To Have and To Hold Page 23

  shadowed part of her past.

  When she stood at the front door, she looked at him. “I should probably do this alone.”

  He seemed ready to protest but then sighed. “Very wel . I’l be waiting for you.” He went over

  to one of the chairs and sat down, setting the carpet bags at his feet.

  “I won’t be long,” she told him before she opened the door and stepped into the house.

  The sound of voices coming from the parlor caught her attention, and she saw Leah and her

  mother talking on the couch. She halted in the doorway and waited for them to notice her.

  “You shouldn’t concern yourself with it, Mother,” Leah said as she pul ed a needle through the

  quilt they were working on. “Mary’s made her choice.”

  “Her father pushed her to it,” her mother replied with a shake of her head. “It was only my duty

  to submit to his authority that prevented me from putting my foot down.”

  “But you couldn’t expect her to stay here when no man wanted to be with her. We should be

  glad Dave is wil ing to tolerate her, looks and al .”

  Her face warm, Mary cleared her throat, deciding she better stop them before they said

  anything else to further embarrass themselves.

  Their heads snapped in her direction, and Leah’s eyes widened. “Mary,” she began, “I didn’t

  hear you come in.”

  Mary clasped her hands together. “I came to talk to Mother.”

  Leah glanced between their mother and Mary before she stood up. Mary stepped aside while

  Leah left the room, not bothering to make eye contact with her sister. Once Leah was in the

  kitchen, Mary went into the parlor and sat across from her mother who was focusing on her

  sewing. Mary recal ed sitting in this chair by the open window when she told her parents she

  decided to become a mail-order bride. She had carried Neil’s ad with her for two days before

  she got the nerve to approach them because she was afraid she’d have to tel them she was

  going to answer it whether they liked it or not. That moment had been awkward but not nearly

  as bad as this one.

  She straightened in the chair, gaining strength in knowing Dave was outside waiting for her and

  that her children were waiting for her to come home. “I thought it’d be nice if we could resolve

  our differences and communicate amiably with one another.”

  Her mother shot her a pointed look. “I notice that’s not an apology.”

  She shifted in the chair. “I have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Nothing to apologize for?” she snapped. “You showed such little regard to me and to your

  father, and you think you have nothing to apologize for? Your father was much too soft when it

  came to you. He spoiled you.”

  Mary debated what she might say in response, but she couldn’t think of anything her mother

  might accept. So she settled for the only thing that seemed safe to say. “I loved Father.”

  She huffed. “And a fine way of showing it. You weren’t here when he died.”

  “He wanted me to take Dave to the lighthouse. I was fulfil ing his wish.”

  “Convenient how you had to run off with that man.”

  “Can’t you please accept Dave? He’s my husband and the father of my children.”

  “So, you’l be returning to Nebraska?”

  “Yes.” The fact that her mother was even asking such a thing was disheartening. “We can stil

  write letters and—”

  “It’s not the same thing, and you know it!”

  “No, it’s not.” And that was a blessing in and of itself when she thought over how her life had

  been here, how confined she was by what others wanted her to be instead of being given the

  freedom to be who she truly was. She glanced out the window and wondered if Dave could

  hear them. She hoped not. Turning her attention back to her mother, she shrugged. “I don’t

  know why you can’t accept the fact that I left home, but I did and I have a family to take care

  of.”

  “What wil you do when your children leave home and tel you they won’t be coming back

  because you don’t mean anything to them?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly opened them. “That’s not true. I didn’t leave

  because I didn’t love you.”

  “No?”

  “No. I left so I could get married and have children.”

  “Because you didn’t care about me. I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “No, it wasn’t because you weren’t good enough for me. I keep tel ing you that, but you won’t

  listen to me. You’re my mother. Of course, I care about you.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it,” she muttered as she turned her attention back to the quilt

  and pul ed the needle through it.

  Mary watched her, unable to figure out what she might say to get her mother to understand

  that just because she went to Nebraska, it didn’t mean she rejected her.

  “I believe you have a train to catch so you can return to your life with him.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. Her mother refused to let her back into her life, and she had

  no idea why. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask her mother why it needed to be this way,

  but then she shut it. Circles. Al they’d been doing was going in circles. Blinking back the tears

  from her eyes, Mary released her breath and eased out of the chair.

  “You know my post office box number if you wish to write me,” Mary said.

  Her mother didn’t respond. She just pul ed the needle through the quilt as if Mary wasn’t

  standing right in front of her, hoping for some indication that she’d at least consider writing her

  in the future so they could work things out. But the consolation wasn’t going to come. She

  didn’t understand her mother at al . Why didn’t she want her to be happy? Did she real y want

  her to stay in Maine for the rest of her life without Dave and their children? She would’ve been

  miserable if she stayed here. Why would her mother wish that for her?

  After considerable debate, she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry, Mother. I

  never meant to displease you.”

