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Authors: Cathy Marie Hake

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BOOK: Serendipity
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Someone boomed, “Easiest fix is to hook the nice old lady to the seat with suspenders. I just got new ones, so you can have the old. They’re in my carpetbag.”

“Thank you, but we already have a better solution.” Magpie whispered, “Don’t fret. I know just what to do!” She hurried to the door and sent someone running. “Jethro’s gone to fetch you his favorite chair. For him to let you take it away is a mark of his honor and respect.”

A favorite chair. Helga hoped it had a well-cushioned seat. The train’s wooden benches ceased to be tolerable after a few hours. A nice tall back would help support her head. Maybe Jethro’s chair had arms, too. “The train’s going to depart,” Helga worried.

“In a few minutes.” Someone shouted her name, so Magpie went back to the door.

Helga breathed a sigh of relief. “Lift me up, Son. I want to be in my chair. Anything’s better than this miserable bench.” As he did, she scrunched her eyes to shut out the pitying looks people gave her.

Thumping and rustling sounded. “I’ve padded the sides with a quilt. Settle Ma in.”

Helga letting out a long
aaaahhhh
of bliss. Cocooned in softness, she eased into unbelievable comfort. That little gal did know what she was talking about this time. Helga owed Magpie her thanks. “Child . . .” She opened her eyes as she began but halted as every scrap of benevolence evaporated. “You put me in a whiskey barrel!”

“It hasn’t held a drop of white lightnin’ in ages. Jethro took away nigh unto half the staves and glued a seat inside to fashion himself a gambling chair. The staves here on either side . . . ? He hinged them. We can open them in daytime, and at night, shut, they’ll hold a pillow close.”

A gambling chair made from a whiskey barrel. What has the world
come to?
“I will not sit in this. It held whiskey.” Then Helga Valmer Crewel spoke words she had never considered uttering: “I’ll wear the men’s suspenders.”

“No need now. This’ll work far better, and your comfort matters.”

“Margaret,” Todd took her arm and seated her. “The train is departing.”

He’ll teach his bride proper behavior.
A dirt-poor farmer already had far too much to do without shouldering the burden of a bad bride. More than anything, Helga wanted better for her children. She’d married Mr. Crewel because he’d agreed to provide a good education for both of them. Arletta went away and soared. Indeed, she’d done so spectacularly, she’d caught the attention of a very eligible bachelor and married into a family of class and distinction.

The minute Helga moved in with her daughter, however, she realized she didn’t belong. A self-sufficient farmwife with a German accent and homemade clothing stuck out like wooden bucket amidst hand-painted china teapots. Two years of Arletta’s suggestions, complaints, hints, and lessons certainly changed her into a woman with a modicum of polish. No matter how hard she tried, though, Helga still said or did something wrong. After nearly every outing, Arletta highlighted her mistakes so she wouldn’t repeat them.

If Arletta saw me now! The things she would say!

Two years passed, but no grandbaby; then Arletta and her husband planned a trip overseas, and Helga jumped at the chance to live with Todd. And though a lady was not to travel alone, Arletta didn’t instruct any of the staff to accompany her to Texas. Instead, Todd came – at great sacrifice both financially and for the state of his farm. And know-it-all Arletta set off on her voyage without leaving so much as a cent for this grueling trip halfway across the continent. Helga slumped slightly, and the side of the barrel kept her from tipping. Bitterness filled her.

Land rich and money poor, Todd clearly had money concerns. Helga winced along with him as he stuck his hand in his pocket. Suddenly a puzzled expression chased across his features. Turning to Maggie, he slowly said her name. “There is something in my pocket.”

“For as long as it lasts, that’s where it belongs. Yoked together, we are. Aye, and all that’s mine is yours.”

The porter came by. “Accompanying a patient, Miss Rose?”

“She’s Mrs. Valmer now.” Todd acted proud as a stallion with a whole bevy of mares.

