Michaela's Choice

by Lisa Harris

  After putting on a lavender dress with dark purple trim, Michaela hurried downstairs. The strong aroma of coffee filled the cozy room where Emma sat at the kitchen table reading her Bible. Her dark hair hung neatly in one long braid down her back with loose curls framing her face. Her dress, a deep chocolate brown, pulled tight across her stomach, showing the first signs of pregnancy.

  “Good morning, Emma.” Michaela smiled at her sister-in-law, glad to see that the color was back in her cheeks this morning. “You must be feeling better.”

  “I am.” Emma glanced up from her Bible and returned the smile. “I thought the least I could do was get up early and make some coffee.”

  “It smells wonderful.” Michaela poured herself a cup of the hot drink and took a long swallow. Despite the fact that Michaela had been unable to spend much time with Emma since she and Daniel had moved to Cranton, Michaela still considered Emma a close friend.

  Emma shut the heavy book and walked toward the cupboard. “I know the doctor wants me to rest as much as I can, but I get so tired of staying in bed.”

  Michaela squeezed Emma’s hand, knowing how much this child meant to her. “In a few months, when you’re holding your baby in your arms, you’ll forget all about the struggles you’re going through right now.”

  “I know.” Tears misted in Emma’s eyes as she ran her hand across her abdomen in a slow, circular motion. “Sometimes I get so scared that I’ll lose this one, too.”

  The ache in Michaela’s heart intensified as she struggled with what to say. “I know how bad it hurts to have lost a child. Aunt Clara always reminds me how God has promised to go through the valleys with us and that He will carry us through times of trouble.”

  Emma wiped away a stray tear and let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know why I get so emotional. Daniel’s always teasing me about how I’m laughing one minute, then crying the next.”

  “It’s all right.” Michaela handed her a clean rag from the counter.

  Emma dabbed at her eyes with the cloth and let out a deep sigh. “I know you understand. That’s one of the reasons I’m glad you’re here.” She waved her hands in front of her. “Enough of this. We have a celebration ahead of us.”

  “Do you feel well enough to come?” Michaela set a black iron skillet on top of the stove and pulled some potatoes from a wooden bin to start breakfast.

  “I’m sure going to try. The Johnson farm isn’t far away, so if I start to feel bad, Daniel can always bring me home.”

  Michaela set to work chopping enough potatoes to fry for the three of them. “I’m glad you’re coming. It will do you good to get out of the house for a while.”

  “You’re spoiling me, you know.” Emma set three plates on the round table, then added the silverware.

  “That’s why I came.”

  “I didn’t realize how much it would help me. Just knowing I don’t have to worry about Daniel fending for himself is a great relief.”

  Michaela cracked an egg into a bowl, the corners of her mouth tilting into an affectionate smile. “It certainly doesn’t look as if he’s been starving.”

  “I heard that.” The front door banged shut, and Daniel’s deep laughter floated in from the front room. He stomped into the kitchen, leaving traces of mud across the recently mopped floor.

  “How do you put up with this man?” Michaela set her hands on her hips as Daniel gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.

  A rosy blush crept up Emma’s face. “I thought somebody had to, so it might as well be me.”

  Michaela laughed. “You’d better go get washed up for breakfast.”

  Twenty minutes later, Daniel slid into his seat, and Michaela placed a steaming hot plate of eggs and potatoes in front of him. “You know, I’ve missed you, little sister.”

  “It has been way too long.” She smiled at the familiar teasing that had always been a part of their relationship. “Emma, are you hungry?”

  Emma waved her hand toward the stove and frowned. “I was going to try to eat, but I think I’ll just have a dry piece of toast. That’s about all I can handle this morning.”

  Daniel reached over and squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “Ladies, we need to hurry if we’re going to make it to the Johnson place before the celebration gets into full swing.”

  ❧

  “What a beautiful home.” Michaela leaned forward in the wagon as Daniel pulled on the reins and stopped in front of the Johnsons’ charming gray-shingled farmhouse, with its large porch and symmetrical front windows.

