Love Comes Home (15 page)

“I didn’t know that. I could have taken some to Lexington and sold them for her.”

“That would have been nice.” Tori kept her voice carefully neutral. Mrs. Weber was a wizard with her needle, but Tori didn’t want to talk about her. She didn’t want to talk about any of the Weber family, especially the one Kate was edging toward talking about.

“I remember when Mr. Weber died. So hard for Mrs. Weber to lose her husband with all those children and one on the way.”

“You don’t have to tell me how hard it is to lose a husband.” Tori’s voice sounded tight even to her own ears as her insides clenched like a fist. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone? If she wanted to grieve for Sammy the rest of her life, what was wrong with that? It was her life. She shoved her stockings down into the toes of her Sunday shoes and put them in the bottom of the wardrobe. She could feel Kate watching her.

“I know.” Kate hesitated. “Maybe if you talked with her it would help you. It sometimes helps to talk to people who have experienced the same troubles you have.”

Tori took her time getting her everyday shoes out of the wardrobe. She had the feeling Kate had more to say and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. One thing was certain. She wasn’t going to go to Clay Weber’s house to talk to his mother. Seeing him at the store was trial enough.

That wasn’t exactly fair. Clay had brought Samantha the cutest sled. He’d fashioned the wooden part himself and asked Tori’s father to make the runners. Samantha had been thrilled. Daddy had been thrilled. Tori’s challenge was finding a way to thank Clay without encouraging him. And to keep everybody else from deciding what was best for her.

She couldn’t keep staring at her shoes forever. Besides, that didn’t keep Kate from saying what she was thinking anyway. “Why don’t you let him take you to the movies? It would be good for you to get out.”

Tori pulled on her shoes. Without looking up, she said, “I don’t want to encourage Clay, Kate. He wants more than I can give.”

“Going to the movies doesn’t mean you’re getting married or anything.”

“But don’t you see? That might be what Clay thinks. I have the feeling that’s what he wants.”

“Well, tell him you’re not ready for that. If you’re not.” There was a question in Kate’s words.

“I’m not,” Tori looked up at Kate to make sure she knew she meant what she said.

Kate didn’t quite hide her sigh as she pulled on her sweater. “Then tell him you just want to be friends. Buddies. Somebody to get out with and do something different. You can’t go fishing in February.”

“I don’t need a buddy,” Tori said firmly as she stood up.
“I’ve got sisters. And you can go fishing in February if you want to. You just won’t catch anything.”

“Except a cold, and you’ve already caught that. And some sisters don’t like to go fishing any month of the year.”

“But Lorena likes to fish. And then there’s Graham.”

“Okay.” Kate hugged Tori’s shoulders. “I’ll let you pick your own buddies. But don’t slam the door too fast on Clay. He seems quite smitten with you. As he should be. You’re smart and beautiful. Even with that poor red nose.”

Right on cue, Tori had started sneezing. It was one time she had welcomed the need to blow her nose. Anything to stop Kate from talking about Clay Weber. Once she moved back to Rosey Corner, Tori would simply have to tell her to mind her own business.

Now Tori hurried past the gas pumps and into the store out of the wind. The warmth rushed out to meet her when she opened the door. They’d put in a furnace that kept the store warm, but they still kept a fire in the potbelly stove in the back corner where some of the folks liked to gather and catch up on the news. That’s where Clay Weber sometimes stood and watched her while she waited on customers. At times she could almost hear him thinking up new things to ask her to do.

But nobody was there now. Not even Graham. Her mother looked up from her account books to smile at Tori. “Go warm up.”

Tori held her hands out toward the stove, letting the heat embrace her. She was glad nobody else was in the store. Mondays were always slow, but they could count on Graham coming by. Then at noon, the men from over at the garage generally showed up for sandwiches and sodas. Clay was sometimes with them since he was friends with the owner.

He didn’t usually buy anything to eat, but more often than not, he’d buy some penny candy for his little sisters and then give Samantha a piece. Even when he didn’t buy the candy, Samantha still reached her little hands up to him. He looked comfortable as anything carrying her around the store, talking with her as though he understood her every jabbered word. He’d miss Samantha if he came in today.

But when she thought about it, Clay hadn’t been to the store for a while. She frowned and tried to remember how long. Not that it mattered. The bad weather could be keeping him away from Rosey Corner. Or maybe Clay had simply gotten the message. Finally. Maybe he was visiting Paulette again. Paulette had been dating a boy from Frankfort, but she made no secret of the fact she wouldn’t mind Clay pulling up to her house again.

That would be good. Good for all of them. But then all day long, Tori looked up every time the bell over the door jingled, wondering if it would be Clay coming in.

When the day passed without him showing up, a little finger of disappointment wiggled awake inside her. No, not disappointment, she told herself quickly. Worry. That was all it was. While she’d been pushing him away, they had been friends since school days. A person should be worried about a friend when he didn’t show up in his usual places.

