Brides of Texas (25 page)

“Yes.”

“I thought ‘twould be pretty to hang this corazon to the side of your front door.”

She smiled at him. “I’d love that.”

Ahhh, lass, but if only you’d love me, too
.

“I’ve never understood the whole notion of getting a certificate that stands for money when the value of it isn’t stable.” Carmen cranked the agitator on the washing machine. “First, the stock market did that crash thing in May. Now the paper says many of those certificates are worthless and there’s talk of a depression.”

“I’d never trust someone else with my money.” Jenny’s brow puckered. “You can’t trust anyone but yourself.”

“I trust a few people.” Carmen stopped cranking and lifted the lid. Judging the garments done, she drained the metal drumlike machine. “The only One who won’t ever fail me is Jesus, though.”

“Then why bother?” Jenny helped her pull out the soggy clothes and dropped them into a galvanized bucket with a
splat
. “If you don’t depend on anyone, then you won’t get hurt.”

Carmen looked at Jenny. “There’s pain in loneliness, too.”

“How would you know?” Jenny shook her head. “You have a sister who adores you. You and Mercy do everything together—from cooking to canning to sewing. Duncan and his brothers are around all the time, and children drop by almost every day. Just talking about it makes me tired.”

“I do manage to stay busy. Family and community are important to me. Very important.” Carmen summoned a smile. “But you forgot to mention someone who matters a lot to me.”

“Who?”

“You, Jenny. We’ve been doing practically everything together for months now.” Carmen lifted one handle of the bucket.

Jenny automatically lifted the other. With Jenny’s waddle, Carmen didn’t have to push herself to hurry as they walked to the clothesline.

“After I have the baby, I’ll be leaving. We both know it. I’m not going to let myself miss you. You shouldn’t miss me, either.”

“Of course I’ll miss you. I’ve grown so very fond of you. Haven’t you noticed?”

Jenny turned away and started to hang up clothes. The action didn’t fool Carmen. Jenny guarded her emotions with a desperation that nearly broke Carmen’s heart. Bravado was all she had. Nonetheless, Carmen wanted Jenny to know the truth. “From the first day you came, Jenny, I felt a special spark. Our time together has been wonderful for me. I hope you feel the same way. Even if you can’t allow yourself to feel anything for me, I want you to know how I’ve come to love you.”

“You’re fond of everyone. I’m not like that. Some folks are just plain nice, but most only care about themselves. You were sheltered, so you’ve been spared learning just how ugly men can be. Women, too.”

Carmen thought for a moment and admitted slowly, “I don’t know how I would have turned out if I’d been reared differently or been through other circumstances.”

“If you’d lived like I have,” Jenny said in a jaded tone, “you wouldn’t be so trusting and caring. You’d have to look out for yourself.”

“I’m an independent woman, Jenny. I do look after myself.” Carmen detected Jenny was seeking information in a roundabout fashion. “There’s something I do know, deep down in my heart. Jesus will never fail me.”

“I bet a lot of people who have those worthless stock certificates wonder why Jesus failed them.” Jenny finished pinning up a petticoat.

“God isn’t like a genie in a children’s fable. He doesn’t jump at our commands and give us all we wish for.”

“Then what is He good for?”

“He forgives our sins and never forsakes us. No matter what we have to endure, He is faithful to carry us through. Joys or sorrows, God remains with us.”

“I think it would be nicer if He was a genie who did give me whatever I wanted.”

“What do you want?” Carmen waited for a response.

Silence crackled between them as they finished hanging out the laundry. Jenny finally said, “I want this to all be over.”

Carmen didn’t say anything.

Jenny, ostensibly watching water drip from a petticoat to make tiny little plops that turned the earth into a polka-dotted mud patch, finally said, “What I don’t want is to feel the baby kick all the time. It just reminds me over and over that I don’t even know who the father is and that I won’t know who his new father will be. I don’t want to go through the labor. I don’t want to go back to living in a saloon just so I’ll have food to eat.”

The sadness in Jenny’s voice and eyes made Carmen want to weep. “We have to have faith, Jenny. There will be good that comes from this, and Doc Gregor will make certain the man and wife who rear that baby will do a fine job of it. As for you—we’ll make certain you never have to go back to that way of life. I promise you won’t.”

Duncan carefully placed Carmen’s gift in a hatbox and smiled to himself.
She’s going to be so surprised
. The ornate leather strap he’d created out of frustration went with the purse perfectly. The lid to the box didn’t want to go on. Why, when he could create even the tiniest baby shoes, did his fingers suddenly fumble at this simple task?

So far, his plan seemed to be going well. Carmen appreciated his gifts and praised the work he’d been doing around her home. And she often brought treats she’d baked to his shop. A woman didn’t cook for a man unless she held feelings for him.

“Duncan?” Mercy walked into the shop. “What a beautiful hatbox!”

“Aye. Think Carmen will like it?” He ran a rough hand over the elegantly striped pasteboard, then rubbed his thumb along the red velvet ribbon running along the top’s edge.

“Crimson is her favorite color.”

“So I guessed. All the bright shades she wears—they make her match her beautiful garden.”

Mercy smiled. “You certainly helped her have a spectacular garden this year.”

“Jenny helped, too.”

“Chris mentioned Grossvater wanted to spend a day with you, tending to his harnesses and such. Last year it kept him busy as he healed.”

“I’ll be happy to go out to the farm.”

“That’s so kind of you.”

“Your grandda—he’s surely taken Jenny under his wing. I’m sure ’tis his example that has many of the old men growing tender toward her.”

