Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  How do I answer that? I don’t want him to know I love him.

  Cupping her jaw, he stared into her eyes. “Your silence is answer enough.” He let out a cross between a moan and a growl. “Every night I shut our door and know the land surrounding us has taken all we have to give – and it may not be enough. All of my strength and knowledge and vigor are aimed at providing what you need.” He patted the mare who stuck her head over the stall gate for affection.

  If only I could do that – to reach out, confident of our love. Sorrows swamped her. “If you’re asking if I trust you . . . Yes.” The colts came to her, and she babied them. “So much so, I will gladly follow you to start again wherever you take us.”

  “That is a large trust. I pray it’s not one you have to exercise, but knowing you feel thus – it is good. Should I become blind, would you stay with me and lead me where I needed to go?”

  She stopped playing with the ponies and gave him an outraged look. “You don’t need to ask that! Of course I would.”

  “I am blind to see what you need. My own friend knows better. He spoke, and there was such longing in your eyes and voice – ”

  Maggie stepped toe-to-toe and jabbed her finger in his chest. “Have you lost all good sense? Me? Long for John Toomel? Have you so little faith in my loyalty to you and to my dearest friend?” As her voice rose, the horses all shuffled and let out nervous sounds.

  Todd looked thunderstruck. Then he had the nerve to laugh. “You misunderstand.”

  “You want me to trust you when you make my hair stand on end and laugh afterwards?” She turned her back on him and paid attention to Nuts and Bolts.

  “To trust someone, it means you can depend upon them for large and small things. Why, Maggie? Why didn’t you ask me to wash dishes?”

  Maggie made an impatient sound. “You washed dishes in Carver’s Holler. Why pretend now that you were ‘blind’ to the need?”

  Grazing a set of blinders on a hook, Todd said, “I borrowed John’s eyeglasses for an instant, and then I saw things clearly.” Then he pushed away the gelding who had edged up to him. “Ma is another thing. Does she treat you the same alone as when I am there?”

  Maggie kept her distance from Hammer’s stall. Considering his temperament, it was a marvel Todd hadn’t sent him to the glue pot. “Overall, nothing I do is right. It’s not good enough. The bread I bake, the color of a dress – she plans to change me.”

  She sighed. “Loving someone means taking them just as they are. God did the job right the first time. Nobody else needs to come by and redesign His work. His work isn’t ever done, so we can change – and I will. But that’s betwixt me and God . . . and sometimes you. But I don’t see a time coming soon when Ma takes a mind to be happy that you married me. She can’t find a loving thing to say, and you . . . you can’t find love at all.”

  For an instant, Maggie felt free. She’d told the truth. Then she felt dreadful. “Only thing that came of me giving you the truth is that now we’re both miserable.”

  “This is not so, Magpie. My eyes are open. I will help you with dishes just as you help me in the fields. Together, we will talk to Ma. You come first in my home. We said we would not ask Arletta to take Ma back, but that depends on Ma. I would sooner send Ma to my sister than have my wife mistreated in our home.”

  Maggie gave him a sad look. “I love her, you know. I see so much good down deep inside her heart. Some days you’ll have to help me look for it, though.”

  “I’ll put a request in the bartering book.” He winked. “For a magnifying glass. Or a microscope.”

  Sliding the back of his fingers down her cheek, he shook his head. “I set my greatest burdens before you, and you have been my helpmeet. Instead of leaning on me, you stand alone. The time has come for you to trust me to be your helpmeet, too.”

  Her flower press sat in a stall. Boxes of bottles and jars surrounded it. Ma was wrong. Maggie didn’t have any doodads or junk anymore. She’d traded away all of her “specials and sparkles” without a complaint. The only things she insisted upon keeping belonged to her legacy. “I’m grieved about the roses, Magpie. When you trusted me with what they meant, seeing you plant them gave me joy. I know how precious they were to you.”

  Grief mushroomed, but also sorrow. “You said it was better to get the roses out of the barn than have them stay in here.”

