Isaac's Decision Read online

  “What do you think?” Alice asked.

  Blinking, Emily focused on her friend and studied the gown. “It’s lovely.” Looking at Bertha, she added, “People are right about you. You make the best clothes in town.”

  Bertha’s lips turned up into a smile. “It’s a labor of love, and now that my children are grown up, it gives me something to do.”

  “You do a fine job,” Alice said. “I feel beautiful already and this dress isn’t done yet.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Alice,” Emily replied. “You’re attractive in your own right.”

  Rolling her eyes playfully, Alice said, “Look who’s talking, Bertha. Emily turns every man’s head without even trying.”

  “That’s not true,” Emily argued.

  “Something is wrong with Isaac Larson. You’d do better to find someone else to occupy your thoughts.”

  Emily shifted in her chair and glanced out the window where the sun gave the illusion of it being warm outside. The bitterness in the cold air had made her father hesitant to take her into town, but since Alice was her dearest friend in the whole world, he relented. Tapping her foot on the hardwood floor, she considered Alice’s words. Perhaps her friend was right. Maybe she should find another eligible man.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Emily whispered.

  “What’s not a bad idea?” Alice asked, glancing up from where Bertha was sewing the hem of her dress.

  Standing up, Emily smoothed her skirt and tugged on the edges of her sleeves. “Finding another man.”

  “You should, Emily. What’s the point in pining for a man you’ll never get?”

  “I can get him.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “In all the years you’ve known him, he’s avoided you.”

  “That’s not true. When we were children, he talked to me.”

  “And that was a long time ago. We’re not children anymore.”

  “No, we’re not, which means I need to think like a mature woman.”

  “Alright. What is this mature plan you have?”

  “I’ll let a handsome young man pick me up from the schoolhouse. Isaac will realize I’m not going to spend my entire life waiting for him, and then he’ll come to his senses and court me before he loses me to another.”

  Alice threw back her head and laughed. “Oh seriously, Emily. That’s a good one.”

  “I’m not joking.” She glanced at Bertha who didn’t look up from where she was sewing. “I’m sure I can talk someone into pretending to be interested in me.”

  “You don’t need anyone to pretend. They’re already interested in you.”

  Sighing, she tapped her lips with her index finger. “I need someone who’ll pretend. He’ll have to know what I’m doing and why. I don’t want him believing more will come from the plan than the simple bit of acting I want him to do.”

  “You mean you don’t want him falling in love with you by accident.”

  An idea came to Emily and she snapped her fingers. “Your fiancé!”

  Alice gasped and turned her startled gaze to Bertha whose eyes widened in surprise. “Can you believe her?” she asked Bertha. “And she calls herself a friend!”

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone but Ben,” Emily argued, crossing her arms. “I don’t have any interest in him, and he has no interest in me. He’s going to marry you next month. Plus, he comes by the schoolhouse all the time to deliver wood.”

  Alice shook her head. “You’ve lost your mind. Ben’s been trying to get Isaac to work for him. Isaac already knows he’s engaged to me.”

  She groaned and sat back down, her eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on her otherwise pretty face. “I hate it when you speak logic to me.”

  Looking relieved, Alice said, “You’ll have to think of something else. You know, it’d be much easier if you could talk to him and find out why he avoids you.”

  “I’ve tried that, but as soon as he sees me heading his way, he runs off like a scared little rabbit. When we were forced to work together in school, he expertly dodged all of my questions.”

  “Hmm…”

  Intrigued by the thoughtful tone in her friend’s voice, Emily asked, “‘Hmm’ what?”

  As Bertha stood up, Alice let out a tentative chuckle and shrugged. “It probably won’t work.”

  Bolting from the chair, Emily hurried over to her friend. “Now Alice, I know that gleam in your eye. It means you have a good idea brewing up there.” She pointed to Alice’s forehead. “You might as well spill it because I’ll needle you until you do.”

  Alice stepped down from the stool. “It’s silly. Not to mention immature.”

  “I’ve been mature, and mature hasn’t worked. What is it?”

  “It’s really not a good idea. Isaac will see right through it.”

  “See through what?” Bertha asked.

  Emily giggled and motioned to Bertha. “You’re not going to make her suffer by not saying what’s on your mind, are you?”

  Putting her hands up in resignation, Alice sighed. “Alright. I’ll tell you. If you were a man, then he might tell you why he won’t talk to you.” She paused, looking uncertain. “But it’s ridiculous. You’re too beautiful to be mistaken for a man.”

  “Not if we have the right clothes and facial hair,” Bertha thoughtfully inserted.

  “You think so?” Emily asked.

  “Why sure,” Bertha replied. “In fact, I bet I could find a mustache. I’ve worked on a couple of wigs, too.”

