After the wedding guests were gone, Joe took Liddie’s hand and led her toward the stairs. They would spend this night in her childhood home. The following day, they would board the train for a honeymoon trip to visit Amelia. When they returned, they would move into the house on the Gibson farm. But tonight, tonight was their wedding night.
Upstairs, he led her down the hall. With every step, her anxiety built.
Yet inside the room, when he reached for her, she went willingly into the warm circle of his arms. As they kissed, she smelled the musk of his sweat, tasted salt on his lips. Blood rushed to her stomach. Her knees quivered. Only when the back of her legs touched the edge of the bed did she realize they’d moved. She tensed. He drew back enough to see her face. In that moment, she slipped away from him.
“I can’t do this,” she said, one hand on the bureau to steady herself.
“Can’t do what?”
She shifted her gaze from him to the bed. “I can’t.”
He stepped toward her. “I’d never hurt you, Liddie.”
She inched away, her lower lip quivering, her face burning with embarrassment. “You know what people will say, don’t you?”
“Who cares what people say? We’re married.”
“I do,” Liddie whimpered. “I won’t have anyone thinking I had to get married.” In her mind, that explained it all.
“How in the world could anyone even think that?” Joe asked, bewildered. “I wasn’t even in the st—” His face shaded red. He grabbed the footboard. “Did you?”
The anger in his voice jolted Liddie. “Did I what?” she asked.
“Did you?” The knuckles of Joe’s hand were white. “With him?”
With him? Him! Liddie blanched. Did he really think she had done . . . that . . . with Littmann? “No! How could you think that?”
His eyes flashed. “Did you?”
“I said no. The answer is no!”
“Gott im Himmel.” Joe glared at her, his voice filled with frustration. “Then I don’t understand.”
Liddie had barely thought of Littmann since he had left for Europe. It never crossed her mind that Joe might think she’d done something like that. She had been thinking only of Amelia. She stumbled to the rocker and sank down, doubling over, her arms wrapped around her waist.
“I don’t want Mama to think I did what Amelia did. I never thought people might think . . . that you might think . . . that . . . about me and him.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her tears creating ugly dark splotches on the satin dress.
Joe crouched in front of her and pulled her hands away from her face. “Liddie. Look at me,” he said.
She refused to look up, knowing her blotchy, tear-streaked face was awful to look at.
“Liebchen. Darling, look at me.” He used his thumb to wipe the tears from under her eyes. “I forgot about Amelia.”
“You forgot?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Not to me.” She hiccuped through another sob. “I’ve ruined our wedding night, haven’t I?”
“It’s not how I thought things would be.” He lifted her from the rocker and sat with her on his lap. Holding her close, he rocked in silence until her body relaxed and she nestled her head on his shoulder, her forehead warm against his neck. “Now,” he said. “Talk to me, Liebchen.”
“I think we should wait six weeks.”
“Six weeks!”
He tensed, and she thought he might dump her on the floor. She told him about what the neighbor women had said at one of the sewing bees, about babies taking nine months. Except the first one. The first one could come any time. They laughed, but their laughs sounded odd, even mean.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Liddie promised. “I’ll make fresh bread or a pie. Every day.”
“A pie?” He was astonished. “A pie? What the hell?”
Liddie recoiled, then caught the familiar twinkle in his eyes. She touched his lips with the tip of her finger. “You needn’t swear.”
“I may take it up.” He began rocking again. “It better be a damned good pie.”
Liddie heard a laugh concealed behind the gruff tone. She put her head back on his shoulder and brought her hand up to caress his cheek. “You’ll love it.”
As she stepped down from the train, Liddie searched the platform for her sister. The three years since Amelia had left Iowa felt like a lifetime.
“Maybe she didn’t get our wire,” she said. An anxious frown creased her forehead. “Maybe she won’t be here.”
For the third time since they had boarded the train in Cheyenne, Joe reassured her. “If she’s not here, we’ll hire a buggy.”
“Liddie! Liddie! Over here!”
Liddie recognized the voice, but not the woman waving at her. A black wool coat did little to conceal the woman’s advanced pregnancy; a faded blue bonnet shaded her face. Against her shoulder, she cradled a blanket-wrapped bundle; another child clung to the pocket of her coat.
“Liddie, it’s me!” The woman waved vigorously. “I’m here!”
“Amelia?” Liddie couldn’t believe this woman was her sister. She looked far too old. Liddie dropped Joe’s hand and threaded her way through the crowd toward the woman, who, she realized as she drew closer, looked exactly like their mother. “Amelia!” Liddie threw her arms around her sister.
“Oh, Liddie. I’m so happy to see you.” Amelia wiped at her face with a corner of the blanket. “Look at us both crying.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” Liddie laughed through her tears.
“Oh, come now. I haven’t changed that much, have I?” Amelia laughed. “Don’t answer that.”
“I mean, I can’t believe I’m seeing you. And your babies. This must be Melvin?” She touched the mound resting against Amelia’s shoulder.
“He fell asleep as the train was pulling in. Once he’s out, a stampede won’t wake him.” Amelia folded the blanket back.
