Threads of Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

“In spite of my warning?”

  “That’s right. And I’m fully prepared to bear the consequences of my actions . . . ”

  Emily heard the note of light sarcasm and grinned.

  “ . . . for the rest of my life.”

  CHAPTER 28

  JAKE SLOWED HIS horse as he rode past the Sundbergs’ property. Nine days had gone by, and he was slowly adjusting to living in Granddad’s house and riding to work each morning. He timed it so he’d see Emily—as he did this morning. She walked in the yard near a row of flowers with the elderly Mrs. Sundberg, who clung to Emily’s arm. The older woman’s heart hadn’t given out yet. In fact, she seemed better. And Emily hadn’t had any qualms about leaving the boardinghouse and giving up her independent lifestyle. Now she was back into the thick of things with her family and enjoying it.

  Just as she did each morning, Emily blew him a kiss. Jake reined in the gelding at the end of the drive and gave a tug on the brim of his hat. He glimpsed her smile; it would have to satisfy him for the day. It was part of his agreement with the captain, allowing some time to pass and having carefully supervised contact with Emily. The captain called it a “cooling off” period in which they could all pray. Make sure. Seemed a reasonable request from a concerned father, although Jake felt confident about marrying Emily. And what was a few weeks compared to the rest of their lives?

  Fortunately he’d been invited to dine with the Sundbergs almost every night. He enjoyed meeting George Ramsey, Emily’s grandfather. It was great seeing Eden again and getting reacquainted with both him and Zeb. The couple of times he didn’t dine with the family, Jake had business dinners with Mr. Schulz and the law firm’s clients. So far things worked out. Jake served as the aging attorney’s eyes, ears, and legs, researching, interviewing, and investigating—everything Jake found rewarding. Of course he still had a few things to settle in Montana, but he was building the springboard from which he could launch a solid career.

  He spurred his horse on down the road and into town.

  The torrid month of June melted into July, bringing the Fourth of July holiday, which Emily and her family, along with Jake and Besta, celebrated on the deck of the Sea Princess. Even Momma had gone aboard, although they never left the dock. At the end of the month Emily received a letter from Iris, stating that she was sure to have a marriage proposal soon—and that it would be a big surprise. Deidre felt good and wore the knitted sweater that Emily gave her whenever the evenings were cool. What’s more, due to Iris’s help, Deidre was able to put her feet up and rest in the middle of the day. Happy for her friend, Emily wrote a reply and posted it.

  As the month of August brought with it days of rain, Emily shared buggy rides into town with Jake. He let her off at school so she could prepare her classroom and herself for the upcoming school year. On the way home they laughed, talked, and planned their future together. But Poppa still withheld his blessing.

  But then one Sunday afternoon, as she relaxed in the parlor with her family, Emily sensed something was up. Change was in the air, and the coming autumn season had nothing to do with it.

  “I think you ought to go for a stroll, Em,” Eden said.

  Surprised by the comment, she glanced up at her twin. He stood beside the parlor window, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, looking every bit the important executive. Poppa was so proud.

  “A stroll will cheer you up. Guaranteed.”

  “How do you know I need cheering?”

  “Because you look glum.” Eden glanced at Poppa and Momma. “Does she look glum?”

  “Mmm . . . ” Poppa inclined his head. “Probably because Jake couldn’t join us this afternoon.”

  Discomfort blew right through her, and Emily shifted on the settee. She and Jake shared so much, and yet he refused to tell her after church this morning why he couldn’t join her and her family for noon dinner. Perhaps Poppa’s holding back finally discouraged him, although she’d seen Jake yesterday. They’d met beneath the oak tree . . . with Besta standing in the near distance.

  “Well, maybe it’s not meant to be, huh, Em?”

  She heard the teasing note in Eden's voice before she glimpsed his smirk. “Isn’t it time you went back to New York?”

  “Grandpa, Jacob, and I want to be sure Besta makes a full recovery before we leave.”

  “It’ll never be that, I’m afraid.” Momma looked up from her embroidery. The scarlet skirt she wore blended well with the armchair in which she sat. “But her health has improved greatly.”

