Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Davids

  * * *

  Gemma threw herself down on her bed and clutched the quilt tightly in each hand. She knew why Jesse had offered for her. He was still trying to protect her the way he had in the wilderness. It was noble, but she couldn’t accept such a sacrifice from him. She wanted to keep the friendship they had found while they were snowbound in the cabin.

  She turned over to stare at the ceiling. Would marriage allow them to remain friends, or would it change everything? It was easy to imagine spending her days keeping house for him, fixing his meals and helping him farm, but there was more to marriage than that. Didn’t he deserve the chance to marry for love and be happy with a wife who loved him in return? If she wedded him, she was robbing him of that chance. She wouldn’t hurt him in the long run because he was determined to help her now. She cared too much to allow that to happen.

  The next morning, she made her way downstairs. It was late. To her surprise, her father was still sitting at the kitchen table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down, expecting more of his silent treatment.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She looked up in surprise. “Not bad.”

  “Your mother had the worst morning sickness when she was pregnant with you. It went on for weeks.”

  A wry smile curved her lips. “Is that where I got it from?”

  “Not from me. I’m never sick.”

  They both fell silent for a while. He cleared his throat and she expected him to speak but he didn’t.

  “How is Mother’s headache?” Gemma asked to break the silence.

  “Better once she didn’t have to listen to the bishop’s wife go on and on about her new grandbaby.”

  Gemma looked down. “I don’t know what else I can say except I’m sorry.”

  “I too am sorry. I’ve been hard on you out of false pride. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” She managed a slight smile for him.

  “Have you given thought to Jesse’s proposal?”

  “Only all night long. I’m going to see him now.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  “I hope I’ll have the right answer when I see him.”

  * * *

  Jesse didn’t think anything about Leroy’s buggy turning into the shed building site. It wasn’t until he heard someone cough that he stopped hammering and turned to see who it was. Gemma sat in the buggy with her hands clasped in front of her. She wore her gray cloak and her black traveling bonnet. “Guder mariye, Jesse.”

  “Good morning to you, Gemma. Have you come to any decision?” He held his breath, not knowing if he was pushing her too hard.

  “I like you a lot, Jesse. I believe you will make a good father. But there is more to a marriage than that.”

  “I would try my best.” He walked to the buggy.

  She didn’t get out. “Does it bother you that there would only be friendship between us, not love?”

  It shouldn’t have bothered him. Love wasn’t something he claimed to want or need, so why did the lack of it trouble him? He shook off the foolish thought. “Love isn’t necessary to start a marriage. Affection can grow over time. So can respect and compassion. These are things that make a strong marriage.”

  Was he convincing her? He pulled the buggy door open to help her down.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders as he swung her off the seat and deposited her in front of him. He kept his hands on her waist. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “I’m not trying to string you along. I have to make the right decision for me and for my child.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more. I’m a patient man.” He leaned close to her ear. “Do I stand a chance?”

  She tried not to smile but lost the battle. “A small one.”

  He could feel her wavering. “Give me that chance and I’ll make a good life for you and your babe, I promise. I know I can make you happy, Gemma. We can build a good life here close to your family and the friends you love. Your mother will have her grandchild close by. Your little one will have Anna’s and Bethany’s children as playmates. We can even travel to Florida for a vacation once in a while. Please say you’ll marry me.”

  * * *

  Jesse had given her every reason to say yes, except the one she wanted to hear. That he loved her. She knew he didn’t. She was foolish to think he might. Hadn’t she learned her lesson yet?

  If she said yes, it would be for the baby’s sake and not because she was head over heels in love with Jesse. Love couldn’t be trusted. Her baby would have a home, and she would have her family and friends near. She would have Jesse’s companionship for the rest of her days.

  “I’m giving you a chance to back out right now, Jesse Crump. You can live your life as a free man without any unwelcome burdens.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow grin that spread across his face as his eyes sparkled. “Sounds dull, don’t you think? Who will I find to gather bark with me?”

  She couldn’t resist his smile. “You win, Jesse Crump. I will marry you.”

  “You will?”

  “I will.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her cheek rested against his chest as he tucked her beneath his chin. “You won’t regret this. I vow it.”

  She expected the hug but she hadn’t expected it would feel so sweet or that she would want more.

  The bishop came out carrying a sheet of plywood. “Jesse. Gemma, nice to see you.”

  Gemma glanced sheepishly at Jesse. “I’ve come to tell you I have accepted Jesse’s proposal.”

  “That’s wunderbar. Have you chosen a date?”

  Gemma glanced at Jesse. He shrugged.

  She turned back to the bishop. “I’ll have to see what my parents want to do.”

  “Meet with me again when you have a day.” He tipped his hat and walked on.

  Jesse helped her back into the buggy. He held her hand a few moments longer than necessary. “I’ll see you soon.” He started to walk away.

  “Jesse?”

  He turned back to her. “What?”

  “I promise to try to be the best possible wife.” She meant it.

  “And I promise to try to be the best possible husband.”

