Abram had never sung in front of Charlotte, though he suspected she heard him singing to the boys on occasion. He felt a bit self-conscious, but he couldn’t say no.
He also sat on Martin’s bed, near his son’s feet, and began a slow, melodic lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child. The song had several verses, and spoke of a young bird flying alone at night, scared of all the night sounds, but finding its way home safe and sound to his parents.
When the song came to an end, Abram looked at his sleeping son and then up at Charlotte. She was watching Abram in the dim light.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered.
She was beautiful, sitting near his son, her slender fingers on his rounded cheek. “Shall we go back downstairs?” he asked before his thoughts went any further.
She nodded and they gingerly left the boys’ room, Charlotte holding the lantern. The hall was shadowed and the noise downstairs was muffled against the storm. Charlotte stood for a moment at the top of the stairs, as if she didn’t want the moment to end, and he didn’t blame her.
The first night of the storm, all the men had stayed up late playing cards, the second night they had regaled each other with tall tales, but tonight, with tempers short, how would they amuse themselves?
Charlotte took a deep breath and then turned toward the stairs.
Abram wanted to call out to her and tell her to wait. But for what?
They descended the stairs and Pierre LaForce rose from one of the rocking chairs. He met Charlotte at the bottom step and stood beside her—too close for Abram’s comfort. “Some of us have decided to have a dance, mademoiselle.” He was a handsome young Frenchman, as far as Abram could tell, with dark eyes that held a hint of superiority and defiance. He’d been flirting incessantly with Charlotte since the first day of the storm, trying to get her to laugh or smile, speaking to her in English and French.
“Dancing?” Charlotte looked a bit surprised at the suggestion.
“That’s a great idea,” said another. “I call the first dance!”
“I got the second.”
“Third!”
Soon all the men were clamoring for a dance with Charlotte—and Abram didn’t like the thought of all those men with their arms around her. “No.”
“No?” Pierre crossed his arms. “And why not, monsieur?”
“It’s late and Charlotte is tired.”
“Are you tired, Miss Charlotte?” Pierre asked. “Or would you like to danser?” He swayed, as if dancing, and smiled at her.
Charlotte looked at Abram and then back at the eager men. If she said no, he suspected a riot on their hands. But if she said yes, no doubt she’d have to spend the next several hours taking turns with every man in the house. Even if they didn’t know how to dance, they wouldn’t give up a chance to hold her. He saw how they all admired her while she went about her work. She’d already turned down two marriage proposals.
But the look in her eyes suggested that none of that mattered. “One dance each,” Charlotte said with a good-natured smile. “And not a single more.”
There was a round of cheers as the men scrambled to move the furniture to the outside edges of the room. Someone produced a mouth organ, another grabbed a set of spoons, and together they played a lively Virginia reel. The men lined up, half of them taking the female side and the other half taking the male side. A caller shouted the steps and Charlotte was pulled into the dance by Pierre. She laughed as she sidestepped and do-si-do’ed, while the others clapped and shouted.
Abram stood by the kitchen door, watching everyone carefully—especially Charlotte. Her cheeks turned pink and her face glowed, making her lovelier than ever.
As soon as the reel ended, the mouth organ spilled out a waltz and everyone paired up, another man taking Charlotte in his arms. She was swung around the room, her blue skirts swirling and swishing as she moved. Those who didn’t dance simply watched, their eyes shining at the sight of her.
Charlotte danced on and on, without a break. When one of the men approached her for a second dance, he was hauled away by the others and tossed out into the snowstorm. He came back in, laughing and wiping snow off his face.
Abram didn’t move from his spot, leaning against the kitchen door frame, his arms crossed.
As he watched Charlotte, he was slowly transported back to Iowa City and the first time he’d seen her. He had walked into the dance at the hotel, new in town, just barely twenty years old. The first woman in the room to catch his eye had been Charlotte—not because she was the first he’d laid eyes on, but because she was the first that had fully captured his attention. She had been dancing, much like she was tonight, with one partner after another. The lights had been dim, the orchestra loud and the sight breathtaking.
He had been determined to get a dance with her that evening, and had moved into her line of sight. When she had looked at him, he had been captivated by her beauty. When he’d asked for a dance, she had cautiously agreed.
He’d told her a little about himself and his dream to one day build a town, but the more he’d talked, the more she had pulled away. He’d wondered at her behavior, but hadn’t had time to ask before the dance had ended and she’d walked away. And when he had shown up on her doorstep to court Susanne, she had treated him like a villain.
But those days were in the past. As he watched her now, understanding her in ways he hadn’t then, he wondered if he would have handled the situation any differently. Yet—if he had—he might not have married Susanne and had his sons. He would never give up the years he’d had with his wife. She had filled his home with joy and had given him the belief he needed to follow his dreams.
No. He would not have changed a thing and he felt horrible for even entertaining such thoughts.
“You’re the last one, Cooper,” Nathan Richardson called. “What’ll it be? A waltz? A reel?”
