“Better wait until you taste my muffins before you go that far.” Their mouths drifted together for another long kiss. She could do this. Men were men. If she was capable of adoring Bo all these years, loving Gideon would be easy.
He set up straighter. “So when’s the date?”
“Well, obviously not before Ma comes home. I suppose we can’t set the final, final date, but I would guess sometime before the first of the year.”
His smile faded. “This year, or next year?”
“This year, silly. Perhaps between Thanksgiving and Christmas?”
He leaned and kissed her again. Then spoke softly against her lips. “No sooner?”
The insistence in his voice made her uneasy. But she couldn’t blame him for pressing. If she hadn’t stopped the ceremony earlier, they’d be married by now. He loved her. He wanted to be with her. He’d more than earned her loyalty. She should be flattered. And she should be returning his love more ardently. “Soon. Before the New Year.”
“Do I have your promise?”
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”
And she meant it. She was done being the source of agony in Gideon Long’s life.
Long live true love.
Chapter 6
The Berrytop Ladies Quilting Society bent their heads over a lovely log cabin coverlet to be presented to Adele at the birth of her baby. Although mornings were crisp, the fall weather remained warm enough for windows to be thrown open and outdoor activities to carry on. Cramped into Widow Olsen’s parlor, the women worked to the sound of people chatting as they walked along Main Street and wagons hurrying by on their way back to farms with loads of supplies from the dry goods store. Elly enjoyed what passed for hustle and bustle in Berrytop. Farm life could get awfully quiet.
Elly sat next to Cecelia Lane at the quilting frame. Cee had never been a particularly close friend, but Elly enjoyed her company. Elly couldn’t deny that she was the prettiest girl in town. She’d heard many boys admire her slim figure and the lovely contrast between her dark curls and clear blue eyes. And her giving nature only added to the package.
Cee couldn’t help that she was a born tease; she wore the trait well and had yet to get serious about any one man, though she was definitely husband hunting. She was a predictable member of the Ladies Quilting Society, never missing a session. The ladies of the group envied her tidy stitches more than her eye appeal.
And anyway, her beauty could have been a point of debate that day. A nose raw from continual wiping matched her watery red eyes. Two explosive sneezes in the last five minutes encouraged the women to ease their chairs into a defensive huddle at the opposite end of the quilting frame. Cee didn’t seem to notice. After yet another explosive ah-choo! Elly quietly suggested that she might feel better at home. In bed.
Cee stopped stitching to rest her hands on the quilt top. “Perhaps, but the distraction of your company probably helps more.” She picked her needle up again and gathered perfectly spaced stitches. “Is the Reverend still planning another social for Sunday evening?” Her needle paused. Women lifted their heads, expectantly. A clutched hanky flew to Cee’s mouth before a sneeze escaped. “Drat! I detest this time of year. It’s something to do with the hay cutting, I know it.” She sneezed twice more.
Cee welcomed the church socials. Why not? She was the center of attention, although Elly couldn’t say that the young woman ever let her looks go to her head. She wasn’t a snob. She’d been nothing but nice, truly pleasant company. And, most important in a farming community, Cee worked as hard as anyone in the bogs.
Elly, on the other hand, missed a stitch over the thought of another ice cream social. Preparations for harvest filled her days. All she cared for by sundown was a cold meal and a soft bed. Only putting the final touches on Adele’s baby quilt had given her reason to be at quilting circle. There would be extra work to do when she got home. And now Reverend Righteous’s sweet tooth meant more baking and fuss—at a time when the community could ill afford to spare the time.
“Nickolas and Saul made sure the ice house was full,” said Laura Mae Bacon, a white-haired lady who never tired of parties and socials. “Near broke their backs, but they’re boasting of how many bowls of ice cream the Reverend can eat this week.”
Surely not enough to freeze his acid tongue. Elly shook the uncharitable thought from her head. Just because she didn’t care for the preacher’s way of presenting the gospel didn’t mean he wasn’t a virtuous man. He was. He rushed to comfort the bedridden, never missed a congregational birthday or anniversary celebration, and made sure his assembly gathered for regular events. She should be kinder in her thoughts.
