by Linda Ford
She paused at the front-room door. “Mother, Louisa and I are headed upstairs. Good night.”
“We’ll finish this before we go up.” She spared a brief smile, then turned back to winding yarn as Sally carefully pulled out row after row.
Upstairs, Madge offered again to help, but Louisa insisted she was quite capable of getting to bed on her own. Madge smiled a little at Louisa’s faint determination, then retired to her own quarters. Thankfully Father had built the house large enough for the three girls to have their own small rooms. The big room where she hung sheets to dry had been intended as an upstairs parlor for the women when they had company. Mother’s room was downstairs off the front room. Madge savored her solitude. She could think and pray and struggle with her wayward thoughts—as she did tonight—without the others knowing.
Louisa had carefully, guardedly, expressed her interest in Justin. And rightfully so. He was perfect for her, as Mother had already seen. At least, if he turned out to be honest he would be. Madge had no right to think of him as anything but Louisa’s tutor and, perhaps in the future, Louisa’s husband. And her own brother-in-law.
That settled, Madge opened her Bible. She had established a habit of daily reading as a youngster when Father had carefully instructed all of them in the value of such a practice. All three had promised Father they would read at least a few verses every day. Mother continued to remind them of their promise and the value of keeping it. Sometimes Madge mentally excused herself as being too tired, but she’d discovered she found incredible strength and guidance in the Word and comfort in prayer.
She read the chapter where her marker indicated she had quit the night before. The passage was Micah, chapter six. She began to read, got as far as verse eight and stalled. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God?”
Her thoughts smote her, and she bent forward until her hair fell to the page. Macat thought she wanted to pet her and pushed under her arm, but Madge ignored her. Oh, Lord, I have forgotten to be humble. I have forgotten mercy and justice. I’ve been so caught up with fighting my attraction to Justin and in fretting over how I’ll pay the mortgage that I’ve forgotten who You are. I trust You to help me be true and faithful in everything. Both in her concerns over the needed money and her wayward, unwarranted thoughts about a man who filled her with such nagging doubts. Lord, show me, reveal to me any secrets he is hiding that might harm us.
A few minutes later she crawled into bed, her mind at rest, her heart at peace. She would trust God and keep her distance from Justin.
Over the next few days Madge did her best to live up to her decision. Justin kept busy with Louisa. The little bit she saw of them together reinforced her resolve. Louisa’s cheeks took on a healthy color. She showed more enthusiasm than she had in a long time. Several times Madge heard her laughter ring out like bells. The sound both seared and cheered her, reminding her of the laughter she’d shared with Justin and, at the same time, reaffirming how perfect he was for Louisa. She caught bits and pieces of conversation between the two as she hurried up and down the stairs. Justin was always so kind and patient with Louisa. In fact, Madge told herself, a perfect match for her. She was happy for Louisa.
If only it was anyone but Justin.
Judd watched Madge hustle up the steps and clenched his teeth. She worked far too hard, packing heavy baskets, carrying buckets of water, delivering the laundry and caring for the cow. Why, he’d even seen her with her head in the bonnet of their old car, adjusting things so it ran.
He wished he could help her, but his job was to teach Louisa, who devoured every bit of information he relayed to her. He’d had to send back home for several more books.
The evening he and Madge had spent together had been enjoyable, but she had pointedly avoided him since. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Had he offended her in some way? He intended to find out.
His opportunity came when she began to empty the washtubs. She grabbed her back and stretched as if she hurt. And well she might. The endless work was heavy. “I think I’ll help Madge carry away the wash water. She looks tired.”
“But—” Louisa ducked her head and swallowed loudly, then her gaze sought her sister and her expression softened. “Of course. To my shame I confess I often take her strength for granted. Yet if something were to happen to her we would all pay an awful price. Go and help her.”
“You have this book to study. You’re a good student. I feel a fraud trying to teach you. Really, all you need are the books and you could manage on your own.”
Bright color stained her cheeks. “How kind of you to say so.” She stroked Mouse’s back. “But it’s because you explain things so well.”
He chuckled. “So long as you’re happy.”
The color in her cheeks deepened. Was she so susceptible to a few kind words? The poor girl needed to get out more, mingle with people. Learn to fight her own battles. Like Madge.
Madge—who seemed set on making it impossible for him to spend time with her.
He hurried out and caught up the pails while her back was turned.
She spun around. Surprise filled her eyes and then, what he hoped was pleasure. The look disappeared so quickly he wondered if he imagined it simply because he wanted it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll carry the water to the garden.”
She faced him, her stance challenging, her expression wary. “Why?”
“You’re opposed to a little help?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “No. I just want to know why.”
“Hate to see you doing all this hard work by yourself.” He dipped the pails into the tub and, ignoring the splashing water, headed for the garden, remembering in time about his limp and cough. He gave two coughs for good measure.
“You’re not exactly robust.”
