Lizzie (War Brides Book 1)

by Linda Ford

  Lizzie washed her hands and poured the tea. “You and Carson seem to have picked a rocky path.”

  Molly dropped to the nearest chair. “He says I’m way too bossy. Well, I can’t help it. I ain’t never been a fancy lady. And I don’t exactly like the idea.”

  “Is that what Carson wants? For you to be a fancy lady? Carson doesn’t strike me as the sort who would care.”

  Molly threw her hands in the air. “How do I know what he wants? Seems every time I try to be what he wants, he up and changes his mind. I just can’t get ahead of his ideas.” Suddenly she leaned close to Lizzie. “How do you know if you’re in love? Does it feel awful like this?”

  Lizzie remembered some of the painful times with Caleb. Yes, it hurt sometimes; but she decided Molly already knew enough about that. “I guess love means you’re willing to be with someone forever and always no matter what that entails. I know I’d rather put up with Caleb’s moods than be parted from him.”

  Molly’s eyes narrowed. “You saying being in love means it hurts like being whipped with wet rawhide, but it still feels better than not being whipped?”

  Lizzie laughed. “I don’t think that’s what I mean at all. You and Carson must have some pretty fierce arguments.”

  Molly slumped over the table. “I guess I’m pretty set in my ways. But I’m trying to change. Trouble is, he never seems happy even when I change.”

  Molly’s words troubled Lizzie. “Molly. You’re a fun, kind person just the way you are. Why would you want to change?”

  “I am?”

  “Of course you are. Otherwise, why would I have you for a friend?”

  “You don’t think I should try to be a fancy lady?”

  “Molly, you can’t be someone you’re not. Though I suppose you could learn new things. Like I learned to make bread.”

  Molly thought about that a few minutes. “I suppose if you like me the way I am, Carson should be able to.”

  Lizzie laughed. Suddenly she understood something about Molly. “It isn’t having to change that bothers you, is it? It’s letting someone else have the right to ask certain things of you. You’re afraid of giving up the right to be entirely independent.”

  Molly hung her head. “Even Pa don’t try to tell me what to do.”

  “I guess that’s what love is: trusting someone else enough to know he isn’t going to boss you around simply to prove he’s boss. But it’s also letting the other person make choices sometimes for the both of you.” Lizzie frowned. “I don’t know if I’m saying this very well. Maybe you have to sort it out for yourself.”

  Molly nodded, her face awash in misery. “I ain’t ever trusted anyone but me.”

  “Love means trusting the other person—not suspiciously, like you’re always expecting him to do you harm, but openly, knowing he holds you gently in his hand.”

  “It goes against my grain.”

  Lizzie silently agreed. Carson had a rough road ahead if he thought to half tame this girl. Somehow she suspected he didn’t want to tame her as much as he wanted her to trust him.

  Audie had decided he needed some days off, so Caleb ran one wagon. The work appeared to please him, for he grew more relaxed with each day.

  But for Lizzie, the days dragged by. She tried to keep busy. She played her flute for long periods at a time. Several neighbors mentioned how much they enjoyed hearing her. But boredom set in with a vengeance one afternoon, and she wandered over to visit Pearl.

  Pearl stood in the middle of the room where Frankie had spent his last days. Toys and books still rested on every surface. Frankie’s bed looked strangely empty. Lizzie had trouble looking at it without feeling a hollowness in the pit of her stomach.

  “Where’s Petey?” she asked, noticing the mouse cage was gone.

  “I got Violet to take him outside. I told her it would be kind to let him go free again. I expect she’ll let him go when she’s ready.”

  Pearl stood looking at the empty bed.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m just thinking it’s about time I took down Frankie’s bed and put away his stuff. I’d like to turn this room back into a parlor. It bothers me to keep it like a sick room. It’s just, well, I hate to do it with the children around, you know. I don’t know if I’m more concerned they might not understand or if I’m wanting to be selfish and say my good-bye without having to hide my crying.”

  “Why don’t I take them on a picnic? We could go down to the creek. I’m bored to death with my own company, so it would be a real treat for me.”

