Brides of Texas (27 page)

A
s the meeting broke up, Mrs. Kunstler tugged on Carmen’s sleeve. “When Ismelda tells you about her baby, you act surprised.”

“Why would I lie?”

“It’s not lying. You
were
surprised. She deserves to have the delight of seeing that.”

“Then you should have held what you knew in confidence.” Carmen shook out her skirts. “When I see Ismelda, she’ll know how thrilled I am for her and Otto.”

Duncan offered, “I’ll walk you home, Carmen.”

Thankful for the excuse to leave, Carmen nodded. “I’m ready to go.” Carmen didn’t say anything until they were out of earshot from anyone. “I keep reminding myself that she is a good mother-in-law to Ismelda. That’s all that matters.”

“ ’Tisna all that matters, but I grant you, I’m glad for Ismelda’s sake ’tis the case.”

“Jenny’s baby—”

“Dinna fret o’er the bairn. I can say with every confidence the arrangements will be good.”

Carmen twitched a wry smile.
He might as well just announce that he’s going to claim Jenny and the baby as his own
.

“I’m fit to be tied o’er something else, though.” He stopped.

“What?” Carmen halted, too.

“Reading to old Mrs. Lintz. Organizing a meal for after the Warner funeral. Helping sew the quilt for the bazaar. Playing the piano every other week at church. Polishing all the wood inside the church…” He continued as if reciting a litany.

“There’s nothing wrong with my helping out.”

Duncan looked as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

Carmen started walking again.
He has no right to dictate how I spend my time
.

Duncan strode alongside her and bellowed out a prolonged sigh for her benefit.

“Maybe you’re reacting this way because you’re convinced that you’re not doing enough.” She shot him a look. “Painting the church is a good start, but there were other things you could have offered to do, too.”

“I dinna run off and sign up for every last thing. What I’m to do is go where the Lord calls me. In the future, when He leads me toward other projects, I can put my hand to them then. But until He calls me, I’ll wait.”

His words nettled her. Her skirts swirled about her as she halted. “Are you saying I don’t?”

“Come along.” He grabbed her elbow and took a step.

Carmen jerked away. “I can walk just fine. Don’t treat me like I’m a cripple.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’d help any woman o’er these jagged roots. Ne’er once have I treated you like a cripple. Heed me well, Carmen Rodriguez, a special pair of shoes could even out your walk, but ’tisna the insignificant difference in your stroll that hinders ye. No, ’tisna a-tall. ’Tis your heart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”

“Ooch, lass, there is. Let’s go to your veranda where we can discuss this privately.”

“No one is eavesdropping here. Say what you have to say.”

Duncan glanced up and down the street. His brow furrowed, but he gave her a curt nod. “You’ve a sickness in your heart of hearts, and ’tis twisting your spirit. I’ve spoken wi’ you on other occasions, but ye’ve not listened. God doesna need you to do the work of a dozen and find an early grave just to enter the kingdom of heaven. Nae, He doesna, for Christ paid the price.”

“I know that!”

“Do you?” He stared at her solemnly. “Then all these works you take on—what is the purpose?”

“To help others.”

He wagged his head from side to side and let out a profound sigh. “You’re a bonny lass, Carmen Rodriguez. Aye, you are—not only on the outside, but in your heart, as well.”

She stared at him. No man had ever complimented her, yet this wasn’t exactly a compliment.

“Anyone who needs you to do labor on their behalf ought to be thankful for all you do. Nevertheless, their caring for you ought ne’er be based on what chore you accomplished but on the fact that you’re a fine woman.”

Though tempted to respond, Carmen held her tongue.

Duncan seemed more than intent on speaking his piece. “You dinna hae to earn your way into the hearts of others by exhausting yourself. And if you dinna think that’s what you’re doing, then you need to wonder why ’tis so important for you to fill every last waking hour with rushing about. ’Tis in stillness that we calm our hearts and commune with the Almighty.”

“You heard the sermon last Sunday, about the gifts God gives and expects us to exercise. The gift of helps—that’s mine. I’m being a faithful follower to go forth and help others.”

“I agree ’tis your gift.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

He gave her a long, intent look. “Your gift is not to be a burden that strains your every waking moment. I’m concerned.”

“Over nothing.” When he’d looked at her, he’d ended at her hem—and it all came back to the same thing. He considered her feeble.

“Carmen, you’ve gotten so caught up in staying busy on the account of others that you’ve forgotten to listen for the Lord to direct your efforts.”

“I don’t need thunder to shake the heavens to direct me where the needs are. God gave me eyes to see them and ears to hear the pastor and others mention how someone requires help.”

“Those people can be His messengers—but had you considered that others present are meant to assume some of those responsibilities?”

“The Lord loves a cheerful giver.”

“Aye, He does. But I dinna recall e’er reading in His Word that He loves a frantic giver.”

“Frantic!”

Duncan nodded. “Pray, Carmen. You’re so caught up in deeds that you’re losing sight of the One to whom you’re devoted.”

