“And about how brave he is, no doubt.”
“True.”
“That I don’t mind. All of our military men are courageous and daring. But why did you have to make up stories about me?”
“I didn’t. Exactly.” Miranda blushed. “Well, maybe I did. I just wanted him to like you even more than he already did. You. . .you do like him, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t mean for you to intervene on my behalf.”
“I meant well, you know.”
“I know.” Katherine summoned her patience. Miranda possessed a kind heart, but her interpretations of right and wrong were often painted gray. “But surely you knew that the truth would come to light one day.”
Miranda drummed her fingers on the edge of the sofa and studied them. “Looks like ‘one day’ has finally arrived. But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Once Otis sees you and how charming and accomplished you really are, he’s certain to love you just as much as I do. Even more so.”
Katherine tried not to be too harsh in her admonishment. “Oh, Miranda, you always did love a good romance. But honestly, you never should have tried to lead Otis to believe I’m anything more than I really am. He’s sure to feel let down when he sees me in person.” Katherine felt her heart descend into the depths of her stomach in disappointment.
Miranda let out a horrified breath. “No, you mustn’t let that happen. You have to convince Otis that you possess all the talents I mentioned.”
“You mean convince him that I can actually do all the things that have only been a fantastic notion for me all these years?”
“Of course. How much time do we have?”
Fear struck her. “None. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” Darkness cast a shadow on Miranda’s face, but she soon composed her lips into a sunny smile. “Well, we’ll just have to get working on you right away.”
“No, Miranda, we’ve got to confess the truth to Otis. We can cast our bread upon the waters and pray for his pardon.”
“No! No, you can’t. How will that make me look in front of him? He’s bound to pass judgment on me and tell all my friends. I’ll look like a fool.” Miranda’s breathing became noticeable.
“I don’t think so.”
“That is one place where we disagree, Katherine, and I don’t want to take a chance. Please, since you are my dearest friend in the world, you have to help me. Why, if anyone found out I had embellished the truth, I would just lie down and die.”
“Oh, Miranda, you exaggerate.”
“See? You’re already saying it. You’re calling me a liar, even in casual conversation.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
Miranda withdrew a lace handkerchief and brought it up to her eyes. “I only did it for you. I only want you to be happy. And you were, weren’t you? Otis is very fond of you. Fond enough to visit. Maybe even fond enough to court you.”
“But I don’t want his love if it’s based on a lie.”
“It won’t be. I promise.”
“I’m not so sure—”
Miranda sniffled. “Oh, you must not say anything to Otis or anyone else. I promise I’ll help you. I’ll do anything. Please keep my secret. If people think I’m a liar, my reputation would be ruined, and I’ll never be able to find anyone to marry me. Ever. My future would be dismal. My whole life would be nothing but a shambles. No one, male or female, would trust me again. I’d be destined to spinsterhood. Please don’t ask me to be a spinster forever, Katherine! I’d rather die!” Miranda had worked herself up into sobs, her blond curls bobbing up and down as her shoulders shook, and she blew her nose into the cloth. “Please, I beg you not to force me to be a spinster!”
Katherine knew she was asking Miranda no such thing, but her friend’s antics stunned her into silence. Miranda, always one for the dramatic, nevertheless accepted as unvarnished truth every word she uttered. She believed that Katherine would ruin her life if she let on to anyone that any word bearing a shade of dishonesty had ever escaped Miranda’s tinted lips. Katherine’s heart stung her chest with pain upon seeing her friend’s distress.
“Oh, please, Katherine? Can’t you just let on that you possess all these talents, just for a while? After all, he won’t be here long, will he?” Miranda blew her nose once more.
“He didn’t give an exact time. I don’t suppose he could leave his business more than a couple of weeks at the most.”
A little smile curved Miranda’s lips. “Good. Well, if it’s too much for you to convince him entirely, maybe you can hint that you are quite accomplished, just as I said.”
“You have more confidence than I do.” Katherine’s mind whirred at the thought of her plight.
“There’s a reason for my confidence. Never fear, Katherine. I have a plan.”
Two
That afternoon, Christopher stopped by the Joneses’ house to return a cup of sugar his mother had borrowed from Mrs. Jones. Happy to see her friend, Katherine poured them both lemonade and suggested they sit under the oaks in the backyard for a time. Christopher seemed all too happy to take Katherine up on her suggestion, a fact that gladdened her. A nagging thought that if Otis came courting, she wouldn’t be able to visit with Christopher with such spontaneity anymore shot through her mind, but she dismissed such dreary thoughts.
“I have good news,” she told him well into their visit.
“Oh?” His blue eyes took on an interested light, and he leaned toward her slightly in his wicker chair.
“Remember Otis?”
“Otis. Yes.” The excitement left his voice. “The sailor. Are you still writing to him?”
“Yes. I told you that.”
“You did? How about that.”
Katherine tried to ignore his lack of enthusiasm. Christopher usually wasn’t so forgetful. Why was he being like this? She made a deliberate effort to fill her voice with life. “Well, you shouldn’t mind. After all, you always told me how much you appreciated my letters when you were away at school.”
