Farmer Takes a Wife (2 page)

T
oday, the twenty-second of April, was Emma Fowler’s wedding day. She hadn’t realized she would agree to marry Dave Stafford until she’d actually uttered the words. Her friends said she was crazy and Emma couldn’t really argue; marrying a man she’d only met the week before
did
sound certifiable.

She’d found the
Farmer’s Newsletter
at the rural feed store where she’d taken Jamie to look at puppies. It’d been a Saturday afternoon, and they’d gone for a drive in the country. She’d read the brief, straightforward ad, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, Dave Stafford’s words had struck a chord within her. The idea of contacting this North Dakota farmer had slowly but surely taken hold in her mind.

Life in Seattle, raising Jamie alone, was difficult and often hectic. She raced to the day-care center every morning, carrying a sleeping Jamie into the building, whispering goodbye and then rushing off to work. By the end of her shift she was tired, depleted. All she wanted was to get home, get dinner on the table, and spend whatever time
she could with her daughter. During those evenings, she often sat at Jamie’s bedside, her heart aching, thinking this was no way to raise a child.

She’d once dreamed of being a photographer, of having her pictures appear on calendars and in magazines. In fact, it was in a photography class that she’d met Gary Simpson. He was handsome and talented and he’d made a point of pursuing her. They’d gotten involved, more involved than Emma intended, and then he’d abruptly broken it off without explanation, disappearing from the photography class, refusing to return her calls. When Emma learned she was pregnant, Gary had reluctantly confessed that he was married and in couples’ counseling with his wife. Left reeling from the shock, Emma changed the course of her own life. She dropped out of the class, worked as much overtime as she could and prepared to be a single mother.

Her own mother had died of ovarian cancer when Emma was twenty; her father had quickly remarried and now lived in Arizona. Her only brother had a fishing trawler in the waters off Alaska. As a single mother, struggling to do what was right for her daughter, Emma had never felt more alone. There were men, plenty of them, interested in dating her, but having been burned once, Emma was less trusting, less open, less willing to make herself vulnerable again.

As the next few years slipped past, Emma faced a simple truth. She didn’t
want
to date. The weekends with Jamie were precious, and since she had no choice but to leave her daughter every day, it didn’t seem right to waste the little time they did have together on relationships that always went nowhere.

Dave’s honesty had impressed Emma and she’d been particularly moved by the word he’d used to describe himself during one of their conversations.
Lonely
. It resonated
with her. Although she lived in a large metropolis, Emma was lonely, too. She had her child and her friends, but she didn’t have a companion to share her life with, a lover she could trust with her deepest truths. Her heart had been shattered and she still felt used, emotionally wounded.

She often thought of a story she’d once heard about her great-grandparents. The two families had immigrated to the American midwest from Germany at the turn of the last century. Since their son and daughter were of marriageable age, their parents had arranged for them to meet, and the two of them had subsequently agreed that they could make a life together. Then, without courtship or fanfare, they’d married a week later. Their union had lasted nearly sixty years and produced eight children. They’d worked hard to ensure that their marriage would succeed and by all accounts it had been a contented one.

So, remembering the story of her great-grandparents, Emma had answered Dave Stafford’s advertisement for a wife. Lonely farmer seeks wife. Lonely single mother seeks husband. It was a good match … she hoped.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door and Emma whirled around, staring at it.

“Emma,” Dave called called softly. “Time to go.”

“I’m … nearly ready,” she called back. She reached for the small bouquet of wildflowers Dave’s mother had picked for her that morning, then resolutely opened the bedroom door. Dave and his mother were waiting for her at the foot of the stairs and they escorted her to Mrs. Stafford’s car—a ten-year-old sedan—which was parked in front of the farmhouse. Emma had sat on the porch and watched Dave wash and wax it the night before, touched by the sweet hopefulness of this gesture.

From here they would drive into Grand Forks to meet the plane that was bringing Jamie and her godmother to North Dakota. Because of the complexity of the arrangements, both here and in Seattle, Emma had come to North Dakota two days before her daughter. As soon as she arrived—to stay for good—she’d been installed in the guest bedroom. Now she sat in the car beside her husband-to-be, on the way to her own wedding.

