Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Be that as it may, if and when Todd sees a need, it’s his place to choose the advisor.” Maggie picked up another cup, then slid all the dishes into the sudsy bucket. If only life’s problems would wash away as easily as the dishes!

  Todd added H. J. Baker’s fertilizer to the newly plowed land. He’d bought it back when he had a tiny bit of money before the wolves got to the colts – everyone said it was the best, and it better be. He barely had enough to take care of the fields, let alone the garden. Carefully, he calculated half for the vegetables and a quarter for each of the other new fields. Feeding his family came before all else. If the garden thrived, Maggie would grow, can, pickle, and preserve food year-round. Fresh tasted best, of course, but something she did when she put up her fruits and vegetables made them taste almost fresh-picked. By the time things came ripe, they would have eaten what she brought. She could use the same jars and spare that expense, too. That, in and of itself, provided a reason she shouldn’t barter away any of his jelly. Yes, the garden deserved most of the fertilizer. They’d have food, and almost as important – he’d save money.

  Todd didn’t think in terms of dollars. Not even in terms of quarters and dimes, though that would be nice. Conserving pennies and nickels by making do or doing without kept his head above water. Though Maggie didn’t understand that when she asked for the outhouse door, she knew now.

  Diligently, he distributed the fertilizer. Shoveling manure atop it took the rest of the morning. After lunch, he’d use the spring harrow.

  Waving a dishcloth in the air, Maggie summoned him at midday. Splashing off for meals wasn’t good enough for her; if a man couldn’t dust off what ailed his clothes, then he had to change. A white flour-sack shirt awaited him, along with a bucket of warm water, a bar of soap, and a flour-sack towel.

  Mouthwatering aromas wafted from the house. Scrubbed Sunday-clean, he hastened to the table and fought drooling during grace. “Good food.” He attacked Maggie’s green beans first. Until their garden produced, the cans she brought along would be a rare treat. “Finding the shirt and washbowl outside – it was nice.”

  “You wash up good, plowboy.” Maggie set down her glass. “If you didn’t guess, I’m going to civilize you.”

  “Civilize him?” Ma’s voice sounded shrill as a penny whistle.

  “Aye,” Maggie sighed. “I know you spent eighteen long years a-trying. Probably made fair headway, but two years on his own, and Todd didn’t even own a pair of forks.”

  “Only needed one,” he muttered. He didn’t mind. The interplay proved his wife and Ma were still speaking.

  “Ma’s doing mighty good with her fork.”

  “It would be easier if the gravy had more substance.” Ma whispered, “Next time, add a little more flour.”

  Once he cleaned his plate, Todd said the after-meal prayer, then rose. “Ma, I’ll put you to bed for your nap.”

  Patting his chest with her good hand, Ma said, “The sun’s beating through the window, and I’ll never be able to fall asleep. Put me in the other bed so I’m behind the curtain.”

  “No.” Maggie blurted out the word.

  His wife had a right to speak her mind about her bed. Their bed. But Ma needed her sleep and the cabin was bright.

  “Our side of the cabin is far smaller. Ma has a nice, big slice of our home – partly because she says she can’t bear to be closed in.” Maggie grabbed a blanket. “I’ll tack this over the window right quick.”

  “Since it is daytime, if we pull the quilt halfway, it’ll be dark enough for me and I won’t feel pinned in.” Ma’s voice broke. “I won’t mess your bed. I won’t!”

  Todd grimaced. Because he’d hollered at Ma last night, she’d stayed utterly silent – and embarrassed herself as a result. She’d been completely wrong in her actions, but he never wanted her to feel she couldn’t ask for help. And that was all she was doing now. Simply asking for a little help so she could rest comfortably. “Okay, Ma. Just this once.” As he carried Ma over those few steps, Maggie whisked away her Rose of Sharon, then yanked back the remaining bedcovers. Wordlessly, she folded her prized quilt with jerky moves and set it atop the table. He’d triggered her temper, but it seemed so petty. It was just once.

  Lying on the bed, Ma cooed, “Oh my. What a nice bed. So comfortable. It’s far more padded than mine. Softer, too. And I spend so much time in bed.”

