She looked at him then. He stood stiffly, his eyes guarded. “Oh, Clay, you know I don’t care about that!” All the conviction she felt was surely shining in her eyes. “I’ve known for weeks, and has my behavior given you cause to question this?”
Gradually the shadows fell from his eyes. He gave a tiny smile. “No.” His chest expanded with a deep breath then fell with the exhale. “I’m sorry. I had no reason to ask that.”
“Prejudice is nothing new to you, I’m sure.”
“Still, I know better than to think that you—”
“Hush,” she said, laying a finger over his lips. “I know you meant nothing by it.” Her hand fell away.
“Do your parents know how we—?” He didn’t have to finish the sentence.
“I told them.”
His gaze probed hers. “Have they forbidden you to see me?”
She tried to smile but failed. “They have.”
A crease formed between his brows. His eyes clouded, but she saw the question in them.
She pulled herself straight and tall. “I’m not going to listen. She’s wrong—we both know that.”
“She’s your mother—”
“But she’s wrong.”
“I know, Mara, but how can we see one another if your parents forbid it?”
Surely he wouldn’t give in to her parents’ wishes. The thought of losing him was too much for her heart to grasp. “I’m a grown woman, Clay, and am perfectly capable of choosing my own beau.”
He smiled then, and his eyes lit with humor. “Is that what I am?”
A flush spread across her face. Was it too early to call him her beau? They hadn’t even had their first outing, but she felt she knew him better than all the other suitors she’d had.
“I’m teasing,” he said soberly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’d be proud to call you mine.”
He was so near that his breath brushed her cheeks. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and her legs grew weak. She was almost dizzy with pleasure at his words. She wanted him to kiss her again—wanted it so badly that she nearly leaned forward and initiated it herself.
He looked away. “I need time to think about it. To figure out what’s right.”
“But—” She couldn’t beg.
“Maybe I can change your mother’s mind, if she got to know me—”
She couldn’t give him false hopes about that. She shook her head. It was enough.
“She’s all right with you coming here the rest of the week?”
“I didn’t give her much choice.”
He gave a little laugh. “Now there’s the Fancy Pants I know and—” The smile disappeared from his face.
Love. He’d been about to say it—she knew he had. But he choked off the word, leaving her hungry for it. An awkward silence gathered around them.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll go hitch up your team.”
She nodded and, as he walked away, wondered if she would ever hear the words she longed for.
❧
Mara spent the rest of the week worrying, although she enjoyed her last days with Beth and was pleased with the girl’s improvement in manners. But something was wrong with Clay. He avoided spending time alone with her. In the mornings they were always in the company of his ranch hands, and in the evenings Beth was always present. Mara had even tried to coax him out on the porch. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. But he always hitched up her rig and returned to the house before she finished cleaning up. The week had started with worry, but now it had spiraled into dread. She had the horrible suspicion he was going to abide by her mother’s wishes, and the thought made her anxious.
Finally Friday arrived, the last day before Aunt Martha’s return. She and Beth spent the day cleaning the house until it sparkled and baking a special cake to celebrate Martha’s return. But celebrating was the last thing Mara wanted to do. She was sure tonight Clay was going to speak with her, and she was equally sure he was going to end their relationship before it even began.
Mara fixed a special supper that night: fried chicken with all the fixings. And this time her chicken was crisp to perfection. When she brought the platter to the table, Beth and Clay marveled at the array of food. Despite her worry, Mara felt a glimmer of pride as she surveyed the delicious-looking food. She had come a long way. She could cook, sew, clean, do laundry, feed hogs, gather eggs—why, she had learned more in the past three months than she had in her entire life!
During the prayer Mara savored the feeling of Clay’s hand wrapped big and strong around hers. Would it be the last time they touched in such a way? Oh, Lord, let it not be so!
Conversation was sparse during the meal, though Mara noticed Beth did her very best to display proper table manners. When they were in the kitchen putting away the food, Mara laid her hand on Beth’s shoulder.
“You have been an excellent pupil, Beth Stedman. You could dine with the queen and do me proud.”
Beth smiled. “Thank you.” Then her smile faded, and her face grew sad.
“Why, whatever’s the matter?” Mara leaned down to the little girl’s eye level.
“I’m gonna miss you, Miss Lawton!” She threw herself at Mara, wrapping her arms around her waist.
Mara’s heart softened. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She would miss Beth too, but she tried not to think about it now that the parting was almost here.
“Now, now, shush, Darling,” she whispered. “I’m only a short walk away. You can come and visit me anytime.” She gave the reassurance as much for herself as for Beth.
Beth looked up at her, the tears lingering on her lashes then spilling onto her cheeks. “Really—you mean it?”
Mara laughed. “Of course I do. How else am I going to learn how to make shirts and trousers for my father?”
Beth choked out a laugh. “I don’t even know how to do that.”
“Then we’ll learn together, yes?” Mara asked. “Now dry up those tears and give me a hand with the dishes, all right?”