  “Oh, would you? I’ll make a nice lunch for you.” She hurried to the kitchen. “Lots of bread and syrup and some molasses cookies. Robbie can carry a jar of water.” She sliced and buttered bread as she talked.

  “I’ll go collect the children.”

  Lizzie went outside and called to them. “How would you like to go on a picnic?”

  Violet jumped up. “Right now?”

  “As soon as you’re ready.”

  They found Robbie in the barn, balanced on a gate, swinging back and forth.

  Violet jumped on the gate and swung back and forth with him. “Lizzie’s taking us on a picnic.”

  “To the creek,” Junior added.

  Robbie kicked the wall, swinging the gate back into place, then hopped down. “Great. There’s nothing to do here.” He gave Lizzie a mournful look. “Caleb wouldn’t take me with him.”

  Lizzie smiled. He and Caleb had an ongoing argument; Robbie wanted to go on every trip, but Caleb would only allow him to go on the shorter hauls, saying the longer trips were too tiring.

  “I wouldn’t be bored,” he told Lizzie now. “I know I wouldn’t.”

  Lizzie led the way back to the house to pick up the lunch. “Maybe he’ll take you next time.” Caleb had hinted he might consider it.

  The four of them headed down the street. Junior ran ahead a few steps, then squatted down, his seat resting on his heels as he turned over a rock and laughed when the exposed bugs scuttled away. Then he jumped up and ran a few more steps to another rock and another family of unsuspecting bugs.

  Violet skipped along, raising a puff of dust with each step so her feet seemed lost—almost suspended in earth-colored fog. She paused each time her younger brother stopped to tip over a rock, but her feet continued to move, like a marionette held by a nervous puppeteer.

  Lizzie and Robbie followed more sedately, she with the bulky picnic basket in one hand, he with the jug of water.

  “Caleb says he might go to Calgary and look for a truck,” Robbie announced. “He thinks he might take me along.”

  “To Calgary?”

  “Yup.”

  “When is he planning to go?” He’d talked about getting a truck, but he hadn’t mentioned Calgary.

  “Do you think Caleb would teach me to drive the truck?”

  “I can’t say. Have you talked to him about it?”

  Robbie ducked his head. “I was afraid he would tell me I’m too young.”

  She studied the boy. Sometimes she forgot how young he was. The war had forced him to be a man before his time. And now his father’s death had thrust more responsibility on him even though Caleb had taken over the running of the freight business. “He hopes you’ll take your father’s place when you’re older, so my guess is he’ll be wanting you to learn as much as you can.”

  Robbie nodded. “But he says I have to go to school and get my book learning, too.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” If Frankie could see how Caleb had slid into the role of mentor for Robbie, she knew he would be pleased.

  She should be pleased, too, at how well Caleb seemed. He obviously enjoyed his work. He had dreams for the future. He talked of expanding the business.

  She stared at the toes of her shoes as she walked, trying to ignore the burn of annoyance at the back of her throat. If only he wasn’t doing it all for Frankie.

  “Frankie talked of doing this.” “Frankie would a
pprove.” “If only Frankie could see Robbie.” She was sick of hearing Caleb talk of nothing else. She hated to admit her selfishness, but she wanted Caleb to look at her and see his future with her as the center.

  “There’s a nice bunch of trees,” Robbie said.

  She nodded. “Let’s put our things there.” Guilt made her voice tight. She had no right to resent Caleb’s focus. She set the basket in the shade. The children gathered round her. “Let’s play tag. You’re it.” She touched Violet’s shoulder and darted away.

  Violet lunged at Robbie before he could escape. “You’re it.”

  They raced after each other until Lizzie called, “Enough. I’m so hot I think I’m going to melt. Let’s get cooled off.”

  They traipsed down to the creek. Somewhere Lizzie had read the words “babbling brook,” but this brown stream barely whispered as it slowly, reluctantly moved along. Foul-smelling mud holes dotted the banks.

  “Phew.” Violet held her nose.

  They hurried along until they found a spot where clumps of grass had replaced the mud holes they’d seen earlier.

  “Can we go wading?” Violet asked.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  The children quickly pulled off their shoes and stockings. “Come on, Lizzie. It’s nice and warm,” Violet called.

