Ingrid gasped. “It is beautiful!”
“I told you I used to be a pretty good seamstress,” Mary said. “Thought I might see what I could still do if I really tried.”
Ingrid touched the fabric. “When you do this?”
“I don’t always sleep well at night. Instead of lying awake, I thought I might as well do something useful. I took the measurements off of your pink calico dress when you weren’t looking and then added a few touches of my own. I think it’ll fit well. The only person who knew I was making it was Josh—I sent him to pick out some buttons and lace at the mercantile.”
“Joshua know about this?”
“He got you something else too—he had George send off for it special.”
“Joshua get me present?”
“Go ahead and open the box. He told me to give these to you whenever I gave you the dress.”
She pulled the top off of the second box and gasped. Nestled inside were a pair of lovely, lace-up, calfskin boots with a low heel. Real, honest-to-goodness lady shoes. Something so nice even Millicent would be proud of them.
Ingrid could feel her tears welling up. “How he afford this?”
“Remember that carpentry work he did for George over the summer? All those shelves George wanted him to build? He traded part of his time to buy you these shoes.”
Now the tears came and she could not stop them. Ingrid sat down at the table, put her head on her arms, and just bawled.
“Oh, honey. I know.” Mary patted her on the shoulder. “I know.”
“I . . .”—Ingrid hiccuped—“am so happy.”
“It’s been a hard summer, especially for you. Nothing would make Josh and me happier than to see you have a nice time tonight.”
Ingrid hugged Mary. “I have a very good time at dance in this pretty dress!”
While Mary went to get herself ready, Ingrid laid the precious dress and shoes on her bed and called the girls in from where they had been playing. After she had washed faces, tied bows, and packed a basket for the baby, she allowed herself to go into her own room and get ready. She could hardly wait.
She shed her work dress and slipped on the new one. The material was softer than she had ever worn before. Mary had made it in such a way that it fit her well on the top, then draped around her hips and fell in graceful folds to her feet.
There was no bustle, thank goodness. So far, Millicent was the only woman vain enough to wear that style in White Rock. It had amused Ingrid to see the woman fighting with her gigantic bustle the last time she had seen her riding beside George in his buggy.
The mirror in her bedroom wasn’t full-length, but it was big enough to see how well the dress flattered her. There was a touch of white lace at her throat and also on her sleeves. Rows of matching buttons marched up the front.
Joshua had purchased the lace and the buttons; Joshua had chosen them. The thought made her want to cry again—but she resisted. She did not want blotchy skin tonight!
She turned sideways. The dress fit her like a glove. She had not realized it, but she had filled out some since moving here—probably from eating her own good cooking!
Around the farm, she had taken to wearing her hair in a simple braid halfway down her back, but tonight, she took pains to brush it out and braid it carefully into a coronet. She had a slight curl to her hair, and loosened a few strands to frame her face.
The best moment of all was slipping on the shoes. They smelled of good leather and were as smooth as butter. Lacing them over her stockings was such a joy.
When she was finished, she pinched her cheeks for color. Mary had been right. The lavender did bring out the color of her eyes. What a sly, sweet woman Mary was. Imagine her staying up late at night, preparing such a gift. And that Joshua, working on shelving for George to get her shoes! Oh, she was a blessed woman.
When she opened the door of her bedroom, every member of the family was waiting for her.
“Oh, Ingrid,” Agnes said. “That dress is beautiful on you!”
Mary was noticeably pleased with herself. “I guess I haven’t completely lost my knack.”
“Mama pretty!” Polly said.
“Thank you, sweetie, and look!” Ingrid held out her skirt to show off her new footwear. “Your father bought these for me!”
Ingrid’s eyes sought out Joshua’s, hoping to see approval there, but she could not read his expression. It seemed like there was an internal battle going on inside of him.
“You can throw George’s shoes away now,” he said.
Her face fell. He had given her no compliment, only a suggestion about what to do with her old shoes. But then he added, “You look stunning, Ingrid. Every man in the place will envy me.”
Was he making fun? She checked his expression. No, he was not making fun. He was serious. He meant it.
“Thank you, thank you!” Her heart was filled to bursting with love for this man and their family. “We please go now?”
Joshua had taken Diantha to a few square dances during their marriage, but she had preferred sitting and watching. Usually she would ask to be taken home early. Because of that, he was used to being a quiet observer at affairs like this, but Ingrid was having the time of her life. He had excused himself for a few minutes to go check on the children and his mother, but as soon as this particular set was over, he intended to rejoin her on the dance floor. It was worth the effort just for the pleasure of watching her smiling up at him with such happiness . . .
“I do believe your wife is having a good time,” Lyman said.
“I would say that is an understatement.”
“Filled out a bit since the day I first laid eyes on her at the inquest,” Lyman said. “Excuse me for saying so, but she was sort of pitiful-looking then. Now, well, you got yourself a looker, Josh.”
Joshua had been thinking the same thing. He stood, arms crossed, leaning against an empty stall, watching her swing from one partner to another. She was no expert at square dancing, but her enthusiasm and laughter at her mistakes was infectious and added to everyone’s enjoyment of the evening.