  “The man in the black shirt is Eric Johnson,” Daniel told Michaela as he helped her down from the wagon. “He and his wife had six children before she passed away a few years ago.”

  Eric Johnson leaned against the porch rail, his tall, lean figure towering over most of the guests. Several children, whom she assumed to be his, played quietly nearby. Michaela wondered how a single man could raise such a large brood of kids, though each one of them looked properly cared for and well dressed.

  She followed Emma to the house, then stopped for a moment, captivated by the man who stood before her. Taking a closer look at the farmer, she studied him. His broad shoulders were supported by his equally muscular frame, and he was tanned from hours of work in the sun. His hair, dark as coal, lay perfectly against his forehead.

  “Michaela.” His firm hand met hers as Daniel introduced them. “It’s good to finally meet you. Emma and Daniel have told me so much about you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you as well, Eric.” Michaela noticed the dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. “Daniel’s mentioned what a big help you’ve been to them.”

  “Just being neighborly.” Eric rested his hand on the shoulder of the child closest to him. “Let me introduce you to my children, Mrs. Macintosh.”

  The smallest of the group ran up and grasped Michaela’s hand. “My name’s Ruby. I’m six, and I think your dress is beautiful.”

  Michaela bent down to give Ruby her full attention and was drawn to the little girl’s dark brown eyes, long lashes, and radiant smile. “Thank you, Ruby. I’m very glad to meet you, too.”

  Eric let out a soft chuckle and proceeded to introduce the rest of the children. “This is Rebecca, my oldest.”

  Michaela stood to look at the rest of the children, still holding Ruby’s hand. Rebecca wore her long hair in a simple twist, allowing two soft tendrils to escape, one on either side of her face.

  “Hard to believe it,” Eric continued, “but she just turned seventeen. She’s a wonderful cook.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Michaela said warmly to the young woman who had inherited her father’s dark hair and striking good looks.

  “I’m glad you could join us, Mrs. Macintosh.”

  “And this,” Eric said, pointing to the next in line, “is Samuel. He’s fourteen.”

  “Do you like frogs?” He pulled one out of his pocket and held it up to Michaela’s face. She took a step back, then stifled a laugh at the slimy pet.

  “Samuel!” Eric gave him a sharp look and pointed his son in the direction of the barnyard. “That belongs outside and not in your pocket. What do you say?”

  The young boy hung his head and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Sarah’s a girl, and she likes frogs just like me. I thought you might like them, too.”

  Samuel marched off the porch to let his frog go, avoiding the stern look from his father. Despite the reprimand, Michaela was certain she saw a sparkle in Eric’s eyes.

  Eric cleared his throat and turned to the next child. “Matt, my youngest son, is twelve.”

  “Do you have something to show me as well?” Michaela asked, noticing his hands hidden behind his back.

  “No, ma’am.” Matt brought his hands out from behind his back and held them up.

  Eric looked at his youngest boy and ruffled his hair. “Next,” he continued, “is Adam. He’s my right-hand man, I guess you could say. When I’m gone, he’s in charge.”

  “How do you
do, Adam?” It wouldn’t be long until he was as tall as his father.

  Adam pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Just fine, thank you, ma’am.”

  “Adam is sixteen, and last but not least is Sarah. She’s my only blue-eyed beauty,” finished Eric. “She takes after her mother’s side of the family.”

  Sarah, with corn silk–colored hair to match her blue eyes and fair skin, looked as if she were about to burst.

  “Isn’t this the most exciting day?” Sarah took a step closer to Michaela and clasped her hands in front of her. “Except for Christmas when you get presents, of course. Personally, I think this is the best day of the year. There’s so much good food and games and…”

  Michaela was sure Sarah would have continued indefinitely if her father hadn’t glanced in her direction. Sarah quickly closed her mouth.

