Hometown Cinderella: Hometown Cinderella\The Inn at Hope Springs (15 page)

“Especially when you are fourteen, going on fifteen, and the boys you knew as boys are beginning to look very much like young men.” Amusement underlay her tone.

Despite his resolve to the contrary, he couldn’t help but glance at Mara. Her lips curled upward at the corners.

He nodded slowly, digesting this observation. His gaze remained on her until she looked back down at her plate and he realized he was staring again. With a start, he turned to his own plate and took up a forkful of stuffing. He had to get ahold of himself.

With a determined effort, he turned to Clifford and asked him how his wood supply was going. He would do nothing to risk his daughter’s friendship with this kind lady. She must never suspect the feelings she awakened in him.

Feelings he had long thought dead as driftwood.

But driftwood ignited like tinder when it was dry.

And he’d been dry a long, long time.

Mara walked into the large pantry carrying a stack of dishes she had just dried. “Where do these go?” she asked Mrs. McClellan.

“Right here, dear.” Mr. Jakeman’s cousin showed her an empty space between two other stacks of plates. “I so appreciate your help. You needn’t, you know. There are plenty of women to help with the washing up.”

“I can think of nothing better right now than moving about a bit. I’ve eaten much more than I should have.”

Mrs. McClellan chuckled. “That’s what Thanksgiving is for. I hope you have some room in a little while. We’ll set out coffee and tea and the rest of the pies and cakes for refreshment.”

Mara groaned. “I can’t imagine eating anything more today.”

“That’s what everyone says until evening. After some games and singing—perhaps even a little dancing if that cousin of mine and a few others can be prevailed upon to break open their fiddles,” she added with a wink, “you’d be surprised what an appetite can be worked up.”

Mara found herself blushing at the mention of Gideon. She remembered their dinner conversation. It had been ordinary enough. Yet, why had she had the distinct feeling that there was something in his grayish-blue eyes she was sensing but not seeing? Even when she wasn’t looking at him directly, she’d felt his gaze on her and wondered if there was something he’d wanted to speak to her about.

Dietrich perhaps?

Before Mara had a chance to go back into the kitchen to dry more dishes, Mrs. McClellan’s next words stopped her. “I’m so glad your son has taken a liking to my cousin.”

She nodded, glad to find the woman understood about her concern for her son.

“Your Dietrich can certainly benefit from Gideon’s company.”

Mara felt a flurry in her stomach at the mention of Mr. Jakeman’s first name. Gideon. A fine, strong name, like its owner. “Yes, he has been very patient with my son.”

“That’s our Gideon. He has a heart of gold. You could find no better example for the boy. There’s no finer man in all the county.”

Her words caused Mara to stand transfixed. The older woman stood looking at her and something changed in her expression. Mara had the impression she was no longer thinking of Gideon as a man in relation to Dietrich, but as a man in relation to her.

“We were all so grieved when he lost his wife.” Mrs. McClellan clucked her tongue. “Poor Elsie, such a fine woman, to be taken so young. And Gideon left with only the one child. I’m sure he’s always wanted a son or two....”

Mara stood rooted, wanting and not wanting to hear more about Gideon’s background. It had nothing to do with her. And yet, she stood, every cell straining to know more about this quiet, gentle man.

“We all thought sure he’d take another wife after a couple of years. Life’s hard here, and a man needs a good woman.” Her look became knowing. “Just as a woman needs a strong pair of shoulders.”

Mara twisted her hands together, looking away. She, too, used to believe so. “Not all marriages are made in heaven. They can be a curse as well as a blessing.”

Mrs. McClellan laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sure you’re right about that. Goodness, I see it in some of the women in our own little hamlet, poor, downtrodden souls.” She drew in a breath, expanding her ample chest. “But not our Gid. He’s a solid one. He’ll make a woman a fine husband, if he ever realizes that he needn’t be alone anymore. He’s mourned long enough.”

“Perhaps he prefers to retain the memory of his dear wife than risk something—someone—who will never replace her.”

Mrs. McClellan arranged some cups and saucers another woman brought into the pantry. “Oh, it’s not a matter of replacing her memory. It’s a matter of giving another woman a chance to make a home for him, and realizing he doesn’t have to continue his journey alone. It can be shared with a woman of good understanding. Someone who’ll be a good helpmate. I don’t know what I’d do without my Cliff.”

“Well, I…I’d better go help the others, Mrs. McClellan, before the dishes get too stacked up. I do so appreciate your having asked us to your family meal.”

Mrs. McClellan squeezed her arm and let it go. “Oh, nonsense. I love a good crowd. And please, it’s Sarah. We live too close to each other to be going by Mrs. This and Mrs. That!”

“Thank you, Sarah.” She tried to smile but felt it a tenuous effort at best. She wasn’t used to the hand of friendship. “And, please, call me Mara.”

Sarah nodded. “Mara, a pretty name despite its meaning.”

Bitterness.
She knew its meaning well from her study of the Bible. She’d thought it well suited indeed over the last few years.

The only difference between her and the Jewess Naomi was that Naomi’s bitterness of spirit had begun after her widowhood, whereas Mara’s had begun during her marriage. Widowhood had set her free.

She left the pantry and reentered the kitchen. She took up her dish towel and a plate and began drying again. Slowing her motions, she told herself to stop thinking so much about the past, and now even the present was dangerous. She mustn’t let well-intentioned family and neighbors insinuate anything between her and Gideon.

He was merely a good neighbor who was giving her a helping hand with her boy. That was all, and that was all it would remain. The Lord had set her free and free she intended to remain.

She wiped at another plate with a vigor that caused the dish towel to squeak against the china, as if the energy she expended with her hands and arms would help wipe away her thoughts.

