“Me too.” Her heart picked up the pace as she gazed into his eyes. “See you on Sunday?”
“If not before. I’ll get someone to take a turn so I can come to church.” He touched an index finger to the brim of his hat and headed for the telephone office, taking the steps two at a time.
She decided she would leave her list at Garrisons’ Groceries first, then go confront Mr. Jeffers, and come back for the horse and sleigh when her groceries were ready. Just being out in the sunshine felt so good.
Mrs. Garrison was at the counter when she walked in. “Welcome home, Rebecca. I figured you’d be in today.”
“Thank you. I take it Gus didn’t come and buy groceries much.”
“No, but you had stocked up before you left. Did you enjoy Bismarck?”
“I did. And I always love spending time with Penny.”
Her dark hair worn in a coil on top of her head, Mrs. Garrison leaned against the counter, her dark eyes crinkling with her smile. “Does she miss us as much as we miss her?”
Rebecca nodded. “She’s coming to visit this summer. They have a lovely big house, they attend a brick church, the children love their school, and she is making lots of friends. We spent part of the time sewing, and I got to visit Benson’s Soda Emporium.”
“Well, la-di-da. What a name.” She shook her head. “I’ve read about sodas and how they make them. You planning on serving them?”
“Along with ice cream when I can, and I’m thinking of special desserts too. Perhaps candies, maybe gift items. We’ll have to see.” Rebecca dug in her reticule and pulled out her list. “Can you have all this ready in, say, fifteen minutes?” Surely that would be more than plenty of time to pick up the things on the list that Dorothy had given her and tell Mr. Jeffers she was not interested.
“Did you hear the news about Haakan?” Mrs. Garrison shook her head and dropped her voice. “That don’t sound good for them at all. My father had a spell like that, and he didn’t last a week.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Ah, it was a long time ago. Anything else you want to add to the list?”
“Not that I can think of.” Rebecca reread the paper. “Do you have any peppermint candy?”
“I do.”
“Good. Give me some of that for the children.” Oh, I don’t want to go next door. Rebecca sighed. Just get it over with. Easy to think and hard to do. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon.” Her feet felt like Red River Valley mud was sucking them into the floorboards, each foot gaining weight as she slogged her way to the door. A crow perched on the peak of the train station roof announced her arrival outside. Ignoring the pull to go for the sleigh, she followed the boardwalk to the front door of what used to be the Blessing General Store, better known as Penny’s Store. Feeling like she needed to get behind herself and push, she laid a hand on the door handle and pulled it open.
The same bell tinkled at the opening of the door.
The place did not even smell the same. No more cinnamon, sage, pickles, and peppermint. Now dust and despair colored the whole building, partly because the windows needed washing to let the sun in. She sniffed a bit of saddle leather, a touch of soap, and coal smoke from the round stove that used to be the host for farmers to sit around on a winter day and plan the spring planting. Even the coffeepot was missing.
She heard Mr. Jeffers talking to someone up at the counter, so she made her way to the sewing aisle. He’d sold the last sewing machine and not gotten another in. Heavy flannels and woolens, serges and corduroy hung in dark browns, blues, and blacks. The three bolts of cotton looked forlorn on a shelf where there had been fifteen to twenty. By now the women would be sewing spring and summer dresses, and there was nothing to choose from. No bright calico prints, no plaids, no dimity. Just a bolt of cotton flannel for diapers, cotton with a fine strip of red on white, and a baby blue dimity without enough on the bolt to make a dress for Sarah.
Rebecca found a box with mixed spools of thread in it, dug out an off white, and searched for the half-inch lace to trim a pinafore. The only lace was black. No wonder it hadn’t sold. She took the last packet of sewing machine needles and looked under the shelving to see if something was hiding under there. Empty boxes. How disgusting.
She straightened, sensing someone was behind her. She turned slightly to find Mr. Jeffers much too close and beaming as if he were the sun himself. Laying a hand to her throat, she took a step backward. “Oh, you frightened me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“When I saw you come in, I wanted to rush right over, but a sale is a sale, you know.” He stepped forward, closer, hovering.