  “I’d like for my grandmother to be in attendance at my wedding.” Emily sent Poppa a mild glare.

  “Emily, I gave Jake my blessing weeks ago.” Poppa’s voice beheld a tender note. “If he hasn’t formally proposed marriage, the reason has nothing to do with me.”

  The news made Emily feel as though she stood onboard a tossing ship. “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  Was Jake having second thoughts?

  “On a different note, Mrs. Hopper stopped me at church this morning. Apparently Iris is engaged to be married—and you’ll never guess to whom she’s betrothed.”

  “On the contrary, I’m sure I know.” Rez.

  “We should go on a hunting expedition with Jake,” Eden interrupted before more could be said. “Perhaps before I return to New York. Grandpa would enjoy it.”

  “I understand Jake is extremely busy with his work these days.”

  Too busy to think of marrying me. Emily staved off a pout but stood and silently left the room. She heard Grandpa, her uncles, Zeb, and three of her cousins, Kjæl, David, and Jacob, talking out on the front lawn about fishing. Tante Adeline and Tante Agnes chatted nearby. She found her grandmother in the kitchen, slicing a cake. Her two youngest cousins held out their plates.

  “Besta, you’re supposed to be resting.”

  “Oh, Emily, there you are!” She turned from the table and set down the knife. “It’s a lovely afternoon. How about a stroll? Will you accompany me?”

  “Of course.” The doctor permitted short walks as long as Besta moved slowly. “Eden’s been trying to convince me that I need some air. He said I look glum.”

  “You do!” Kate grinned.

  Emily bristled at the teasing. “Oh, go eat your cake, you imp.”

  “And you’re crabby too.”

  Emily swallowed further retort. It would only encourage her young cousin.

  Besta shooed the girls to the table. Once they sat down to enjoy their pieces of cake, Besta hooked elbows with Emily, and together they strolled to the overgrown path that led to Jake’s home. Emily fought back the confusion she felt. Jake didn’t seem as though he’d had any doubts. Quite the opposite. But Poppa gave his blessing weeks ago? How could that be? Poppa wouldn’t lie.

  “Look across the long grass, Emily.”

  She did. Lush and green, it rippled on a gentle gust of late summer wind.

  “I remember when not a single structure stood for miles around. My Sam brought me here from Brown County. He built the house we live in. I had my babies in it, your father being the first, as you know.”

  Emily nodded. She’d heard the story many times before. Besta liked to retell it, and Emily found herself paying more attention as she knew her grandmother wouldn’t be around much longer.

  “I watched my grandchildren enter the world here and saw them grow.” Besta smiled and the blue of her eyes deepened. “I have lived a full and wonderful life.”

  “With many more happy memories to come.” Emily disliked it when her grandmother spoke as though she was about to depart for heaven on the next soul train.

  “Ja, and many more happy times to come. Love is the thread that binds us together in the fabric of time.”

  “Beautifully said.”

  Besta’s smile widened. “Go take a quiet stroll by the stream, Emily. Walk as far as you can, remembering that your grandfather and I did the same. Your parents did too.”

  “Not today, Besta.” She wasn’t feelin
g particularly nostalgic. “I’ll take you back to the house, though.”

  “I’ll escort Besta.” Eden came up behind them. “Go take your stroll.”

  “I’m not up to it, but thanks anyway.” She sent her twin an annoyed glance.

  Besta’s gnarly hand gripped Emily’s. “Go. Walk. You’ll find the answers to your questions.”

  Had she really been so transparent?

  “Go and walk.”

  Emily shook her head.

  “Listen, Em, I believe your answer is waiting beneath a certain oak tree.” Eden glanced at his pocket watch. “And has been since precisely 3:30.”

  Her jaw slacked.

  “You’ve been clueless all day despite the hints we’ve dropped.”

  “Don’t tell her.” Besta whispered as if Emily couldn’t hear. “It’s a surprise.”

  She understood at once. Turning, she saw Grandpa Ramsey, her parents, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, all congregating at the side of the house. Obviously she’d become the main attraction.

  “I told Jake a surprise proposal wouldn’t work. You’re not exactly cooperative when it comes to surprises.”

  Emily felt stunned. Speechless.