When the dishes were done, she was shooed out of the kitchen by Sarah even though her inclination was to hide there with the few women who remained. Her steps slowed the closer she got to the front parlor even as her heart sped up at the thought of seeing Gideon again. Was it because by having heard something of his past, she felt she had intruded into something not meant for her eyes? She wished Sarah had not put thoughts into her head.

Mara straightened the bodice of her gown, feeling her corset pinching at her. Part of her wished she could go home now, take off her best gown and sit down at the piano and lose herself somewhere where there was no past or future, only the music.

She peered into the sitting room. A group of young people was playing “Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button?” Dietrich stood between two other children. Lizzie and Paul were also in the large circle, which filled up most of the room. Older folks were seated against the walls, chatting and resting after the large meal.

They were all family. She and Carina were the only ones who were not kin to the company. She had met some of Gideon’s brothers and his sister and their children. What a blessing to have such a large family. She felt a bit sorry for herself on such occasions. Klaus had come of a big family and they had spent a few Christmases with them. Dietrich had been embraced by the large German clan and initiated into all the lovely holiday traditions, but Mara had always been made to feel the inferiority of her American birth.

She shook her head, determined to banish any self-pity.

Gideon stood at one end of the room talking with a couple of other men. She quickly looked away when his glance met hers as if he were aware the moment she entered the room. That was nonsense, she told herself firmly.

Instead of entering farther into the parlor, Mara backed out of the room before anyone else noticed her and asked her to sit by them.

Realizing she had left her shawl in the wagon, she decided to make her way there. A breath of fresh air would do her good. She knew from experience, only a few moments of God’s presence was what she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Glancing out a window in passing, she saw it was already quite dark although it was barely six o’clock. The days had grown short, the sun setting around four o’clock in the afternoon now.

She walked quickly through the kitchen where some of the women still lingered, some taking a breather around the large kitchen table, others setting out cups and saucers and small plates for the pie.

She and Lizzie had baked apple and pumpkin pies to bring, but it looked as if there were at least a dozen of each, as well as mince, lemon and cranberry ones.

“Take a lantern with you if you’re going outside,” one of the women suggested.

Mara smiled a thanks and picked up the lantern indicated. The women probably assumed she was going to use the convenience. She entered the fir-scented woodshed. Drying herbs hung from the rafters above barrels filled with grains, sugar and molasses. A barn cat slithered past her, rubbing against her skirt. “Where are you off to?” she asked, bending down and rubbing his fur. He purred in reply before scurrying off toward the barn door.

She opened it for him, peering into the cavernous space. The cows stood in their stanchions, the horses in their stalls. Against the flickering shadows from her lantern, she heard their soft nickering and snorting.

She reentered the shed and exited into the cold night air. She found the carryall halfway down the drive, between other vehicles.

Finding her cashmere shawl wedged between the seat cushions, she grasped it and turned to go. But before reentering the shed, she paused a few moments to breathe in the cold night air.

The sky was low with cloud cover. As the frosty air revived her, she thanked God for all He had blessed her and Dietrich with in the past year.

After the long, difficult years with Klaus, she felt as if an era of her life was over and the rest remained a blank book.

For many months afterward she had felt an unnatural wife, as she hadn’t mourned her husband’s death as a wife should. Her thoughts turned to Gideon. Both Lizzie and Sarah had spoken highly of Elsie Jakeman. Clearly Gideon had loved her dearly.

It made her own feelings of relief at Klaus’s death all the more shameful. She barely remembered the few good years. Klaus’s rising star had quickly soured with her when she had to stand by and witness his extravagance and growing life of dissipation, spending his time at the casinos and with the wealthy young people his age who lived for nothing but amusement.

The rest of his time was dedicated to a grueling practice schedule, in which she was increasingly shut out. Her own desire to continue her music was mocked by him as his audience fawned over him. He lived for the reviews in the newspapers after a concert. Anything negative threw him into a temper where he railed against all those ignoramuses who knew nothing of music.

After Dietrich was born, things degenerated further. Any crying from the baby brought more angry shouts and Klaus banging out of the house, saying he could find no peace to practice his music. Mara saw less and less of her husband. Instead, she saw the bills that arrived. Klaus had no concerns over his creditors, stuffing the bills into a box and never looking at them again. Tailors, vintners, tobacconists, shirtmakers, shoemakers, art galleries, all the finest shops in whatever city they happened to be living in.

When she confronted him about the bills, his temper flared and he accused her of American provinciality. He shouted at her that she knew nothing of having to maintain a certain level of society if he hoped to continue playing in the premiere opera houses of Europe.

At first she accepted these rationales, but over time she began to argue that his talent alone assured his success. The arguments became louder and more acrimonious. She discovered an ability in Klaus to find her weak spots and attack her where she was most vulnerable. Her refuge had finally been silence—to avoid provoking him at all costs. And to find ways and means to pay the bills. It had eventually led to moving from lavish hotels and spacious apartments to dingier and dingier boardinghouses in less and less desirable parts of town.

But that was over now. Mara let out a shuddering breath and focused once more on her blessings. Besides the birth of Dietrich, one thing shone through of all those years she’d endured. Her faith in Christ had grown and deepened. Only by turning to the Scriptures and delving deeper than she ever had could she make any sense of her life and find the strength to endure.

And now the Lord had brought her back home. Things were not perfect with Carina, but perhaps in another year, if she added more pupils and continued saving as much of her earnings as she could, she and Dietrich could find a place of their own. It might have to be in town. She doubted the hamlet offered any small accommodations for a widow on a meager income and her son. But town offered a few boardinghouses.

So, her life would come full circle—back to a boardinghouse existence.