Serendipity (10 page)

The next morning, Maggie looked at the bottles of her perfume while brushing her hair. He liked her perfume. Should she dab on a little as was her custom, or omit using it because he might consider it flirtatious? He’d leave tomorrow, and he’d forget her perfume . . . and forget her.

“Miss Rose.” Mr. Valmer’s deep, morning-husky voice whispered across the distance.

I’ll miss the sound of his voice.
Glancing up in the mirror, she spied him over in the doorway. The intensity of his unwavering gaze made tingles go up and down her spine.

His eyes met hers in the mirror, and one side of his mouth kicked upward as he beckoned her.
I’ll miss his crooked grin, too – though it
doesn’t mean anything. That’s what I have to keep in mind.

Setting down the brush, Maggie chose a comb. She held it between her teeth and twisted her hair into a long rope as she walked to the door. Once the whole length gave just the right tension, she coiled her hair and grabbed the comb. Daddy formed the comb with only three teeth – but they were all an inch apart and five inches long. Wiggling it back and forth from scalp to bun, she whispered, “Your mother had a difficult night. I’d like her to gain another hour of sleep yet.”

“Fine . . . good.” Mr. Valmer stared at her as she crossed the room, but as she reached him, he tore his gaze away and muttered, “Sleep. The raveled care . . .”

“ ‘Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.’ ” Even though he’d jumbled Shakespeare, it was touching. He slipped in a quote from the Bible here or there and occasionally even a line from Shakespeare! Since Daddy died, she hadn’t spoken to anyone with the same ability.

As Maggie squeezed past him and out of the room, they brushed against one another. She felt breathless and tingly. Funny, she never really noticed her heart picking up pace around any other fellow, but it kept happening around Mr. Valmer
. He’s the only man near
my age I’ve seen more than once. Well, other than a few of the fellows
who come a-trading – and business is strictly business
.

Maggie wished to give Uncle Bo a piece of her mind. If he hadn’t been yammering about her “marryin’ up,” she wouldn’t be making such a goose of herself. These momentary reactions were nonsense, plain and simple. Besides, even if she were absolutely full-on smitten, nothing would come of it. This farmer must get back to his fields in Texas, and she was still needed in the holler.

Pulling the door shut, Mr. Valmer cleared his throat again. “The door – it was ajar. I did not mean to intrude.”

“The way you check on your mother warms my heart.” One last wiggle and stab, and the comb secured her hair. Maggie entered the kitchen.

“It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop.” His eyes sparked with humor. “As much as she’s cried, I worried you might be in danger of drowning. I came to rescue you.”

Maggie found his admission disarmingly clever. “Especially at the start, it’s normal for a body to be sorrowful. As time passes, if your mama keeps a-crying a pond of tears and wallows in it, you’ll need to set her straight. Christ Jesus did the ultimate work when His precious arms and legs couldn’t move anymore.”

He nodded curtly. “So will I tell her. The thought – it is sehr
gut.
”

Maggie reached for her mixing bowls. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I need to ask you something.”

The door banged open. “Maggie! I’m starvin’ again!”

Grudgingly, Todd set aside their discussion until later.

“Let’s see to breakfast.” As Miss Rose spoke, deep rumbles of male conversation converged on the porch.

For pete’s sake, every last one of the holler’s inhabitants had showed up for the meal. As far as Todd could see, St. Peter was the only one not sitting at the table. Left up in heaven minding the pearly gates, he was probably having a good laugh at Todd’s predicament. Todd wanted a nice, quiet breakfast and hoped to escort Miss Rose on a walk after church, where he could propose.

Earlier, he’d lost his breath when he’d spied her with her hair spilling down in inky splendor. She’d refrained from scorching his ears for gawking at her in such a compromising state. Instead, she spun her tresses round and round, disciplined them into that bun, and nabbed it in place with the comb. His fingers itched to pull it back out and test the texture of her hair.

Why did the “uncles” have to show up for breakfast?

All the noise and laughter woke up Ma. Miss Rose bundled Ma into a robe, braided her hair and secured it in the same across-the-head-and-back arrangement Ma favored. Ma screeched as Todd picked her up. “Where do you think you’re taking me? There are men out there!”

“You’ll be eating breakfast with us and sharing in the worship. It’s Sunday, and everyone under my roof attends church.” Miss Rose bustled ahead. “Mr. Valmer, please position your mother next to yourself.” After setting the invalid cup of soupy oatmeal in front of Ma, Miss Rose took a seat across from her.

Mr. Collier said a prayer, then Miss Rose poured milk into her oatmeal, heaped in some sugar, and stirred it. Setting aside the spoon, she picked up the bowl and drank her oatmeal! It didn’t take but a minute before the men at the table followed suit. Ma blustered. Todd added more milk to his own oatmeal.

“Nein.
Fresst du nicht!
”

Todd shot Ma a scowl for ordering him not to eat like an animal. His fingers curled around the china bowl, and the warmth radiating to them matched his feeling toward the young woman across the table who’d abandoned her own manners in order to make Ma feel less self-conscious
.
He spoke to her in German.
“Don’t worry about
how I eat, and I won’t worry about how you eat.”
The oatmeal went down easily. He nudged Ma’s invalid bowl closer.
“Das Wichtigste
ist, dass wir essen
.”

“Yep,” Mr. Carver declared. “That’s a smart son you got there, Mrs. Crewel. The important thing is that we all eat.”

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?”
The side of Ma’s face that didn’t droop turned into a mask of embarrassment.

“Only me and Maggie. Lot of her books are in German. Once in a blue moon, she even barters in German
.
Brings to mind the time my Magpie traded that wagon wheel. . . .”

