A Promise to Love (15 page)

All day and all night passed and Joshua did not return. She had expected him in the middle of the night, but now she was getting worried. Then the sound of horse's hooves filtered through the logs. It was not yet daylight.

She hurriedly dressed and ran out to him, passing Mary, who was still asleep on her new mattress stuffed with fresh straw.

“You are home!” she said.

“Is everything all right here?”

“We are fine.”

He dismounted, unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled out an object wrapped in cloth that he had been carrying next to his body. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Be careful with it.”

Ingrid unfolded the cloth and discovered a beautiful ceramic brush and mirror set, decorated with delicate, hand-painted violets, just like Mary had described. “This is mother's?”

“I thought she should have it back.” He had that steely look in his eye that made her very glad it wasn't
her
with whom he was angry.

“You have much trouble to get it?”

His jaw clenched. “Nope.”

He started to walk his horse to the barn.

“Joshua?”

He stopped. “Yes?”

“Do you hit brother?”

“Yep.” He drew the word out as though it gave him a great deal of satisfaction.

“Much hit?”

“Once.” He flexed his right hand, the knuckles of which were skinned and bruised. “But it felt real good.”

While he tended to his horse, Ingrid ran back into the house with the lovely set he had ridden so far to retrieve. Mary had awakened and was sitting up. Her face lit up when she saw what Ingrid handed her.

“Joshua bring.”

Mary traced the violets on the back of the mirror with one finger. “It was the last birthday present my husband gave me before he passed.”

In her excitement, Ingrid blurted out, “Joshua hit Zeb.” Then she put her hand over her mouth.

“Well, now. Josh shouldn't have done that.” Then for the first time since she had arrived, Mary's eyes twinkled. “But I can't say that I much blame him.”

 14 

Their arrival to worship with those who met in the Cains' sitting room caused quite a stir. Ingrid was proud of her new family. With the exception of Mary and Joshua, everyone was dressed in identical pink calico dresses. Even little Bertie—much too young to wear trousers—was dressed in pink calico.

Ingrid liked the idea of the children and her going to church all dressed alike her first time there. She wanted everyone in that village to know that she, Ingrid, was now the mother of these children. None of the little girls, including Agnes, seemed to mind. They were just happy to have a new dress to wear.

Thank goodness Hazel had chosen such pretty material, because Ingrid had decided she had seen enough pink calico to last her a lifetime. Mary, as she had gotten her strength back and some confidence, was becoming quite the seamstress again.

The first face Ingrid saw as they walked in was Susan, who was seated on a long wooden bench. When she saw Ingrid, she immediately scooted far to the side and motioned for the entire Hunter family to fill in the bench beside her.

Ingrid held her head high as she took her place beside Susan. She had accomplished much in the past three weeks and had nothing to be ashamed of. A sprig of hair stuck up on Bertie's head and she licked her thumb and slicked it down. Her family was a handsome bunch, and she was proud of them.

“I'm happy to see you!” Susan whispered after Ingrid had settled down beside her.

“Ja!” Ingrid beamed. “I happy you see me too!”

The services began and Susan's father spoke about the young David fighting the giant and how there were many different kinds of giants in people's lives. Ingrid nodded with understanding. After these past two months, she knew a thing or two about giants. She believed she had fought her fair share of them. Today, with her sparkling-clean children grouped around her and a good dinner and clean house awaiting them at home—she felt like she'd won a few battles herself.

Joshua was enjoying his conversation with the other men after church so much that, for a moment, he didn't remember exactly how he had ended up with Bertie. He thought it came about when Ingrid had handed him off to Agnes, and Agnes handed him off to Mary, who handed him off to Hazel, who eventually handed the baby to him. He was a little bothered by the fact that his son was wearing a pink calico dress. All baby boys wore dresses, but he thought he might have a talk with Ingrid about making Bertie something a little more, well, a little more masculine before next Sunday rolled around.

He was fairly certain they would be coming back next Sunday. These past three weeks while they had gotten on their feet as a family, he had not even brought up the idea of going to church. Diantha had been indifferent; she attended with him, but it was never a priority for her. Ingrid, on the other hand, seemed to be practically thrilled to death to go—which pleased him enormously. The strength of his faith, tried and tested on the battlefield, was something he wanted to pass down to his children. Their mother had been less than lukewarm about it, and this had been a worry to him.

He was a little surprised to see Private Lyman at church. It was quite a ways for the man to ride.

“Your daughters seem to have really taken a shine to that little Swedish gal you married,” Lyman said as they shook hands. “I'm glad it turned out so well for you and your family.”

