by Regina Scott
At least at his mother’s house the presence of others took her mind off her distracting husband. As Simon unpacked the instrument, Nora greeted the rest of the family who were up. She couldn’t help admiring the tiny stitches that attached the white collar to the long-sleeved green wool gown his mother wore. Beth, in her blue wool, was setting the table, and Nora could smell bacon frying in the kitchen.
All the Wallins gathered around the table a short while later, digging into the bacon and pancakes Mrs. Wallin served up.
“And dried berries with whipped cream as well,” she said with a smile to Nora. “Now that we have extra milk.”
“Come spring,” Beth confided, leaning across the table, “I think we’ll have enough we can sell it in Seattle.” She looked to Simon and nodded as if to say she had foreseen as much.
“If the cow lasts that long,” Simon said.
James slipped his arm around his wife. “Dreaming of steak and roast, are you, Simon? Can’t say I blame you. I could use a new pair of boots.”
“Britta is not about to be made into leather,” Nora informed him, though she could see that he was teasing by the gleam in his deep blue eyes.
“Now behave,” Beth added, “or you won’t get a taste of that whipped cream.”
Rina smiled at her. “I can see your sister has taken your measure, James.”
James put a hand over his heart. “The quickest way to my heart is down my throat, alas.” He lifted his coffee cup. “Here’s to Britta. Long may she reign.”
Nora inclined her head. Though Simon still looked skeptical, she was certain Britta would prove her worth, even to him, before the winter was out.
After the breakfast things had been cleared away, they all gathered near the hearth. Drew and James moved the benches and chairs away from the table to make room for everyone to sit. Nora settled on one end of a bench next to Simon. All Simon’s brothers wore brown suits too, and the outfits looked as if they had seen better days. Perhaps she could do something about that. She could see John in silver gray, Levi in a bold blue, Drew in black and James in something flamboyant, perhaps burgundy. As for Simon, she would try a dark green that would bring out the depth of his eyes.
Oh! There she went dreaming again!
Drew had already stepped up to the hearth, accepting a worn, black-leather-covered Bible from John’s hands. Funny. She’d grown up worshipping in a fine chapel in Lowell, but she had always felt that her parents and brother went as much to be seen as to actually praise their Creator. Aboard the Continental, Mr. Mercer had officiated at worship services, and she knew Catherine and her friend Allegra had felt that his lack of training as a minister and his questionable ethics had made him an unlikely candidate to instruct them on spiritual matters.
Drew Wallin certainly had never attended divinity school, yet he held the Bible with a clear reverence on his rugged face. Opening the book, he glanced up at his family. “Today, we are reading in the Book of Luke.” He cleared his throat, then his deep voice intoned the words.
“‘And it came to pass, that, when Elisabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the babe leaped in her womb; and Elisabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost: And she spake out with a loud voice, and said, Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For, lo, as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in mine ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.’”
Blessed is she that believed. How wonderful to know what the Lord had planned for her and simply accept it. As John rose to read from Psalms, Nora couldn’t help glancing at Simon. His attention was all on his brother, his head tilted a little toward her, his eyes narrowed as if he was contemplating the praise the psalmist had written so long ago. Was this what the Lord had planned for her—to work beside him, tend his house, help his family?
Or was there more?
She dropped her gaze to her hands, folded in the lap of her dress. Lord, is it possible Simon could come to care for me? You’ve always provided shelter and food and pretty fabric for clothes, ways I can contribute, Your Words to cheer. I thought Your love was sufficient for me, but I’m starting to dream, I’m starting to hope. I’m afraid I’ll only be disappointed. Maybe You could just show me Your will, and I’ll be blessed to believe?
So intent had she been on her prayer, that she didn’t realize John had finished reading until the first notes sounded from the violin. Around her, Drew’s bass voice joined with his brothers’ tenors and the ladies’ altos and sopranos to blend in heartfelt song. She couldn’t take her eyes off Simon, his arms cradling the instrument so tenderly. The strong lines of his face had softened as his fingers worked the bow, the strings. It was as if his own heart sang through the music.
She drew in a breath and managed to join them for the second verse, but the words stopped in her throat.
“Alleluia! not as orphans are we left in sorrow now;
“Alleluia! He is near us, faith believes, nor questions how.”
Was that her answer? Could she simply believe and not question where this convenient Christmas wedding would lead her?
* * *
Simon stood while Drew gave the concluding prayer, then bent to carefully replace the violin into its case. As always, playing it touched something inside him. That he was capable of making such music never failed to humble him. It was a gift, and one he gladly shared. Yet sharing it always left him a little shaky afterward, as if he’d lost something of himself in the melody.
Perhaps that was why, as his family dispersed for various pursuits, he asked Nora to join him outside. The day was bright for a change, the pale winter sun anointing the tops of the firs surrounding the clearing. Gulls swept low, their calls echoing as they headed for the lake beyond. His breath puffed silver as he took her hand and helped her off the porch.