  Todd nodded. He looked pleased with himself. Maggie thought about what he’d said. Dear heavenly Father – I resented his words when they were meant to be good. “Oh, Husband! We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to make mistakes and figure out better ways of getting along. But we’re supposed to do it together. I apologize. I’ll try to trust you more.”

  “Men – especially this stubborn German farmer – don’t like to admit they’d done poorly. But I have.”

  Distress clouded her eyes. “No! I’ve never seen anyone work so long and hard. Don’t say that!”

  They stood by the barn door. He gestured outward but looked at her. “The fields around us have taken my time, my consideration, my labor – ”

  “And I’m so proud of you.”

  “I’m not.” Her sweet support only made him feel more like a failure. “The most important field I have is our marriage. You are the crop. I was lazy. I cut off weeds instead of pulling them out, yet even the heartiest crop can be choked out. I have prayed for rain, but I have carried too few buckets to the field. I complain of the drought on the farm, but the worst drought has been in our marriage. In every way, I will do better to tend to you as that which is most dear to me.”

  “I reckon we’ve got a deal. Second one we’ve made.” Her pitiful attempt at a smile hit him like a punch.

  He pulled her into his arms. “This is our first deal, Maggie. Getting married was never a deal. We held hands and took a leap of faith.”

  Her head tilted to the side. “There’s a fine thought. I’ll ponder that.”

  Todd knew there was no better time than now for him to speak his heart. “I’ve made a decision, Maggie. With the additional crops, I doubt that we can meet our debts. I cannot run horses and start a farm at the same time. It was a footloose bachelor’s dream. Hammer and Wrench, Nuts and Bolts – we don’t need them. Not with my gelding and the Belgians.”

  “You love your horses!”

  “They pale in comparison to my family.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “We didn’t pray about it together. Can’t we do that?”

  “God provided the horses and preserved them through their injuries for such a time as this.” Her distress tugged at him. Weeks ago, the decision would have bothered him, but tonight, he’d come to the decision without difficulty. “Don’t be sad, Margaret. About your roses, yes, but not about the horses. Most of all, let’s think of this as a time when we saw hope for our future. In all ways.”

  He pulled out her ivory comb. Using his fingers, he untwisted her hair. She shivered – but he knew it wasn’t from cold. “I like your hair down. It’s your crowning glory.”

  She cleared her throat and pulled away from his touch. He’d seen her eyes dilate and the unconscious way she leaned into his hand as he stroked her soft hair. The distance she tried to put between them wouldn’t last long if he considered his actions, courted her far more aggressively, and sought God’s way of falling head-over-heels in love with her.

  “I don’t want you to sell the horses. I want you to have your dream. The Bible says, ‘Where there is no vision, the people perish.’ You saw my hope for the roses and tried to make it possible. I want you to have the horses and start that business. Once the harvest is in, then we’ll see how God provided. Until then, don’t sell them.”

  It was something that could wait. He nodded. “I need to speak with Ma, and she will give you her apology at breakfast. You need to take butter to town. Once she is dressed, go have a little time of your own and do as you like. I’ll keep close to the house to mind her.”

  “Thank you.”

  His arms
closed about her. It felt good, but she pushed away. One quick tug, and he had her against him. “You are my woman. Don’t do that.”

  “You’re wrong. I was your bride. And the preacher pronounced us man and wife. But woman – that’s what God called Eve when she was created as Adam’s perfect mate. It’s what Daddy and Uncle Bo called their wives. You’re my man, but I’m not your woman. Not until you love me.”

  He inhaled sharply and tilted her face upward. “You love me.”

  It wasn’t a question, so she gave no reply. Lowering her eyes so he couldn’t look into them, she tried to hide her heart with silence.

  “You do. Why have you not told me?”

  Her shoulders rose and dropped slowly, but with a choppiness that denoted her fighting not to cry. “I did tell you.”

  Without question, he would have remembered that moment, which left only two possibilities. “Was I sleeping? To sneak such a declaration in when the other is sleeping – that is without courage. Or is it when you sing that song in Gaelic? So I could not understand? I expected more of you, Wife.”