Carmen reared back. “Did it ever occur to you that some of us wouldn’t have to do so much if others of you would step up and do your share?” She didn’t wait for his reaction. Carmen lifted her skirt and hastened over the tangled roots as fast as her crooked leg would allow.

Duncan reached over and buffed the toe of a boot. He used buttery soft kidskin and created a pair that would yield ultimate comfort. Though he’d never once heard Carmen complain, Duncan knew her feet and legs had to bother her after she exerted herself. An elastic gusset would make it quicker for Carmen to pull on the boots, but Duncan opted to make the ankle-top boots lace up. They’d give more support.

At first glance, someone might think one boot was propped up on a small block, but it wasn’t. Fashionable women’s footwear featured heels that narrowed down to a three-quarter-inch circle. Both heels on this custom-made pair measured an inch in diameter, but he’d added a full inch in height to the sole and heel on the left and subtracted half an inch from the heel on the right. The net result was a pair of shoes that would compensate for the difference Carmen’s twisted limb caused. Aye, she’d be able to walk more smoothly and even leave a footprint that wouldn’t tattle on the compensations.

Kept busier still by the things she’d volunteered to do, Carmen didn’t seem to be home much. Duncan wasn’t fooled, though. He’d hurt her feelings. Since he couldn’t catch her to give an apology, these boots and a note would speak for him.

Three crumpled, ink-blotted tries later, Duncan scuffed his own boots on the floor of his workshop. He’d not been this ill at ease with a pen in his hand since he’d been a schoolboy and had been forced to write a treatise on peregrine falcons.

He dipped into the inkwell again.

He didn’t scribe her name at the beginning nor his at the end. The boots themselves made it clear he was addressing her. Satisfied with this note, Duncan crossed the street, set the shoes by Carmen’s door, and tucked the folded note between them.

“You didn’t come to church yesterday.” Carmen took the egg basket from Ismelda. She’d intentionally waited until today because she hoped her sister would come to her. She hadn’t.

Ismelda let out a nervous little laugh. “I wasn’t feeling well. In fact, I’m not feeling good at all in the mornings anymore.”

“You should have told me. Didn’t you think I’d be delighted that you and Otto are going to be blessed with a baby?”

“Otto and I—we decided not to tell anybody because Mercy and Rob just shared their good news. Especially after what Mercy went through the last time, I thought it would be nice for her to have everyone get excited for her.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m not just anybody. I’m your sister!”

Ismelda wound her arm around Carmen’s waist. “And you’re going to be my baby’s aunt. You don’t know how happy that makes me. I promised Otto that I wouldn’t tell a soul, though. You wouldn’t want me to break a promise I made to my husband. Since I missed church yesterday, I’m sure people must suspect the truth.”

Carmen nodded. Telling Ismelda that her mother-in-law had said something would spoil her joy. “I knew this day would come. I’ve already bought some fabric, but I hid it away in my bureau.”

“It would be too hard for Jenny.” Ismelda smiled softly. “You know, when you first took her in, I wondered if it was such a smart thing. But the moment I met her, I knew God had a reason for sending Jenny here. Otto and I—we’ve been praying for her. Knowing she’s accepted Jesus is so exciting. Now we’re praying that maybe God will put a man in her life, just as He did for Mercy.”

“Maybe so.”
He probably has—it’s Duncan Gregor
.

“Stay for the day. We could make tortillas. Otto’s mother can’t make them right. She keeps thinking they should be rolled out like pie dough.”

“You’ll have to teach my niece how to make tortillas.”

Ismelda laughed and rested her head on Carmen’s shoulder. “We’ll come visit you all the time, and you can teach her that yourself. Yours are always perfect circles. Mine are as lopsided as those eggs you’re carrying.”

After spending the day with her sister, Carmen headed home. She’d rented a buggy from the livery and driven it back without any trouble. From the day she’d fallen off a horse and broken her leg, she’d never again ridden. Ismelda told Jorge at the livery about how horses made Carmen nervous. He always made sure she didn’t have to be near the horses, so as soon as she reached the livery, he hopped into the buggy and drove her home.

“Look!” Jenny greeted her at the door and gestured toward the settee. “I must have been napping when Duncan dropped by.”

Carmen stared at the floor and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.

I
knew you’d be thrilled.” Jenny pushed her toward the boots waiting on the settee. “Try them on. Aren’t they beautiful? The leather is so soft and supple.”

Pulling away, Carmen mumbled something that she knew didn’t make sense and raced for her bedroom. She shut the door, threw herself across the bed, and slammed her fist into her pillow. Mortification and rage left her shaking. Duncan told her special shoes would correct her step—and now, he was proving his point.

Tap, tap, tap
. Jenny slowly opened the door a mere crack. “Carmen? You don’t have to be embarrassed. Ever since my grandma died, nobody loved me—but you have. Don’t you think I love you enough to be glad that you can wear such clever shoes so it’s easier for you to walk?”