  “But certainly, someone will know she’s a woman,” Alice argued.

  “It’s worth a try, Alice,” Emily said. “If people know I’m a woman disguised as a man, then so be it. I’ll laugh it off as a prank, and no harm will be done.”

  Bertha squealed and clapped her hands. “This could be fun. I just love a good challenge. Alice, I got the measurements I need to finish your dress. Emily, go ahead and get on the stepstool while I search through an old trunk.”

  As Bertha left the room, Alice shook her head. “I feared you’d jump at the chance to dress like a man.”

  “Come now, Alice. It’s for a good reason. Besides, your ideas haven’t failed me yet.”

  “You’d think your dime novels would give you lots of bad ideas since they’re filled with such nonsense.”

  “Shh.” She glanced at the hallway Bertha had run down to make sure the woman hadn’t overheard. In a low voice, she told Alice, “Those novels are fun to read. You ought to try one sometime.”

  “I have better things to do than to sit around and read a romance.”

  “Mysteries and adventures of danger out west are also popular stories.”

  “I’ll clarify my point. I don’t have time to read anything. I’m about to become a wife. I need to focus on maintaining a home.” After a pause, she added, “And my mother’s been helping me cook meals that won’t kill my poor husband.”

  “Your cooking isn’t that bad.”

  “It’s not nice to lie to your friend. My cooking’s dreadful and you know it. I don’t know how you do it. You’ve never once burned anything, and everything you mix together tastes right.”

  “I follow the directions on the recipe card. There’s nothing to it.”

  “It’s not that easy.” Tapping Emily’s arm, she continued, “I’ll be back to see what Bertha digs up from that trunk of hers.”

  Emily nodded and fought the urge to leap for joy. Alice’s idea had to work. And really, the idea was so simple. Emily wondered why she didn’t come up with it. Isaac wouldn’t be on his guard if she came to him as a man, and as long as she was a good actress, he wouldn’t know the difference. All she needed to do was pay close attention to the way men acted and what they talked about. It couldn’t be that hard.

  Bertha returned with an armful of items that she set on the chair. “I found a couple things that might work.”

  Excited, Emily watched as the woman sorted through some fabrics, buttons, bow ties, and wigs. “You sure did save a lot.”<
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  “I’m a pack rat. Once I make something, I save it, unless the person I make it for keeps it. Sometimes, people don’t like the final product so I keep it and make them something else. You never know when one person’s trash will be another one’s treasure.” She picked out a wig and studied Emily’s hair. “This is too light. You need something that goes well with your complexion.” Turning back to her pile, she found a darker wig and held it up to Emily’s face. “That’s much better! Let’s pin your hair up and see how it fits.”

  Emily obeyed and then put the wig on. “What do you think?”

  “It looks like your natural hair color, and it’s not too long in the back. I can give it a trim.” She tugged on the edges. “It’s a little loose. I’ll tuck it in a bit.” Picking up a pin, she marked the loose edges. “There we go. A couple minor fixes and it’ll be perfect.”

  Removing the wig, she handed it to Bertha. “My heart is beating like crazy. Is it wrong to admit this is one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done?”

  She laughed and picked up a couple of mustaches. “I don’t think so. When I was a little girl, I used to dress up and pretend I was someone else. If you think about it, that’s all you’re doing. Playing dress up.” She held one mustache under Emily’s nose, shook her head, and put another one up to her face. “This is going to be harder. Let’s see if this one does the trick.” She tried the last one and nodded. “It’ll do. I’ll dye it the same shade as the wig.”

  “I used to play dress up, too. My real mother had beautiful clothes and some nice jewelry. I used to think she was a princess.”

  “I didn’t realize Sarah had any jewelry besides a necklace.”

  Emily started to tell her that she meant her real mother Cassie but decided against it. The day was going nicely, and the last thing she wanted to do was spoil it by talking about the woman who abandoned her when she was seven. It was easier to think of her father’s second wife, Sarah, who was more of a mother than Cassie had been. Emily turned her attention back to Bertha and said, “My pa bought Ma a wedding ring. It’s a beautiful one. It’s white gold with a pretty diamond embedded in it.”

  “I’ve seen it, and it’s very lovely,” Bertha replied. “Hopefully, you’ll be wearing a similar ring in the near future.”

  Her thoughts going back to Isaac, Emily’s face grew warm. If Alice’s plan worked, there was hope. At least, her chances would be better. “I hope so, Bertha. I really do. I’ve loved him for years.”

  “Then we better get your measurements taken so I can work on your clothes.”

  Emily went over to the stepstool and stepped onto it. “You won’t tell my mother about this, will you?”

  “Of course not,” she replied as she brought out her measuring tape. “What good is the plan if others know about it?”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she smiled. “You’re right, Bertha. Not a word of this to anyone.”