“Yes, but that’s different.” He winced.
“I don’t see how—”
“Never mind. So what’s your news?” Christopher’s mouth straightened. He didn’t look happy.
Katherine hesitated but pressed on. “He’s coming for a visit.”
Christopher’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Is that so? How about that. When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?” He leaned back in his chair. “You seem relaxed about the whole thing.”
“I’ve already swept and dusted, and with Mother and Betsy working along with me, there’s not much else left to do, really. He can take us as we are. Well”—she felt her face flush—“sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
Katherine paused. After taking in a breath to prepare herself, she revealed Miranda’s plan to Christopher.
“Miranda has convinced you to do what?” Christopher’s blue eyes lit with surprise and anguish.
His obvious disapproval left her disconcerted. “I know it sounds wild, but she only got in this mess because she was trying to help me. Now I feel obligated to help her get out of it.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever believe it, Katherine. I think you should tell him right away, the minute he arrives. You don’t want him to be disappointed, do you?”
“No. But I won’t disappoint him. I’ve always wanted to be a skilled horsewoman, a ballerina, a banjo player, a harmonica player, and a harpist. I’ll just have to accomplish all these skills a little earlier, that’s all.” She brightened. “That gives me an idea. You’re accomplished on the banjo.”
“Yes?” His tone revealed how leery he felt.
“So will you help me? Please?”
“How?”
“Your part is easy. Just teach me one tune on the banjo. That’s all.”
“One tune is not going to convince him that you are accomplished on the instrument.” Christopher settled in his seat lik
e an immovable object and swirled the melting ice in his glass.
“Miranda promised to change the subject before he can ask me to play something else.”
Christopher didn’t answer right away, which gave her hope. But then he shook his head. “I want to help you, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry, Katherine. You’re on your own this time.”
“You can’t?” Vexation and hurt crossed her expression. She rose from her chair and took the glass from him. “It was nice to see you, Christopher, but I must bid you good day. You see, I must bake a cherry pie for my visitor.”
❧
Christopher watched Katherine walk into her house and slam the back door behind her. He knew everything was not fine. Would it ever be?
The idea that this Otis fellow planned to come in and sweep Katherine off her feet filled him with ire. Christopher had been planning to ask Mr. Jones if he could court Katherine. They had known one another since childhood, so Christopher didn’t anticipate a long courtship. He only wanted to be betrothed long enough for Katherine to plan a wedding. Knowing that Katherine didn’t want to put on airs, he imagined his bride would want a simple day. A few words uttered by the preacher in front of their closest friends and family, followed by a short reception featuring one of those big tiered cakes that the women liked to bake. Katherine wouldn’t demand an elaborate or expensive honeymoon trip, either, although he wanted to give her the best few days of her life. If they married in the fall after the harvest, they could steal away to a nice hotel in Washington, D.C., perhaps. They could see the monuments and take in a little history. The thought brought a smile to his lips.
All too soon, he recalled why these plans would have to be delayed. Perhaps they would have to be forgotten. The idea that Katherine might never be his speared his heart.
What had happened to Katherine, the sweet girl he knew and loved? Why was she letting Miranda wrap her up in a scheme to fool a correspondent she didn’t even know? Well, she hardly knew. He balled his hands into fists and relaxed them.
Father in heaven, I pray for patience.
As soon as he sent up the silent prayer, Christopher knew the answer. Katherine was sweet. Too sweet. Which was why Miranda could put on a few tears and melt Katherine’s resolve. Miranda was taking advantage of their friendship, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Patience, Lord. Please.
The ride back to the Bagley farm seemed to take longer than usual. Once he arrived, he took a moment to compose himself before he went into the kitchen. “Christopher, you’re late for supper,” Mother pointed out the instant he entered.
Christopher shut the back door so it thumped to a close with a gentle rap. He didn’t mind his mother’s reprimand. Though her tone was always serious, he knew her firm hand was a sign of her desire to make sure he never wavered from conducting himself in the way a country gentleman should.
“Your daddy’s already getting me another load of wood for the stove.”
Guilt visited him as he realized he could have brought his mother fresh fuel for the fire if he had arrived a few moments earlier. “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t mean to be late.” He looked beside the stove and noted the sparse state of the wood box. After he had returned home from college, he soon realized his parents expected him to resume his chores. Upon reflection, he surmised that such an expectation seemed fair. His brothers and sister had left home to marry in past years, leaving Grandpa and his parents at home. Long past his sixtieth birthday, Grandpa possessed vigor, but he could hardly be expected to perform Christopher’s chores.
He glanced at Mother, who was at that moment setting the kitchen table with the everyday dishes painted with blue flowers he had known since childhood.
“Mother, I’ll get you a couple of extra loads of wood after supper.” He took off the brimmed hat that had protected his head from the warm sun and hung it on the wooden peg beside the door.
