by Kit Morgan
His eyes brightened at her words. “Take all the time ya need, then. I’ll be waitin’ right here.”
She smiled, turned and hurried to freshen up. Somewhat – really, there wasn’t much she could do other than retrieve a comb out of her traveling bag, run it through her hair, twist it into a knot at the back of her head and re-pin it. But it was better than nothing. She returned to the door. “I’m ready.”
“It’s gettin’ a little chilly outside,” he informed her. “Do ya have a shawl?”
She nodded, ducked back into the room, grabbed her shawl and returned. “Now I’m really ready,” she said with a smile.
“Not quite.” He took her shawl from her and wrapped it around her shoulders. “There, now ya are.” He offered her his arm. “Let’s go.”
She took it as warmth crept its way up her back. It made her whole body relax. For some reason, she wasn’t nervous like she’d been at the restaurant or when the stage first pulled into town. There was something calming about the man walking next to her. She didn’t know what, but she liked it.
“Aunt Betsy made roast chicken with mashed ‘taters,” he said. “She’s almost as good a cook as Ma.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said as they descended the stairs to the hotel lobby.
“You cook, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m sure Ma’ll teach ya all my favorites.”
For some reason, she felt irritated at his words. Maybe she’d like to stand on her own two feet when it came to her cooking. In fact, many had given her high praise for it, especially when it came to traditional Swedish dishes like fläskpannkaka. Of course, she wasn’t sure what Daniel or his family would think of a pancake full of diced pork, but was sure that’s what they’d call it. Most folks had a hard time pronouncing the actual name.
She decided to take the high road. “I’d be happy to have her teach me. I can teach her too.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Ya can’t teach Ma much she don’t already know.”
That stung. She stopped. “Åh? Så din mamma talar svenska?”
Daniel’s mouth flopped open. “What … what was that?”
“Svenska,” she said proudly. “Swedish.”
He gaped at her a moment before he looked her up and down. “Ya speak another language? Well, woo-ee! Ain’t that somethin’?”
His excitement took her by surprise. “Ja.”
He grinned ear to ear. “Say somethin’ else.”
She shrugged. “Vad är för dessert?”
“Dessert? Is that a Swedish word?” he asked.
“No, English.”
“Oh. Bella sometimes mixes English words in with her Eye-talian.”
Ebba smiled at his pronunciation and tried not to laugh.
“What did ya say before that?”
“Before what?”
“Before what ya just said?”
“Oh, I said, ‘so, your mother speaks Swedish?’”
His smiled faded. “Oh. I guess yer right – ya could teach her too. Ma don’t speak nothin’ but good ol’ English. Better’n I do, at least.”
Ebba noted the look on his face and wondered if she’d hurt his feelings. He obviously loved his mother very much. “We can teach each other different things.”
“Yeah, we can,” he agreed. His smile returned. “We’d better get a move on before Ma sends Matty to come look for us.”
They didn’t speak much the rest of their walk to the mercantile. Just as well – so far they’d both managed to embarrass the other through their own pride, the focus on his mother. She liked Mary Weaver, and didn’t want to do anything to make her dislike the woman.
By the time they reached their destination, supper was ready and on the table. “About time you two got here,” Ma said as they came into the kitchen.
“There you are,” added his Aunt Betsy. “Now everyone grab a seat and we’ll get started with the introductions. Then your uncle can say the blessing.”
Everyone sat. Ebba noticed three empty chairs but kept quiet. Within moments a young couple came into the kitchen followed by Daniel’s uncle. As soon as they were seated, she gave them a smile and a nod of greeting.
“Matthew, Charlotte, this is your cousin Daniel’s mail-order bride.” Aunt Betsy motioned toward her. “Ava, is it? No, that’s not right …”
“Eh-bah,” Ma Weaver sounded out. “Land sakes, it’s only four letters. It’s not that hard, Betsy.”
“Well, how’s a person supposed to know these things?” Betsy shot back. “It’s not a name you hear around these parts.”