Joshua didn't think the word
little
described Ingrid, but she was definitely Swedish, and the girls had taken more than a shine to her. As he looked at his daughters right now, they were practically hanging on Ingrid while she chatted with Hazel and Susan. Trudy was leaning against her, and Polly was holding a wad of her skirt with one hand and sucking her thumb with the other. Agnes and Ellie were standing only inches away. Even though Ingrid was deep in conversation, one hand rested lightly on Ellie's head, as though to reassure herself that the little girl wasn't wandering off.

“She's been good for them,” Joshua said truthfully. “What are you doing here today? It must be an hour's ride.”

“An hour's ride goes by fast when a man's in love.”

“You're in love?” Joshua was startled. “Who with?”

“The preacher's daughter.” Lyman nodded toward the small clump of women near Ingrid. “She caught my eye the day me and the other men came to back you with the judge. I liked the way she jumped in to help that little wife of yours get herself a wedding. One of the nicest things I ever saw a woman do for another. I kind of thought if she was that kind, she might not mind too much being courted by a man with only one good arm. I've been coming down every Sunday since. Her and her mama have been nice enough to invite me to Sunday dinner each time.”

“What about her father?”

“The preacher?” Lyman chuckled. “I'm not sure he notices I'm there. He's kinda distracted. Keeps making little notes on pieces of paper he keeps beside him during dinner. Susan says it's all the things he wishes he'd said in his sermon but forgot to.”

Joshua took out his pocket watch and observed the time. Brother Cain had preached for over two hours. “He couldn't have left out much!”

“Well, now,” Lyman said. “I would say you're probably right about that.”

Joshua wondered how to broach the subject, especially in a house filled to the rafters with females. He weighed the odds of getting into deep trouble with his request and decided it was about fifty/fifty.

He waited until they had eaten Sunday dinner and the dishes had been washed. The girls were outside playing, and his mother was upstairs resting. She had gained enough strength in the past couple days that she had begun to go upstairs, where she now shared a bed with Polly and Agnes. She seemed to prefer the semi-privacy of the girls' loft to sleeping in the middle of the sitting room.

He cleared his throat and waded in, choosing to start with a compliment.

“Um, Ingrid, you and the girls looked wonderful today. I appreciate all the hard work you and Mother did on those dresses.”

She looked up from her Bible, which he had noticed she was reading more and more these days—in fact, ever since the night his mother had come. “Thank you.” Then her head went down again.

He cleared his throat. “Look, Ingrid. I appreciate you making clothes for the children, but could you make a dress that's a little less . . . feminine . . . for Bertie before next Sunday?”

He tensed, wondering if there would be a blow-up.

“Ja, sure. You buy little bit of boy material, and I sew that.” She perused her Bible again.

“I just heard what you two were saying.” His mother came downstairs. “I've been thinking. Before Barb got so mad at me, I used to try to send enough material to Diantha every Christmas to make dresses for her and the girls. Did she use all of it?”

“I don't think she used hardly any of it,” Joshua said. “Her mother sewed most of the girls' clothing out of fabric she purchased herself. There should be plenty of it left.”

“Where?” Ingrid asked. He suddenly had her full attention. “Where this material hide?”

“The last I saw, it was in Diantha's trunk.”

“Where is trunk?” Ingrid asked. “In barn?”

“Beside the bed,” Joshua said, “where the lamp is.”

“That big box with long fancy cloth on it?”

“Diantha liked to keep it covered with a tablecloth her mother had embroidered—she said it made the trunk look like a table.”

“We open, please?”

“It's probably locked,” Joshua said.

“You have key?” Ingrid sounded hopeful.

“No.” He shook his head. “I never knew where Diantha kept it. I had almost forgotten the trunk was there.”

About that time, Agnes came inside.

“Do you know where your mother kept the key to her trunk?” he asked.

No,” Agnes said. “But Ma was always real careful about that key. She had a special hiding place for it, and she made sure we never knew where it was.”

“Why she lock up dress material?” Ingrid asked.

“She said she was afraid the girls would get into it and cut doll clothes out of it.”

“Ja, I see that happen,” Ingrid said. “You think of place for key, you let me know.”

Ingrid closed her Bible. She was pleased that Mary was feeling so much better today. She was happy about getting to go to church. It felt good to have the family all around her now on this quiet Sabbath. Even Joshua was reading his
Michigan Farmer
magazine, content to take a day of rest. But Ingrid's mind was darting here and there, trying to figure out a good hiding place for that key. If there really was fabric in that trunk, she needed it to clothe her children, but there was also a part of her that couldn't help wondering if there was anything else she might find in that locked trunk.

Although the rest of the family seemed to take it as a matter of course, it seemed odd to her that Diantha would bother to lock up something as mundane as fabric—especially since she didn't even value it enough to use it. Sugar, yes. It was expensive. A small birthday present, yes. Children were nosy. But fabric? She didn't think so.