She seemed content to walk beside him, her gaze on the ground and her hands in her skirts. Once more he was struck by the contrast of her—small yet sturdy; quiet yet capable of making her feelings known, at least to him. He wasn’t sure why he’d taken the brush from her this morning. Perhaps it had been the frustration on her face. Perhaps he’d merely wondered what that thick thatch of black hair would feel like. There had been a spring to it, as if it, like Nora, held its energy deep and only showed it on rare occasions. Touching her hair had been nearly as humbling as playing his violin.
“Britta seems to be getting on well,” she said, nodding to the pasture next to the barn. John had managed to fashion a sling of sorts with a padded stick on the end. Hung over Britta’s shoulder, it allowed her something to rest against when she stopped. But Simon had noticed she found it hard to lower her head into the feed trough. One more task for him to deal with, when he was done clearing the land.
The thought of the new acreage raised his gaze to the hillside behind the schoolhouse. Already fewer trees lined the horizon. So much done, so much more to do, and in such a short time.
“Come with me,” he said to Nora. “I want to show you something.”
He led her up the hill, careful to keep to the path he and his brothers had been using so as to prevent her skirts from snagging on the vines that crowded close.
“Those are blackberries,” he informed her as they climbed. “Beth and Ma pick them for preserves.”
“I saw thimbleberries too,” she said.
“And we have a few apple trees behind the house, in Ma’s kitchen garden. But the real produce will come from up here. Look.”
They had come out on the level, and Nora sucked in a breath.
Simon smiled. Stretching out his hand, he pointed to the remaining trees. “This is the property you won for us, Nora. You can see how far we’ve come. There’s at least three tim
es as far yet to go to clear it all. We’ll put in corn here, once the frost is gone, along with kale, potatoes and carrots.”
“Perhaps Windsor beans,” she suggested. “Our neighbor used to raise them. You can plant them early in the spring, and they’re very good dried.”
Simon nodded, pleased she understood so readily. “Excellent choice. The Kelloggs should be able to get us the seed.” He nodded toward a slight rise at the rear of the property. “I was thinking about building a house there.”
She turned and set her back to it. He wondered what she was doing as she stood on her tiptoes on the muddy trampled ground and tilted her head first one way and then the other. Suddenly a smile split her face. “Yes! Once everything is cleared, you should be able to see the mountain and the lake from here.” She dropped back down onto her feet with a brisk nod of obvious satisfaction.
“That’s the idea,” Simon admitted. “Pa always said a man should have something more to look at than his work, and something more to listen to than the sound of his ax.”
She dimpled. “That’s where you learned to play the violin, then, from your father.”
Simon dug his boot into the good, dark earth they had uncovered. “He was the master. He could make you feel the music. I know that must sound odd, but I can’t explain it any other way. I’ve seen people laugh and cry when he played.”
“You have the same effect,” Nora assured him.
She couldn’t know the compliment she’d just given him. He shook his head. “I’m competent. He was a virtuoso.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “So are you. I love hearing you play.”
Something strong and fine rose up inside him. Why was it her praise meant more than any other’s? This time he let it seep in, like water into the soil. “I thought maybe you’d want some input into the design of the house.”
“No ladders,” she said and added a shiver for good measure.
Simon smiled. “No ladders. If we need a second story, I’ll put in good, solid stairs, like at Ma’s. Anything else?”
She rubbed her hands over each other. “Well, I...” She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I would love to have my own sewing room.”
“Done,” Simon said. “We can put it on the south side so you always have good light.”
“Oh, Simon,” she said, her gray eyes shining, “that would be wonderful. And maybe shelves to store the fabric and notions?”
He nodded, envisioning it. “John could probably come up with some sort of system to store spools of thread by color. And we’ll make room for a sewing machine. We won’t be able to afford one right away, but I’d like to start putting money aside as soon as we can.”
She threw out her arms and hugged him tight. “Oh, Simon! No one has ever been so nice to me!”
Stunned, Simon could only wrap his arms around her and absorb the warmth. He hadn’t made the suggestion with the idea of being nice. He was thinking more practically, trying to meet her needs, allow her to ply her trade most efficiently.
But until that moment, he hadn’t realized that one of his needs was seeing her smile. Could it be he was beginning to have feelings for the woman who had offered him a Christmas wedding?
Chapter Twelve
What a lovely Sunday. Nora couldn’t help her sigh of pleasure as she lay back on the bed that night to sleep. Simon’s entire family had been so nice to her, asking her preferences for dinner, inviting her to join them in playing chess and parlor games. She and Beth had talked and sketched out the costumes for the theatrical. She’d never felt so welcome.
And Simon. Tears gathered in her eyes as she remembered his promise to build her a sewing room. With a sewing machine! She could just imagine the gowns and linens she could create with that time-saving device. He’d even walked with her down to the Pauls’ claim to pay for Britta, and he’d only grimaced a little when the farmer had asked her again why she would want such a beast. Perhaps everything would be well.
Simon’s mother had offered to let Nora root through the pieces of bric-a-brac and trimmings left over from previous Wallin sewing projects to use for the costumes. So Nora ventured over to the main house the next day after milking Britta and eating breakfast. She had just unearthed a very respectable bit of blue braid when she heard the rattle of a wagon outside.