  “I’m looking forward to this day, too, Sarah.” Michaela stifled a laugh. “How old are you?”

  “Nine.” Sarah gave her father a crooked grin, then looked away.

  “Make yourself at home,” Eric told Michaela. “I know there are quite a few people looking forward to meeting you.”

  Michaela followed Emma inside the house, her attention immediately drawn to the piano in the corner of the large room. The dark wood shone like it had just been polished, and Michaela longed for a chance to play, already missing the calming effect the music brought.

  She crossed the hardwood floor past a grouping of chairs and colorful rugs. Two large windows with bright red gingham curtains gave the room a warm and welcoming atmosphere. A stone fireplace took up most of the far wall and stood as the focal point of the room.

  The women were finishing lunch preparations in the kitchen. Emma quickly made the introductions, and several commented on the cakes Michaela had baked for the festivities.

  “I think I’ll forget lunch and just have a thick slice of your cake, Michaela,” said Mary, a young woman with a pleasant smile, as she shifted the infant on her hip.

  “I think I’ll join you,” another woman who’d introduced herself as Mae chimed in.

  “Tell us about Boston.” Several of the women gathered around and listened for the response to Mary’s request. “It’s been forever since any of us have been to the city.”

  Michaela felt instantly welcome and at home with these women as she talked about her hometown and answered a variety of questions ranging from fashion to transportation to church. Before long, lunch was ready, and Michaela helped carry the dishes out to the backyard, where several tables had been set up.

  Lunch was wonderful—chicken, beef, ham, and all of the trimmings. Michaela’s cakes received rave reviews, and she promised to make another one for the next gathering. She ate until she could hardly hold another bite, and before she knew it, it was time to clean up again.

  In the kitchen, Michaela was happy to be partnered with Rebecca, Eric’s oldest daughter, in drying the dishes.

  “Do you enjoy school?” Michaela asked.

  “Very much.” Rebecca’s smile confirmed her answer as she handed a dry dish to Sarah. “My favorite subject is math. I’m thinking about becoming a teacher, though I also love to sew.”

  “My mother was a teacher.”

  “Where does she live?”

  Michaela felt the slight aching of her heart as she fingered the towel between her fingers. “She died when I was fourteen.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rebecca handed Michaela another dish to dry. “My mother died several years ago. I still miss her.”

  “I miss my mother, too.”

  They were both silent for a moment, until Michaela decided to ask another question. “How much more schooling do you have left?”

  “This is my last year. Then I can work on my teacher’s certificate.” Rebecca reached for another dish from the soapstone sink and began to wash it. “Father’s been very supportive. He even found someone to help out with the house so I could have time to go to school.”

  Michaela wondered about this man, Eric Johnson, who’d spent the last few years not only running a farm, but raising six children alone. She’d noted his relaxed manner during lunch as he mingled among his guests, making sure that everyone felt at home. Somehow, despite the tragedy of losing his wife and being forced to be sole provider and parent for his family, he seemed to have found a sense of peace.

  Sarah nudged between Michaela and Rebecca and grinned like a conspirator. “Did Rebecca tell you she has a beau? His name’s Jake, and he’s here today.”

  “Sarah!” Rebecca gave her sister a firm look, and Sarah quickly closed her mouth. “Never mind about that. What do you do in Boston?”

  “I teach piano lessons. I noticed you have a piano in the front room.”

  “Unfortunately, none of us knows how to play,” Rebecca admitted.

  Michaela laid down her towel and rested her hands against the counter, surprised at the revelation. “You can’t be serious.”

  “My grandmother sent it out here on the railroad,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “She thought it would help us become cultured. She thinks Pa should have moved us all to the city after Mama died. She’s sure we’re going to grow up unrefined and unsophisticated without the benefits of living in a large city like Boston.”

  “Rebecca.” Michaela toyed with an idea that was forming in her mind. “I could teach you how to play the piano. I could teach all of you.” Michaela handed the last dish to Sarah, whose eyes were almost as wide as the plate she now held.