She stepped back. “I-I was looking for cotton to make a dress for my niece. Where are all your spring dress goods?”
“Oh, that. Sorry, but the shipment is late. Should be here any day.”
His apron looked like it hadn’t had even a nodding acquaintance with soap since the first time he pulled it over his head. And what was that smell? She dabbed at her nose with the hankie she kept tucked into the wristband of her long-sleeved waist. It needed more than the fragrance from the sachet in her drawer to counteract the smell. All right, tell him. Now, before another customer comes in.
“Mr. Jeffers, we have to talk.”
“Oh yes, indeed we do. I’ve been so looking forward to your coming home. I was beginning to think you planned on staying in Bismarck forever. We have a lot of planning to do. I mean, I know this is only a courtship, but I can’t help thinking about our future. Why, when we get married, you can take over this part of the store and order what you want—within reason of course.”
With each word he eased closer. His eyes darted all over her, as if he were touching her hair, her eyes, her cheeks. She wanted to scrub her mouth after his gaze rested on her lips. The nerve of him. Looking her over as if she were a side of meat.
“Mr. Jeffers.” She shook her head as she spoke. She cleared her throat to speak more firmly. “I do not mean we need to talk about things like that. I am not interested in any kind of relationship with you. My brothers—”
He leaped in, interrupting her without even noticing what she was saying. “Your brothers, such fine young men. I had such a good talk with them, and they gave their word that I could come calling. Courting is what they said.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, partly to stem the flow of words that thundered to be let loose. “Mr. Jeffers—”
“Oh, call me Harlan, and I will call you Rebecca. There now, don’t that sound nice?” He reached for her hand.
She shook her head, hiding her hand behind her. Right now the muff would surely have come in handy. “No. You are not listening to me. Let me finish.” She looked at him and caught something that flitted through his eyes. Whatever it was made her shudder inside.
“They said I could come courting, and here you are. I am so glad to see you, and we will get to know each other better, and …” He moved forward again.
Rebecca could feel something hard prodding her in the back as she stumbled against the implement section. She tried to move to the right, but he was there before her. Then to the left, as if they were dancing, but there was no music. Just a predator stalking his prey.
Wherever had that idea come from? She put her hand out, palm forward. “Mr. Jeffers”—she iced the words—“I am not interested in you courting me or even talking with me. Our discussion is over. Now let me pass.”
Instead, as quick as a snake striking, he had his arms around her and his mouth searching for hers. Rebecca squirmed and fought to free her arms, which he had clamped to her sides.
“Ah, that’s good,” he purred. “I like a female with a bit of fight to her. Now, let’s just kiss and make up, and—”
She stomped on the top of his boot, which had insinuated itself against her heavy wool skirt and padded petticoat.
“Ow! What did you go and do that for?” But he didn’t back away, just pulled her closer.
Her nose
pinched at the stench coming from his unwashed long johns. She twisted her head to the right and then the left, dodging that seeking mouth. “Let me go!” Finally freeing her arms slightly, she planted both hands flat against his chest and pushed with all her strength. At his chuckle, she stomped again and screamed this time. “Let go of me!”
“Rebecca? Where are you?”
“Here!” His mouth missed hers again. Gorge rose in her throat at the stench, the fear and the anger that raged from sole to hat. Her hat flew off, and his fingers locked in her hair. Pain shot through her rage.
“Miss Spitfire, you and me got some real learnin’ to do.”
This time she bit his lip.
At his curse she stumbled backward as a strong hand grabbed him from behind and propelled him down the aisle.
Rebecca bent over, fighting to catch her breath. She spit in her handkerchief and scrubbed her lips with a corner of it, anything to get the taste and the smell of him out of her mouth and nose. Dear Lord, thank you for saving me. Her upper arms ached from where he’d gripped her. If she’d not had her coat on … The thought made her retch again. I will not vomit. I won’t. And to think I was looking forward to my first kiss. Oh, dear God, what have I done? What did I do to bring something like this on?