In the flickering light of dozens of lanterns, his Ingrid positively glowed. She reminded him of a tall candle, her blonde hair a beautiful bright flame as she danced to the homemade music. The lovely soft fabric of her dress emphasized the graceful curves of her body, and her smile lit up the whole room.
For the first time since he met her, it struck him that Ingrid had never been a pretty woman. As Agnes and his mother had pointed out—Ingrid was beautiful.
A man he had never seen before came over and introduced himself.
“The name is Downy. Jesse Downy. I just bought a farm a few miles north of here. I was wondering if you gentlemen would mind pointing out the women who are spoken for and which ones are single. I’m in the market for a wife. A new farm isn’t worth much without a woman to share it.”
Lyman helpfully pointed out each single woman who had attended. Joshua was amused by the fact that Lyman studiously avoided mentioning Susan.
The newcomer didn’t seem all that interested in any of the women Lyman indicated. Instead, he seemed distracted. Finally he asked, “Who is that beauty?”
“Which one?” Lyman said.
The man nodded toward the dancers. “That tall blonde with the big smile. I noticed her the instant I came through the door.”
Lyman frowned and glanced worriedly at Joshua. “Are you talking about the woman in that purple-colored dress?”
“She’s the one. I’ve not been able to tear my eyes away from her.”
Joshua’s voice was low and deadly. “That, sir, is my wife.”
“Your wife?” The man gave a low whistle. “My sincere apologies. But you are one lucky son of a gun, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
The man tipped his hat and moved on. In a few moments, Joshua saw him talking to Susan. Lyman, who had stationed himself beside her, was looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“You don’t know the half of
it, mister,” Joshua whispered to himself after the man was out of earshot. “You don’t know the half of it.”
He noticed that George and Millicent had just arrived. Millicent found her way over to a knot of women. Knowing what he knew, he could barely stand the sight of her, but with Millicent occupied, George gravitated over to him. “How’s things going, Josh?”
“Things could be better. The drought has hit me hard.”
“Everyone is suffering,” George said. “I keep thinking that it has to rain soon—this can’t go on forever.”
“How are those shelves holding up?”
“Real good. I see Ingrid is enjoying her new boots.”
“That she is.”
Joshua had no problem with George. The man did the best he could . . . considering to whom he was married.
“Speaking of the drought, I’ve got some news you might be interested in, Josh.”
“Oh?”
“A man came through today. Said Robert Foster is opening up a new section a couple days northwest of Saginaw. Foster is putting out the word he’s hiring. Didn’t you tell me you worked in a lumber camp a while back?”
“I was eighteen, it was right before the war,” Joshua said. “I’ve heard of Foster. He runs a good camp.”
“I’ve heard that Foster’s wife and an old cook from up in Maine set a real fine table.”
“When’s he wanting a crew?”
“Soon as enough men get there. The man I was talking to wasn’t losing any time. He said Foster’s a fair man and the shanty boys trust him. He said he was going to try to get there before all the jobs are taken.”
“What’s he paying?”
“Standard. A dollar and a quarter a day.”
“We could use the money.”
“What with the drought and all the responsibilities you got—I figured so. Speaking of food—I think I need me some punch.” George went off in search of refreshment.
Joshua continued to watch Ingrid as she laughed her way through an especially intricate dance step. The woman seemed to bring light with her everywhere she went.
As he looked around the room, to his great consternation, he saw that the newcomer was not the only man admiring his wife. Several male eyes were fastened upon her as she concentrated on keeping up with the movements of the dance. He also noticed that one of the men, during certain parts of the movements, was holding her a little closer than the dance warranted. A strong wave of possessiveness came over him, and he grew anxious for this song to end. He had checked on his mother and children, and they were fine. The moment this set was over, he intended to cut in and not leave the dance floor again until his wife was ready to go home.
The news that George had given him niggled at his mind. There would only be so many spots at that camp. The idea of coming home in the spring with a pocket full of greenbacks was a great temptation. He still had some cash from last year’s crops and the carpentry work he had done for George—but he didn’t have much. Come spring, he would need to buy seed, and . . . a paying job for the winter would be quite a welcome thing.
He hated to go, but if he was going to take the job, he needed to leave at once. He would talk to Ingrid about it later, when they were alone.
“You be gone how long?” she asked.
Josh had been sleeping on the bed in the sitting room ever since his mother had moved upstairs, but tonight, after the family was asleep, he went into the bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the bed beside where Ingrid lay. He wanted to talk in private with her before he allowed the rest of the family to weigh in on this decision.
“Eight months, maybe less. It depends on when the spring thaw comes.”
“That is long time.”
“I know.”
A full moon was shining through the window, and he could see that she was chewing on her bottom lip, thinking hard.
“How much monies again?”
“A dollar and a quarter a day.”
She frowned as she calculated in her head. “That is nearly three hundred dollars.”
“I know.”
“Do we have any monies left?”
“Not much. Barely enough to get the children and you through the winter.”
“There is no monies from grain crops?”
“Not with the drought.”