  Her head came up, and she muttered, “You’re relentless as a nagging toothache.”

  Silent, he waited.

  Gathering herself, she said, “I made my declaration, and it took more courage than I had on my own, so I was sure to wear the hatpin Daddy carved for me.”

  “That was fitting.”

  “Aye, but still I didn’t have sufficient, so I put on two little things that belonged to my mama.”

  He still didn’t understand. It was no wonder he didn’t love her yet. He couldn’t understand her to save his soul. “What?”

  “Her veil and plaid.” His arms clenched about her. “Aye, Husband. We took a leap of faith on our wedding day, but I was wearing my heart on my sleeve.”

  Again, he inhaled deeply. The breath came out slowly. Oh, so slowly. Tucking her head back down, he held her with every scrap of tenderness he could summon.

  Honor demanded he not say what she longed to hear – but the temptation pulled at him. Three little words, and he’d warm her heart and soothe away some of the ache of these last weeks. Now that his eyes were open, he could see all the ways she’d given him her love.

  His fingers played through her hair. “I’m humbled by your love. Were I to proclaim more than what is true on my part, it would cheapen the value of what you give me. When I love you, it will be with my whole heart and soul and being.” He kissed her crown. “Someday, my dear, sweet wife, I will tell you I love you, too. You are perfect for me as Eve was for Adam. I will do whatever it takes to be the man you deserve. God brought us together – surely He will work in my heart to let love flourish. Give me your trust a little longer. I promise, you will be my woman.”

  The next morning, Helga felt a shift in the home. Linette had put her to bed last night, and no one said anything today about last night. Todd rolled her to the table. Before taking his place, he seated Magpie and gave her shoulders a little squeeze.

  Once he finished praying, Helga rasped, “I need to speak.”

  “Ja, you do.” Todd stared at her. “You owe my wife an apology.”

  “About last night . . . the things I said, I stand by. But I should not have said them in front of others. Magpie, I should have said them to you when we were by ourselves.”

  Maggie set down her fork. “Nay, Ma. If you’re afraid to have others hear what you say, then you oughtn’t say it.”

  “At the beginning, I was harsh. I admit this – ”

  “So you knowingly hurt my wife.” His eyes and voice were both cold and hard as sleet. “Changes will be made.”

  “B-but we have been doing better.” Helga turned to Maggie. “What about all the fun we shared, baking cookies?”

  “The cookies were fun – but I’m a grown woman and don’t need someone to boss me around.”

  “I’m trying to help you. Give you instruction.”

  “Ma’am, on occasion you’ve told me some fine tricks and shortcuts around the house, and I’m glad of it. But instruct means to equip or train. To put something together. It doesn’t mean tearing someone down by finding fault or pushing them to change on account of them being different. I don’t need to change what I cook or how I wear my hair.”

  “But you do! If people accept you, they will help you more.”

  “Ma’am, if I gotta be someone else to garner their help, I’d rather do it on my own.” Maggie rose and scraped her eggs into the swill bucket.

  “Go on ahead,” Todd rumbled. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Maggie wrapped her plaid around herself. “We have a lot to do. As soon as I get to town, I’ll check with the doctor or Widow O’Toole.”

  Todd looked his wife in the eye and nodded. “So.” He went out to help her into the wagon, then came back, and looked at Helga.

  “Still you did not apologize. I do not deserve Maggie. She is far too good for me. All her loving care, and yet you hurt her.” He shook his head. “Things must change.” He turned away and rolled up his sleeves.

  To Helga’s utter astonishment, Todd put the breakfast dishes in the aluminum tub. Big, strong hands washing china. She’d never seen such a sight.

  That was proof. Everything had changed. Everything but her.

  After finishing the dishes, Todd wheeled her to the window and went out to work. Regret and worry tangled inside her as she looked through the window. A few hours later, a horrified cry tore through her at what she saw.

  Twenty

  As the Belgians halted in front of the house, Maggie beamed. “Todd! I brought home a little Sunshine. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “That stove is bigger than the one you had in the holler.”