Thorliff hurried back to stop beside her. “Are you all right?”
“Where is he?” She closed her eyes against another roil of her interior.
“Headfirst in a snowbank. Swearing so hot he’s melted a hole in the snow.” Thorliff picked up her hat and dusted it off before handing it to her. “I’m afraid the feather is done for.”
“If you hadn’t come, I would have been done for.” She closed her eyes and whooshed out a sigh. “I tried to tell him that I … I won’t have him courting me, but he—”
“He won’t be giving you any more trouble.”
“He stinks.”
“Yes, in many ways.” Thorliff shook his head. “But now he’s gone beyond what the people of Blessing will tolerate.”
“Thorliff, you can’t tell anyone what happened here. I-I’m mortified. If everyone knows, I’ll never be able to hold my head up in this town again.” She grabbed the lapels of his coat. “Please.”
“Rest assured, Rebecca Baard, this was not of your doing, and you will not suffer from it.”
Rebecca tried to listen to what he said, but her mind screamed louder. She squeezed the tears back. “What did I do?” She stared at the front of his coat, too ashamed to look him in the face. What would Mrs. Valders have to say about her now?
23
AS GERALD RETURNED TO the switchboard, he found himself humming a song for which he could not remember the words, but it didn’t matter, because the tune matched his mood. Although he had known all along that Rebecca would never have agreed to marry Jeffers, hearing her say so out loud removed all the nagging doubt from the past few days. Trust Jeffers to spread such a lie for his own benefit.
He caught a glimpse of Rebecca going into Garrisons’ Groceries instead of heading directly to the general store. He knew she would take her time there. He kept an eye out for her on the boardwalk, but suddenly the switchboard became very busy, and he could only glance out occasionally. He wished he could protect her from the unpleasantness ahead. Suddenly a lull hit, and so did his heart.
He wanted to protect her from everything. His love for her had grown from friendship to her taking a place in his soul. And he could never let her know. He alone knew how cruel the grief was she carried from her parents’ deaths and Swen’s death and her sister, Anji, leaving for Norway. He could not add the death of a husband too, and if he married her, he would. Each attack of malaria reminded him that his days were numbered. And he loved Rebecca enough not to be selfish. Would he ever be able to see her married to another? He hoped the Lord would give him the strength when the time came, but not to a scum like Jeffers.
A quick movement outside caught him, and he stood up, astounded to see Thorliff tossing Jeffers into a snowbank. Thorliff! What happened? Where was Rebecca? Just as he prepared to help, the switchboard lit up like a cannon blast. He scrambled to make all the connections, but by the time he got outside, no one was there.
He returned to the now quiet board, certain something terrible had happened. If it had been Andrew, it might have just been bad temper, although he had tamed it considerably these last years, but Thorliff never resorted to violent action. He was always a man of words. Gerald needed Toby to come and relieve him. He went into the post office and tried to keep all emotion out of his voice.
“Do you happen to know when Toby will be back from Grafton, Mother?”
“No,” she answered. “Why do you need him?”
“No reason. Just felt like a walk today. If you do see him, please send him over.”
Hildegunn frowned a little. “You’re sure you feel fine? Your voice sounds a little hoarse.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Every call felt like an interruption as he tried to watch the street. Then a wagon pulled up in front with the new family he hadn’t met yet. He couldn’t even think of their names, only that they were blocking his view.
“Go take your walk, then,” Hildegunn said.
“What?” Gerald turned. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
As soon as he reached the street, the littlest boy missed a step and fell from the wagon wheel, landing on his elbow, screeching up a storm. Gerald stopped to help him, the frustration boiling inside, then realized he had a reason to look for Thorliff. Through the gathering crowd he thought he saw Jeffers heading toward the livery, and he seemed to be staggering.