  “I’ll see to stuffing your mattress with fresh hay or corn shuckings.” Maggie came over, bearing the chamber pot.

  Todd stood back, then yanked the bedding off Ma’s mattress. He’d wanted to do something simple and nice for Ma, but she was turning it into more work for everyone. “I’ll be in the barn.”

  Rose of Sharon quilt over her arms, Maggie marched out to the barn. Bristling, she came in through the side door and headed toward the stalls holding all of her junk. A solid clunk let him know she’d put their newlywed quilt back in the dowry chest. Boy, he’d tweaked her temper. Maggie didn’t bother to glance his way.

  “Took me four years to gather the feathers and make that mattress. Your ma’s nudged up against it, nigh unto crawled into it betwixt us last night, and now she’s lying in it. You told her our marriage bed is private, but quick as lightning, she found her way in it – and she’s angling to keep it, too.”

  “For crying out loud! It’s just for a nap. And it’s just this once.”

  Maggie tossed him a heated look.

  “It’s what we will share in the bed that is private – not the bed itself. Take pride that she appreciates the fine bed you made.”

  “We have work to do.” Eyes trained on the barn floor, she sidled past him and out toward the field. She was in a rare temper, but from the sound of the crazy insult she yelled to Adam, raging emotions didn’t keep her from work. Good thing. She was more than a mite touchy, and if she indulged in tantrums each time he crossed her, nothing would ever get done.

  By the time Todd made it to the vegetable garden, his bride had directed the Belgians a quarter of the length of the field. A fine sight they were – all three of them. No sluggard, she. The labor ought to do her some good – he always found putting himself to a hard task allowed him to work out thoughts and feelings.

  The woman’s emotions were the best and worst part of her. She cared so tenderly, but her sentimentality about objects tied her in knots. He’d have to work on that flaw.

  She’d said something about her roses a couple of times now – wanting a “bit o’ land” for “the flowering legacy” left to her. Women set store by those things. After last night’s debacle and now him giving in to Ma, she felt put upon. Yielding a little room for her flowers would smooth her ruffled feathers. Yes. That would be good. Intending to tell her so, he signaled her to halt at the row’s end. Instead, he thundered, “Where are your gloves?”

  “They were too large, so I traded them for a box of laboratory beakers.”

  “That was a useless trade.”

  “Not at all. I use the beakers every year.”

  A disbelieving half laugh burst from him. “You bother to barter for something and keep it when you use it only once a year? No wonder my barn overflows with your possessions.”

  Her jaw hardened. “Once we put my roses to bed, that’ll trim out a dozen crates. Yah! Thou fly-covered – ”

  “Whoa!” He’d actually meant the command for Magpie, but the horses halted, too. “A dozen – ”

  “Aye. The Flinn twins gave fair warning of that freakish storm, so we’d gone out and buried the bushes. My uncles crated some for me to bring so I’d keep my legacy intact. Five to the crate was all that fit.”

  “A dozen crates. Five apiece. Sixty! Sixty rosebushes?” He shook his head. “Wife, you haven’t the time or water to indulge in such an outlandish notion. Plant one crate. Two, even. But that’s the limit.”

  Blanched, she fisted her hands. They and her voice shook. “You don’t mean it.”

  “I do.”

  “My legacy!”

>   “A woman’s legacy is the children she bears, not the flowers she plants.”

  Shaking her head, she near scorched him with her anger. “How am I to teach my daughters to make the soap and perfume and lo – ”

  “A dozen bushes will be more than sufficient.”

  “That’s scarce enough to cover our own needs, what with me slathering it on your ma.”

  He’d make her see his point, and by doing so would help rid his barn of useless nonsense. “A dozen bushes will be sufficient for now. That is as it should be.”

  She stared at him. Hard. A deep breath raised her shoulders, and she let it out very slowly. “It’s been a bad couple of days, and a lot has happened. Todd Valmer, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here and letting you reconsider.”

