built all of this – gone from penniless to paradise. Aye, with God’s help, you’ll pull us through.” Determination made her chin tilt up a little and courage lit her eyes. She made him believe they could do it.

  Yes, he’d gotten himself quite a bride.

  Later that night, after washing the dishes, Maggie again stepped outside to find Todd waiting for her.

  Drawing her to himself, he made the distance between them disappear entirely. Even in the light of the skimpy moon, his eyes glittered as he studied her. At complete odds with that intense look, the corner of his mouth kicked up in his boyishly endearing, lopsided grin. “Mercy’s apple cobbler tasted fine, but I had a little taste of your apple pie, and there’s no comparison.”

  A nervous laugh shivered out of her. Todd silenced it with a hard, swift kiss, then he tucked her beside himself and grumbled, “After all the layers you put on this morning, I don’t see how you can be cold.”

  “Todd!”

  “There is no need for you to be bashful.” Keeping her close, he reached over with his other hand and tenderly ran just the tip of his forefinger along her hairline. “You are my wife, and I am your husband. We belong to one another.”

  He was right. Uncle Bo even reminded her of that reality before he gave her away. Maggie let out a shaky breath. “I’m not used to thinking that way. It’ll take me a while.”

  “Walk with me.” They ambled toward the house. After a pause, he mused, “You always put Ma’s chair to the right side of the bed.”

  “That way, she’ll be able to use her strong side to help herself in and out.”

  Compressing his lips, he stared off at the fields.

  She followed his gaze. “The winter wheat looks good. You put in a dandy crop. This section here would be convenient for a vegetable garden. Penned in as they’ve been, Adam and Eve be rarin’ to turn the soil. I brought seeds from home – but if you have some on hand that’re favorites, I’ll be sure to nurture them along.” I’m babbling. I can’t help it.

  After a day of near-fr
antic work, the walk should have given her a sense of peace – but it didn’t. Once they got inside, Todd plucked her plaid from its peg. Stretching out the abundant length, he waited for her to back into it. She did, yet he didn’t merely drape it over her shoulders. Her husband used it to wrap her into an engulfing embrace. Though unmistakably present, his strength altered – his arms transmitted the same tenderness his eyes and words carried just moments ago. One kind of shivers stopped and another began when he murmured into her ear, “I’ll put together the bed. Get the quilt.”

  The light jumped as the lantern jostled atop the carefully loaded wheelbarrow. “Lord, yonder’s my home. That’s the family I’m supposed to fit in with. Right now, it’s pinching like a new boot. Maybe we all need to be broken in before things will be comfortable. I’d have a gladsome heart if that’s how you worked matters out, and a mighty thankful one if you’d see fit to make it happen fast.”

  She looked down at the quilts she piled in with her supplies. Her Rose of Sharon newlywed quilt was the last thing she wanted to put on her bed. Our bed, she corrected herself with a gulp. She didn’t feel like a bride.

  But Todd was her man, and the Holy Bible said she was to honor and respect him. He’d told her to go get the quilt. Temptation tore at her to leave it behind and bring others, pretending to misunderstand. Only they’d both know the truth. That was no way to start out as man and wife. So along with sheets she’d embroidered with roses, she brought three quilts, two fat feather pillows, and a pretty nightgown that was far too lightweight for this time of year.

  Light shone through the window. Sewing curtains would pretty up the place. Surely some fabric in her trade goods would look nice with her Rose of Sharon and the Virginia Rose she’d hung in the center of the cabin for privacy. Knowing full well Ma was watching every little thing like a hawk, Maggie made a point of counting logs to show she’d been scrupulously fair in giving Ma a full half of the sleeping area. With a bed against each wall, there was just enough room for the dresser between them. The washstand and stove filled the third corner, and the table occupied the fourth. In a move to please Ma, Maggie even hung her quilt so the pretty appliqué faced Ma’s bed.