“Well, then.” She gave a long, shuddering sigh. “I guess I take good care of family when you go away.”
“I know you will take good care of them. That’s the only reason I can go.”
“When will you leave?” There was a catch in her voice.
“In the morning. Foster runs a good camp. Safer than most. The jobs will fill up fast. Lyman has promised to help you with the livestock, and I’ve gotten in a good store of wood. It should last you through the winter. The cherry trees should be dormant soon, so the burden of watering them every day will be over.”
Her thick golden braid lay over her right shoulder, and she absently curled the end around and around her finger.
“I will miss you.”
“And I will miss you.” His voice softened. “You looked beautiful tonight, Ingrid.”
“Ja?” She sounded surprised.
“I was proud to tell other men that you are my wife.”
“Thank you for saying that kind thing,” she said in a small voice.
“I’m not being kind.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “It is the simple truth. I found myself feeling sorry for every man there tonight who was not lucky enough to be married to you.”
He braced himself with one hand on each side of her and leaned in to kiss her. She, who had rarely stopped smiling the entire night, was now deadly serious, watching him with wide eyes. He heard her quick intake of breath when she realized what he was intending. His own heart, to his surprise, pounded like a youth awkwardly trying to steal a first kiss from a sweetheart.
Then he saw that tears were starting to trickle down Ingrid’s cheeks, and he pulled back, wondering if he had forever ruined his chances with this beautiful woman. Was she remembering all the mistakes he had made, all the hurtful things he had said? He wiped her tears away with his fingers.
“I couldn’t see you, Ingrid. For a long time my grief was so dense I could barely see through it.”
“Pa!” Agnes burst through the door with Polly on her hip. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Why is Ingrid crying?”
“That is none of your concern,” Joshua said. “What do you want?”
“Tell me why Ingrid is crying!” Agnes frowned at him. “Have you hurt her feelings again?”
“I cry from happiness, my dotter.” Ingrid gazed up at him, her eyes shining.
“Oh, well then.” Agnes’s voice was relieved. “That’s all right.”
He looked down at Ingrid’s face, reading the love in her eyes, the miraculous love that was still there in spite of him. He smoothed a wayward curl away from her face and wished with all his heart that Agnes would leave.
“I’m really sorry to have to interrupt you two lovebirds, but Polly’s sick.”
As though to demonstrate, the little girl promptly threw up all over the floor.
“See?” Agnes said.
Joshua and Ingrid both leaped up at once. She grabbed the little girl and felt her forehead.
“No fever.”
“Thank God for that,” Joshua said.
Influenza had killed more than one small child.
“It could be all the cake and punch she ate,” Agnes suggested.
“How much did she have?” Joshua asked.
“A lot.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Ingrid was busy dancing and you were talking to George. I didn’t want her to start squalling and bother everyone, so I let her eat all she wanted. It kept her happy.”
“Poor little girl,” Ingrid crooned, sitting down on the bed and rocking her against her chest. “You feel better now? Get all bad stuff out?”
Polly nodded with her he
ad tucked up against Ingrid’s neck.
“Next time you be more careful, ja?”
Again Polly nodded.
“Can I go to bed now?” Agnes said. “I’m awful sleepy.”
“Go ahead,” Josh told her. “Thanks.”
Agnes started toward the ladder, then turned around. “Can Polly sleep with you—just in case she starts puking again?”
“Yes.” That was the last thing he had wanted to happen tonight.
“And it stinks up here,” Agnes announced. “Do I have to clean it up?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Joshua said.
Ingrid threw him a grateful look as she carried Polly into the sitting room and sat down in the rocking chair. “Please ask Agnes to find Polly clean nightgown?”
“Of course.”
“What’s going on?” Mary came down the stairs and wandered over, wearing a voluminous white nightgown and cap. “What’s all this commotion down here?”
“We think a little girl ate too much cake tonight,” Ingrid said.
“That was good cake,” Mary said. “I wouldn’t have minded another piece myself. Is everything all right down here, then?”
“We are now.”
“Talking about cake made me hungry. I think I’ll fix myself some bread and butter,” Mary said.
A half hour later, Joshua had finished scrubbing the floorboards upstairs and down with soft soap. Polly had been dressed in a clean nightgown and now lay sprawled and asleep in the middle of their bed. Bertie had awakened and needed to be changed and fed. Ellie and Trudy were awakened by all the activity going on around them, came downstairs, noticed that their grandmother was eating bread and butter—and wanted some too.
Once the family finally settled down, both Ingrid and Joshua fell exhausted into bed on either side of Polly.
“Just for your information, this is not what I had in mind for tonight,” he said.
Her eyes sparkled. “You not like cleaning up cake and punch?”
“Not especially.”
Ingrid started to giggle at the ridiculously complicated evening. Her giggle was so infectious that before long both of them were trying to smother their laughter so as not to awaken Bertie and Polly.
“Thank you for sticking with me and this crazy family,” he said when they had finally sobered up. He reached over his daughter’s sleeping body and grasped Ingrid’s hand. “When I get home in the spring, we will start over, you and me. Things are going to be very different between us. I promise.”
A Promise to Love Page 19