  “From the awe in your voice, I can tell how pleased you are.” She couldn’t resist. “And it’s the exact same style, but one size down.”

  “It won’t fit, Maggie. Even if we enlarge the cabin, it will have to stay in the barn.”

  “Then you’ll be comfortably warm when you sleep out there . . . alone.” In comparison to the house, it was gigantic – and she knew it. “I can’t send it back. My uncles sent it as a wedding gift. We’ll have to find a way to make this work.” Standing on the edge of the buckboard, she waited for him to help her down. His hands went about her waist. She jumped and flung her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to pretend, Todd. I can see how grateful you are to have it.”

  He held her tight and growled in her ear, “You test me, Wife?”

  “If, perchance, I did, could you not still appreciate the result?” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m holding you to your word. You told me to do as I wished.”

  “I didn’t say I’d like it.”

  She wiggled free. “Think of how our farm will benefit! Once you look at it that way, you’ll share my delight.” Thunder rolled across his features, and she laughed. “Things could be worse. Jerlund is urging Uncle Bo to send Ma that chandelier.”

  The muscle in his cheek twitched. “The stove stays. But that abomination stays back in the hills!”

  “Well, well. I just might make a trader out of you yet.”

  He gave the stove a disgruntled look. “That’s not going in my barn.”

  “I could turn the sod wall into a summer kitchen. If you put it there, I promise I’ll never use it to bake prune bread.”

  “Deal!”

  Maggie went inside. She took care of Ma’s needs, but Ma balked at doing exercises.

  Exasperated, Maggie demanded, “What do you expect me to tell Jerlund in my next letter? This sad state of affairs is going to disappoint him.”

  “I’ll do better.” Ma caught Maggie’s hand. “Not just about my exercises.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Steering Ma through the door, Maggie promised herself she’d water all the vegetables before she checked her roses.

  “You’re going to do it.” Ma burst into tears. “You’re going to make me stay with her.” Ma was beside herself. Sobbing
, she babbled an incomprehensible stream of words.

  Maggie grabbed a pair of dish towels and a glass of water. “A hanky would be a waste of time. Here, now. Take a sip.” It took a fair bit of work to calm Ma – though that term seemed generous. “What’s upset you?”

  “You went to town, and you got that . . . that thing. That stove. It says it all.”

  “I’ve yet to hear a stove talk, Ma.” Maggie teased softly, tenderly wiping the sagging side of Ma’s face. “It’s a gift from my family. Think of the delicious meals that’ll come from it.”

  Ma shook her head. “I will be gone. Why would I want to think about that?”

  “And where, I’m asking, are you supposing you’d be?”

  “Living with Eunice O’Toole. You went to town and met with the doctor and her. And then you brought back that oven so there won’t be any room for me.”

  Dropping the dish towel and spilling the water, Maggie yelled, “What kind of silly notion was that? Am I the only one in this house whose heart and mind work right? You’re not going anywhere!”

  Temporarily stunned, Ma simply blinked.

  “Your son won’t risk his heart, and you think I haven’t a heart a-tall. You think I’d shove you out the door so a block of iron could take your place? Nay! True and to be certain, you’ve been a handful and sometimes a heartache. But you’re our handful – and you can quit being a heartache if you set your mind to it.

  “Paw-Paw said you could foster happiness and add to our joy – or sow hurt and discord. It’s a choice you make each day, each hour, and with each thought. You’re our kin, and we take care of our own. I’d have it no other way. But kin doesn’t make war on one another. No folks ought to – but certainly not people under the same roof. The time’s come for harmony, and you have to do your part.

  “You’re stuck with me, Helga Crewel. Your son wed me, and I’ve pledged my heart to him. I left everyone I love behind and came west because I was convinced it was God’s will. Day by day I’ve come to love my man more. He’s too blind to see. You’re just as blind if you think I’d boil up a pot of hatred and serve it to you until you had to leave. At eight, I lost my mama. Arletta’s half the world away. I’m missing a ma and you’re missing a daughter. God could knit us together if you’d stop tying a bunch of knots.