Magpie plunged into a conversation that sounded like a tightly wound music box. She introduced the porter to them, told him she’d be living on a farm in Texas, and discussed a rash the man had. A rash! Maggie produced a small jar of unguent from a nearby bag. “Just you take this, then.”

“Thankee, Miss Ro – um, Valmer?”

“That’d be Mrs. Valmer,” Todd said, reaching into his pocket. “As there wasn’t a ticket office in Carver’s Holler, I need to – ”

Waving his hand dismissively, the young man scoffed. “The horses and such are all reckoned for, and I’ll use the money I’d have paid for the medicine for the lady’s ticket.”

“That’s not necessary – ”

“It’s so nice of you to give us that as a wedding gift,” Maggie interrupted. “It’s like you’re sending me straight to my husband’s arms, but we want to pay for one more seat.”

Why did she have to point out this horrid barrel takes up two
seats?

Chuckling, the porter shook his head. “Every last man in four counties is going to hail me as a hero for getting rid of Jethro Bugbee’s good-luck gambling chair.”

“Their wives will thank you more.” Maggie flashed him a grin.

Wearing a dubious look, Todd shook hands with the porter and sat down. He shot Maggie a sizzling glare. “Valmers do not accept charity.”

“Neither do folks in these parts. Our tickets, transporting my treasures and your Belgians – it pert near evens the books on a right hefty debt. Rest easy, Husband. You don’t owe anyone a cent or a favor.”

A few hours later, the porter approached again. “Mr. Valmer, your wife’s good at calming and healing folks. We sure do need her – ”

Hopping up before Todd heard the full request, Maggie ordered, “Show me the way.”

“Do you need me?” Todd asked without first considering how that would leave Helga alone.

Maggie grazed his sleeve. “Thankee for the offer. Should I need help, I’ll send for you.”

When at last she returned, Todd voiced everyone’s curiosity. “What happened?”

“Nothing much, really.” Magpie shrugged. “When I treat someone, I won’t be speaking with you about it.”

Helga’s mouth hung wide open. “A wife keeps nothing from her husband!”

“Ma’am, you would as lief leash a bird or try to teach a pig to sing as to get me to betray a patient’s confidence.”

Todd leaned forward and murmured, “The day you took ill, she showed you this respect and dignity. It is wrong to deny someone privacy.”

Helga stared at Maggie. “Things should still be done quietly and discretion – ”

“Exactly!” Todd’s wife cut in. “Discretion. I knew you’d understand.”

Crooking her good brow, Helga gave Magpie her most chilling look. “It’s impolite to interrupt someone. Impulsive actions and blunt words can be a woman’s downfall. You must curb your impetuous nature.” There. She’d said it just as tastefully as Arletta would.

“Ma’am, I’m not one to dither. Sitting on my hands when something needs doing goes against my grain, and I’m up-front with others, just as I appreciate their candor. My nature is set. It isn’t going to change. Uncle Bo’s a wise man, and he said, ‘Love means we gotta see each other through God’s eyes, not with a mind of molding them to our own wants.’ I reckon Uncle Bo wouldn’t have put my hand in Todd’s if he weren’t dead-level certain Todd would strive to see me as I am instead of with a goal of transforming me into something I’m not.”

“Spirit is important in a woman.” Todd and she exchanged besotted glances.

In disgust, Helga gave up. She slumped into the whiskey barrel chair with the absolute knowledge that even if she’d guzzled every last drop it once held, it wouldn’t begin to numb the pain of dealing with Todd’s wayward bride.

Todd woke to the scent of roses. Maggie snuggled against his side, and he squeezed her shoulder. Caressing the darling wisps of hair that curled at her nape, he couldn’t decide whether he was the luckiest man alive to be married to her, or the most wretched for having spent their wedding trip sitting on a hard bench, in a drafty train, with his mother sitting across from them. Lifting her head from his chest, Maggie gave him a sleepy, puzzled look. Cheeks sleep-flushed and lips slightly puckered, she tempted him to abandon propriety and kiss her.
Okay, so I’m blessed and wretched
all at the same time.