  “Emily’s gonna get married. Emily’s gonna get married.” Kate’s singsong teasing drifted across the way.

  Eden chuckled. “You know you and Jake love each other. Go on already.”

  She set off on the path. The only consolation was that the oak wasn’t visible from her parents’ home. Located in back of Jake’s property that bordered her family’s, it stood near the stream.

  The tree came into view, and Emily spied Jake sitting beneath it, his back up against the base of the wide trunk. He smiled as she neared and got to his feet. “I hoped you’d come.”

  She hated to tell him that Eden had to spell it out for her. “It’s a lovely day for a stroll.”

  “Hmm . . . ” His gaze tapered, and Emily could tell he figured she knew. “You’ll never guess what I heard after church service this morning.”

  “What?”

  Jake held out one hand and Emily clasped it. “Iris is engaged to be married.”

  “Poppa told me. So Rez finally came around, eh?”

  “Nope. Not Rez.”

  “Oh?”

  “Andy Anderson.”

  Emily gasped. “No!”

  Jake nodded. “Word is that the beating really shook him up, and he’s determined to turn his life around. Deidre confirmed it, and Iris is insisting on a long engagement in order for him to prove himself. So I . . . I sold him my property in Fallon.”

  “Was that wise?” She hoped Jake didn’t live to regret trusting Andy. Iris, either.

  “We’ll see.” He searched her face. “I believe in second chances, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” She brought her fingers up and touched the delicate silver cross she always wore.

  Jake pulled her close. “I never thought I could be as happy as I am.”

  Emily smiled and locked her arms around his waist. “I’m happy too, Jake, although I was fretting that Poppa scared you off.”

  “Not a chance. In fact, your father’s given me his blessing, Em. I just wanted to feel somewhat settled in my new life before I made another big change.” His gaze intensified. “Will you marry me?”

  “You know I will. In a heartbeat.”

  “Oh, wait . . . ”

  “Wait?” Hadn’t she waited long enough?

  A grimace. “I think I was supposed to get down on one knee.”

  She smiled. “Don’t bother.”

  He fished in his trousers’ pocket and pulled out a small sapphire-blue velvet box. Emily opened it. A diamond engagement ring sparkled.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Jake placed it on her finger. It fit.

  Happiness filled every ounce of her being. She cupped his clean-shaven face and silently urged his lips to hers. His kiss was so filled with promise that Emily barely heard the whoops, whistles, and cheers from her family. All that mattered was that the man she loved held her in his arms and God Almighty held them both in the palm of His hand.

  Also Available From Andrea Boeshaar

  Threads of Hope

  CHAPTER 1

  September 1848

  IT LOOKS LIKE Norway.

  The thought flittered across nineteen-year-old Kristin Eikaas’s mind as Uncle Lars’s wagon bumped along the dirt road. The docks of Green Bay, Wisconsin, were behind them, and now they rode through a wooded area that looked just as enchanting as the forests she’d left in Norway. Tall pine trees and giant firs caused the sunshine to dapple on the road. Kristin breathed in the sweet, fresh air. How refreshing it felt in her lungs after being at sea for nearly three months and breathing in only salty sea air or the stale air in her dark, crowded cabin.

  A clearing suddenly came into view, and a minute or so later, Kristin eyed the farm fields stretched before her. The sight caused an ache of homesickness. Her poppa had farmed . . .

  “Your trip to America was good, ja?” Uncle Lars asked in Norwegian, giving Kristin a sideways glance.

  He resembled her father so much that her heart twisted painfully with renewed grief. Except she’d heard about Onkel—about his temper—how he had to leave Norway when he was barely of age, because, Poppa had said, trouble followed him.

  But surely he’d grown past all of that. His letters held words of promise, and there was little doubt that her uncle had made a new life for himself here in America.

  Just as she would.

  Visions of a storefront scampered across her mind’s eye—a shop in which she could sell her finely crocheted and knitted items. A shop in which she could work the spinning wheel, just as Mor had . . .

  Uncle Lars arched a brow. “You are tired, liten niese?”

  “Ja. It was a long journey.” Kristin sent him a sideways glance. “I am grateful I did not come alone. The Olstads made good traveling companions.”