  “I know my mind, Margaret. You cannot waste that much of my land for flowers or keep unnecessary goods cluttering up my house or barn. If they are not used several times in a year, they need to go.”

  She folded her arms around her ribs. “That’s what you really think?”

  He nodded once, emphatically. “Barns are for horses and tools.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Your mother was right.”

  She left him standing in the field, then walked over the furrows they’d plowed together and into the barn. Tears clouded her vision, but she kept blinking them away. Once she was out of sight, she could fall apart – but not in front of him. He’d guess how she felt about him if she showed him any vulnerability, and she’d already been a big enough fool.

  First things first. She brought a buckboard. Rightfully it and these other things were hers. A crate of her beloved roses, then a second . . . She was lifting the third when Todd came in.

  “I’ll help you.” He took it from her and lifted it into the buckboard. Then he loaded the fourth. And the fifth. “The timing is good. Tomorrow at church, you can give these to your new friends.”

  Dozens of empty glass bottles tinkled inside the next box she lifted. “Nay.”

  He took that box and loaded it, as well. In fact, he quite happily helped her lift her flower press, the crates of glycerin, and all else that went with her legacy. When she lifted another box, he stopped her. “Nein. This one, you keep. See? Two. You keep the two. And now there is already much gone from my barn.” He had the unmitigated gall to look pleased.

  Maggie edged past him and shoved it up beside the others. As she lifted the last one, Todd stopped her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Correcting a terrible mistake.”

  Fourteen

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You have your barn. You have your house. And your land and water, too.” She stressed, “Yours.”

  “Ja. Margaret – ”

  “That’s right. Call me Margaret. Margaret Rose. That’s who I truly am. You didn’t bring me here to be your helpmeet. You brought me here to be your help. I won’t stand for it.” The books she brought along weighed a ton. Hefting the box took all her strength. Voice strained, she rasped, “And as soon as I rid your barn of my things, I’ll be gone.”

  He ripped the box from her and cast it aside. “What has gotten into you?”

  “Belated good sense.”

  A disbelieving laugh cracked from him. “Nothing you’ve said makes sense. After the way we kissed this morning, you believe I have you here as a servant?” His eyes shot fire.

  “Facts speak for themselves.”

  “They do.” His bellowed agreement almost bowled her over. “You get riled and think to run away? Nonsense. All of it.”

  “Nonsense,” she choked back, “is what you spouted to bring me here. I’m going back home where they love and respect me.”

  “This is your home!” He roared the words.

  He hadn’t said he loved and respected her. That lack thrashed her heart. She shook her head. “Nay. Minutes ago, you declared this is your barn, your land, your house. Not ours. Yours. What I hold dear matters not a whit.” A strangled laugh curled in her throat. “Your mother told me why you married me. She played the hostess to those men yesternoon and answered to ‘Mrs. Valmer,’ making sure I knew my place. But most of all, she kept us apart last night.”

  Palm on his forehead, he heaved a mighty sigh. “I’m sorry about that. I’m mad, too. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t.” Bitter laughter saved her from bursting into tears. “I’m not stupid enough to be in that situation again.”

  “Wife!”

  Turning away, she looked for what other small things might fit in the wagon. “I’m not your wife, and I’m not going to be.” For all the tumult inside, she strove to treat it as a business deal that soured. “You gave your word that my treasures and legacy were welcome. It was the one condition I had, and you agreed. You just stood out there and reneged on it all. I gave you a chance to reconsider, and you stood firm. Well, I know my mind, too. And of this I’m sure: You just cancelled our whole arrangement because I’ll never destroy my legacy, and I don’t deal with men I can’t trust.”

  “Don’t question my honor, Wife.” His harsh whisper cracked through the air like a lash.

  “My honor was questioned this morning. And I’ve not done a thing to deserve such treatment. You, on the other hand, just backed out on our deal.”

  “I stood in your defense.” He looked downright indignant.

  It was good to know he was certain about her – but she still wasn’t so sure of him.

  The vein in his temple beat forcefully, and the muscle in his cheek twitched. Hands on his hips and standing like a colossus, he should have scared her, but he didn’t. He’d never hurt her physically, but Maggie feared if she stayed, he’d tear her heart to shreds. Already it was ragged.