“I think it’s a lovely name,” the young woman at the other end of the table said. “Allow me to introduce myself – I’m Charlotte Quinn.” She reached over and patted the hand of the young man next to her. “And this is Matthew, my husband.”
“You have an accent too,” Ebba commented. “Where are you from?”
“Mississippi, originally, until we moved here to Nowhere.”
“I like the way you talk,” she said. “It’s very pretty.”
“Why, thank you. I have had a few people comment about my accent before, but no woman has ever told me it was pretty.”
“They may have been jealous, dear,” Matthew said. “It’s so nice to meet you at last, Ebba. And if no one else has told you yet, welcome to the family.”
“Thank you. This is a little overwhelming for me. Everything and everyone is so new. You’ll excuse me if I don’t remember everyone’s name.”
Daniel and his mother exchanged a quick glance then did the same with Charlotte and Matthew. What was that about?
Daniel’s uncle gave Ebba a nod. “In case anyone is wondering, I’m Mr. Quinn and I’ll second what Matthew said. Welcome to the family, Ebba.”
“Thank you so much.” She glanced around the table. “Is this all of you? Are there any more?”
“This is all of us as far as the Quinn family goes,” Aunt Betsy said. “But when you get out to the farm … ow!” She glared at Ma Weaver next to her. “What was that for?”
Ma gave her an innocent glance. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You kicked me!”
“If I did, it was an accident. Now let’s get on with supper – can’t you see the poor child is starving?”
Daniel covered his mouth and tried not to laugh. Ebba watched him and wondered why his mother would kick his aunt in the first place. There was something they weren’t telling her, and it made her nervous.
But she pushed the thought from her mind as Daniel’s uncle folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful. Oh, and thank you for sending such a nice bride for my nephew, and may the two of them be very happy together. Amen.”
Everyone raised their head. “Not so fast,” Ma Weaver said. “I want to add a few words.”
“A few words?” Aunt Betsy said with a frown. “Don’t take all night, or the food will get cold.”
Ma looked like she was about to kick her sister again, but instead bowed her head. “Lord, you know how long poor Daniel’s been waiting for a bride. Just put in him the patience needed so he can get to know her a little better before he makes her an honest woman.”
“Ma!” Daniel blurted as his face turned red.
“Well it’s only natural, son. For Heaven’s sake, at least learn a little bit about each other before you –”
“Aunt Mary,” Matthew interrupted. “Not at the supper table.”
“Shucks, Matty,” Daniel said. “She says things like this at our table all the time.”
Ebba sat, her cheeks flushed. Were they talking about what she thought they were?
Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at Daniel, then his mother. “You do?!”
“Well, dagnabit, what’s wrong with it?” Ma asked. “It’s nature. No need to hide it.”
Ebba started the fan herself with her hand. “I hear you make a good roast chicken, M
rs. Quinn,” she said in hopes of changing the subject.
Betsy took the cue. “Oh yes, I’m quite proud of my recipe. Do you cook well, Ebba?”
“I like to think so,” she said. “I make a combination of American and Swedish recipes.”
“Did you grow up here in America, or come over to this country as a child?” Charlotte asked as she reached for the mashed potatoes. She cast a cautious glance in Ma’s direction.
“I was raised here, but I lived with my parents and their extended family – aunts, uncles, cousins. I was the youngest.”
“And where are all of your relatives now?” Matthew asked.
Ebba fixed her eyes on her plate. “Gone.”
“Gone?” Aunt Betsy repeated. “What do you mean, they’re gone?”
“They are all dead. Could you please pass me the chicken?” she asked Daniel.
He reached for the platter and offered it to her. “I remember ya tellin’ me yer parents had both passed, but I had no idea ya didn’t have another livin’ relative to speak of.”
She stabbed a piece of chicken with a fork and put it on her plate. “My parents were all that was left. Most of the family died from influenza about five years ago.” She pointed at a dish of carrots. “Could you pass that, please?”