Catherine, who had joined them that morning, was sitting closest to the window, stitching at a nightgown for the baby. The nurse had explained that normally she would be out seeing to those ill in the area, but between the cold weather and her pregnancy, she was staying closer to home these days. At the sound outside, she glanced up with a frown.
“Strangers, Mother Wallin,” she called, setting aside her work to rise.
Mrs. Wallin, who had been working on refilling the oil in the lamps, straightened from the table. “No one was expected.”
Now Nora heard voices, querulous, complaining. Her stomach sank to her shoes as she recognized the sound.
Catherine opened the door to the knock.
“I demand to know what you’ve done with my sister,” Charles said. “And I warn you—I will not be put off this time. The last two farms we passed assured us the next stop would be Wallin Landing.”
“This is Wallin Landing, sir,” Catherine replied, cool and calm. Nora imagined that she had dealt with far more confrontational people than Charles when she was nursing. “Why do you expect your sister to be here?”
“No need for concern, Catherine,” Nora said, going to her side. “They’re here for me.”
Mrs. Wallin came around the table.
“There you are!” Meredith exclaimed, seizing Nora’s arm and drawing her closer as if the Wallins had kidnapped her. “We have been looking everywhere!”
“It’s only been five days,” Nora reminded her, managing to free herself from her sister-in-law’s clutches.
“High time we determined whether that ruffian is treating you as well as he should,” Charles insisted, his hands on the lapels of his camel-colored wool coat. He glanced about. “Where is the fellow, by the way?”
“My son the ruffian,” Mrs. Wallin said, her voice tight, “is working, as a good man should.”
Charles colored at the implication.
Nora wasn’t about to confirm that Simon was unavailable. “He and his brothers are logging not far from here. He could come through the door any moment.”
Charles glanced behind him as if fearing to see Simon looming there, then returned his gaze to Nora’s, straightening his tie with nervous fingers. “Yes, well, we came to speak to you in any event.”
Meredith shivered in her fashionable brown coat with its fur collar, the velvet skirts peeping out beneath the hem swinging in her agitation. “Yes, and it is rather thoughtless of you to leave us standing out here in the chill when we came all this way to see you.”
Guilt whispered. Survival shouted it down. “Well, you see, this isn’t my house. I was just visiting.”
Meredith’s face fell. “You mean we have to go farther into this wretched wilderness?”
“Not very far,” Nora said. She turned to Catherine and Mrs. Wallin, who were watching her with frowns. “This is my brother, Charles Underhill, and sister-in-law, Meredith. Charles and Meredith, this is Catherine Wallin. She’s a nurse, and she’s married to Simon’s oldest brother, Drew. And this is Simon’s mother, Mrs. Wallin.”
“Welcome to Wallin Landing,” Mrs. Wallin said, while Catherine inclined her head in greeting.
“Pleasure.” The way Meredith said the word made it seem anything but.
Nora wanted to cringe. “I’ll just take them over to Simon’s cabin so they won’t bother you.”
“It’s no trouble, Nora,” Mrs. Wallin assured her, her gaze fixed on their unexpected visitors.
“They are,” Nora replied. She
gave Simon’s mother a hug. “I won’t inflict them on you.”
“Well! I like that!” Meredith exclaimed.
“I’ll be happy to accompany you,” Catherine said, steel in her blue eyes.
“I can’t impose,” Nora told her, releasing Mrs. Wallin and turning for the door. “Besides, I’m used to them.” She felt Catherine and Mrs. Wallin watching her out the door.
“Honestly, Nora, I don’t know how you abide such rude people,” Meredith scolded as Nora led them away from the house.
“I have a lot of practice,” Nora murmured.
The comment went entirely over Meredith’s head. “I imagine you have over the past five days. We told you not to go with that man.”
“Say the word, and we can leave right now,” Charles agreed.
Nora glanced at their conveyance. They must have rented it from the livery stable in Seattle. It was more of a cart, with a bench that would hold no more than two and a small box behind. Where exactly did they intend to put her, had she agreed to their silly scheme? As it was, she could only pity the horse that had pulled it, for the creature was already sagging in the traces, breath puffing white in the air.
“I think you’re supposed to let it out to rest,” Nora said with a nod toward the horse.
Meredith looked aghast at the idea. “And have it escape and be eaten by bears?”
Nora was fairly sure bears didn’t eat horses. At least, Simon hadn’t mentioned them as a danger to Britta, and he had seemed rather thorough in itemizing the threats. She could see the cow now, moving slowly about the pasture with James’s horses. Should she let the new horse in with them, or would they all quarrel?
She was spared the decision by the opening of the schoolhouse door. Levi raced across the clearing to her side.
“I saw you from the window,” he said. “Rina said it would be fine for me to help.”
Nora smiled at him. “Thank you, Brother Levi. Do you know what to do with this horse?”
“I’ll take care of her,” he promised, then he narrowed his eyes at Charles and Meredith. “I’m more concerned about you, Nora. Simon told me and John about your family when we agreed to stand up as your witnesses.”