“The ice house is full of strawberries and peaches,” Laura Mae’s sister, Sally Anne, added. Laura Mae always stayed after the other quilters had left to take out Sally Anne’s irregular stitches and replace them with her own. “We had a good yield this year. I put aside plenty for the social.”
Another violent sneeze rocked the room. Cee wiped her nose and said in a nasal whisper, “Mother has been rationing sugar, so there’ll be plenty. After running low last year, she swore she’d never put herself in the position of relying on the sweetness of the fruit and honey to appease everyone.”
A breeze lifted a window curtain. Elly’s eyes strayed to the outside, and she spotted Bo walking into the feed store. It was impossible to avoid him in this small town. He’d been home a week and townsfolk still expected the two of them to take up where they’d left off. They would be waiting a long time.
As much as she fought the impulse, every glimpse of his tall, sturdy frame caused a spark of excitement, the feeling she got when a lightning bolt struck nearby. Today his face was lined with worry, as if he carried the heavy burden of his father’s illness. Her eyes fastened on him as he opened the screen door and stepped inside the granary.
One of the women also spotted him. “It’s so good to see Bo back home. Imagine, our boy is a preacher! And a right fine one, I hear.”
Pleased murmurs floated around the table.
“His ma seems relieved to have him stay on.” A needle paused in midair. “Has anyone else noticed the heavy circles under Milt’s eyes? I asked if he was feeling poorly, but he said he was fit as a fiddle.”
Sally Anne nodded. “He doesn’t seem himself lately. Why, I saw him sitting down beside a bog right in the middle of the day, and I’ve never seen that man take a break. Not ever. I bet Bo’s staying on because his pa is ill.”
Elly bit off a thread. Milt was a sick man, but she’d given her promise to keep the fact quiet. He might look a bit puny, but knowing Milt, he would be his old self before long. Doctors couldn’t say how long a man lived; Milt would fool them all.
Irene Shuster, the resident know-it-all, shook her head. “I don’t think that’s why he’s here. It’s only logical he’d want to spend time with his folks. And why wouldn’t he? He’s been away so long. Adele told me everything is fine, and she’d be the first to say otherwise if something was amiss.” Irene huffed with self-satisfaction over her apparent inside knowledge of the Garrett family. She needed something to give her satisfaction—heaven knew her stitches were nothing to brag about.
“That would be decent of him,” Elly murmured.
Irene glanced up. “Did you say something, dear?”
Elly sucked on her finger. “No. I pricked myself. It’s a shame Adele can’t be here today. She would love to work on the quilt. She’s awfully uncomfortable. Pregnancy’s been hard on her. And losing Ike. Especially losing Ike.”
Irene peered at Elly over her glasses, tsking. “Such a dear, sweet man, Ike. You and Bo were a couple for a very long time, weren’t you, lovey? I recall telling my husband when you’d see one the other would be along shortly.” She smiled as if she’d caught Elly with her hand in the cookie jar. “My, how our lives and intentions change as we get older. Why, I hear tell that Bo—he turned downright shameful once he left home. Don’t know what happened, but he seems like a g
ood man now. Fairly bursting with the Lord.”
Mustering a smile, Elly conceded. “Life is full of surprises.”
Several chuckles followed the comment and the stories started. “Why, I recall the day you and Bo got into Henry Dunkle’s orchard. It was on a Saturday. The two of you ate a bushel of green apples. The next morning, you and Bo kept the church’s front door flapping, running out to the privy. I thought Reverend was going to come unhinged.”
“As well as your father,” Laura Mae teased.
Nodding, Elly tried to change the subject. “Can someone show me how to tie off the thread? I keep forgetting the new technique Imogene taught us.”
Imogene leaned over the frame and demonstrated how to pull the knot through the fabric. If Elly thought asking for help would turn the ladies from discussing her and Bo, she was wrong.
Imogene chuckled. “Do you remember the time Elly and Bo painted that mutt red?”
The room erupted in laughter.