  Her uncle cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “But you have brought my inheritance, ja?” He arched a brow.

  “Ja.” Kristin thought of the priceless possession she’d brought from Norway.

  “And you would not hold out on your onkel, would you?”

  Prickles of unease caused Kristin to shift in her seat. She resisted the urge to touch the tiny gold and silver cross pendent suspended from a dainty chain that hung around her neck. Her dress concealed it. She couldn’t give it up, even though it wasn’t legal for a woman to inherit anything in Norway. But the necklace had been her last gift from Mor. A gift from one’s mother wasn’t an inheritance . . . was it? “No, Onkel.”

  She turned and peered down from her perch into the back of the wooden wagon bed. Peder Olstad smiled at her, and Kristin relaxed some. Just a year older, he was the brother of Kristin’s very best friend who had remained in Norway with their mother. She and Peder had grown up together, and while he could be annoying and bad tempered at times, he was the closest thing to a brother that she had. And Sylvia—Sylvia was closer than a sister ever could be. It wouldn’t be long, and she and Mrs. Olstad would come to America too. That would be a happy day!

  “You were right,” John Olstad called to Uncle Lars in their native tongue. “Lots of fertile land in this part of the country. I hope to purchase some acres soon.”

  “And after you are a landowner for five years, you can be a citizen of America and you can vote.” The Olstad men smiled broadly and replied in unison. “Oh, ja, ja . . . ”

  Uncle Lars grinned, causing dozens of wrinkles to appear around his blue eyes. His face was tanned from farming beneath the hot sun, and his tattered leather hat barely concealed the abundance of platinum curls growing out of his large head. “Oh, ja, this is very good land. I am glad I persuaded Esther to leave the Muskego settlement and move northeast. But, as you will soon see, we are still getting settled.”

  “Ja, how’s that, Lars?”

  Kristin heard the note of curiosity in Mr. Olstad’s vo
ice.

  “I purchased the land and built a barn and a cabin.” He paused and gave a derisive snort. “Well, a fine home takes time and money.”

  “Oh, ja, that way.” Mr. Olstad seemed to understand.

  And Kristin did too. One couldn’t expect enormous comforts out in the Wisconsin wilderness.

  Just then they passed a stately home situated on the Fox River. Two quaint dormers peered from the angled roof, which appeared to be supported by a pair of white pillars.

  “That is Mr. Morgan Martin’s home. He is a lawyer in town.” Uncle Lars delivered the rest of his explanation with a sneer. “And an Indian agent.”

  “Indians?” Kristin’s hand flew to her throat.

  “Do not fret. The soldiers across the river at Fort Howard protect the area.”

  Kristin forced her taut muscles to relax.

  “Out here the deer are plentiful and fishing is good. Fine lumber up here too. But the Norwegian population is small. Nevertheless, we have our own church, and the reverend speaks our language.”

  “A good thing,” Mr. Olstad remarked.

  “I cannot wait for the day when Far owns land,” Peder said, glancing at Mr. Olstad. “Lots of land.” The warm wind blew his auburn hair outward from his narrow face, and his hazel eyes sparked with enthusiasm, giving the young man a somewhat wild appearance. “But no farming for me. I want to be rich someday.”

  “As do we all!” exclaimed Mr. Olstad, whose appearance was an older, worn-out version of his son’s.

  Kristin’s mind had parked on land ownership. “And once you are settled, Sylvia will come to America. I cannot wait. I miss her so much.”

  She grappled with a fresh onset of tears. Not only was Sylvia her best friend, but she and the entire Olstad clan had also become like family to her ever since a smallpox epidemic ravaged their little village two years ago, claiming the lives of Kristin’s parents and two younger brothers. When Uncle Lars had learned of the tragic news, he offered her a place to stay in his home if she came to America. Onkel wrote that she should be with her family, so Kristin had agreed to make the voyage. Her plans to leave Norway had encouraged the Olstads to do the same. But raising the funds to travel took time and much hard work. While the Olstads scrimped and saved up their crop earnings, Kristin did spinning, weaving, knitting, and sewing for those with money to spare. By God’s grace, they were finally here.