  Which was good because her mother would have a fit if she knew Emily was pretending to be a man. She spent a lot of time trying to teach Emily how to be a proper young lady, and a proper young lady didn’t go around in men’s clothes in an attempt to figure out why the man she wanted was avoiding her.

  The plan would work. Emily just knew it. As soon as she found out why Isaac avoided her, she would get through his wall. While Bertha took the measurements, Emily imagined what she might say and do when she approached Isaac as Elmer.

  Chapter Three

  When Emily and Alice left Bertha’s house, Emily spent a few minutes talking to Alice before she decided she better go to the mercantile where her father would be waiting for her. The bitter wind whipped through the street, so she crossed her arms and buried her nose into her scarf.

  As she crossed the street to get to the mercantile, she saw her father talking to Chester Greene, the man he was due to meet while they were in town. By the smile on her father’s face, she knew the business venture went well and he’d just sold a good number of his cattle.

  She made it to the mercantile. When she made eye contact with her father, she indicated she’d wait for him inside the store. He nodded, so she slipped into the store. She loosened the scarf around her neck. Nothing made her appreciate a warm room more than being out in the cold. Looking at her gloves, she decided it might be a good idea to get a new pair, something thicker but also pretty. As she made her way to the small clothing section, she greeted Ralph Lindon who owned the mercantile.

  “I hear your father just made a profit with Chester Greene,” Ralph called out from where he stood behind the counter.

  “Yes. I saw Pa’s face on my way in,” she replied. “From the looks of it, Mr. Greene is pleased as well.”

  “And who can blame him? Your pa’s cattle are among the best in the area. He worked hard to get where he’s at,” Ralph said. “I remember when he was just getting started. He had a lot to overcome. You should be proud of him.”

  “Oh, I am.” With a quick look around to make sure none of the other patrons were listening to them, she stepped toward him and lowered her voice. “Do you have any new dime novels?”

  Chuckling, he reached under the counter and pulled out four new novels. “I saved these for you. They fly off the shelves, so I didn’t want you to miss out just because you can’t come in as much as you can when it’s warmer out.”

  “Thank you, Ralph.” She dug into her coat pocket and paid for them before she slipped them into her coat. Glancing over her shoulder, she was glad to see her pa hadn’t come into the store yet.

  “I don’t know why you insist on hiding them. There’s no sin in enjoying a story that entertains you.”

  “My teacher wouldn’t regard it as real literature. She’d say it was a waste of time.”

  “Who cares what she thinks? You’re the one who has to read them.”

  “Yes, but I’m in her schoolhouse when I do.”

  He winked at her. “Emily, you’re a girl after my own heart.”

  She winked back and turned around. Keeping one of her arms against her side so the dime novels wouldn’t fall to the floor, she went to the shelf where the gloves were. She studied the gray and blue pairs and tried to determine which would keep her hands the warmest. Just when she thought she’d pick the gray pair, her gaze fell to the brown pair of male gloves. Biting her lower lip, she wondered if she should get those instead. She’d need male gloves when she was dressed as a man, wouldn’t she? Bertha had discussed a coat for her, but she didn’t say anything about gloves.

  She reached out and touched the brown gloves, noting that they were thicker than the women’s gloves. What in the world were men doing with such nice, thick gloves when women had to wear something so thin? Didn’t the people who made gloves understand that women got cold, too? After all, gloves weren’t just for show.

  “Hi, Emily,” a young man said as he approached her. “Are you buying those for your pa?”

  She looked up at Wiley Greene, one of Isaac’s friends. “Oh. Hi, Wiley.” Turning the gloves over in her hand, she shrugged. “I was thinking about getting them.” She figured he could assume the gloves were a gift for her father.

  “Those gloves are alright, but if you want my opinion, these are better.” He picked up a pair that was a darker shade of brown. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but they can stand up better to outdoor work.”

  “Really?”

  “I have a friend who used both pairs, and he said these lasted longer. He’s a farmer, so he’d know.” Blushing, he put them down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you what to do.”

  “You didn’t tell me what to do,” she assured him, setting the light brown gloves down. “I want something that’ll last longer.”

  “In that case, here you go.” He handed them to her.

  Emily offered a polite smile, hoping she wasn’t giving him an indication that she was interested in him in the same romantic light he was looking at her with. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, anytime, Emily. Whenever you
need anything, I’ll be happy to help.” His face grew pinker and he shifted from one foot to another. “And it doesn’t matter what it is. I can help with even a small thing.”

  Emily saw her father heading toward them and breathed a sigh of relief. Good. She was worried that Wiley was going to ask if he could call on her. But with her father there, it eliminated that possibility. “Hi, Pa,” she called out, directing Wiley’s attention to her father.