Beth was cheerful after that, but inside Mara a knot of fear tightened. One way or another she must find out where Clay stood before she left. She would not be put off tonight.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to assert herself. Before she finished with the dishes, he peeked his head through the kitchen door.
“Mara, may I have a word with you when you’re finished? On the porch?”
His tone was casual, but she saw the tension in his face. “Of course, I’ll be right out.”
After he left, Beth took the cup Mara was washing. “You go on. I’ll finish up here.”
Mara smiled at her. “Why, thank you, Beth.” Mara hung up her apron and made her way to the front door. Her legs trembled, and her stomach felt as though the chicken supper had congealed in a queasy lump. Please, God, don’t take him away from me.
She stepped through the door to see Clay half-sitting on the porch rail. The days were growing shorter, and the sun was slipping over the horizon behind Clay. The bright swashes of pink and periwinkle silhouetted his figure.
She moved to his side where she could read his face. Then she wished she hadn’t. It was there, written in his eyes, in his sad smile.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and praying this week,” Clay said.
She looked away. She could smell the soap on his skin. The soap she’d made herself.
“You’re a Christian now, Mara, and I hope you can understand what I’m about to say.”
Mara felt like holding her hands over her ears and humming as she had once seen a child do. Only the reality that it wouldn’t change matters kept her from it.
“The Bible is clear on its expectations of children—even grown ones. Your mother doesn’t want me courting you, and I think we have to respect that.”
Though she fully expected the words, they still sent an ache deep in her bones. She wanted to say something. She wanted to convince him he was wrong. “How can you be willing to give in so easi
ly?” Her voice was husky. “My mother’s wrong to feel the way she does, and you know it.”
He nodded. “That doesn’t change things. Until your parents are willing to give us their blessings, we—”
“That’s not going to happen!” Desperation set in. He seemed so sure, so resolute, so—stubborn.
“Be that as it may, we have to respect their wishes.”
“They’re my parents! If I’m willing to thwart their authority, you should be willing too.” She fought the urge to stamp her foot.
His jaw flinched. “Don’t make this difficult, Mara.”
She grabbed his arm and looked at him, her heart in her eyes. “Please, Clay, let’s give it a chance. They don’t even have to know—”
He looked away, and she saw something flicker in his eyes. All at once it hit her. Perhaps he no longer wanted to court her. Perhaps he was only using her parents as an excuse. The anger drained away, and something much worse took its place. Was she making a fool of herself? Pleading with him for something he didn’t want. She felt heat rush to her face. Maybe the changes in her life weren’t enough. Maybe he still thought she was spoiled and frivolous. Her eyes began to sting, and she turned away. She had no intention of crying, but just in case she would not let him see it.
“Try to understand,” Clay said. “I need to do what’s right here. So do you.”
“Stop it, Clay!” She’d had enough of his excuses. “Tell me the truth—I can accept it!”
Silence intruded, nudging its way between the two of them and expanding until it swallowed them both. She wished she could see his face, read his thoughts. Just when she thought she might faint, she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her around.
❧
Clay replayed Mara’s words in his head. “Tell me the truth—I can take it.” He hadn’t a clue what she was getting at. Why couldn’t womenfolk speak plain? He studied her face, wishing she would look at him. “Mara.” He tilted her chin until her gaze met his. What was in those beautiful blue eyes, as clouded as a stormy sky? “What are you saying?”
Her eyes flashed. “I don’t think my parents have anything to do with your decision. I think you’ve changed your mind, and they are a convenient excuse.”
He frowned. “What?”
“If you don’t want to court me, say it!” Her chin edged up, and he saw a bit of the spunkiness he liked so well.
“That’s not true!” he said. He took hold of her shoulders and shook her gently. “I want more than anything to. This has been a hard decision—I’ve been fighting with it all week.”
“You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
He smiled inwardly at the pout on her face. He wanted to take her in his arms and show her how much he wanted to court her.
“It was the only way to keep my head clear. I need to base my decision on what’s right—not on what I want.”
Her eyes softened. “Truly?”
“I would never lie to you.” His hand reached up and cupped her cheek. Her skin felt so soft, and the way she leaned into his hand made him yearn for her. When she closed her eyes and placed a kiss on his palm, he had to pull away.
The hurt in her eyes tormented him.
“I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you.” Tears pooled in her eyes but didn’t spill over the rim of lashes.
“We’ll still see one another,” he whispered.
“It will be different.”
It will be awful—that’s what it’ll be, he thought. Seeing one another but being unable to talk and laugh together, for doing so would only bring them more pain.
The horses at the side of the house whinnied impatiently.
“I don’t want to say good-bye.”
He looked at her then, soaking up every detail about her. The dark blue flecks in her eyes, the creamy skin, the faint freckles on her nose. Why, Lord? I thought she was the one for me. I want her so much.
But not enough to disobey God’s commands. He was ashamed at how close he had come to giving in the past few days.
“Let’s not then.”
Her gaze fell to the ground, and she stepped around him and walked down the porch steps. At the bottom she turned, and his traitorous heart felt a spring of hope.