Three hours later, the wedding took place in a small church on the outskirts of Grand Forks. The minister was a longtime friend of Dave’s family. Jamie, uncertain and cranky, clung to Emma’s skirt and whined. During the ceremony, Dave bent down and picked her up and held her in his arms. To Emma’s astonishment, Jamie didn’t squirm or cry. Instead, she stared at Dave transfixed, as though she understood that this stranger, this man now holding her, would play a major role in her life.

Afterward they all went to dinner at the same Italian restaurant where Dave and Emma had met a week earlier. Following the meal, Sandy, Jamie’s godmother and Emma’s closest friend, left for Minneapolis to visit her brother.

On the drive to the farm, Dave’s mother sat with Jamie in the back seat, while Dave and Emma again rode up front. They didn’t seem to have much to say to each other. As soon as they reached home, Dave’s mother loaded up her car, kissed them goodbye and promptly left.

For the first time, the three of them were alone.

“I’ll get Jamie ready for bed,” Emma said after Dave had carried in the suitcases. The child was exhausted and fell asleep halfway through her favorite story.

Dave was waiting for her when she came downstairs. “She went to sleep okay?” he asked.

“No problem at all.”

“Good.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as if he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “I’ve got some errands to run in the morning if you’d care to come along. I’d like you to see Buffalo Valley.”

Emma hesitated.

“The town’s not much, but there’s a grocery there and a great little pharmacy. I’ll treat Jamie to an ice cream soda. Hassie Knight makes the best sodas I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’d like that,” she told him. They’d spent nearly a week becoming accustomed to the idea of marriage, of living together. She’d stayed at his house that first night—after their meeting at the Italian restaurant—and they’d talked endlessly; then she’d gone home to Seattle to make all the necessary plans. But every night that week, they’d talked for hours on the phone.

Now they were married, and there was only silence, an awkward silence that stretched between them.

“I was thinking …”

“Maybe we should …”

Nervous laughter followed, and they both hesitated. Finally Dave spoke. “How about a game of cribbage?” he asked politely.

The previous evening, he’d taught her how to play. Emma remembered her grandparents had loved it, but as a child, she’d never gotten the hang of the counting system.

“Sure,” she said, willing to do anything that would relax some of the tension they were obviously both feeling.

They sat across from each other and as he dealt the cards, Emma noticed the plain gold band on his left hand. Her gaze dropped to her own wedding wing, equally plain. It was still hard to believe that the man who sat across from
her was her husband. She was
married
. This was for life, and it was for real. They were husband and wife.

“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four and a pair is six,” Dave said as he moved his peg forward.

Emma spread out her hand for him to see. “I only have …” She paused checking her cards a second time. “Fifteen-two, right?”

“Look again,” he advised.

She recounted. “Fifteen-four,” she said, then saw an additional two points. “Fifteen-six.”

“Right.” He grinned broadly, and Emma grinned back. He hadn’t pointed out her error to her, but let her see it for herself. Emma appreciated that. In fact, there was a great deal to appreciate about Dave Stafford. She’d had a revelation of this during the middle of their wedding service when he reached down for Jamie, taking her daughter in his arms and holding her between them as they repeated their vows. This simple action reassured her that the vows Dave spoke included Jamie. He’d promised to love her, to care for her, to be her daddy.

“It’s late and we’ve both had a long day,” Dave announced when she covered a yawn.

Emma nodded. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how truly tired she was. After all, it wasn’t every day she became someone’s wife!

She waited for him as, one by one, he turned out the lights. Together they climbed the stairs, illuminated by a single lamp that cast a soft glow about them. Emma paused outside the bedroom she’d slept in last night, where Jamie rested now. “Thank you, Dave, for a wonderful day. A special day …”

He frowned. “You aren’t sleeping in there, are you?”

Emma frowned, too, a little shocked by his question. They hadn’t discussed this, and she hadn’t planned to share his bed. Not yet, anyway. Not tonight. “You don’t honestly expect me to sleep with you?”

In response he gave a small, soft laugh. “You’re my wife now.
Expecting
might be putting it a little strongly, but, yes, I was hoping you would …”

D
ave worried about Emma’s reaction to Buffalo Valley; he wanted her to like the town but he wasn’t sure she would. As was his habit, he’d been up since dawn, had the coffee brewing and the farm animals fed before Emma woke up. She came downstairs in her housecoat and slippers, the little girl at her side.