  She left the house and Dave rose to his feet. His eyes bore into her, but she couldn’t look at

  him. Not yet. Not when her eyes kept fil ing with tears. She told herself she left the door open

  for her mother to be a part of her life, but deep down, she knew her mother wouldn’t accept it.

  Her mother saw firsthand how happy she was with Dave, and she didn’t like it. There was

  nothing Mary could do about it.

  Dave col ected the carpet bags and walked over to her. “Mary?” he softly asked.

  Swal owing the lump in her throat, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her

  eyes. “Not now, Dave. I’l tel you later, alright?”

  “Alright.”

  Stil unable to look at him, she took a deep breath and walked down the steps, realizing as she

  did, her legs shook. Not trusting her strength, she wrapped her arm around his and leaned

  against him as they headed for the train station, glad to be leaving this part of her past exactly

  where it belonged—in the past.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When the train reached Omaha, Mary had never been so grateful to be anywhere in her entire

  life. The familiar rol ing hil s in the distance greeted her, and she recal ed the first day she’d

  arrived here—the day she met and married Dave. Back then, she only had a vague idea how

>   her life was about to change, but it had turned out so much better than she hoped.

  With a glance at Dave who sat beside her, she smiled at him. “It’s good to be back.”

  He squeezed her hand and nodded. “It is.”

  The train pul ed into the station and came to a stop. They stood up before he fol owed her off

  the train and into a station that was just as busy as the day she came here for the first time.

  Once he col ected their luggage, she took his arm and left the station.

  “At least we get to surprise Sal y,” Dave said as he led the way down the boardwalk. “She

  doesn’t get surprised easily.”

  “I don’t know. I seem to recal that you surprised her by marrying me when you did.”

  “That’s true. If I hadn’t been so eager to have you al to myself, I would have taken the time to

  let you meet her right away.”

  “I don’t mind, Dave. It was nice to be with you. I don’t remember everything, but I do

  remember how nice those first days together were with you.”

  “You know, I love you more with each passing day.”

  Her lips turned up into a smile. “I love you, too.”

  “More each day, I hope.”

  “Of course.”

  They continued the walk to Sal y’s house in a comfortable silence, and Mary scanned her

  surroundings, taking delight in how familiar the businesses were. This world was so different

  from the one she’d left in Maine. Here, she was free to be the person she truly was instead of

  the one everyone wanted her to be.

  As Sal y’s yel ow house came into view, she recal ed the first time she’d come here. The house

  was as cheerful as Sal y’s personality. She smiled, remembering Sal y’s kindness toward her.

  She wasn’t exactly like Grace, but she was just as dear to her, as were Jenny and April. Her

  heart leapt at the thought of seeing her friends again. She would always miss Grace, and no

  one could replace her. But she had a life here she wouldn’t trade for anything.

  Her footsteps picked up the closer they got to Sal y’s and Dave chuckled. “A little eager to

  have Sal y talk your ear off?”

  Shooting him an amused look, she said, “I actual y like listening to her.”

  “I know. I think it’s why she enjoys seeing you whenever she can. You don’t fal asleep on

  her.”

  “Oh you,” she teased and gave him a playful shove in the side. “That’s no way to talk about

  your sister.”

  Despite his nonchalant shrug, he grinned.

  When they reached Sal y’s house, she knocked on the door. With a glance at the quiet

  neighborhood Sal y lived on, she sighed in contentment. Soon, very soon, she’d get to hold her

  children.

  The front door opened and Sal y’s eyes grew wide. “David? Mary? What are you doing back

  so soon?”

  “It’s a long story,” Mary said, noting the way Sal y’s daughter grabbed onto Sal y’s skirt and

  peered up at her. She smiled at the little girl. “Hel o there, Laura. I missed you.”

  Sal y picked the girl up and smoothed her curls from her face. “Can you say ‘Aunt Mary’?”

  Laura shook her head, which earned a round of giggles from the adults.

  “At least she’s honest,” Sal y commented. “Do you two want to come in and get some

  refreshments?”

  “Actual y, I’m anxious to get home,” Mary confessed. “I want to see Isaac and Rachel.”

  “Isaac’s playing with Greg out in the back. Let me ask my neighbor to watch Laura and Greg,

  and we’l get the buggy ready so I can take you home.”

  “Thank you, Sal y.”

  Sal y nodded and went back into the house while Dave and Mary waited for her on the porch.

  How different her family was from Dave’s. The contrast was so startling that she hardly knew

  where to begin. She looked over at him and saw that he final y seemed to be at ease. She

  didn’t realize he’d been so tense in Maine until that moment.

  Sal y returned with Isaac, Laura, and Greg.

  “Ma and Pa!” Isaac cal ed out, excited as he ran to them.

  Mary knelt down and picked him up in her arms. “I missed you so much, honey,” she

  whispered and kissed his cheek.

  Sal y smiled at them. “Isaac was a good boy while he was here. I’l be right back.” She carried

  Laura down the steps and led Greg to her neighbor’s.