“Grossvater has a big heart.”

Duncan drew a deep breath. “Mercy, I aim to broach a topic wi’ you. ’Tis less than polite.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nae. Carmen’s limp. I’m thinking I could fashion shoes for her that would even out her gait.”

“ ’Gait’ makes her sound like a horse.”

Duncan filed away that little detail. Insignificant things like that mattered a lot to women. “When you pin up her hems, what’s the difference in length from one side to the other?”

His sister-in-law’s brows rose.

“I warned ye, ’twas a touchy subject. I need your help, Mercy. I canna proceed without knowing, and I’d not shame my Carmen by posing such a delicate matter to her.”

“I’m a little surprised—but more at the thought of no one thinking to solve the matter this way than in the topic itself.”

“I didna mean to shock you.”

“You mean to help my friend. Of course I’m willing to assist you. The left side of her hems…” Mercy held her thumb and forefinger apart. “About an inch. Maybe a tiny bit more. But the measurement won’t help you any. You need to trace her foot, and she’d never allow you to.”

“I ken, ’tis true, so I cheated. She left footprints in the mud after watering the flowers she planted for you. I measured those and drew a pattern.”

“You’re very ingenious.”

“Whilst you’re here, I want to ask something. I ken you’re busy as can be, but whene’er you bake, could you see fit to make wee little cookies for me?”

She nodded. “You’ll have to tell me just how small.”

“About the size of a quarter would be grand. I’d like to offer them to my customers.”

Bless her, Mercy simply nodded.

Duncan reached for the mesquite bowl Mr. Rundsdorf had made for him. “I’ll keep them in this.”

“Ohhh! Duncan, that’s breathtaking!”

“I think so, too. I’m supposing when folks see it, they’ll be going to him, seeking something else he’s made.” He put down the bowl and stroked the hatbox. “I’ll be back after awhile. I’m taking this to Carmen.”

“It would be nicer if you gave it to her when you’re alone. Why don’t you go over and bring Jenny back? I’ve been talking to her so she’ll know what to anticipate.”

Appalled, Duncan blurted out, “You’re not going to hae her birth her bairn in the washroom!”

Despite her blush, Mercy assured him, “Of course not.”

“Chris and I still think you kept your vow,” he muttered.

“What vow?”

“If anyone breathed a word about you delivering your babe at the clinic, you’d avenge yourself.” When she had the nerve to laugh, Duncan swallowed sickly. “Twitter all you want, Mercy Ellen Gregor, but you left a dreadful, bloody mess for us to clean up.”

Mercy shook her finger at him. “You have no right to complain. After all, I did what you asked. I waited until Rob got home to have Elspeth.”

“Good thing, that. With your next babe—”

Mercy’s eyes grew huge. “How did you know?”

Delight speared through him. “ ’Twas hope speaking. So you’re carrying another wee bairn?”

“Rob and I are keeping it a secret for now.”

“I’ll not breathe a word.” He patted her arm. “ ’Tis kind of you not to celebrate your glad tidings when you know Jenny’s going to give away her babe.”

“Go ahead and send her on over to me.”

Duncan didn’t have to be told twice. He hastened across the street. No one answered the door, but the smell of lye soap reminded him it was Carmen’s laundry day. Duncan went around behind the house and heard weeping. “Carmen?”

“Car–men’s—not—heeeeere.”

Duncan pushed between two sodden towels on the clothesline and stopped dead in his tracks when he discovered Jenny huddled on the bench by the flowers, sobbing. Cold dread washed over him.

Y
ou’re not having the bairn—not now!”

Jenny shook her head.

“Good!” Relief added zeal to his voice. A moment later, Duncan frowned. “Are ye hurtin’? Do I need to fetch Rob?”

She shook her head.

Duncan stepped closer. “You’re weeping. Why?”

“Carmen said Jesus would never fail her.”

“Aye, and she’s right. Our Lord Jesus Christ will ne’er forsake us.”

“I don’t have anyone like that. Everyone dies or they just use me and walk away.”

“Puir wee lassie.” He drew closer. “I canna imagine how sad and lonely it must be, you tryin’ to face life on your verra own. You dinna hae to, though.”

“No one will have me.”

The sadness in her tone tore at him. “Jesus would welcome you with open arms.”

“I’m not dying.”

“Glad I am of that. He’s more than eager to have you as His daughter.”

Tears spattered her bodice as she shook her head. “Not me. I’m just a cheap wh—”

“You,” Duncan cut in, “Jenny Sigrids, were bought by the blood of Christ. Never consider yourself cheap, because the price was paid in full—and ’twas the Son of God who paid the ransom for your eternal soul.”

“Ransom? Like with a kidnapping?”

“Aye, only in this case, ’twas the devil who stole your soul. All you need to do is believe that God loves you so much, He sent His beloved Son to pay the price that would redeem your soul.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

Duncan shrugged. “What you’ve done in the past is of no importance. Remember how the preacher has mentioned stories in the Bible of women who lived in sin?”

“Like me,” she murmured.

“Aye. Jesus forgave them. He gave them a new chance at life by telling them to go and sin no more.”

“But other people knew what those women were. Everyone knows what I’ve been.”

“Aye.” Duncan nodded. “And Christ told them they could cast stones at the woman only if they’d ne’er sinned themselves. You see, sin separates each of us from God. ’Tisna our own goodness or the deeds we do that redeem us—†tis because Christ paid the cost. I’m heartily thankful He did, and I took Him at His word. I accepted salvation and let Him wash my soul free from the past. Carmen and Mercy and my brothers—they all did likewise.”