“Mornin’,” he said matter-of-factly, a bit shy. He wasn’t used to seeing a woman in her housecoat, even if she was his wife.

“Good morning,” Emma murmured as she helped herself to a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Jamie,” he said earnestly.

The child gave him a sleepy grin, and he smiled back. Along with everything else, he worried about
her
reaction to him and was pleasantly surprised by how willingly she allowed him into her small world.

Emma joined him at the table. “About last night,” she whispered, then stopped to clear her throat.

He nodded. “I wouldn’t have forced you,” he said. “And I never will. I want you to understand that. I was just hoping …”

“I know … or I should’ve known. And I want
you
to understand that … well, when the time seems right I’ll be your wife in every way.”

“And I’ll be your husband in every way.”

They shared a smile and he felt as if they’d successfully crossed their first hurdle.

Emma turned to her daughter. “We’re going for a ride this morning,” she told Jamie.

“Into Buffalo Valley,” Dave added.

The little girl clapped her hands, obviously delighted.

“Does the grocery sell film?” Emma asked as they headed toward the car.

“If not, the pharmacy will.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take some pictures of the farm.”

Dave assumed she wanted to take a few snapshots to send her family. Although she’d contacted her father and brother about the wedding, neither had bothered to attend the ceremony. They’d both sent token congratulations but neither had done more than that. She’d made an obvious effort to hide her disappointment and offered excuses for her family’s lack of interest, but Dave could see that their indifference had hurt Emma. Earlier, she’d let it slip that her father had only seen Jamie once, and then very briefly. Her brother had visited her in Seattle a few times, but had revealed no great interest in the child, either.

During the drive into town, Emma taught Jamie the words to
Farmer in the Dell
, and soon the three of them were singing together. He felt self-conscious about the second verse, in which the
farmer takes a wife
, but was determined
not to show it. He suggested
She’ll be Comin’ Around the Mountain
next and Jamie threw herself into the “toot-toots” with great vigor. He noted that as they arrived in Buffalo Valley, the song faded from Emma’s lips.

Dave tried to picture the town through her eyes, tried to imagine seeing it for the first time. He had to admit it was a stark, sad little place, with boarded up storefronts, cracked sidewalks, abandoned homes and lives. Years earlier, it’d been a thriving farm town, filled with people who had hopes and dreams for the future. In the midsixties, the high school had won the state football championship; Dave doubted they even had a team these days.

“That’s the grocery over there,” he said, pointing to Hansen’s on Main Street. “It doesn’t look like much, but they should have everything on your list.”

“I’m sure they will,” Emma said and put on a brave smile. She didn’t mention what she thought of the town, but the expression on her face told him all he needed to know.

Dave ran over to Joshua McKenna’s Fix-It and Antiques Store while Emma did the grocery shopping. He found her chatting with Marta Hansen when he finished loading the small engine Joshua had repaired for him.

“I didn’t know you were married!” Marta said, eyes narrowed. “And you kept it a
secret …
” She seemed affronted at the thought that he might have wanted to keep his private life private. “I don’t—”

“Congratulations,” Jacob interrupted, joining his wife.

Jamie raced up and down the stores aisles, which were sadly empty. “I don’t suppose you heard the news about Eloise Patten,” Marta said, frowning at her husband. “She’s dead.”

“The schoolteacher,” Jacob elaborated for Emma’s benefit.

“It means the death of this town, too. We all know what’ll happen when the school closes down,” Marta said grimly.

“No one said anything about closing the school,” Jacob pointed out, glancing apologetically toward Dave and Emma.

“Not
yet
,” Marta said. “Just wait and see. That’s the problem with people in this town,” she continued, shaking her head. “Where do they think we’re going to get another teacher? Who on earth would move here? I can’t understand why no one’s willing to admit the truth. Buffalo Valley is as good as dead.”

On that discouraging note, Dave quickly ushered Emma and Jamie outside, sorry he’d taken Emma to the grocery first. A better choice would have been Knight’s Pharmacy. Hassie was always stalwart and usually cheerful and would present a more optimistic look at the community.

Dave made the introductions as he lifted Jamie onto the stool at the soda fountain.