  Lizzie needed no second invitation and joined them. The water was surprisingly warm. Mud oozed between her toes. Schools of little minnows darted through the water, like slivers of trapped moonlight.

  Junior tried to cup them in his fingers, but they darted away, in unison, like one fish held together with invisible threads.

  “Magic,” he said.

  Robbie finally led them from the water, announcing, “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

  The syrup sandwiches were sweet and satisfying. They ate every crumb and drank every drop of water, then lay on their backs. Gray-capped clouds sailed across the sky.

  “It’s a train,” Junior said, pointing at a cloud.

  “No, it’s a dog,” Violet insisted.

  Lizzie said she saw a flower. Robbie said it looked more like a horse. A black cloud raced behind the others, making the white ones luminescent. “Ohh. That’s pretty,” Violet said.

  Lizzie agreed. She could lie staring into the sky for hours, pretending, letting her thoughts drift, but Robbie jumped up. “Let’s play follow-the-leader. I’ll be it first.”

  He led them along a narrow cow trail, down to the creek where they had to jump from clump of grass to clump of grass, balancing precariously. He found a huddle of rocks, as if the ground had had a giant fit of hiccoughs. Lizzie gave Junior a boost up to the first one. Robbie skipped back and forth from one boulder to another, going higher each time.

  “Be careful,” Lizzie begged. “Violet and Junior might fall.” Junior missed the rock he jumped for. She caught him, pushing him to safety; but unbalanced, she slipped. Her palms scraped along the rough surface. Her knee banged into a sharp corner, and she yelped. One foot caught between two rocks. She lay back gasping.

  “Are you hurt?” Robbie peered down at her.

  She took a steadying breath. She couldn’t cry in front of the children. The nausea in her stomach subsided, and she tried to move. “I seem to be stuck.”

  Robbie hopped down and had a look at her foot. “Hang on. I’ll push your foot out.”

  She winced as he grabbed her around the ankle, then bit her lip to keep from crying out as he jerked her leg. At first her foot resisted, then came free with a searing pain. Tears burned her eyes. She buried her face in her arms as she took deep breaths, uncertain if she would throw up or pass out.

  “Lizzie?” Robbie touched her shoulder.

  She nodded. “I’m all right.” I think. “Give me a minute.” She edged herself around to sit on the rock and stared at her foot, scraped raw and already swelling. “Help me walk.”

  Robbie held her arm; but when she tried to put weight on her foot, she cried out and almost fell.

  Violet and Junior started crying.

  “Be quiet,” Robbie ordered. They obeyed instantly, Junior’s eyes wide and scared. Silent tears slid down Violet’s cheeks.

  Lizzie gritted her teeth and scuttled along on her seat until she found a tree sturdy enough to pull herself up with. She stood one-legged. A cold shiver snaked across her shoulders. The sun hid behind a cloud. She glanced at the sky. Black, angry clouds stacked in rolling waves. “We have to hurry. It’s going to rain.” She leaned on Robbie and tried to walk; but even placing most of her weight on the boy, she could not use the injured foot. She tried hopping. “This will take forever.” She cast a glance at the churning sky and made up her mind. “Robbie, you take the children home. I’ll come along at my own rate.”

  Violet let out a wail, then at Robbie’s stern look, clamped her mouth shut.

  “I can’t do that,” Robbie protested.

  “There’s no point in all of us getting soaked. Besides, your mother will worry.” She forced a smile to her lips. “It won’t hurt me to get a little wet. Now go on. And don’t worry about me. I mean it. I’ll get there by and by.”

  “Wait a minute.” Robbie dashed to the trees where they’d had their picnic and returned with a sturdy branch. “This will help.”

  “Thank you. You’re a good boy. Now do as I say.”

  He nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  “You don’t need to. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” In an effort to prove her point, she took three painful steps, leaning heavily on the branch he’d given her. “See.” Her ankle felt as if it were going to explode. She hoped he wouldn’t guess how difficult it was not to scream with the pain.

  “Come on.” Robbie took the others and led them away. They glanced back over their shoulders frequently until they disappeared over the crest of a hill.

