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  Sarah paused, her foot on the first step, unsure of whether or not she should leave. She wanted to be sure Emily was fine with her tucking her in.

  “I’ll have to do that some other time, sweetie,” Gwen told the girl. “I apologize for breaking my promise. I’ll tell you that story next Sunday.”

  Emily frowned but nodded. “All right.”

  “Good girl.” She hugged her, her eyes twinkling with the love she had for the girl. “Now, you mind Mrs. Donner. She’ll tuck you into bed tonight so your pa can take me home. I’m sure that Mrs. Donner knows a bedtime story you haven’t heard yet. That will be exciting, won’t it?”

  Emily’s dubious expression gave Sarah insight into the girl’s skeptical nature. “Do you know a new bedtime story?”

  Sarah grinned. “I know a couple of good stories. You’ll have to tell me if you’ve heard them or not.”

  The girl seemed interested in the challenge. “I’ll tell you if I heard them.”

  “Please do. I’m sure you can even tell me a really good one.”

  A wide smile spread across her face. “I do! I know lots of good ones.” She peered up the steps. “Will you bring the baby?”

  Sarah’s attention returned to her crying son. “I will.”

  “Oh good!”

  Neil clapped his hands together. “Well, since everything’s settled, Grandma and I will head out. I won’t be back until about two and a half hours.” He kissed Emily’s forehead. “Go easy on Mrs. Donner. No scary stories. We don’t want her to stay up all night because she’s too afraid to sleep.”

  Sarah hid her chuckle at his joke. She didn’t realize he had a sense of humor. It was nice to see that being shunned by most of the people in town didn’t take his joy away. After she said good-bye to them, she led Emily up the steps and let the girl help her change Luke’s diaper.

  Emily scrunched her nose and waved a hand in front of her face. “That stinks!”

  She nodded. “Would you believe that a lady at church told me that newborns don’t have stinky diapers?”

  “She was lying.”

  “Either she lied or she forgot. She’s eighty so she hasn’t changed a diaper in a very long time.”

  “She must have been lying. There’s no way a person can forget how awful that smells.”

  Sarah laughed as she set the dirty cloth diaper in a pail filled with water and ammonia. “I’ll have to wash it with the other used diapers.”

  Emily walked over to the wardrobe and peered in the partially opened door. “Mrs. Donner, can I ask you a question?”

  Sarah fastened the pins on the new diaper while her son kicked his feet and arms into the air. “Yes. What do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you have any pretty clothes?”

  She put her son on the thick baby blanket on her bed and worked on swaddling him. “What do you mean by pretty clothes, Emily?”

  The little girl shook her head, her long curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Your dresses are dull colors. You only wear browns, blacks and grays.” She inspected the dresses hanging in the wardrobe again. “They don’t have any nice designs on them either. They’re plain.”

  “Oh. Well, I was taught that it’s important for a woman to dress modestly.”

  “What does ‘modestly’ mean?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose it means that I’m not to draw attention to myself.”

  “Why not?”

  Aware that Emily was staring at her, she messed up on swaddling her son and unwrapped the blanket so she could do it right. “Because men are weak and beauty tempts them into doing something wrong. It’s up to women to dress in such a way that will not lead them to have impure thoughts.”

  “What are impure thoughts?”

  Her face flushed. Certainly, she wasn’t the person to be answering these questions. Emily, after all, wasn’t her daughter. Luke grunted and kicked his blanket off of him. “Perhaps you should talk to your father about this.”

  “He says that I should wear whatever I want, as long as I’m fully covered. And he lets me wear pinks and purples. They are my favorite colors. One time, he even said that men like looking at pretty ladies and that I will have my pick of men when I get older.”

  Sarah gasped, forgetting her squirming son. She couldn’t believe Neil would fill his daughter’s head with such immoral thinking. Maybe the people at her church were right to avoid him.