“Didn’t hurt the dog, but I bet your backside stung for a few days, huh, Elly?” That from Cee, which stung a little.
Elly nodded, still recalling the pain. When Pa meted out punishment, it wasn’t pleasant. A good strong willow switch convinced her to leave the dog alone and to accept its ugly markings. Bo’s parents merely laughed at the prank. Milt confessed he’d even considered doing something to help the poor animal.
Agatha Paisley looked up from her stitching and pinched her black eyes in Elly’s direction. “At least those were harmless pranks. You hooligans tied war bonnet feathers on all the hogs’ heads. They looked like a bunch of wild Indians running around the pen.”
“But we didn’t hurt anything,” Elly pointed out.
“The dickens you didn’t! Those hogs didn’t settle down for days. Never thought the meat tasted quite right, neither.”
Tears smarted to Elly’s eyes at the unwelcomed memories. The women thought the incidents amusing, but the subject only reminded her of what she’d lost. She fumbled for a hanky.
“Oh dear, I hope you’re not coming down with Cee’s cold,” Laura Mae said.
Cee sneezed on cue. “It’s the hay, I tell you.”
Elly dabbed at her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s that time of year.” Or the thought of innocent youth, days when God’s good will shone on her. Those days were far gone.
“You know, dear, there’s another couple here in town that reminds me of you and Bo when you were young’uns.”
“Who might that be, Mrs. Oke?”
“Young Rosie and Quint. Other than you and Bo, I’ve never seen a couple more suited for each other.”
“Just the other day I was thinking the same, Prudence. Like Bo and Elly, where you see one you see the other.”
“Humph.” Laura Mae glanced up. “Those silly young’uns don’t have one good brain between ’em. Quint ran down one of our mules last week and was ridin’ the silly thing at breakneck speed to impress Rosie, I assume. He was so engrossed in his tomfoolery he rode straight into a tree branch and near knocked his brains out. Later I heard his ma dusted his backside with a thick switch. He knows he’s not supposed to be ridin’ our animals.”
“They’re only children, Laura Mae.”
“Children my foot. Quint’s been taught better.” The older woman sniffed. “And so has Rosie.”
“I think they’re adorable,” Cee said. “The way they follow each other around like puppy dogs—it’s cute.” She sighed. “Come to think of it, Elly, they are exactly like you and Bo were at their age.”
Elly carefully thread a needle. “I hope Rosie doesn’t really believe Quint will feel the same about her when he’s old enough to marry.” The bitter reflection slipped out before Elly could catch it. Heads lifted. Eyes peered in her direction.
“What I meant to say is, they are young and life has a way of playing tricks on us.”
Imogene leaned in and patted her hand. “How is Gideon? Such a fine, upstanding man. You are indeed blessed, Elly, to have his attention. Is there a new wedding date?”
Imogene knew better. News like that would have spread like hot butter. When Elly delayed the first wedding date, the town knew every detail before she walked home to tell her parents.
Sally Anne added, “Yes, honey, you mustn’t keep Gideon waiting forever.”
Cee caught Elly’s eye, probably seeing her distress. She jumped in to change the subject, holding up a piece of green thread. “Is this the right color?”
Once the quilters recovered from the horror of Cee’s thread choice, conversations drifted to other topics: the latest cranberry prices, preparations for the coming winter, their next quilting project. In the backs of everyone’s minds was the isolation winter brought to northern Wisconsin.
Harvest would come and go, and all eyes would study the sky for the first snow. Winter meant settling into cocoons to find the warmth of a fire, family, and the quilts they stitched.
Later that morning, Elly and Cee walked home with their sewing kits over their arms. The bright sunshine overhead made thoughts of the approaching winter even less tolerable. The women’s slippers kicked up soft puffs in the dusty road. The bogs lay ahead of them, a sight to behold with the berries deepening to a crimson red.
“Thank you for changing the subject today,” Elly said.
“About Gideon?”
“About Bo.”
“Oh, that. You were squirming. I feared you’d run out of the parlor screaming if I didn’t say something.” Cee glanced at her. “You’re still stuck on him, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely not.” She wasn’t stuck. She could move on whenever she wanted. “I detest the community whispering behind my back.”