  “You’ll teach us how to play the piano?” Sarah asked.

  “I could come out every Saturday and teach you one at a time.” The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.

  Rebecca shook her head. “That seems like a whole lot of work, Mrs. Macintosh—”

  “I love teaching, and what good is your piano sitting in there without someone to play it? Plus, I already miss my piano, and it would give me a place to practice.”

  “I’ll have to ask Father, but it sounds wonderful.” A wide grin covered Rebecca’s face.

  “I’m going to go ask him right now.” Sarah’s enthusiasm got the best of her, and she ran out of the kitchen in search of her father.

  ❧

  “Come on, Mrs. Macintosh, it’s baseball. You have to play,” Sarah insisted a little while later.

  Never being one to miss out on the fun, Michaela had followed Sarah and the others out into the open field behind the Johnsons’ barn, despite the fact she had doubts about the whole thing—including how ladylike the game was.

  “How can you live in the city and not know anything about baseball?” Eric leaned against the wooden bat and shot her a grin.

  “Yes, come on, Mrs. Macintosh, it’s fun.” Sarah, who had followed Michaela around all afternoon, now pulled on her arm.

  “I don’t know anything about baseball,” Michaela protested for the third time.

  “It’s easy!” Adam tossed the white ball into the air and caught it with one simple swipe of his hand.

  “Daniel?” Michaela looked to her brother, hoping he would back her up.

  “Come on. You can be on my team.” He winked at her, obviously not planning to intervene.

  Michaela groaned.

  “It’s simple.” Adam stepped forward and attempted to give her a swift course on the game. “All you have to do is hit the ball and run around the bases, or if you’re playing in the field, you try to catch the ball.”

  The first person up to bat was Eric. Michaela held her glove ready like Adam had shown her. He hit the ball and it bounced right toward her, rolling to a stop between her legs. She reached down to grab the ball, keeping Eric in her line of sight the entire time. He ran toward second base. She threw the ball as hard as she could. Adam ran for her off-centered throw, then tried to beat Eric to the base. She let out a soft groan. He was safe.

  Ten minutes later, her team was called up to bat.

  “You’re up, Michaela,” Daniel said when it was her turn.

  They w
ere winning, three to two, and Michaela had picked up a few things about baseball along the way, but she still felt ridiculous standing at home plate with the bat grasped between her hands. She tried to remember everything she’d been told. Bend legs, lean over slightly, watch the ball. Eric, who was pitching for the opposing team, threw the ball at her and she swung.

  “Strike.”

  She looked over at Daniel and the Johnson kids, who were cheering her on. Eric threw the ball again. This time Michaela thought she detected a slight smirk on his face.

  “Strike.”

  Michaela took in a deep breath and stared straight at him. Inky black hair curled slightly over his ears, and dark stubble shadowed his square jaw. Their gazes met, and an odd sensation swept through her. Feeling off balance for a moment, she tried to shake the feeling. Determined to concentrate on the game, she sucked in her breath and raised the bat.

  Eric threw the ball. She swung. A crack sounded from the bat, and a cheer went up from behind her as she stood there watching the ball fly toward second base.

  “Run! Run!” someone screamed behind her.

  Michaela threw down the bat, picked up the hem of her dress, and ran for her life.

  ❧

  An hour later, Michaela leaned against the rail of the Johnsons’ front porch, enjoying the end of the sunset. The murmur of voices filtered into the night, joining the low croak of a lone frog. Fireflies danced in the distance, their soft glow shimmering in the murky twilight.

  “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

  Michaela jumped at the deep male voice and turned around. “Eric?”

  He came and stood beside her, keeping an arm’s length between them. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I was just enjoying the sunset.” She brushed a hair out of the corner of her mouth and looked up at him. Despite her height, he still towered over her.

  Eric rested his palms against the rail and leaned forward. “My mother always said that sunsets were gifts from God that should be shared.”