“Tell Beth I said good-bye.”
Disappointment weighed him down. He nodded his head once, not wanting to risk speaking around the lump in his throat. He watched her climb onto the wagon seat and flick the reins. She held her back stiff, her head straight. He willed her to look at him one more time, but she didn’t. She rode away a different Mara than she had come, and this Mara took his heart with her.
Eighteen
The next morning Mara awoke before dawn. After dressing, she sat on the window seat, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach. The stagecoach would be arriving soon, and she had a prime seat to view its stop. She felt pitiable, sitting there waiting for a glimpse of Clay. A part of her hoped his aunt had been detained and that they would need her for another day or two. Not that it would change anything. She knew from Clay’s resolution the night before that his mind would not be changed.
Her mother had been standoffish all week, and Mara knew it was because she’d disapproved of Mara’s working this last week at the Stedmans’. Last night she had been her usual self, but it had been Mara who was out-of-sorts. Her mother was getting her own way, but Mara was the one suffering now.
She tried to imagine her life without Clay, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t go back to her old ways. She was a Christian now and knew that her flirtatious ways had hurt people. Besides that, she hadn’t the desire to toy with other men now. What used to be an amusing sport seemed now an empty, futile game.
I’m new to all this, Jesus. Help me understand. Help me be strong. If You don’t mean for Clay and me to be together, please take these feelings away.
A clattering sound drew Mara’s attention, and she looked down onto the dawn-tinted street. Her heart caught in her throat. Clay. She dropped the lacy curtain, knowing she could still see through it but not wanting him to see her.
But, oh, the sight of him sent blood surging through her limbs and made her breathing shallow. How could his presence affect her so?
The wagon drew to a halt at the Coopers’ boardinghouse. She had to stretch her neck to see him step off the wagon and help Beth down. He wore his nice trousers and a red and black plaid shirt she had darned a few weeks ago. She could almost feel its worn softness now.
Clay and Beth stepped up on the porch of the boardinghouse, and he leaned against the pillar. How will I bear seeing him at church every week, knowing he will never be mine? Oh, Clay, how I love you.
As if her message had been borne through the air, he turned. Her heart skittered to a halt. The breath froze in her lungs. He looked right at her window, right at her. She wished he were nearer so she could read his eyes. Could he see her beyond the lacy veil? She wanted to tear it open and press her hand to the window, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. And then he turned away.
She felt as if her heart had collapsed under a crushing weight. He was so near, yet so far. Did it tear at him too? Did he ache as she did?
She turned away from the window. Why was she torturing herself so? She glanced around her room, and her gaze fell upon her new dress hanging from a hook beside her armoire. She had worked so hard on it, and it had turned out nicely. She had thought she would wear it when she and Clay attended the harvest social together—had thought about it with every stitch and knot. Now she would attend alone, and the beauty of the dress would be wasted.
A sound drew her attention to the street below her window. She saw the stage round the corner and draw to a halt at the boardinghouse. Moments later Mrs. Stedman clambered down the steps. Mara watched her hug Beth then Clay. They smiled and laughed while the driver fetched her bags; then the coach was gone, and Clay was loading the wagon. She watched him help his aunt and sister onto the wagon seat and climb up himself. With the flick of the reins he drove awa
y without another look, leaving Mara feeling more alone than she’d ever felt before.
❧
Mara muddled through the next weeks, and in an effort to pass time she took over most of the household chores. She had never realized before how much work Sadie had been responsible for. But keeping her hands busy didn’t keep her mind from thoughts of Clay. She both dreaded and looked forward to Sundays when she would see him again. How her heart could feel at such odds was a mystery to her. It wasn’t as if they talked at church. They barely even looked at one other, for to do so was sweet agony. Her one consolation was that the few times their eyes met, she read the ache in his eyes. He missed her too, and though it didn’t change things, it helped to know her feelings were returned.
She was still not on the best of terms with her mother. Not that she was exacting revenge by being withdrawn, but she had trouble manufacturing feelings of amiability when this separation was her mother’s fault. It further annoyed her that her mother seemed content to laze about the house doing nothing while Mara cooked, cleaned, and did almost every other household chore.
When the day of the harvest social arrived, Mara’s heart churned. Her new dress was loose in the waist, confirming Mara’s suspicion that she had lost weight. She wondered what would happen tonight. Since her parents were not attending, she had hopes that Clay would dance with her, if only once. The thought of being in his arms again made her head spin. Would she have to watch Clay dance with other women? Her stomach knotted at the thought.
Though she had become adept at styling her hair, she chose to wear it the way Clay preferred, pulled back on the sides and hanging straight down her back.
The social was being held at the Farnsworths’ farm, a short walk away, where the huge new barn lent itself to big crowds. As she neared it, she saw light spilling out through the doors and windows. The strains of fiddle music floated out, and Mara could feel the celebratory spirit of the farmers whose harvest was safely in. The smell of new lumber still lingered in the air.
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