He didn’t miss the skepticism in her tone and knew she still held suspicions as to who he was—Justin, the crippled teacher, or Judd, the strong cowboy she’d blasted into on the path in town. Not that she’d ever heard his name. Nor had anyone around here. All to his benefit.
Madge found a third bucket, filled it and traipsed after him as if she had to prove she didn’t need him.
He paused, caught the glimpse of pain before she hid it. “Your back hurts. If you don’t rest, it will only get worse.”
She scowled at him, which so delighted him that he laughed and earned himself an even deeper frown. She stomped past him, making sure to slop water on his oxfords.
He laughed again. Madge haughty and annoyed was much better than the Madge who ignored him. His grin remained firmly in place as he followed her. Seeing how she measured out the water to each plant, he did the same. “You should borrow Kenny’s trained hens to eat the grasshoppers.” He eased his gaze toward her, pleased as could be when her eyes widened and she laughed.
“I’ll tell Sally about Kenny. Maybe I can convince her to train her chickens to do the same job.”
He emptied the second bucket, and they returned for more water. Questions plagued him, but he waited until they trekked back to the garden to voice them. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
She snorted. “What makes you think I am?”
“Oh, little things. Like waiting until I’m not around to drive off with your deliveries or ducking out of sight when you see me crossing the yard. Or how about the way you race up the steps if I so much as look your direction? I thought after that first evening we might be friends.”
“Friends?”
“Is that so hard to picture?” Her reaction stung. Why, lots of young women would be pleased to be friends with him. “Is it because of this?” He slapped his “crippled” leg. “Or this?” He pressed his palm to his chest and coughed. “Am I not good enough for you?”
She stood tall and proud, her expression shocked. “What an awful thing to say. As if I’d judge a person by such standards.”
“Exactly what standards would you
use?”
“I expect a man to be honest, upright, noble. Have a sense of humor.” Her eyes brightened as if she remembered the laughs they’d shared, then she lowered her head. “But right now all I’m interested in is making sure we have food to eat and a roof over our heads.”
He understood that drive. Seeing his mother get justice excluded all else in his thoughts. Or it had until recently, when interest in Madge also took root. “You work far too hard. There must be some other way to get enough to pay your mortgage.”
She sniffed. “If you know of something, be sure and let me know. I have three days before my payment is due.”
“Will you make it?”
“I’m still waiting for heavenly intervention. If you’re concerned, you could pray for me.”
He hesitated. She wanted him to pray for her? Did he believe God could provide a stay of execution? He didn’t know. For too long he’d depended on his own strength and abilities. It hadn’t seemed necessary to call on God for anything.
She headed back for the last of the water. “Sorry I asked.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” He hurried after her, almost forgetting to limp. “I was just trying to think of the last time anyone asked me to pray for them. It’s been a while. But it will be an honor to ask God to help you.”
She faced him. “Ask and believe.”
Slowly he nodded. “I will. I do.” Her insistence made it impossible to do otherwise. A strong woman with a strong faith. His respect for her grew.
Her brown eyes flashed. Her brown wavy hair, damp from her hard labor under the glaring sun, was a becoming tangle. Her arms were bare and tanned. In fact, she glowed with health. Even more, her glow revealed an inner beauty of determination and faith.
He forced resistance into his thoughts. He dare not be distracted by her attributes, no matter how appealing she was. He was here under false pretences, living under an assumed name. She would despise him if she discovered the truth.
He didn’t intend she should. There was too much at stake for his real identity to be revealed. Yet it stung to know how she would react if she found out.
Chapter Four
Madge counted the coins again. Still not enough, despite Justin’s promise to pray. Perhaps it had been only empty words.
Or maybe she was trusting his prayers more than her God.
Yet neither had produced the necessary help.
She turned to Macat, who sat on the nearby chair, totally disinterested in Madge’s problems. “I’ll simply have to speak to the banker. He’ll surely understand and allow me more time.”
She slipped to her room, changed into her best dress, brushed her hair into tidiness and donned a hat she normally saved for church. Intent on looking her best, she powdered her nose. “I look like a farmer with my brown skin.”
Macat watched from the comfort of the bed. If cats thought about the actions of humans—and Madge was certain this one did—they must wonder at all this fuss in the middle of the day. Madge had hurried to get the laundry done earlier than usual. It was ready to deliver while she was in town. “There.” She checked her reflection in the mirror. “That’s the best I can do. Wish me well.” She grabbed her white gloves to pull on before she stepped into the bank.
Macat had nothing to offer but a puzzled meow.
Sucking in air that seemed thin, Madge admitted her nerves danced in trepidation. She fell to her knees. Lord God, You see our need. I’m short on the payment. Mr. Johnson is likely a decent man but he’s still a businessman. Help him see my intentions are good and honorable. Help him be open to allowing me more time. She remained on her knees several minutes until she felt calmer. God was just and righteous. He would tend to her needs.
Pushing back little tremors of doubt and nervousness, Madge marched down the stairs. “Mother, I’m on my way to town to take care of things.”
