by Leah Atwood
“Have I lied to you yet?” he asked, looking back toward her with sincerity. Regardless of whatever reasons brought on her insecurities, he wanted her to know how he felt.
Her eyes looked upward as she tried to recall any such time. “No, I don’t suppose you have.”
“Then trust me when I tell you that not only do you not look like a cow, I find you to be beautiful, especially your hair.” On an impulse, he moved the reins with one hand and reached up with his free one and ran his knuckles against the silky strands.
She emitted a content sigh, and he knew he’d safely crossed that bridge.
“The landscape here is so different.” Her head turned from side to side, staring out at the vista.
“How so?”
“Primarily, the land here is flat, much more so than back home. You can’t see as much living in the city, but outside of it, in the country, there are wonderful rolling hills with lush green grass. Often in the summer, when no one was around, I would go outside in bare feet. I loved the soft feel of the grass underneath me.”
Her confession didn’t surprise him. Lettie had a playful and free-spirited side to her which he admired. Many a person who had gone through what she had wouldn’t have come out as unscathed as she. He knew she was still grieving Daniel and her mother’s disloyalty, but she didn’t dwell on it and focused on creating this new life.
“You weren’t afraid of stepping on snakes?” he asked.
She laughed. “I wasn’t until it happened one day when I went to tend the garden. The corn was ripe for picking, and I took a step toward the stalks. My foot handed on something unusual and I looked down to see a green garter snake slithering away. I’d like to say it taught me not to go out barefooted, but I still did. Only, I limited my shoeless excursions to hanging out the laundry, and I made sure to watch my step.”
“Please promise me you won’t do that around here. There are prairie rattlers here and although they typically won’t bite without provocation, I’d rather you not take the risk.”
“I think I can abide by that. There’s no promise I won’t walk around our home in stocking feet though. I do so hate the restriction of boots.” Her voice held a smidgen of mischief, but also a request for approval.
Rand chuckled. “Whatever keeps you comfortable, sweetheart. Once I know I won’t be leaving the house again for the evening, I also enjoy not wearing my boots.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled. We are still stopping by the Fosters, correct? Remember last Sunday after the service, Myrtle invited us to visit when we came in today.”
“Yes. We will be stopping there.” He tried to hide his smile from Lettie. She was in for multiple surprises today.
“Good. Myrtle is going to show me an easier way to knit some booties for the baby.”
He simply nodded, so he didn’t give away any secrets. “Only a few more minutes and then we’ll be there,” he told her as Weatherton came into view. When they rode into the town, he drove the wagon toward the general store and parked out front. He’d be back in just a few minutes to collect the cradle and bury the crate under the bags of feed he planned on purchasing.
“I’m so happy the weather is warming. Spring is such a lovely time of year,” Lettie chattered. “Can we stop at the post office on our way to the Fosters? I’d like to mail these letters to Sarah and Daniel’s family.”
Rand hopped off the wagon, secured the horses and walked around to Lettie’s side. Placing his hands slightly above her hips, he assisted her out of the conveyance. He offered her an elbow, and she slipped her arm through. They continued down the street until they came to the post office.
“I’ll wait outside,” he told her, handing over a few coins.
“I won’t be long.”
Once she was inside, he looked around for Myrtle. He knew there were lookouts who would alert her the moment they arrived in town. Within seconds, Flynn was at his side.
“Any more stops?” the doctor asked.
“Your house is our next one,” Rand told him.
“I’ll go alert Myrtle and the girls. Does Lettie suspect anything?”
“Not at all. She thinks Myrtle is going to show her a new way of knitting booties for the baby.”
Flynn laughed. “Little does she know Myrtle, bless her heart, could barely manage knitting for our babies.”
A glance through the window displayed Lettie next in line. “She won’t be but a minute or two.”
“I better hurry back and tell Myrtle. Will you be staying?”
“No, I have my own surprise that needs attention.”
“We’ll catch up when you come for Lettie then.” He took a look through the window for himself. Lettie had stepped up to the counter. “I must run. Myrtle will tan my hide if I ruin the surprise.”
Rand grinned, watching the older man hurry down the street, as fast he could without his gait turning into a run. A minute or two passed and Lettie exited the building. “I do so hope the letter finds its way to Sarah. The moment I met her, I felt she was a kindred spirit.”
“I’m sure it will.” He led her down the street, toward the Foster’s, at a leisurely pace. His purpose for the slow strides was twofold—he wanted to ensure Myrtle had enough time to prepare and more importantly, he enjoyed accompanying Lettie through town, her arm through his.
Chapter Six
Something was amiss. She could have been imagining it, but Lettie was almost certain that multiple stares had been cast her way. And the way Rand continually grinned—it wasn’t natural. A smile hadn’t left his face since they’d arrived in town.
There was also a marked lack of women out and about the town. Considering what a pleasant day it was, she’d expected to see more of the female population today. She was a bit disappointed because she’d hoped to see a few of the ladies she’d met at church.
Something odd was definitely occurring.