  Emily didn’t seem to notice Sarah’s shock, for she continued. “Of course, I’ll have to be very careful in who I let court me. Pa says that I need to pick the right kind of man. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. He has to be a good person. He needs to be honest, decent, hardworking, and loyal. He has to only be with me and no one else. He has to appreciate me and love me. Love means that he will put my wishes first and always be kind and considerate to me. Pa says that if a man treats me like I’m the most important person in the world, then he’s the right one.”

  Sarah relaxed. That didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded rather nice. How often she had wished Jim would have considered her thoughts and feelings. Sighing, she returned to her task of bundling her son.

  “You are pretty. Why do you hide it?” Emily asked as she twirled around the room with her arms stretched out. She seemed to enjoy the way her dress twirled around her ankles.

  And she had no idea that she possessed an uncanny ability to catch Sarah off guard. “I don’t try to hide it.”

  “Sure you do. I remember how my mother looked, and she used to let her hair down. She looked best that way. She did pull her hair back when she had to, but she said that buns were for old, miserable women who couldn’t find a man. Then she would wear pinks, purples and yellows. I heard many people compliment her beauty. People could say that about you too if you dressed better and let your hair down.”

  “That might be true, but I believe the inward person is more important than how one looks on the outside.”

  Emily seemed to think over her words. “It is important to be nice. No one likes a rude person. But I don’t see what is wrong with looking as nice as you can. If men get the wrong idea, you need to put a rock in your purse and whack him on the head with it. That’s what my pa says I should do in a case like that.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He told you to do what?”

  “Pa wants to be sure I can protect myself. He even taught me how to throw a good punch.”

  Sarah blinked, stunned. She shook her head and forced herself to focus on finishing her task. Neil had to be one of the most unconventional thinkers she had ever met. Imagine, telling a little girl to look pretty and teaching her to punch boys out! Such things weren’t proper for girls. But Emily wasn’t her child, so she had no right to interfere.

  When Luke was properly swaddled and moved his head and mouth in search of sustenance, Sarah decided it was time to feed him. “Are you ready for that bedtime story?”

  “Yes!” Emily ran out of the room.

  Despite the odd conversation, Sarah found that she enjoyed talking to Emily. She grinned and joined Emily in her bedroom so she could tuck her into bed.

  ***

  Three days passed and Sarah got ready for Jim’s funeral. She had to let out a few seams in her black dress since it didn’t fit right around her waistline and hips anymore. Sighing, she tried not to think about how her figure had suffered from the process of carrying a baby for nine months. It was vanity to compare herself to how she fit a dress before getting pregnant, and despite what Emily thought, being attractive wasn’t proper. So why did it pain her to look at the extra weight that surrounded her belly where she had once been flat? She wasn’t overweight, and the dress hid her imperfections. Still, it wasn’t pleasant to think about, so she focused on the blessing of having her long-awaited child.

  She straightened out the skirt of her dress, making sure she looked presentable for her husband’s funeral. She put on her gray wool coat and scarf. Picking up her son, who was bundled in two layers of clothes and a thick
blanket, she went down the stairs where Neil waited for her so he could take her to the cemetery.

  “Would you prefer to go with one of the farmhands?” he asked as he stood up from the table and put his cup into the empty sink. “I planned to find a remote spot to drop you off so it will appear as if you walked to the gravesite.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  He nodded and opened the door for her. While she passed through, she noted the pleasant smell of soap he bathed with the last evening. Strolling with her across the dry lawn, he said, “I plan to go to the mercantile. Is there anything you would like me to pick up for you?”

  “Would you buy cloth? I need a new dress.” That was true. The ones she had were either from before or while she was expecting, and those no longer fit right.

  Once he helped her into the buggy and they were on their way, she took a deep breath, noting the sting of the frosty wind as it filled her lungs.

  He motioned to the gloomy sky. “I think it’s going to snow tonight. The clouds are just the right shade of gray for it.”