  Thirty minutes later, Gemma found her mother lying down with a cold compress on her forehead in her darkened bedroom.

  “Oh, Mamm, do you have another headache? Can I get you something?”

  Her mother held out her hand. “That’s sweet, but I’m okay. What do you need?”

  “I came to tell you that I’ve decided to accept Jesse’s offer.”

  Mamm sat up. “You have?”

  Gemma nodded and clasped her hands together.

  “It won’t be a big wedding since it will be rushed, but I want a nice one for you. Does Jesse have much family?” Mamm asked.

  “Only his mother as far as I know.”

  “I can have everything ready in three weeks’ time. Have you set a date?”

  Gemma was pleased to see her mother so animated. “Not yet. We will want to visit with the bishop before we make any firm plans.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll need to start on your wedding dress right away. And we will need to pick out invitations and make a guest list. I hope that is enough time for your cousins in Pennsylvania to get here. We’ll have to get those in the mail first. I need to make a list.” She tossed back the quilt and got out of bed.

  She embraced Gemma. “I have dreamed of your wedding for a long time. Bless you. I want you to be happy.”

  “I don’t need a big wedding,” Gemma said. She had caused so much grief for her parents. She had to hope this was the way to repair it. She would never cause her family such pain again.

  Her mother patted Gemma’s cheek. “The wedding
won’t be big, but it should be a happy day to remember all your life. Leave it to me.”

  * * *

  Several days later Jesse drove briskly along the road that led past his house. Gemma sat beside him in the buggy. He was worried about what she would think of his home. It would be hers too. He hoped she would like the farm as much as he did. Since his proposal, she had been quiet and subdued, unlike the Gemma he knew, and he wasn’t sure how to bring back his friend.

  Bachelor, recluse, dog lover, Jesse was afraid his home showed the main aspects of his life clearly. He had intended to give the place a makeover before bringing a woman home, but there wasn’t much time before the coming wedding. It was the custom for newlyweds to live with the bride’s parents for several months or even a year after the wedding. He didn’t want to wait that long.

  He stopped by the gate, opened the buggy door and offered Gemma his hand. He prayed he wasn’t about to make things worse between them. “This is my farm. Sixty acres. House, barn, chicken house, four outbuildings and a pretty view.”

  He was relieved to see a spark of enthusiasm come into her eyes. She placed her hand in his. “I’m glad you brought me here.”

  “I wanted you to see what you were getting into. It’s not as fine as your father’s house, but it’s home.”

  “Will I be able to make changes? Oh, I didn’t mean that as a criticism.” She dropped her voice and her gaze.

  He leaned close. “Gemma, I like a person who isn’t afraid to tell me what they think.”

  She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you do?”

  “Of course. I like you, and you’ve given me a piece of your mind plenty of times.”

  She cracked a tiny smile. “Only when you needed it,” she said sweetly.

  “Needed it? Ha.” He waved a hand toward the two-story farmhouse in need of a coat of paint, with mismatched shingles on the roof and overgrown trees sprouting along the foundation. His team of Belgian geldings stood in a corral by the barn, watching the activity with interest. He noticed the fence could use a coat of paint too. He had been letting the place go. “This is my humble home. Our home.”

  “It’s nice,” she said.

  “That is not an honest opinion.”

  She gave him a cheeky grin. “Okay. It needs work, but it has wonderful potential.”

  He chuckled. “I would have stopped at it needs work. I haven’t had much time or money to fix it up. I’ve been putting money aside for more land.” He pushed away the thought that he could have gained what he wanted by accepting her father’s offer. Gemma was here because she wanted to be, not because her father wanted her off his hands. She was here because Jesse wanted her to be a part of his life too.

  Jesse opened the front door for his bride-to-be. He was tickled to see the sassy woman with witty comebacks starting to reemerge from the worried, subdued woman she had become in her father’s house.

  Gemma paused at the door of his home. She leaned forward and peeked in. “Is it safe?”

  He shook his head as he placed a hand on her lower back and guided her through the door. “Depends on where you stand.”

  Her gaze went to the far wall, where the ceiling was marred by a large water stain that had made the plaster sag. A tiny frown creased her forehead. She slowly scanned the room, taking in the long worn-looking wooden table that had been handed down from his grandparents. It was stacked with groceries he hadn’t taken the time to put away. She studied the fireplace and then the stove. Both needed a good cleaning. The corners of her mouth pulled downward. At the sight of Roscoe’s food and water dishes by the table, her lips curled inward. She pressed them together hard.

  “Are you pleased?”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it and opened it again. “Ja. Of course.”

  Then she clasped her hands in front of her. He noticed she rubbed and twisted her intertwined fingers. He grinned. She wanted to say something else. There was a glint in her eyes. The woman he knew before she went away to Florida would never have held back her opinion in this manner. The words would have popped out before she had even thought through her comment.

  And I would have grumbled at her for it. I was a fool. I reckon both of us have changed.