They came to the Foster’s home, a two-story, gray clapboard house with a narrow porch, just wide enough for a person to relax in a chair. Rand knocked on the door and Lettie thought his cheeks would explode if he smiled any broader. He did have a nice smile, she noted.
Myrtle promptly answered the door and greeted them fondly, drawing her into a large hug. “I’m so happy you could stop by today.”
“Me too,” Lettie told her sincerely, returning the embrace.
She was glad this small town didn’t maintain the social norm of making women remain out of the public’s eyes during pregnancy. Myrtle assured her that no one here, save some of the elderly intent on maintaining tradition, would think less of her for appearing publicly. Thank goodness, because she would have wanted to break that etiquette, but not at the risk of creating a scandal.
“Come in, come in,” Myrtle said with an exultant glee.
The warmth of Rand’s hand on her back seeped through her dress. He ushered her into the house until they were standing in the foyer and then he took a step back.
“Follow me.” Myrtle abruptly turned and walked toward the parlor.
Lettie glanced back at Rand, who gave her an encouraging nod to follow. If she hadn’t been sure before, now she definitely was.
Walking briskly, she caught up with Myrtle. Pausing two feet from the doorway, Myrtle turned to her. “Go on ahead of me and get comfortable. I forgot something in the kitchen.”
Not thinking anything about her statement, Lettie walked into the parlor, her mouth dropping when she saw all the people in the room.
“Surprise,” they shouted.
Well now, that explained the oddities which had been occurring. Seven ladies she’d met, or at least had seen, at church were in the room. The parlor had been rearranged to accommodate two small round tables, plus a rectangular table which was set up with platters of food and a bowl of punch.
Myrtle came up behind her and spoke softly, for only her ears to hear. “I hope you don’t mind that we didn’t wait until after the baby’s arrival, but I thought a tea to celebrate the
baby would be a nice way for you to make friends with the ladies.”
“I’m so touched.” She blinked, trying to eliminate those pesky tears that wouldn’t stay away.
Rand tapped her on the shoulder; she hadn’t realized he’d followed. “I’ll be back in two hours. Enjoy yourself.”
Raising an eyebrow, her lips turned up in a smile. “You knew all about this, didn’t you?”
He winked and walked away, leaving her standing there, shaking her head in amusement.
“Allow me to make introductions.” Myrtle gestured toward the ladies and they all came closer, their excitement for a tea and celebration spilling out through their smiles. “Ladies, some, but not all of you have met Lettie McCade, Weatherton’s newest resident. Please make her feel welcome.”
A plump lady, who looked to be several years younger than Myrtle, stepped forward. “Rosie Simpson. My husband and I run the mercantile,” she said, pride in her voice.
“Nice to meet you, Rosie.”
“Matilda Danbury. I met you several weeks ago at church, but my children were sick last Sunday.” The petite blonde had to be close to Lettie’s age if appearances were correct. “We live east of town, on a small spread.”
“I remember meeting you at church. Pleasure to see you again.”
The remaining ladies also introduced themselves. Grace Aldren, Bethany Gilbert and Becca Maddox, she’d already met. Gretchen Miles, Myrtle’s daughter, and Olivia Duncan, she was acquainting herself with for the first time.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Gretchen said, her warm hazel eyes expressing kindness. “Mother sang your praises and predicted we’d become good friends.”
“I hope she’s right,” Lettie answered, humbled again by the welcoming attitude of each person she’d met in Weatherton so far. No one cared about anyone’s past, the size of their bank account or a family pedigree. She found this to be most refreshing after spending a large portion of her life in an area where those things were of the utmost importance.
“Ladies, shall we eat?” Myrtle took control of the tea, bringing the group of ladies to an organized circle.
Murmurs of yes made their way around the bunch.
“Please, help yourselves. You know we don’t stand on formalities here. There is chicken salad, wafers, thinly cut bread, salted almonds and cabbage salad. I’ll be back in a minute with the tea. It’s been steeping to just the right flavor.” The host waved her hand toward the linen-lined table filled with delicacies.
“Our guest of honor first.” Olivia, who was closest to the table, backed away and indicated that Lettie should go first.
At the center of attention, Lettie became self-conscious. She brushed off a speck of dust from her dress, then smoothed a hand over her hair to ascertain that every strand was still in place.
“Don’t be shy,” Matilda said. “This is your celebration.”
Stomach growling, Lettie walked to the table and picked up one of the china plates that had a painted gold trim around its circumference and in the center, a yellow floral motif. The dishes matched the teacups she remembered using on the day of her arrival. Moving along the table, she placed a little of every offering onto her plate. She felt conspicuous and was glad when the others formed a line and began filling plates as well.
She sat down at the table and the others soon joined, dispersing themselves between the two tables. Myrtle returned, carrying a tray with a teapot and cups with matching saucers. After delivering a cup and saucer to each lady, she proceeded to fill them with tea. Looking around, Lettie saw there were several small crystal dishes containing sugar, honey, and lemon slices. Today, she opted for a touch of sugar and dropped a spoonful into the cup, stirring it with a spoon at her place setting.
“What do you think of Weatherton?” Rosie asked.
Lettie spoke the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s been very cold.”
The ladies laughed.