Charlotte turned, breathing hard, her eyes bright and full of expectation.
He wanted to dance with her—but something inside him warned against it. The one and only time they had danced together had led to disaster, and he suspected this time would be the same—but in an entirely different way.
“I think I’ll let Miss Lee have a rest.” Abram shoved away from the door frame. “We should all turn in for the night. As soon as the storm ends, I want all of you back to work.”
Groans filled the room and several men called out their displeasure at the announcement.
Abram glanced at Charlotte, expecting her to be relieved, but he was surprised to see disappointment on her features.
“Good night, gentlemen,” Charlotte said, tearing her gaze from Abram. “I’ll let one of you bank the fires and turn out the lights.”
“Good night,” the men called back.
“Shall I escort you to your room?” Pierre asked with another bow.
“That won’t be necessary.” Abram took two steps and was by Charlotte’s side. “I’ll see her to her room—and I’ll wait outside her door until she has it locked.”
Pierre laughed at Abram and then lifted Charlotte’s hand to his lips. “Bonne nuit, mademoiselle.”
“Shall we?” Abram asked her.
She lifted the hem of her gown and turned toward the stairs. He followed her up, leaving the noise behind.
She climbed the steps slowly and then turned left at the top of the stairs. She opened the door and took a step into her room.
“Good night, Charlotte,” Abram said.
She paused and looked at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes. “Why didn’t you want to dance with me?”
The hall was dark, with only a swath of light seeping up the stairwell, but he could see her features clearly—or maybe he just had them memorized.
“I did want to dance with you,” he said quietly.
; She turned fully, her skirts swishing with the movement. “Then why didn’t you?”
He took a step closer to her—and then paused, his heart pumping harder than it had in years. What was happening to him? Why now, after all this time, was he recalling the night he had met her for the first time? Why was he asking what might have been? He didn’t want to know what might have been. Things had worked out exactly as they should have. God knew what Abram needed then—and He knew what Abram needed now. And it wasn’t Charlotte.
He took a step back again—feeling foolish. “Good night, Charlotte.”
He turned and opened his bedroom door before he could embarrass himself further.
* * *
The mid-May sunshine warmed Charlotte’s shoulders as she stood in front of the church with George on her hip, scanning the new downtown. Half a dozen store buildings were under construction, and dozens of men were clearing more lots. The old oxcart trail actually resembled a street now—or at least, it promised to resemble a street. Tree roots protruded from thick mud and deep wagon ruts ran in chaotic patterns, crisscrossing from one side to the next.
A second main road had been cut perpendicular to Main Street. Abram called it Broadway. It started east of town, crossed a bridge that had been built over the deep ravine edging the downtown, and continued west toward the river. Additional side streets were being cleared even now, with saws and shouts of “timber” reverberating through the air. Sixty men worked for the Little Falls Company and they used nineteen oxen and eight horses—all of them housed in Abram’s barn at night.
Abram stood beside Charlotte, holding Robert’s and Martin’s hands. He turned to Charlotte with excitement sparkling in his blue gaze. “What do you think?”
Charlotte tried to find something nice to say about the disorderly mess. “A lot of work has been done in eight short weeks.”
“You’re right, and there’s a lot more to do.” He pointed to the large brown house across the road from the church, behind an empty lot sectioned off for a store building. “The Hubbard house is almost ready. Pearl and the children plan to move in next week.”
A smile lifted Charlotte’s lips. “It will be good to finally have her in town.” It had been several months since Charlotte had visited with another woman and she was eager for the company.
“Look over there.” Abram guided Charlotte and the boys up the road and pointed to the northwest corner of Main Street and Broadway, where a rough-lumber frame promised to be a substantial building. “Nathan Richardson is calling it the Northern Hotel. It’s supposed to be the largest hotel north of St. Anthony.”
“It’s quite impressive.”
Abram looked down at his boys. “Would you like to see where your school will be?”
They both nodded enthusiastically and Abram led them to the plot of land designated for the school. They stood across the road to watch the men cutting trees.
Martin let go of Abram’s hand and was about to dart across the road before Charlotte reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Stay close. It’s much too dangerous over there.”
“Those men wouldn’t see you,” Abram said, taking Martin’s hand once again. “You must not bother them.”
Martin blinked as a large tree fell to the ground.
“Now that the sawmill is running again,” Abram said to Charlotte, “I can make the lumber for the schoolhouse.”
“Have you had any success finding a teacher yet?”
“Hubbard has a young woman from Moline in mind. He wrote to her, but she hasn’t replied.”
“And a preacher?”
“Nothing—yet.”
Yet. He had only three and a half months to find someone, but with the way everything was progressing, it looked as if he might very well accomplish what he had set out to do.
“I’ll show you where the company store is being built.” Abram guided them west toward the river and pointed to a building under construction. Another road ran behind the store and down the hill toward Abram’s home. The road had been named Wood Street and went directly between Abram’s house and barn as it continued along the river.