  “Believe it or not, Tom and Joel dread those words,” Dave quipped, his lips turned up in

  amusement.

  “Real y? Why?” Mary asked, intrigued.

  “Growing up, they used to give her a hard time because she had a tendency to boss them

  around. When she said ‘I’l be back,’ it was usual y because she went to get Ma to get them in

  trouble.”

  “Surely, you jest.”

  “Nope. But in Sal y’s defense, they did sometimes deserve what they got.”

  “And did you ever get into mischief which caused Sal y to go running for your mother?”

  “Me? I was perfect.”

  She laughed and rol ed her eyes. “Now I know you’re jesting.”

  “Alright. I might have done a couple of things, but they were things that boys tend to do so you

  real y can’t blame me for them.”

  Rubbing Isaac’s back, she asked Dave, “Did I know you had this mischievous side to you

  before I lost my memory?”

  “No. This is a brand new revelation. You used to think I could do no wrong.” Before she could

  respond, he kissed her cheek. “But I wil endeavor to redeem myself.”

  Her skin tingled from where he kissed her. She scanned the neighborhood, wondering if

  anyone saw, or minded, that he’d done such a bold thing, but the children playing across the

  street and the woman knitting something didn’t pay them any mind. She did look forward to

  being home where they could freely kiss without worrying about someone seeing them.

  Sal y cal ed out to them, so Mary turned her attention to her and went down the steps toward

  her, Dave close behind. “We can get my buggy and horse from Mitchel,” Sal y said.

  “Who?” Mary asked as they headed down the street.

  “Oh, Mitchel is a farmer a mile from here,” Sal y answered as she waved to the woman who

  was knitting. “Bea’s always knitting something. She usual y gives everything to others at

  church. I don’t mind knitting, myself, but I can’t imagine doing it al the time like she does.

  Sure, you and Jenny like to sew, which is similar to knitting. Jenny, of course, used to do it

  more before she married Owen because that was how she made a living. Now that he’s with

  her, she has more time to visit me. Mary, we ought to pay Jenny a visit soon. You’l want to

  get settled in first after your long trip, but Jenny and I want to know al about Maine. Oh, and

  we should bring April.”

  “Mary, did I fail to tel you that Sal y was born a chatterbox?” Dave interrupted in a teasing

  tone.

  Sal y sighed. “Am I boring you, Mary?”

  “No,” Mary replied. “Wil we also see Jessica?”

  “We should, shouldn’t we?” Sal y asked thoughtful y. “Jessica’s often with her friend Margaret,

  but since she’s our sister-in-law, it’s only right we should see if she’l join us.”

  Mary sorted through everything she’d learned about Dave’s family and recal ed that Jessica

  was married to his older brother Tom.

  “If we want to get al of the women together, we should see if Amanda
can join us,” Sal y

  added. “Do you remember her at al ?”

  Mary shook her head. “Not yet. I am getting my memories back, but I stil don’t recal

  everything from my life here.”

  Sal y’s eyebrows rose. “Does that mean you remember everything about Maine?”

  “Yes,” she softly admitted, not wishing to think about it for the moment. Next time she saw

  Sal y, she’d indulge her friend and tel her everything, but right now, she didn’t want to ruin the

  day by rehashing unpleasant parts of her past. Clearing her throat, she added, “I think seeing

  Amanda and Jessica is a wonderful idea. Perhaps we can spend the day together with our

  children?”

  As Mary hoped, Sal y quickly forgot the trip to Maine. “What a lovely idea, Mary!”

  While Sal y continued to plan for the upcoming gathering for the women and children in the

  family, Mary listened attentively to her, thinking of how nice it was to be back home.

  ***

  After supper, Mary sat on the porch swing, holding Rachel and Isaac on either side of her. The

  warm summer wind cooled her off from the heat in the kitchen, and the peaceful sound of the

  birds chirping made her smile. As lovely as the ocean had been by the lighthouse, she stil

  preferred the haven of the farm with the gentle rol ing hil s in the distance. Perhaps this was

  how her father felt when he visited the lighthouse, and thinking of it made her feel close to him,

  as if he was there with her, happy she had found joy in life.

  A half hour passed before Isaac wiggled from her. “Ma, can I help Pa in the barn now?”

  “Oh, Isaac. Let me hold you just a little while longer.”

  He groaned. “But I feel like a baby.”

  She glanced at Rachel who was more than content to stay settled next to her and then turned

  her attention to Isaac. “You missed your father while we were gone, didn’t you?” He nodded,

  and she smiled at him, reminded of how much he aspired to be like Dave. It was only natural

  that he’d want to be out in the barn with him. “I’l tel you what. If you give me a hug and a

  kiss, I’l let you go see your pa.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was going to protest that hugs and kisses were for girls, but she figured it

  couldn’t hurt to ask and he obliged her with a big hug and kiss.