Liddie willed herself not to react. She knew about the baby’s harelip, but seeing the awful redness of the gaping lip was a shock. “He’s a dear.” She closed her eyes as she kissed the child’s forehead. She would get used to the sight. Over time.
She crouched down in front of the girl hiding behind Amelia’s coat. “You must be Hope. I’m Auntie Liddie.”
Amelia put her free hand on the child’s head and propelled her forward. “Say hi to your Aunt Liddie, Hope.”
Sucking furiously on her thumb, the little girl retreated behind her mother.
Liddie laughed. “Don’t you worry, Hope. We’ll get to know each other.”
“Are the tears over yet?” Joe asked as he set their grips on the platform.
“Joe. Good to see you again, too.” Amelia greeted him with a one-armed hug. “Welcome to Wyoming. How was the trip?”
“Glad to be here.” Joe kissed her cheek. “It’s been a long time, Amelia. You’re looking well.”
“As are the both of you.” She chuckled as she looked from Liddie to Joe. “The two of you together. Who would have thought?”
“Where’s Fred?” Joe asked.
“Working at the Magnus place. He’ll be home for supper.”
“You came alone?” Liddie asked.
“One thing you learn quickly out west is how to do for yourself,” Amelia said. “I’ve got the wagon at the end of the depot. Let’s get you home; you must be tired from your trip.” She switched the baby to her other arm and motioned to Joe to bring the bags.
“Hold on. I have to take a picture of this.” Liddie fished in her large handbag for the box camera.
“She’s been taking pictures at every stop,” Joe explained.
“I only get one honeymoon.” Liddie looked toward the sun.
The light looked different in Wyoming than it did in Iowa. Clearer,
somehow. And the sky was impossibly blue. The color would be lost in the black-and-white film, but she took a mental picture to add to the store of memories she was creating. She arranged Joe and Amelia so they were facing only three-quarters into the bright morning light, the Lusk depot sign in the background.
“I’ve learned to go with what she wants,” Joe said. “Gets it over faster.”
“There’s a good husband,” Liddie said as she peered into the camera. “Now smile.”
They did and she pressed the lever. Click.
Liddie’s honeymoon trip printed in her mind as a series of snapshots, though she didn’t always depress the camera lever and hear the click.
Click.
Wide-open plains. As soon as they had crossed the Missouri River, leaving Iowa behind, the landscape had changed. Fewer trees. Flatter land. Plains. As far as the eye could see.
She put her camera up to an open window, bracing herself with one hand on the window frame. Joe had steadied her with a hand on the small of her back. The landscape flew by.
When she sat down, her eyes gleamed. “It’s beautiful.”
“Did you take a picture?”
“It wouldn’t have worked. It’s all a blur.”
Click.
She, Amelia, and Joe astride horses in front of the log cabin that had been Amelia and Fred’s home when they first came to Wyoming.
The entire cabin was less than the size of the Treadway dining room and had been built into a hillock so the structure required fewer logs to build and had natural protection from the wind. A hole near the ceiling for the chimney pipe channeled smoke from the cookstove that served to both cook meals and provide heat for the entire living space. Abandoned now, the cabin was devoid of furniture. Amelia’s letters had not said that the floor was dirt or that dried mud filled the cracks in the log walls.
“It was all an adventure,” Amelia said after she showed how they put the bed against the hillside wall because it was warmer there. “We were just married. We could do anything.”
The wistful sound of Amelia’s voice caused Liddie to observe her sister more closely. When Amelia didn’t say more, Liddie went to look out the small window. “You told me about the curtains you made,” she said.
Amelia’s smile returned. “They hang in my kitchen now.”
“How long were you here?”
“Under a year. It wasn’t so bad. Except for the winter. Gets a little windy. I was glad when we moved.” Then the wistfulness was back. “Sometimes, I miss this. My neighbors were a blessing.”
“This is twice as big as my place in Saskatchewan,” Joe said.
“Really?” Liddie stared at him in disbelief. “Surely not that small.”
He sized up the room. “Almost. A cot, a table to sit two, a woodstove. When I got my dog, I had to be careful not to step on him when I stood up.”
Liddie stood in the middle of the cabin and turned around and around, trying to see things as she’d imagined them from Amelia’s letters. She could not reconcile the pictures she’d made in her mind with the reality of cooking, eating, sleeping—let alone entertaining visitors—all in one room.
“I know what you mean about neighbors, Amelia,” Joe said. “I was grateful for every face that came to my door.”
Liddie had a hard time picturing the isolation her sister described. She nudged her shoulder against Joe. He put his arm around her.
Click.
Joe spun a top for Hope, who stood mesmerized, one little hand on his knee, her eyes darting between him and the whirling top. Each time Joe released the top, she cheered as though she’d never seen anything so delightful.