  She directed her gaze to him, taking in his profile. Everything about Neil Craftsman seemed strong and masculine, but when he smiled, he softened, giving away the tenderness that existed beneath his hard exterior. Watching him with Emily showed her a side of him she never would have guessed was there. It was obvious that he adored his daughter but took care not to spoil her. He seemed determined that she would grow up to be a gracious and kind woman.

  Why did the people at her church insist that he was a monster? Her conscience pricked at her. She was just as bad as them, for she refused to be seen with him. Unease set into her bones as she looked at the gentle rolling hills. She stuck to her side of the buggy so she wouldn’t accidently brush her arm with his.

  They spent most of the ride to town in silence. Neil would make a comment once in awhile regarding the weather or something Emily did. Sarah managed to offer a polite reply, knowing her mounting tension made it difficult to be a good conversationalist.

  Finally, he said, “I know it can’t be easy to go to your husband’s funeral. I also know saying that I’m sorry doesn’t ease the pain of losing him.”

  She glanced at him, as he looked straight ahead while he led the horses to an old dirt road that rounded the back of the cemetery. Losing Jim wasn’t anything like she imagined it would be while he lived. She thought she would be devastated to lose him, but she actually felt relieved. He wasn’t around to dictate how she did things, such as what to cook, how to arrange things in the house, or where to go or not go in town. Neil left the decision of what to cook up to her and even let her move some items around in the kitchen and the parlor so they were easier for her to get to. He offered to have one of the farmhands take her into town whenever she needed. He even gave her some money for anything she might need for her duties around the house or for Luke. She hadn’t imagined that a woman could experience the freedom of making her own decisions, and she found that she enjoyed it.

  However, going to a funeral was another story. She dreaded it. “I’ll be glad when it’s over,” she replied, her voice low.

  “I can imagine.”

  No, I don’t think you can. All the people, all the questions, and, God help her, Jim’s mother would be there.

  He pulled the horses to a stop and set the brake. He approached her side and offered his hand to her. “I’ll pick you up here. We’re behind enough trees so no one will see me.”

  Hesitant, she rubbed her son’s back. Bracing herself, she dared to speak, fearful of his reply. “You must think I’m rude.”

  To her surprise, he shook his head. “No. Not rude. Just smart. The people you know won’t approve if you’re seen with me. You lost your husband and your home. You can’t afford to have people avoid you. You need all the support you can get. I even told Emily that she can’t tell the other kids.”

  His kind words, that were meant to soothe her conscience, only served to make her feel worse. Biting her tongue so she wouldn’t cry, she accepted his hand and let him help her to the ground. She stood next to him for a moment and marveled that he seemed like a tower of strength. She desperately needed that strength for the unpleasant encounter she was bound to have with Jim’s mother, but she knew she couldn’t ask Neil to go with her.

  Neil smiled at her, his expression sympathetic. “Just worry about yourself and your son, all right?”

  Nodding, she turned to the cluster of evergreens in front of her. This was it. One more encounter with Jim’s mother and she would be free of the woman, once and for all.

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah’s nerves were on edge as Jim’s mother ran over to her. The overweight fifty-two-year-old woman dabbed her tears with the black handkerchief that matched her dress and hat.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming,” she told Sarah, her voice choking up. “Poor Jim. Someone as kind as my son shouldn’t have died so young. Oh, how lovely to see his child. Is it a boy or a girl?”

  Sarah looked at her sleeping child and noticed that Jim’s mother extend her arms to Luke. Sarah had the sudden urge to take her child and escape. Jim hadn’t cared about Luke. It didn’t feel like Luke even had a father. She forced her arms to cooperate with her mind’s command to let Beatrice Donner hold her grandson.

  Beatrice’s tears flowed freely down her pudgy cheeks. “How lovely. Yes, you are a sweet little thing, are you not?” she cooed to the baby. Glancing at Sarah, she asked, “Is this a girl or a boy?”

  She blinked at the woman’s impatient tone. “A boy,” she squeaked. She shoved her hands into her pockets so the intimidating woman wouldn’t see her trembling hands.