  As soon as they were gone, Lizzie sank to the ground, groaning.

  The wind came up, blowing through her thin clothes. Already she could taste the dampness in the air, and she forced herself to her feet. Gritting her teeth, she took another step. And another. She had to keep moving. Each step sent a shudder of pain up her leg with an accompanying wave of dizziness. One more step, she insisted. One more.

  The rain began with a few cold drops; then the skies opened and drenched her. Her hair clung to her face. She licked the water from her lips and paused to wipe her eyes. She should have told Robbie to find someone with a wagon to fetch her, but it was too late now. Robbie had gone with instructions not to come back after her. She’d promised him she’d make it. Hop. Move stick forward. Hop. Wait for dizziness to pass. Hop. Move stick. Wait. Hop. Feel sick. Hop.

  She let herself think of nothing else. Keep moving. Inch by inch. Move. Move. Ignore the pain. Ignore the water dripping into her eyes. Hop. Hop. Hop.

  Lightning streaked across the horizon. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Hop. Her foot slipped in the mud, and she crashed to the ground.

  13

  She wiped her face and spit out mud. The sky was black from horizon to horizon, giving her no hope for a quick end to the storm. She lay on the wet ground. Despair soaked her bones.

  Would Caleb be home yet? She groaned and sat up. Even if Caleb had returned, he would not venture out in this storm to rescue her. Only one thing had ever led him out in the rain—Frankie. The time he had covered Frankie’s grave. She could imagine nothing else that would send him into the rain and mud.

  She groped around for her stick and pulled it from the mud. It had snapped when she fell. She’d have to manage without it.

  She scrambled up, balancing on her good leg, determined to continue. She hopped, grimacing as pain raced through her body. It’s only my leg. Why should my whole body hurt? She hopped again, tottered, and pressed her injured foot to the ground to steady herself. The pain drove her to her knees. Without anyone to see or hear, she moaned and sobbed. “Caleb!” she screamed into the wind. “Caleb!” But Caleb couldn’t he
ar her. He wouldn’t come for her in the rain. She crawled forward on her knees, crying out when she knelt on a sharp rock. Her palms grew tender from the gravel, but she crept forward, sobbing softly.

  The ground grew slippery with rain and mud. The hill seemed steeper than she recalled. Only by clutching at the tufts of grass could she make any progress. Finally, her arms shaking, she made it to the crest of the hill and, closing her eyes, lay down on the soaking grass to rest.

  “Lizzie.” Caleb’s voice floated above her head.

  She knew it was only a dream and kept her eyes closed, wanting it to last as long as possible. She wondered vaguely about the golden glow behind her eyelids.

  “Lizzie.” The voice was more insistent. A hand shook her gently.

  She jerked her eyes open, blinking at the light before her.

  “Thank God. You scared me.”

  “I’m hallucinating,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

  “Here, Robbie—you take the lantern.”

  Strong arms lifted her. She opened her eyes again to squint at the face close to her. “Caleb?”

  “Let’s get you home.”

  “I didn’t expect you to come.” Her tongue refused to work properly.

  He stumbled, and she moaned.

  “Hang on. We’re almost there.”

  She gritted her teeth against the pain as he carried her to a wagon, then climbed up beside her, pulling her to his lap.

  “Drive carefully, Robbie,” he said.

  His arms held her firm as they rattled away. A few minutes later, the wagon rumbled to a halt. Robbie jumped down and held the lantern high as Caleb carried her into the house and settled her on a chair. “Thank you, Robbie,” Caleb said. “Would you mind fetching the doctor?”

  “Thank you, Robbie,” Lizzie mumbled.

  “Yes, Sir.” The boy raced away.

  “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He lifted her wooden arms, pulled off her sodden dress, and wrapped a blanket around her. He tenderly removed her shoes and stockings. She moaned as he touched the injured foot.

  “I’m sorry, Love,” he murmured.

  He gently washed her face and towelled her hair. Then with a touch as soft as a cloud, he cleaned her hands and knees. Finished, he picked her up and carried her upstairs to their bed. He found her warmest flannel nightgown and pulled it over her head, then covered her with a quilt and held her close.