The two women stood watching from the kitchen doorway. Amelia had made the modestly decorated room that served as both parlor and dining room comfortable and homey. In addition to the pine table surrounded by six straight-backed chairs that served for all meals, an oak rocking chair and the upholstered chair where Joe sat now flanked a small pedestal table. A sewing basket and doll cradle by the rocking chair spoke of cozy family evenings. The Treadway family photograph Amelia packed when she left the farm held a prominent place on that table next to the Bible and a kerosene lamp.
“He’ll make a good papa,” Amelia whispered before turning to a wash pan of dishes.
Liddie enjoyed watching her husband with the little girl. Sensing her eyes on him, Joe looked up and smiled. She blew him a kiss, then picked up a dish towel and joined Amelia.
Throughout supper that evening, Fred had barely talked at all, his sullen silence darkening an otherwise happy reunion. The devil-may-care man Liddie remembered from Iowa had disappeared. Amelia’s letters had not prepared her for the surly man Fred had become.
Fred left the table even though they were still eating, saying, “Gotta check on the horses.”
“Can’t you sit and visit even one night?” Amelia asked.
“Work don’t get done with me sitting here yakking.” Fred pulled on a heavy coat.
“Could you use some help?” Joe offered. “I could stand to work the kinks out from the train.”
“Nope. One man kin handle it.” He disappeared into the night.
Amelia stood to clear the table. “He works so hard. He has a lot on his mind.” She held her head proud and met Liddie’s eyes with an overly bright smile as she stacked the pale-blue plates, which were embellished with violets.
Embarrassment for her sister had rippled under Liddie’s skin as she gathered serving bowls and headed for the kitchen. Except for how it had bothered Amelia, however, Liddie hadn’t been disappointed when Fred left.
As the two women cleaned up after supper, Liddie kept up a stream of news from Iowa. She expected the two of them to talk like they used to, but Amelia was quiet. Eventually, Liddie let silence fill the kitchen.
“I’m not being a good hostess, am I?” Amelia said after they worked for some time without speaking.
“I’m glad we get to see you,” Liddie said.
“It was seeing Joe with Hope that made me a little blue. I wish Fred played with her like that.”
“He doesn’t?”
“He wanted a boy. He likes Hope well enough, but to sit and play with her like Joe is doing? No.” She scrubbed at the last pan, bearing down on the scratcher as though she could remove the hurt she felt along with the crusted meat juices.
“When Melvin was born, I thought he’d be happy. Then he saw the lip.” Amelia’s voice broke. “He still won’t hold him.”
“Oh, Amelia.” Shame crept over her as she remembered her own reaction to the baby’s harelip. “You said the doctor can fix it.”
“When Melvin’s a little older, they can sew it together.”
Amelia returned to the dishes, working silently for several minutes before she spoke again. “I pray that this baby will be the one.”
“The one?”
“The one Fred can love.”
Amelia’s words hung in the air. The one he could love? Did you get to choose which child you loved? Liddie ached for her sister and her children.
Click.
Amelia and Liddie packed a lunch for a trip to the river while Joe loaded the kids into the buckboard. That October, after a particularly dry year, a raging river was only the product of one’s imagination. But the banks were dotted with trees, and Liddie found herself drawn to the greenery, so seemingly rare in Wyoming. While Joe and Hope went off to look for tadpoles, the women sat with Melvin crawling between them.
“I thought you might not marry. And a farmwife. I never.” Amelia laughed.
“It came out of the blue.” Liddie wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked out toward Joe. He and Hope were chucking rocks into a “river” narrow enough to step across in one stride.
She faced Amelia. “I didn’t know Fred well before you married, but he seems different.”
“He works so hard. He has a lot on his mind.”
The comment reminded Liddie of how she’d made excuses for Littmann. “Are you happy, Amelia?” Liddie asked.
Amelia picked up Melvin and held him above her head, looking up at him and laughing. Even though Melvin was fifteen months old, the harelip made his attempts at words unintelligible. He flailed his arms and legs and gurgled in delight.
“I’m happy,” Amelia said at last, her tone daring Liddie to say she wasn’t.
Click.
Fred tossed the Cheyenne newspaper on the table. “Figured you’d want to see that,” he said to Amelia. “Wilson Club of Women Formed,” read a headline. “War or Peace the Issue This Year, Say Mothers,” said the subheading.
“Thank you, Fred.” Amelia dried her hands on her apron and picked up the paper. “He always picks up the paper for me,” she announced, as though this were a great act of love.
“She can’t get enough of the news,” Fred said.
“Gertie’s starting a Wilson Club here,” Amelia explained. “I’ll work with her.”
Fred snorted. “It’s a stretch to think women can change anything.”
“We can try,” Amelia countered. “I’ll help if she gets it going.”
Liddie was surprised to see her sister interested in politics. “Our paper has something on the war every week.”
“Ours, too,” Amelia murmured as she scanned the articles.
“What are people here saying?” Joe asked Fred.
“Some are ready to help take it to the kaiser. Most think it ain’t our business.”
“Even though they’ve been sinking American ships?” Joe asked.
“Damned Krauts,” Fred spat.
Joe’s shoulders tensed, though his face remained impassive.
“Fred!” Amelia’s tone was sharp.
Go Away Home Page 24