Suddenly, her eyes grew huge. Snapping into perfect posture, she tried to scoot away. “You . . . I . . . umm. G’morning. Did you sleep at all? What time is it, anyway?”

She didn’t get far. His hand kept hold of her shoulder, anchoring her to his side. “I slept some, and waking up to you made this a very good morning.” Tearing his gaze from her lips, he cast a quick glance to the side and spied Ma’s valise. “At the first stop after breakfast, I will send a telegram ahead. Between your crates and Ma, we need help to get home tonight.”

Whispering softly, they got to know one another a little better and let Ma sleep . . . until Maggie let out a little squeal. “For true? I’ll finally have women for neighbors?”

He’d taken her away from all she knew and loved – but this was something she wanted and he could provide. Todd smiled. “You will have lots of woman friends.”

In her excitement she’d awakened Ma. Ma groused about being awakened, so Maggie quickly began unloading a basket she had stowed beneath the seat. “I packed us a picnic breakfast: hard-boiled eggs and prune bread.”

Prune bread. He hated prune bread.

Ma snickered. “I’m sure Todd will be certain to do it justice. Won’t you, Son?”

He plastered on a smile and choked down a piece.

“Since you like my prune bread so much, eat my slice whilst I peel Ma’s egg.”

“I could not.”

“Sure you can,” Ma and Maggie said in unison.

Just then two porters carrying linen-covered trays entered the car and stopped by them. “Mrs. Valmer, Mrs. Ludquist sends her respects and asks if you might consider sending her a bottle of your fine lotion.”

Margaret pulled out a bottle of lotion and added a cake of soap. “Please thank her for us.”

The porters whipped the linen off the trays. While Todd moaned in pleasure, laughter tinkled out of Maggie. “Dear Gussy, what a fancy spread!”

After setting the tray in front of Maggie, the porter accepted the soap and lotion. He managed to look blasé as he said, “I was directed to tell you the meal is compliments of Ludquist, Littlefield, and Mouse.”

Instantly, Todd understood. Someone needed calming yesterday. A rich woman named Mrs. Ludquist got spooked by a little field mouse. And Maggie, who talked a blue streak and loved to tell stories, stayed entirely silent about it. Truly, he’d married a woman of discretion and compassion.

Except for the gleam in her eyes, she schooled all emotion from her expression and concentrated on the tray. “Ma, holler out what appeals to you.”

Ma gritted, “You’ve created
a scene,
and everyone is watching. I won’t be a part of it.”

“Since you won’t accept anything from the trays, eat this.” Todd pushed the unwanted slice of thick, sticky prune bread into Ma’s hand. It wouldn’t be right to thank the Lord that he didn’t have to choke down prune bread. But Ma needed to eat something, and she’d turned down Maggie’s previous offers. Todd turned his focus on his bride. “I have crops in the field, God in my heart, and you in my arms. Already I awoke feeling blessed . . . and now we have this fine meal, too. Why don’t you pray this time?”

Later, when Maggie slipped off to personally thank Mrs. Ludquist, Todd boasted, “I got quite a bride. My Margaret has a kind heart and willing hands.”

Impossibly weary, Ma sighed. “So do many maids and servants. Still, it does not mean they are suited to marrying the man of the house.”

Todd snorted. “You sound like Old Frau Schwartz. ‘No girl is good enough for my son.’ Those old men back in Arkansas are saying I am not good enough for Margaret.”

“But I . . . I am right. In the days ahead, you’ll come to see she doesn’t know how to be the wife you need. She lived with carvers, not farmers.”

“My Margaret gardened, put up food, and cooked for a dozen men. She is more than capable. If there are small details she misses, you’ll be there to instruct her.”

BOOK: Serendipity
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