  “Six. You filled six boxes with your treasures. I agreed to those and understood there would be clothing and cooking stuff. I agreed to that much and your legacy thing. I’ve kept my word. You took advantage.”

  She let out an incredulous laugh that was precariously close to tears. “I didn’t agree to only six boxes. If you made an assumption, I’m not to blame.” She promised herself she’d say no more, but the next words escaped without her intention. “You promised to try to love me.”

  “I am trying to, Magpie, but you are the most trying woman I know!”

  “You can stop trying now.” She couldn’t take everything she’d brought to Texas, but she’d take the most meaningful. Her barrel of china came next. “Loving someone ought not be a miserable burden. I’ll leave the bribe that hooked you. With time, Adam will become obedient.”

  Todd grabbed her before she lifted the barrel. “With time, you will be obedient, too.”

  “Don’t liken me to a horse!”

  He looked stunned that she’d screamed. “You vowed – ”

  “You don’t hold to your vows, but you expect me to? Nay. That is no marriage at all. I’m putting an end to this now.” Embarrassment scorched a path across her face – joining the searing burn his rejection left in her heart. She had to speak the truth quickly, before her mortification and tears overtook her. “We’ve not yet become one in God’s eyes, so the marriage can be annulled.”

  “Nein! No.” He wrapped his arms about her, clutching her as closely as he had that morning when they kissed. “You are my wife. A bed I have made in the loft. A love nest for us – ”

  Her hands came up between them, and she tried to push away. “Possession is not love, nor is it honor.” Until now, she’d managed to speak with a measure of control, but that last line quavered and ended in a sob.

  “Shhh.” Swaying side to side, he kept hold of her. “Shhhh.”

  Ma’s ugly words shredded her memory. “You wanted the horses – keep them. The tools, too. So your barn will hold everything you want.”

  “Only if you are inside it. I want you. It is you I am keeping.” Each time he said you, he squeezed tighter.

  “You put your mother in our bed, and you offer me a bed of hay?�
�� Hands flat on his chest, she tried to push away. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, she felt his solid chest and rapid heartbeat. He looped one arm more snugly around her waist, then slowly ironed the other hand up her spine and cupped her head to his shoulder. Maggie tried to pull away, but he didn’t yield in the least. She tried to stop crying, too – but failed at it, as well.

  “I am lousy with words.” Fumbling to speak, he sounded . . . irritated? Anxious? “Shhh, my Maggie. Shhh.” He rested his cheek on her head, still swaying her. “I could handle only one fork and one skillet. Even then, I did badly with the skillet. I am finding it was much easier than handling a woman.”

  How could he say something so ridiculous and disarm her? Why was she even listening to him?

  He made that hushing sound again before sliding into a deep, wordless, monotone hum. Oddly, it helped. Her feelings were just as raw, but he’d soothed her enough to calm her weeping. “Margaret. You are mine, thus all that is mine is yours. Do you not see this?”

  “You’re only saying so because if you don’t make concessions, I’ll go. But I don’t want to be the wife of a man who b-b-barters his values.” Her throat started to clog up with tears again.

  “You are not.” His swift, confident reply gave odd reassurance. His large chest lifted as he shrugged. “Well . . . except for one thing. I loathe prune bread.”

  A small watery laugh shivered out of Maggie. “Me too.”

  “We make a good team.”

  Snapping to her senses, she pulled away. She couldn’t let her emotions cancel out common sense. That’s what got me here in the first place. “The truth stands. You agreed to my treasures. Those things matter to me, else I’d have left them behind. And my roses!”

  “So . . . some roses – they would help this be like home? When you spoke your uncle’s name earlier, your voice ached.”

  Todd confused her, and she confused herself even more by looking up into his steady eyes. “That’s only part of it.”

  “You have so many feelings. Women – especially you – are a mystery. The wrong pronoun upset you. To me, it is understood: Whatever is mine is yours. Those were your words on the train when I discovered the money you tucked in my pocket.”