“What do you think?” Abram signed to Robert.
Robert’s blue eyes shone. “I like your town, Papa.”
“This is your town, too. I made it for you and Martin and George.”
“Mine?” Robert signed, his eyes growing wide.
“Yes.”
Charlotte was happy for Abram, but daily struggled with the sadness of leaving the boys behind. She needed something to look forward to, and had made a big decision. “I’ve had a letter from an acquaintance back home.” Charlotte blurted the statement. “Andrew just brought it this afternoon.”
Abram gave her his full attention. “Is it good news or bad?”
“I inquired about a building.”
“A building?”
“I decided to take your advice and open a dress shop when I return to Iowa City.”
She waited for him to say something, but he just watched her, his thoughts imperceptible.
“I told the proprietor to have the building ready for me by the second week of September,” she added.
He glanced around the town, squinting as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been so busy lately, I kind of forgot about our agreement.”
Forgot? How could he forget? The thought plagued Charlotte every waking moment.
“I suppose you wouldn’t consider staying on here?” he asked.
She paused for a moment. “I have a life in Iowa City—one I need to get back to as soon as possible.” And there was a part of her, despite Abram’s success, that feared for the boys. There was still so much that could go wrong for Abram. Every cent he made was poured back into the Little Falls Company, and he was no better off financially than when she had arrived. If anything, he was more in debt. She needed to have a steady income and a life for the boys, if they should ever need her. “There was a small building that came up for sale,” she went on. “With my earnings, I decided to purchase it.”
Abram nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes. “Congratulations.”
She smiled down at Robert, realizing they had stopped signing—but it was probably for the best. No need to worry him over something that was still months off. “I need to get back to the house to start supper preparations. If my calculations are correct, I’ll be serving sixty men tonight.”
“Sixty-one men,” Abram amended. “And two women. We had a family arrive today, and I told them to come down to the house for supper.”
“Two women?” Charlotte looked around the town, her eyes wandering over the rough streets, looking for traces of another female.
“Well, a woman and a—” Abram faltered, and for the first time since Charlotte had known him, his cheeks filled with a bit of color.
“A what?” Charlotte asked.
“I suppose she’s a woman, too.” He nervously rubbed the back of his head, tilting his hat forward. “It doesn’t really matter. I said they could come a little early to meet you. After the men get inside, I think there will be too much commotion, especially when they get a look at—” Again he stopped and looked embarrassed.
“When the men get a look at what?” Charlotte asked.
Abram repositioned his hat. “Never mind.” He reached down and lifted Martin into his arms and then tossed him in the air. “I should probably get back to work. Hubbard and Cheney are coming to town tomorrow and there are several things I need to do before then.” He was rewarded with a giggle from Martin and then he lifted Robert and did the same. After setting him down, he kissed the top of George’s head. “See you at supper.” He waved as he strode off toward the company store.
Charlotte directed the boys toward home and pondered his strange words.
They took Wood Stree
t and approached the house from the north. Charlotte marveled at how much it had changed since the first time she’d seen it over six months ago. The actual house and barn hadn’t changed, but the landscape around it had. No longer did it look like a lonely farm in the middle of the wilderness. Now it looked like a house in the midst of a growing community, albeit a fledgling one.
What did this town hold? Would it flourish, as Abram envisioned, or would it die like so many other towns built on lavish dreams and fanciful imaginings?
Charlotte descended the incline toward the house. The snow was all but gone, except for a few shadowed places around town.
Movement caught her eye and she glanced over at the barn, where Harry was making shingles with the froe. He sat just outside the barn door on a stool, pounding the froe into a log. His job hadn’t changed much since the town’s construction began. He still took care of Abram’s animals and the chores around the farm. He didn’t go to Crow Wing as much as before, because a ramshackle saloon had been built to the south of town, near the riverbank. Several men who had previously spent their evenings by Abram’s fireplace now went to the shanty saloon and played cards and did other things Charlotte would prefer not to think about. She had asked Abram why he didn’t have the place pulled down, but he simply said the lot had been purchased by a proprietor, and there was little he could do about the business he chose to run.
Harry glanced up as she and the children passed by, and he glared at her.
Like always, a knot of regret pinched her stomach. After all these months, nothing had changed between them. Instead of being a light in the darkness, she had pushed him further into the recesses of sin.
Lord, how do I remedy the mistake I’ve made?
No ready answer arrived. Should she invite him to eat with them again? The Bible admonished Christians to practice hospitality—yet, if she gave in now, would Harry think her weak?
The afternoon sped by, as it usually did while she prepared supper. She scraped the bottom of the vegetable bins and came up with just enough potatoes to boil and serve with the roasted venison. She would serve it with gravy, fresh-baked bread from that morning and the last of the dried apples made into pies. Abram had placed an order from St. Anthony, and Mr. Hubbard was bringing a wagonload of supplies with him in the morning.
A Family Arrangement Page 12