Mother nodded. She knew the mortgage was due today, though Madge had spared her the truth and let her assume Madge had earned enough for the payment. She shot a look at Justin and Louisa in the living room bent over a book, too engrossed in each other to even notice her. Resentment tore at her throat. The money she needed had gone to advertise for Justin. So Louisa could be amused.
She choked back her…it wasn’t jealousy. She wouldn’t admit it. But she’d conveniently forgotten the other unexpected expenses that had sucked at the coins in the can. Momentarily, she closed her eyes. She was only overwrought because of her worries. She would trust God. He was sufficient.
She slipped outside without a backward look. Thankfully the vehicle started on the first try, saving her from having to crawl under the hood.
A few minutes later she parked in front of the bank, pulled on her gloves, took a deep breath and climbed the stone steps. The big doors creaked as she pushed them open. The interior had always seemed to be almost funereal, every sound subdued, the lighting muted, the atmosphere somber.
Madge had come on honest business. She had no reason to shiver. She sucked in the stale air and straightened her shoulders before she approached the teller. Mr. August, a thin, bespectacled man, was a deacon at the church. The way he squinted through his glasses always made her feel as if he examined her under a magnifying glass.
“Mr. August, I’d like to speak to Mr. Johnson, if I may.” Her voice came out strong and clear, revealing none of her nervousness.
Mr. August tipped his head up and down as if trying to bring her into focus. Then he nodded. “I’ll see if he’s available.” He shuffled into the far room, the banker’s sanctum. No one ventured into the room without being invited. Madge had been there only once before—with Mother, when they’d informed him they wanted to sell the farmland but keep the house. Mr. Johnson had been most agreeable about conducting the business that left them with a mortgaged house but unencumbered by the debt on the land. Madge wasn’t unaware the deal had turned out nicely for Mr. Johnson. He had sold the land to a newcomer just before the crash. She supposed the new owner owed money to the banker, too. The crops wouldn’t produce enough for feed and seed for the farmer, let alone earn enough for a mortgage payment.
She pressed her lips together. She would not lose her house to a bank that already owned half the town, due to the misfortunes of those who had to cope with the financial difficulties of the day.
Mr. August returned. “He’ll see you shortly. Just wait over there.” He jabbed his finger toward the three chairs parked against one wall.
Madge sat and waited. She and Mother had done the same last time. No doubt this was part of the way bankers dealt with customers, as if needing to prove they were in control. Her resolve mounted. He might control the money but not her fight. And she would fight to keep the house.
Finally she was called and shepherded into the office with enough pomp and respect, she might have expected to be presented to King George.
Mr. Johnson half rose and indicated the chair across from his very wide desk. He waited until Madge seated herself and adjusted her hands in her lap.
“How may I help you?”
“I’ve brought the mortgage payment.” She dug the heavy envelope from her purse and handed it to Mr. Johnson.
His lips curled as if the package was noxious, and he put it on the edge of the desk as far from him as possible. “You could have given this to one of the tellers to count.”
She nodded. “I realize that, but there is a small problem.” Please, God. Help him agree. “I’m a bit short.”
The way he blinked and drew himself tall, she knew he wasn’t seeing this as a small thing.
“I’ll pay the full amount. But I need a little more time.”
“Where do you propose to get the money? Everyone in the country is in the same position.”
“I have some paying customers. I’ll find more. You know I’m honest.”
He didn’t answer. After a long pause, he sighed.
She wished she could let out her breath, too, but her future—and the future of her mother and sisters�
�hung on what he decided.
“Here’s what I’ll do.”
Her heart ticked with fear and dread. He opened a drawer and rattled through the contents. If he didn’t soon tell her his plan, she was going to pass out from nerves.
“I’ve let out the Sterling house to some shirttail relative of my wife’s.” He palmed a pair of keys and considered them. “I keep getting possession of houses I can’t sell. Neither can I rent them. No one can afford to pay. It’s a losing business.”
Madge couldn’t find it in her heart to feel sorry for his predicament.
“I guess I have to be content with having someone occupy a house and keep up with repairs. Anyway, this nephew of a nephew, or whoever he is, is a bachelor. He’s asked me to find someone to clean the house and prepare it for occupancy. Could be, with hard work, you might earn enough to pay what you owe me. His name is George Gratton. He’s arriving sometime in the next week or ten days.” He handed her the keys. “Can you manage to have the house ready in time?”
“Certainly.” If she had to work day and night she would do this job and earn the money to take care of the remainder of the mortgage payment.
She rose and held out her gloved hand. “Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry.”
Mr. Johnson’s handshake was perfunctory. He already had his attention on the papers before him.
Madge didn’t care. She practically skipped from the bank and out to her car. Thank You, Lord. Forgive my doubts and fears. She would have to hurry through the work she already had. But if she got done before supper, she’d be able to work at the house in the evening…after she’d taken care of the cow and calf and delivered laundry.
How much should she tell the others? Would they be concerned she’d taken on too much? But it had to be done. Plain and simple, she didn’t have any choice. None of them did.