Soon Ma sipped oatmeal while Mr. Carver related how that wheel skipped about like a stone on the surface of a lake from one trade to the next – all with his niece’s brokering – until nine trades later, that wagon wheel came back to her possession along with an apron and so many quarts of berries.

“No wonder you’ve got so much stuff!” Ma scanned the kitchen.

“I’m aiming to bring in more.” One of the men planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “That gnarled old tree finally gave up last night. I already marked what sections I want for carving. The rest can go for our Magpie’s stove. It’ll take at least six of our horses or your Belgians to drag the tree, Bo. The pair of them could probably tap it once and send it skidding here.”

Ma huffed. “Today is Sunday.”

“Yep. But if we don’t move it today, tomorrow’s train could derail and kill folks.”

Mr. Carver cleared his throat. “Magpie’ll have to do it.” Chortles filled the room. He looked Todd in the eye. “My niece spoilt them horses. They won’t listen to a single command I give. Just the other day I told Paw-Paw that pair is Maggie’s dowry because they’ll do me no good staying behind.”

“Uncle Bo!” Miss Rose turned a fetching shade of pink.

“I had all my kitchen goods, thirteen fine quilts, and a
milch
cow when I married Todd’s father.”

“But no bride brings a dowry of such great worth as matched Belgians!” Todd didn’t want Miss Rose to witness his delight. She’d assume he’d proposed to get the horses. “The man who wins Miss Rose’s hand has received treasure enough.”

Jerlund gestured around the room. “ ’Cuz of all her treasures she’ll take.”

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.” Ma pushed her now-empty cup away. “But I’m seeing plenty of trash and very few treasures.”

“Ma . . .” Todd said in a low undertone.

At the same time, Jerlund scrambled to his feet. “That wasn’t nice. I don’ like her bein’ mean to our Maggie. We love our Maggie.

Uncle Bo, Paw-Paw, Daddy – you tell her.”

“Shhh, Jerlund.” Miss Rose stood and patted Jerlund. “It’s like when I bake cookies. You like all of them. Mr. Collier favors the oatmeal ones, but if they have raisins, he doesn’t eat them. Different people have different tastes.”

Jerlund frowned. “But Mr. Collier never tole you your cookies are trash.”

“Nothing you cook could be mistaken for trash, Miss Rose.” The minute she’d stood, Todd shot to his feet. “The good Lord above knows my gratitude’s robust when I gave thanks for your meals. Even more, though, I’m indebted to you for the tender care you’ve given Ma.”

He meant every word, but he feared it was too little, too late. Miss Rose wouldn’t ever leave these men who hung on her every word and competed to earn her smiles – not to be the wife of a stranger, bribed with a pair of horses into proposing so she would care for his ailing, sour-tongued mother.

Only Todd Valmer wasn’t a quitter. He’d concoct a way. But fast. Because they’d have to get hitched tomorrow morning. First, he’d get Miss Rose alone. “I insist on hauling that tree here after church. Lives hang in the balance. Please, Miss Rose, won’t you come along to show me where it is?”

Ice on the ground crackled as the men unhitched the tree she and Mr. Valmer dragged over. As long as they rode side by side, Adam tolerated carrying Mr. Valmer. Back in the barn, they groomed the horses – but Adam wouldn’t allow Mr. Valmer to touch him. Eve endured his ministrations with a rather twitchy response. “I want to apologize for Ma. The way she talked at your breakfast table – ”

Maggie held up a hand. “She’s not herself right now. Besides, God has forgiven me for worse. How could I hold a few words against your mother?”

The way his body changed – from ready-to-snap tension to strong and able astonished Maggie. Just a few words of honest Christian charity, and the poor man looked as if she’d relieved him of a two-ton burden. “You are most kind, Miss Rose.”

Thinking of all the help he’d given to her uncles and the extra time and attention he lavished on Jerlund, she responded. “I thank you for the compliment, but most of all for jumping in and being so hardworking.”

Mr. Valmer cleared his throat. “That is something I wanted to discuss with you before breakfast. I don’t believe our exchange has been fair.”

He wanted to renegotiate? “In the spirit of being a straight dealer, I should warn you: You might wind up with a wagon wheel or an apron. Just how brave are you?”

“I have no wife to wear the apron. I would exchange it or the wheel for the berries you undoubtedly preserved.”

He isn’t thinking of having a wife anytime soon.
Maggie didn’t want to think about why that disappointed her so much.
The barter.
I need to stick to business.

“My uncle had no business repairing roofs. You’ve been a hardworking man, putting your hand and back to the heaviest chores. As a result, I gained peace of mind that’s worth every last teakettle in Russia. Just as I pitched in with your kin, you pitched in and helped mine. I reckoned we’d already decided to call it an even swap. But I insist on sending you away with a crate of food.”

“That’s not enough.”

Since he didn’t consider it fair, he ought to counteroffer. Only he stood there, staring at her. He’d done much harder physical labor in horrible weather. She’d been up several times a night with a grumpy, sick woman. But men loved sweets, so he undoubtedly wanted more jam. It was no hardship. “We’ll make it two crates, and I’ll be sure you have plenty of corn and peaches.”

He shook his head, and his brow furrowed.

“What is it you want, then?”

His gaze swept over her. A slow, handsome smile kicked up one side of his lips. “You . . .”

Six

“You . . . you have a sled!” He pointed to the sled hanging in the shadows behind her. “I have never ridden one. For the trade to be fair, I will have one crate of food and you will teach me to ride the sled.”

“The sled!” Turning to look at it, Maggie let out a shaky laugh. “This kind of snow is such a rarity, I forgot it existed. Mama, Daddy, and I would all ride it together.”