“You arrived at the worse time of year, weather-wise,” Grace said.
“I promise it’s not like that year around,” Olivia advised. “Soon, we’ll be having a lot of days like today.”
“I admit, leaving the house without a cape today was wonderful.” Lettie took a tiny bite of her chicken salad. “However, cold, wintry weather aside, I’ve enjoyed my time here since my arrival. Everyone has been very friendly and inclusive.”
Beaming smiles of approval bounced off all the ladies’ mouths.
“We try to be,” Bethany spoke up for the first time. “Most of us were new here at some point and remember how it felt to not know anyone. Except Rosie and Myrtle. They’ve practically been here since the town’s inception.” She winked toward the eldest two women of the group in a teasing manner.
“Don’t go putting years on us,” Myrtle admonished with her nose in the air, “though I’m proud to have called Weatherton home for nearly thirty years.”
“I was fortunate to grow up here, but when I married Mark, we moved to Pine Prairie. It’s not too far away, but I also had to adjust to new surroundings. Fortunately, Mark’s been rather patient with my many trips back and forth between the two towns.” Gretchen shared a smile with her mother.
In an instinctive gesture, Lettie moved her hands to her growing midsection. The relationship between Myrtle and Gretchen was so different than the one she’d shared with her mother. There was an abundance of love and affection, but also respect between them. That’s the relationship she hoped to have with her child whether boy or girl. She would show more compassion than her own mother had displayed and never put prestige or wealth before the welfare of her child.
“Gift time,” Myrtle announced after every one had sufficient time to eat. She gathered all the dirtied dishes from the table and took them to another room, presumably the kitchen. Gretchen went to a console table that had several wrapped boxes atop it and transported the presents to the table where Lettie sat. The ladies sitting at the second round table shifted their chairs, so they were all gathered again.
Stunned, Lettie didn’t know what to do. She was overwhelmed by the generosity of these ladies.
Myrtle returned and handed her a gift from the top of the pile. “This one first.”
Taking the package, Lettie carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal two sets of white, knitted booties. “These are precious.” She stroked the downy fibers. “Did you make them using the pattern you were going to show me?”
A blush crept into Myrtle’s cheeks. “This would be the time to confess, I can’t actually knit very well and hired someone to make these. Teaching you a pattern was only a ruse to get you here without suspicion.”
Lettie laughed along with the others. “It worked. I had no idea.”
By the time she’d finished opening each gift, she had several more booties, two infant gowns, a few diapers and a small blanket. The collection was a very nice starting point for what she’d need, and again she was overcome with emotion.
“Thank you so much.” She took the time to look at each guest individually. “Not only for the gifts, but for welcoming me.” A lump formed in her throat, precluding her from saying more.
“We were happy to,” Becca said. “I know I’d been hoping for a chance to visit with you, but hadn’t been able to yet due to the weather. When Myrtle approached us, I knew a tea would be perfect. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I.”
“I have. This has all been wonderful.”
One by one, the ladies slowly left until only Myrtle, Gretchen, and she remained.
“Can I help you clean up?” Her need to contribute never took a break.
“No, dear. You just sit down and relax. The dishes can wait until later and Flynn will take care of rearranging the parlor when he comes home.”
The three women sat down and continued conversation. A shadow crossed the door half an hour later. A tingle sprinkled through Lettie. She knew without looking that Rand had returned. Lately, it seemed whenever he came near, she had a sense it was him. Gl
ancing toward the opening, she saw that she was right. The grin still hadn’t left his face.
“Afternoon, ladies.” He dipped his hat in greeting. “Is it time to reclaim my wife yet?”
“If you must.” Myrtle stood. “Have you seen my husband?”
“He was called out to the Holden place. Sam was thrown off a horse.”
“Oh dear. How is he?”
“Haven’t heard, but Patrick didn’t seem too horribly concerned.”
“Patrick wouldn’t be concerned over his mother on her deathbed.” Myrtle snorted.
“Mother!” Gretchen exclaimed.
“I’m sorry, Gretchie, but I absolutely cannot abide that boy.”
Lettie watched the exchange with curiosity, wondering who Patrick was and why Myrtle had such a low opinion of him.
Gretchen clarified. “Patrick Holden is the black sheep of Weatherton. He’s involved himself in a number of scandals and has caused trouble many times. The complete opposite of his twin, Sam.”
“Oh.” She’d never paid much attention to gossip, but she respected Myrtle’s judgment enough to know that Patrick was a person of whom she would steer clear, if ever she met him.
“Are you ready?” Rand asked. He stood still, but she noted his fingers wiggling, a signal she’d learned meant he was getting impatient.
“Yes. Let me gather these gifts and we can be done.” First, she went to hug Myrtle and her new friend, Gretchen. “Thank you, again, so much for today.”
“You’re quite welcome, dear.”
“I’ll get these.” Rand stepped in when she tried to gather the pile of presents. Stepping aside, she gratefully let him take over. “While I was in the mercantile, I got everything on the list you gave me. Was there anything else you’d like to look at or would you prefer to go home?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to look at their fabrics.” She’d been too embarrassed to add material for herself to her list,