“This town loves to whisper, that’s for sure. They wonder what could have made Bo leave and not come back for so long. I supposed the two of you broke up before he left?”
Apparently they had, only he hadn’t told her. They had spoken of marriage and babies right up to the moment Bo informed her he wanted to see some of the world before he settled down. He was restless—inquisitive about what lay beyond Berrytop and Madison’s boundaries. Talk about the Wild West, tall mountain ranges, and Kansas wheat fields suddenly captivated him. Elly could see excitement build in his eyes when the old timers talked about their youthful escapades.
“I’ll make a better husband and pa if I know a little about the world, Elly.”
His desire to explore hadn’t surprised or concerned her. She was so smug, so confident in their future that she never dreamed he’d be gone over a month.
She never once considered he’d be gone for seven long years, or that he would be a different man when he finally came back.
Yet she was relieved to have someone to talk to about Bo. With Ma gone and Adele easily upset, she’d harbored her thoughts about him in silence. Adele would soon be consumed with care for her infant. With all the changes taking place, Elly welcomed a chance to grow closer to Cee.
She eased to the road’s edge behind Cee when she heard a wagon approaching from behind. The driver pulled up on the reins to stop. Bo tipped his hat from his place on the bench. He looked her straight in the eye and bid her a good afternoon, but it was Cee who jumped to acknowledge his greeting.
“Morning, Bo. Lovely day!” she chirped.
“One of God’s finest!” His gaze remained fastened on Elly. “Better put your bonnet on, Miss Elly. You know how you freckle in the sun.” Whistling, he smacked the reins against the horse’s rump and the buckboard rattled on.
Both girls waved away the dust. The wagon clambered up a modest hill and sank into the depression beyond, disappearing from sight.
Cee sneezed into her hanky. “You do realize how blessed you were to ever have a man like Bo in love with you? He could have chosen any girl in town before he left.”
Was that envy in Cee’s tone? The recognition startled her. Cee and Bo? She’d never imagined the pairing. But she should have. Cee was pretty and talented enough to attract a man like Bo. And wh
ile she teased along with others about Pastor Richardson’s fiery tongue, the young woman was upright and a strong believer.
Elly bit her lower lip in concentration. Cee was lovely, but she could be a bit spoiled, even temperamental at times. However, she had seen her blush over her self-indulgence and step out of the limelight to turn her attention to her parents, or an elderly person sitting by herself. That made her warm and lovable. Elly realized she’d been wearing her love—or was it simple infatuation?—for Bo like a restricting corset. She could barely breathe or think. Those ties were loosening as she looked at Cee with new eyes. If she couldn’t have Bo, the least she could do was pair him with a good woman. Cee would make an excellent pastor’s wife. Warm. Caring.
“I didn’t know you admired Bo,” Elly said, meaning to test the waters of Cee’s affections.
Her friend lifted a shoulder. “Don’t be offended, but yes, it’s difficult not to be attracted to such a man. And now that he’s in the ministry, well… ” She swiped at the dust on her skirt. “I’ve dreamed of being a pastor’s wife. And Bo is special. I would be honored—thrilled—to catch his eye.” Cee’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment. Clearly she’d said more than she’d intended. “Oh, Elly! I’m sorry. I know how you feel about him.”
“Please.” Elly held up a hand. “How I feel about him—or once felt about him—no longer matters. Youthful crushes are over.”
“You’ve said this before, but is it true?” Her eyes searched Elly’s. “Are you sure you no longer have feelings for him?”
Elly wasn’t certain about anything but one fact: She would never marry a pastor. And Bo had chosen to serve his angry God over loving her.
He wanted to be friends.
And she wanted her old Bo back.
“He isn’t mine to hand over. And you don’t need my permission to—”
To what? To court him? To marry him? The words settled over her heart like a wool blanket. Fortunately, Bo and Cee wouldn’t live in Berrytop, right under her nose for the rest of her life. Once Milt felt better, Bo would return to Parsons and his congregation, maybe bringing a brand new wife with him.
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