Ma Weaver passed her the vegetables. “You poor child. All alone in the world.”
“Not anymore she’s not,” Daniel said. “Once ya become my wife, then trust me, ya’ll never be alone again.”
“That’s the truth,” Ma Weaver said with a tiny smile. “Now let’s eat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
* * *
The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable conversation with the Quinns, Daniel and his mother. Matthew and Charlotte regaled her with tales of their own courtship and subsequent wedding. She listened attentively and tried not to cringe. To think that they got all the way to the altar and practically at the “I do’s” before the deputy Sheriff Hughes had told her about stopped the ceremony and switched brides with Matthew. It was all too fantastic to take in! “You could write a book!” she said at the end of the tale.
“If there’s any story writing, it will be done by Deputy Turner,” Matthew said. “He’s the town storyteller.”
“Storyteller?” Ebba said.
“Yep, ol’ Tom’s a master at spinnin’ yarns,” Daniel said. “I can’t tell ya how many times he’s had me sittin’ on the edge of my seat. Me and a whole lotta other people.”
Ebba smiled and wondered if she should say anything about the sheriff’s plan to lure Deputy Turner back to Clear Creek. No – that was the sheriff’s business and she should be quiet about it. “It was a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“It’s definitely something we’ll be telling our children one day,” Matthew said.
Ebba studied him. He had an odd look on his face she wondered about. But again, not her business. “And your grandchildren,” she added.
Mrs. Quinn drummed her fingers on the kitchen table a few times. “Anyone ready for dessert?” Within moments the woman had served everyone a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. A very small piece, Ebba noticed.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one that did. “What are you trying to do, Betsy?” Ma Weaver asked. “Are you rationing the pie now?”
Aunt Betsy made a show of giving each man a solemn glare. “Perhaps it’s on account of half my pie having gone missing sometime this afternoon.”
Ma Weaver glanced at each of the men herself. “I’ve had that same thing happen at my place. Funny business, that. Mouse traps work. Wonderful invention, mouse traps – can’t say as I could get along without ‘em.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. He nodded nervously. “They sure ‘nough do, Ma.”
“You ought to know,” she replied with a smirk.
Matthew openly grimaced. “No mouse traps, Mother, please?”
“What’s the matter, Matty?” Daniel asked. “Where’s yer sense of adventure?”
“I need my hands for work,” he stated, then smiled at his mother.
“That goes for me too,” Mr. Quinn volunteered. “You wouldn’t want Matthew and I unable to do our jobs, would you?”
“All I know is that if you boys don’t stop eating half a pie every afternoon, I’m going to stop baking them!” Aunt Betsy warned.
“Now that there’s a clear threat if’n I ever heard one,” Daniel said in awe. “Me, I’d rather face the mouse traps than live without pie.”
“If we don’t stop flapping our gums,” his mother said, “we’ll never get a chance to enjoy what little we have in front of us.”
Ebba laughed. “All of this over pie?”
“Pie is serious business in this house,” Betsy stated. “And just as serious at my sister’s.”
Ebba smiled at Ma. “I won’t steal your pie.”
“I’m sure you won’t, child. Which is why I’ll have you help me set the traps.”
Daniel groaned. “I ain’t even married yet and Ma’s turning my wife against me!”
Ebba laughed again. Daniel joined her and together they started to eat their pie.
* * *
The next morning Ebba awoke at the crack of dawn. Or rather, Ma Weaver woke her by banging on her door at the crack of dawn. “Time to get going, Ebba girl! Let’s not waste daylight! Do what you have to do, gather your things and meet me downstairs!”
Ebba sat up, stretched and yawned. She’d slept like the dead – she hadn’t realized how tired she was. Of course, all the laughing last night had helped relax her. She realized that she’d never shared such laughter before, not even with her own family. It felt good, and she was eager to share it again. She hoped the opportunity presented itself during that day, or at the very least, that night.