“Heard you found yourself a wife,” Hassie said, beaming them a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stafford—Emma.” She gestured expansively. “Sodas are on the house.”

“How sweet,” Emma said, responding with obvious pleasure to Hassie’s generosity.

“Welcome to Buffalo Valley.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, smiling at Dave. “It’s good to be here.”

“This town could use more children,” Hassie added, plopping a maraschino cherry on Jamie’s soda. Jamie squealed with excitement and immediately grabbed for the bright red fruit.

“You talked to Gage Sinclair lately?” Hassie asked.

“Not lately.” Dave knew what Hassie was really asking
and it had nothing to do with sharing farm news. What she was suggesting was that Dave tell his friend about his good fortune in finding a wife, since Gage was interested in marriage, too. Somehow Dave couldn’t see him placing an ad, the way he’d done. But then he’d been surprised at his own willingness to try this. A man had to reach a certain point of desperation, he suspected. And he’d reached it a few months earlier, when he realized he was almost forty, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone. Glancing at the woman beside him, he was glad he’d found the courage to follow through with the ad.

They left Buffalo Valley an hour later. Jamie fell asleep in the back seat and they rode in silence for several miles.

“Is Buffalo Valley going to die?” Emma asked as they drove by field after field of greening wheat.

Dave shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“They need a teacher?”

“Yes. The town may not survive without one, but my guess is someone will step forward and take the job.”

“I hope you’re right,” she murmured, growing thoughtful again.

Dave wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so confident; perhaps it was because his own view of the future had grown more positive.

They arrived back at the house, and a few minutes later Emma had loaded her camera with film. Together they put away the groceries, and then Dave gave Jamie a ride around the yard in the wheelbarrow. Afterward, he left the child sitting on the ground nearby, digging idly in the dirt and watching her mother.

Emma took more pictures than he’d ever seen anyone take, holding the camera in different positions and at
varying distances from her subjects. Standing eye to eye with a sunflower, she must have snapped a dozen photographs of that alone. He couldn’t imagine what she intended to do with them all, but he enjoyed seeing her pleasure as she worked.

He went to the barn for a while, carrying the repaired engine, which was for a small generator he kept there. When he returned, she was still engrossed in taking her photographs.

“It’s been almost three years since I did this,” she said happily, focusing on him and quickly clicking off a number of frames.

“You obviously know your way around a camera,” he remarked in a good-natured way, although he felt self-conscious about being photographed.

“I studied photography. At one time I thought I’d be able to sell my pictures.” She paused. “This used to be very important to me. I haven’t mentioned it yet … but I’d like photography to be part of my life again.”

“I’d like that, too,” he murmured, wanting to encourage her.

Emma smiled. “I’d better get lunch ready,” she said, then surprised him by kissing his cheek.

So far, they’d shared casual kisses, nothing passionate. Dave wasn’t sure what they were waiting for. He’d vowed that he’d allow the physical side of their relationship to develop naturally. He didn’t want to rush Emma, but by the same token he
was
a man and they
were
married.

“Emma?” he said and reached for her hand, stopping her.

He could see in her eyes that she knew what he was asking.

Without another word, she was in his arms and she’d raised her face to his. Dave felt the kiss all the way to the
soles of his feet. Her mouth was warm and moist, the kiss deep, probing … wonderful. They broke apart, stared at each other, then came together again like the lovers they fully intended to be. Dave could barely believe the intensity of desire that flashed through him.

“Emma, sweet Emma.”

“Oh, Dave … oh … oh, I didn’t expect—”

“Me, neither.”

“It’s still early … We’ve hardly been married twenty-four hours.”

“We’re
married
,” he cried, laughing and eager. “What more do you want?” He dropped a brief kiss on her lips. “Listen, if Jamie’s down for her nap, we—”

At the mention of the child’s name, Emma whirled around. “Jamie? Where’s Jamie?”

Dave started and looked wildly in all directions. “I thought she was with you! I thought maybe you’d taken her inside….”

“She was with me…. She was right over there. I was taking pictures of the sunflowers and—” Emma froze and they both stared down the rows of five-foot-high plants. Sunflowers, row after row, that stretched continuously, stretched for miles.

If Jamie had wandered down one of those rows and gotten lost, it might be days before they found her.