“I don’t think his arm is broken,” Gerald told the mother and the sisters, who were now crying, “but I’ll carry him down to Dr. Elizabeth to be checked just in case.”
As soon as he settled the boy in the waiting room, he looked for Thelma.
“Is Thorliff here?”
“No, sir. He took Miss Rebecca home in the sleigh. She looked as white as snow, and his face was thunder. Wouldn’t want to be on that receiving end.”
Gerald headed back to the livery, where a nervous stableboy answered his questions. Then he set out for the Baard farm.
What are you doing, Jeffers? What have you done? With each step Gerald’s anger grew like an out-of-control river. It was the same rage that had driven him to sign up for battle, to get control over his emotions so that he didn’t turn into his father, the father he and Toby had run from all those years ago. But in the army, his anger had turned to disgust under man’s cruelty. Not just the enemy’s but even those in his own troop. He had found with some relief that he despised the need to hurt or to kill.
But the training rose up again. He felt as if he were stalking prey, every sense attuned to the prints ahead of him. This was personal, and the fury burned. But he had seen firsthand the results of such bloodlust, and he didn’t want to become like that. He wanted to turn his back on his own father’s meanness. Did he have a choice? Was his life just waiting for the right spark to ignite his inheritance?
A mile later, as he approached the Baard property, the horse’s prints in the snow seemed to crisscross, as though Jeffers couldn’t decide where he was going or couldn’t control the horse. Gerald stopped to think. Every bone in his body said he had to protect Rebecca, but he also knew he didn’t have the right. And if he took things into his own hands, wouldn’t he become the same?
But I can’t control this, Lord. Please help me to do what is right and give me your strength to act with honesty. He took a deep breath. First see if Rebecca is safe.
Just as he reached the back of the house, he saw the Baards’ sleigh crossing the field toward the barn without Rebecca.
Jeffers’ horse’s hoofprints continued toward Knute’s. Gerald sighed with relief. God had sent him human boundaries. He could trust Him.
Should he go or stay? Rebecca wouldn’t want to see him. But what if Jeffers came to the house looking for her? He decided to just wait and watch.
In case he was needed.
How I wish I could have thrown that man in the snowbank myself.
Rage still made Rebecca shake, even here in her own house. She hung up her coat and set her poor abused hat tenderly on a shelf. Where could she find another black feather like that? She ran it between her thumb and forefinger, but where the break occurred, it flopped. If she snipped the dangling end off, it would still look mutilated.
Like she felt. She poured some warm water from the reservoir into a basin and, using some rose petal soap she had made the summer before, rubbed the bar over a soft cloth and gently washed her face. Her nose and cheeks stung where his foul-smelling stubble-covered chin had scraped her. She resisted the urge to scrub harder, for common sense said that would make it feel worse. Instead, she patted her face dry and applied some soothing lotion Ingeborg had made and given her. What she really wanted was a bath, but Gus would be back soon, and she hadn’t the energy to haul enough water to heat for a complete bath.
Oh, to have a bathroom like the one at Penny’s house. She closed her eyes and saw herself sinking into that glorious tub, with lovely smelling bath salts and enough hot water to cover her shoulders. Perhaps a trip to Bismarck was worth it just for the bathtub. Let alone Kurt von Drehl.
But why did she feel like she was looking through a spyglass the wrong way when she thought of him, his face growing smaller and farther away? In his place, she saw Gerald’s smiling eyes.
She closed her own. What if he had heard the screaming and yelling coming from the store? The safest thought was that if he had, he would have come running to see what was wrong. Thank you, Lord, that he didn’t. Having Thorliff see her like that was terribly embarrassing. What would people think? I wish I could have kicked Jeffers a lot harder. She reached for the toothbrush and tooth powder to scrub her teeth. Would chewing on the bar of soap remove the foul taste of him? She rubbed her upper arms, feeling the cold and finding tender places. Even though her coat was heavy, she’d have all kinds of bruises by tomorrow.
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