  “A boy! How wonderful! Yes, a precious boy. Little Jim.”

  Clearing her throat, she spoke up. “Actually, his name is Luke.”

  The woman frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I like that name and Jim didn’t care if I named him that or not.”

  “Oh, he did care.” The woman pressed Luke close to her bosom, sending a sudden wave of panic through Sarah. Beatrice would give Luke back to her, wouldn’t she? Beatrice clucked her tongue at her. “Even if Jim didn’t voice his wish to name this precious gift after him, he most certainly wanted a namesake. All men do. Why, I named Jim after his father. And this boy will be Jim too.”

  “You can’t rename him,” Sarah snapped, her irritation overcoming her fear of the woman.

  “I can and I will.”

  “But you have no right. I’m his mother.”

  “And I am the mother of his father. If it weren’t for me, Jim never would have been born. Then he wouldn’t have married you and had this child.”

  “No, Mrs. Donner. His name is Luke.”

  “It was Luke. It is now Jim.”

  Sarah clenched her hands in her pockets, wishing she had a purse with a big rock in it so she could club the bossy woman over the head with it. Neil’s advice to Emily shouldn’t be confined to hitting men.

  The preacher approached them. “Sarah, how it grieves me to bury your husband today.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m sure Jim is up there watching us and hoping we’ll manage on without him.”

  Beatrice sniffled. “He most certainly is, Preacher Amos. My boy had a good heart. He wanted the best for everyone.”

  He nodded, his face solemn. The lines on his face deepened as he frowned. “That is true.”

  “I’m his mother.”

  “Oh, I should have noticed the resemblance.”

  Sarah studied Beatrice and didn’t see much similarity between her and Jim. Jim had been thin, short, and balding. Beatrice had a head full of graying brown wavy hair tightly pulled back into a bun that scraped the collar of her coat. She stood taller than most women and had a rounded appearance. She truly was a most intimidating woman. But Sarah conceded that they did have the same round face and narrow, long nose. Jim had worn glasses and had a pointed chin.

  So unlike Neil who was extremely handsome with his muscular build, str
ong jaw, high cheekbones and head full of dark brown wavy hair. She recalled how strong and warm his hand felt when he helped her out of the buggy. Never had a touch felt so electric.

  Luke’s cries broke her out of her appalling thoughts, and she blushed as if the preacher and Jim’s mother could read her mind. “I’ll comfort him,” she said, eager to hold her son.

  Beatrice stepped back. “Now, Sarah, don’t be selfish. I haven’t seen my grandson until today and you had all this time to be with him.”

  “You can’t deny a grandmother the joy of holding her grandchild,” the preacher agreed. “I remember when I first held my granddaughter. I was proud of my daughter for having her. Isn’t it wonderful that God has blessed Jim’s mother with a grandson? It takes the edge off the grief.” He leaned close to Sarah and whispered, “Remember the commandment to honor your mother and father, Sarah.”

  Sarah bit back a sarcastic reply and immediately felt guilty for thinking an unpleasant thought regarding the preacher. She watched Beatrice take her son to Jim’s closed brown casket. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away with her scarf. She prayed that the funeral service would end soon so that she could take her son and go back home.

  The preacher turned to her. “Come along. We should start the service.”

  Reluctant, she followed him to the closed casket and watched while Beatrice showed Luke to two of her close friends who had come with her.

  Sarah saw Caroline and Rachel heading her way and turned to them. They embraced her. Warmth flooded her heart as she held onto them, enjoying their support. “I’m glad to see you,” she told them.

  Rachel looked at Sarah with compassionate eyes and squeezed her hands. “We can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to lose a husband.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry for me,” Sarah replied, releasing her friend’s hands.

  “Sarah,” Caroline began, with a nudge at her arm, “I have good news. My family is well again, so you are welcome to come to our home. We cleared out the attic so you and Luke can stay with us.”