“I’ll excuse you this time. Just don’t make a habit of it. You might have been able to run wild and do as you pleased at school, but you’re living by my rules now,” Mother reminded him as she set a spoon on the table. “Now get washed up.” She tilted her head toward the basin as though Christopher no longer remembered its location despite the fact it hadn’t changed in his lifetime.
He suppressed a chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So how are the Joneses?”
“Fine. Just fine. Mrs. Jones thanks you for the return of the sugar, even though she said you didn’t need to bother.”
Mother nodded.
“Is that beef stew I smell?” While Christopher wanted to know, he also welcomed a way to distract his mother.
“Sure is. So did you see Katherine?”
So much for distractions. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And what is the latest news with her?”
“Not much. Her correspondent from South Carolina is coming for a visit.”
Mother stopped stirring the stew long enough to look him in the eye. “Her correspondent? That sailor you told me about?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I would have thought she would have stopped with that letter-writing nonsense after the war was over. I hope he doesn’t think he can just swoop in here and take over everything.”
“I don’t know what his plans are, Mother.” He sat down with a sigh.
Grandpa chose that moment to shuffle into the kitchen. “What plans?”
“Katherine’s correspondent is coming for a visit.”
“Oh.” Grandpa shrugged. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you none, Christopher. I doubt he can offer you much competition.” He sniffed the air. “I’ve been waiting for some of that good stew, and I think I smell your yeast rolls cooking, too, don’t I, Daughter?”
Mother nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
“Good.” Without fanfare, Grandpa sat down at his regular place at the table. Christopher judged by his slow movements and lethargic expression that he had just awakened from his afternoon nap.
Mother set a pan of rolls on the coolest part of the stove. The light brown tops were shiny. He had often watched her brush the bread with beaten egg whites. He didn’t know much about cooking, but he supposed that extra step was what resulted in the sheen that made the bread look so appetizing. Obviously she had prepared the bread to her usual perfection.
Christopher heard Daddy kicking the bottom of the back door, a sure sign that he had a pile of chopped wood in his arms and couldn’t open it himself. He hurried to assist him. “Sorry, Daddy. I was planning to get some wood after supper.”
Daddy released wood from his arms and let the split logs fall into the metal box. “You can take a turn next time.” He smiled.
“Yes, sir.” Christopher returned to his seat. The milk in Grandpa’s glass looked appealing. He poured himself a glass from the green pitcher Mother had left on the table.
Mother set a bowl of stew in front of Grandpa. Christopher observed Grandpa watching the steam rise and watched in amusement as the older man surveyed the food, a satisfied expression on his face.
Christopher didn’t listen to the banter of the others as he ate his beef stew, bread, and ice-cold milk. All he could think about was Katherine and how they had corresponded while he completed his studies at Maryland Agricultural College. His plans to court Katherine were dashed when Katherine asked him to participate in the ruse Miranda had cooked up to fool the war hero.
He didn’t know which part of his visit to Katherine’s upset him more—the request for him to help her fool this Otis fellow or her apparent attachment to the sailor who was important enough that she wanted to make him think the best of her.
Otis hadn’t seemed so threatening when he was safely tucked away—far away—on a navy ship. Once he was discharged, he seemed so distant in another state way down south. But now that he was coming to see them, well that was another story. If only Christopher could put a stop to the visit!
But what should stop Otis from visiting? Christopher knew he had no rig
ht to dictate to Katherine with whom she chose to correspond or if and when that person should come up to Maryland.
What a fool he had been not to realize that the correspondence could evolve into romantic notions. Not that he blamed Otis. Who wouldn’t take a chance in flirting with a woman of such beauty? He thought about Katherine’s big brown eyes, smooth skin, and glossy dark brown hair. The image of her face had kept him motivated at college when he felt lonely and wanted nothing more than to go back to the home he knew and loved. Now that he had returned home, apparently the situation had changed, and he could no longer depend on resuming his relationship with the woman he had loved since he was a boy.
“Another glass of milk, Christopher?”
He lurched back into reality. “Oh. No thanks, Mother.”
She set the pitcher back on the table and sent him a look that told him he was being too quiet. He could only be grateful for her discretion in not prying. Spooning into a square of warm bread pudding laced with cinnamon and bulging with raisins, Christopher allowed his thoughts to wander to Katherine and her dilemma.
How could Katherine have developed a love for this interloper rather than him? If anyone’s correspondence should have developed into mutual love, it should have been the one they had shared. Christopher and Katherine had exchanged letters when he was away studying. He hadn’t written flowery words or poetry to her. He had hoped she had some idea about the feelings he harbored for her. But judging from her actions, she did not. If only he had made his feelings known! Maybe then this usurper wouldn’t have proven to be such a temptation for the only woman he had ever loved. The only woman he could love.
Lord, why is Katherine tempted away from me? What can I do? I don’t want to lose her. I don’t think my life would be as happy without her.
His chest tightened in anger even as he tidied up his hands with a napkin. Maybe all this was happening because the Lord knew Katherine wasn’t right for him. As a friend, perhaps. But not as a wife. How could she ask him to help her fool Otis, a stranger she’d never met?
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