She got out of bed, washed her face, dressed and ran a comb through her hair, then quickly braided it. She began to hum as she wrapped the braid around her head and pinned it in place. Gathering her things, she noticed her wedding dress wasn’t there and almost panicked before remembering Ma had taken it the day before to try and fix it for the wedding. She sighed in relief.
Then the unwanted thought returned: would there be a wedding? Would her allergies be an insurmountable barrier? What good would fixing the dress do if she was just going to stuff it back into her bag again? She hoped she wouldn’t have to find out, but …
Downstairs, Ma was waiting with Aunt Betsy. “Do you have all your things, child?”
“Yes. Do you still have my dress?”
“Of course, dear – I’ve taken care of it.”
“It’s a shame you already have a dress,” Aunt Betsy said. “I just love helping a bride get ready for her wedding! So does Leona, Sheriff Hughes’ sister. But maybe we could come a day early, Mary, what do you think?”
“There’s no need for that,” Ma said. “This poor child will have enough to worry about without the two of you fussing over her.”
“Fussing?” Ebba said. “Why would they be fussing?”
“On account so many people are coming to the wedding,” Ma said. “Land sakes, I think half the town will be there at this point.”
Ebba’s eyes went wide as platters. What was she saying? “Half the town? But I thought it would be too far away?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Ma remarked calmly. “But it seems lots of people are willing to make the trip. Let’s see, there’s the Rileys – you know, Leona and her family – the Johnsons, the Turners, Harlan … I mean, Sheriff Hughes … now who else?”
Ebba could only stare. “There’s more?” Well, she supposed it really didn’t matter how many people attended their wedding. After all, they were friends of the family – of course they would want to see Daniel married. “That’s not so bad.”
Aunt Betsy chuckled. “That’s because there’s only so many places for folks to camp out.”
Ebba glanced nervously between the two women. She wasn’t even going to comment on that one. Better t
o wait and find out for herself when the time came. Until then, she planned on enjoying the trip to what she hoped would be her new home.
Chapter 7
When Ma said the trip to the farm would take an entire day, she wasn’t exaggerating. It was dark before they arrived, and Ebba had no idea how the horses found their way the last couple of miles. Lots of practice, maybe? Whatever it was, she was glad for it. Her backside was killing her. They didn’t even stop at the Gundersons’ for lunch, though Daniel explained that was their usual routine. But he and his mother wanted to get home, and that was that.
The one stop they did make was near a pond to rest at midday. It was a beautiful spot and Ebba hoped she could go back there someday. She suspected they skipped the Gundersons’ just to be able to picnic for an hour under the big willow tree near the water. Ma explained that Charity and Benjamin had fallen in love with each other in that very spot.
It was all Ebba could do not to scorn the romantic notion, because to her, that was all it was. How could two people fall in love that quickly? Mail-order brides didn’t marry for love, they married to survive. That was why she became one. She certainly hoped Daniel realized that, and that it might take her some time to feel any sort of affection for him.
But apparently such was not the case with his brothers and their wives. They seemed to fall in love just by tripping over one another or being in the same room, if one believed Ma. Ebba didn’t, and worried that Daniel might.
Truth be told, she hadn’t planned to fall in love at all. In fact, she’d convinced herself there might be no such thing in her marriage with Daniel. Convenience had a way of dampening romance. She liked him and his mother so far, and the townspeople (okay, the Quinns and Sheriff Hughes) spoke highly of them. But only time would tell.
Mrs. Pettigrew, on the other hand, believed in love at first sight. She’d gone on about it at length when Ebba dropped by the bridal agency to get her train ticket, even though the Pettigrew Bridal Agency had sent out only two brides so far. Ebba made three, and the third time wasn’t always the charm.
Ebba hoped to fall in love with her husband one day. But she wasn’t counting on it happening tomorrow or the next day, or the next month for all of that. Maybe in the years to come. Her parents had taught her there was no such thing as instant romance.