  “Let me show you around. A woman should know her way around the house she is to keep. Don’t you agree?”

  She nodded, but before they could start the tour, Roscoe bolted in, knocking Gemma off balance. Instinctively, Jesse braced her.

  “Oh,” she gasped as she clung to him.

  Roscoe sat facing them by the edge of the table, his bowl at his feet. He woofed once.

  “No scraps yet, boy.” Jesse moved away from Gemma to scratch the dog’s head.

  “He eats in here?” Her voice showed her disapproval.

  “Of course.” He hid a grin. She was going to learn that she could disagree with him without being chastised.

  The Gemma he wanted to see, the one who aggravated him to the point of distraction, wouldn’t allow a farm dog to eat in her kitchen. A smile grew in his heart. He hoped this tour would coax her out of her shell and get them back to the friendship they had enjoyed in the cabin.

  “He sits at the table with me most nights. Just like a person. Don’t worry. I don’t think he’ll mind having you join us.”

  Gemma approached the table and ran her hand along the back of the two chairs. “Join you?” She clasped her hands together again. “Does that mean we’ll need to add another chair?” That was not what she wanted to ask or how she wanted to ask it. He could tell by the twitch in her jaw.

  “I suppose so.” He motioned toward Roscoe. “Go lie down.” He held his breath.

  Roscoe trotted to the bedroom. Gemma frowned as she examined the bare kitchen.

  “What do you think? It needs a woman’s touch, but you can give it a go if you want.”

  “Some curtains would be lovely.”

  “Curtains? I’m not sure that’s necessary. Plain shades do well enough. Roscoe might pull them down.” He folded his arms tight across his chest to keep from laughing at her expression.

  “We’ll have to get some china for that cabinet.” She brightened as she gestured to the large empty china hutch nestled in a nook behind the dining table.

  “China? I have these. Can’t break them.” He picked up a plastic dish, of which he owned only enough for him and Roscoe.

  “But...” She started to say something, but hesitated.

  “You wouldn’t be able to reach all the shelves anyway, short stuff.” He placed the dish on the top ledge. “Try.”

  Her eyes flashed in his direction. “Are you trying to pick a fight? Because if you are, you are about to get one.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “No, dear.”

  “Don’t dear me.” She scooted past him into the living room and stopped short at the old worn-down couch under the window. Then she turned and looked in the other rooms.

  When he’d moved to New Covenant, he hadn’t thought of outfitting a home for a family. Any money he had went back into the farm. There was enough furniture for one man. That was all. He watched her face contort as she noticed the sparseness of the home. When she reached the first bedroom doorway, she let out a small shriek. He stepped up behind her and peered in to see Roscoe curled in the middle of the quilt on his bed.

  “Good boy.”

  “Good boy?” Gemma asked in disbelief.

  “He’s lying down. He did as I told him. He’ll get over and share the space with you when you’re ready for bed.”

  “Is this where he usually sleeps? Because I’m not sleeping with a dog. Where is my room?” Her voice was rising. He smothered a grin.

  “The next door down the hall. Where else would Roscoe sleep if not in your or my bed?”

  “Outside! That’s where animals sleep. And eat, for that matter. His jo
b is to guard the farm. I don’t want a dog slobbering where I’ll be feeding the baby.”

  “That’s not right. There’s no bed for him out there.”

  “Actually, there’s no bed for him in here. That is a bed for people, not dogs. I’m sure there is a perfectly good napping spot for him outdoors.” That determined, bossy tone inched its way back into her voice.

  He kept prodding. “It doesn’t seem fair to make him sleep and eat outside.”

  She cocked her head and blinked. He turned away to keep from laughing. “Speaking of meals, I do expect breakfast at sunrise. Freshly baked bread, eggs and bacon will do. Roscoe prefers his eggs scrambled. I like mine over hard. How are you at housework?”

  Jesse grabbed the broom that was standing in the corner. “I guess we will find out. We’ll have your first lesson now.” He pushed the broom toward her.

  She crossed her arms and arched one eyebrow. “You intend to teach me how to use a broom? Are you serious?”

  “We could start with the dusting, if you wish.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “Or the cooking. There are several delicious ways to serve white pine bark and cattail roots.”

  The way her eyes narrowed told him she was finally onto him. A smile tugged at her lips and then blossomed into a grin. Her eyes sparkled. She jerked the broom from his grasp and beat at his boots until she backed him out the kitchen door onto the porch.

  “Jesse Crump. I know how to cook a decent meal without boiling tree bark. I will sew curtains for the kitchen. Roscoe can eat his meals and take his naps on the porch, and if I can’t reach the top shelf of the china cabinet, I will use a stepladder to retrieve my china myself.”

  He propped his hands on his hips and tipped his head. “Stepladder? What’s that? I don’t believe I’ve ever had the need for one of those before.” He stepped up beside her and placed one palm against the porch ceiling.

  “Show-off.”

  He gave a hoot of laughter.

  “You’re making fun of me.” She turned her face away in mock anger.