At closing time, Tori cleaned out the onion bin and then went into the small water closet to wash her hands. When her eyes caught on her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she hooked her hair back behind her ears. It could be she should try to curl her hair. Maybe powder her nose.

What was she thinking? She stared at her face in the mirror. “Victoria Gale Harper, you have got to be out of your mind,” she whispered.

She jerked the string to turn off the light, glad for the dark that wrapped around her before she opened the door back out into the store. It made no difference how she looked. No difference at all. Or whether Clay Weber showed up at the store. She didn’t care. Not at all. That funny feeling in her stomach was simply because she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

16

W
ho would have thought she’d be excited about losing her breakfast? More than excited. Jubilant. If Kate didn’t feel so shaky, she would be tap dancing on the little back porch. It was proof her prayers had been answered. She was going to be a mother.

The late March day was full of sunshine. The whole world looked bright from the yellow jonquils bursting into bloom along the side of the yard to the flash of a bluebird’s wings as it flew by. Perhaps looking for love. Love she had already found. Gloriously found.

The song they sang at the beginning of Sunday services bubbled up in her mind. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”

She did praise him. And thank him. She leaned against the porch post and put her hands on her flat belly. Soon it would be swelling with the blessing of a baby. She’d been almost holding her breath for a couple of weeks now. Hoping, but not sure. She hadn’t shared the hope with anyone. Not Jay. Not her mother. She wanted to be sure first.

They all knew what she was hoping. They knew how
much she wanted to be a mother. But nobody seemed to be in as much a hurry as she was. Jay wanted to just enjoy being home, being with her. Her mother was wrapped up in guiding Evie along her rocky path toward motherhood. Evie had finally gotten through the morning sickness, but now she was distraught over the loss of her waistline. And the loss of her job.

“What does a person do sitting at home all day long?” she had complained last Sunday. “Twiddle her thumbs?”

“If she wants to,” Kate told her. “Or you could take up knitting or sewing. Maybe make the baby a quilt.”

“Quilt? Me?” Evie sank down in one of the kitchen chairs. They were cleaning up after dinner and as usual Kate was doing all the work. Tori was rocking a very cranky Samantha, who was teething. Jay and Lorena left with a plate of food for Aunt Hattie. Kate wished she’d gone with them, but then Mama would have thought she had to do the cleanup. Her mother rarely sat down. She deserved a few minutes of Sunday afternoon peace. So here Kate was. Stuck with her hands in dishwater and her ears full of Evie’s whining.

“Well, then read some books.”

“You’re saying what you’d like to do. I guess what you can do now that you’re not working.” Evie shifted in the chair and held out her feet to stare at them. “Even my feet are fat.”

Kate looked down at Evie’s fashionable black pumps. “It’s not permanent, you know.”

“But I just bought these shoes. I thought at least I wouldn’t outgrow shoes and now they’re killing my feet.”

“If they hurt your feet, take them off.”

“You always act like everything is so simple.” Evie stomped
her shoes down flat on the floor. “But it isn’t. Lots of things aren’t simple at all.”

One thing was more than simple—how Evie could drive her crazy. Kate counted to five and turned back to the sink. Washing dishes, now that was simple. Glasses first, then plates.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” If she wanted to keep things simple, agreeing with Evie was generally the way to go. No need to fuss about things that didn’t matter, although they’d done plenty of that in their time. But they weren’t little girls anymore.

It worked. Evie quit worrying about her feet. “I thought you were going to work at the store.”

“Not right now. I decided to try writing some freelance stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Evie didn’t sound all that interested.

Kate concentrated on washing a plate and rinsing it. She had dreams of writing stories for magazines, maybe even writing a book, but she wasn’t ready to tell Evie that. Evie might say something to shoot down her dreams. Not on purpose, but just being Evie.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kate carefully placed the plate in the drainer. “The editor at the
Herald
said he might consider something with a human interest angle. And the Edgeville paper wants me to submit some ideas to them. Besides, Tori didn’t want to give up the job at the store.”

“Really? I’m surprised. She’s never liked working there. You remember how she would rather haul in the coal and cook supper than be at the store.”

“I know, but now she has Samantha. She feels like she needs to work.”

“What she needs to do is get married again. You know Tori never wanted to be anything except a wife and mother. Unlike us.”

“I want to be a wife and a mother.” Kate set the last plate in the drainer and began washing the utensils. She hated washing the knives and forks. So many of them.

“But that’s not all. You’ve always wanted more. We both do.”

“More. More what?”

Evie pushed up from the chair. She wasn’t that big yet—only six months along—but she already acted as if she weighed a ton. What on earth would she do two months from now? Kate remembered Tori’s final month of carrying Samantha when just moving was difficult for her and they had to help her up off the couch. But Tori was so slim, the baby weight had been extra heavy on her.

That wouldn’t be true with Evie. Mama said she was carrying well. But everybody got big. That was part of it. Big and beautiful. Expectant mothers were always beautiful. Mike certainly thought so. He was more like the old Mike, the Mike before the war, as he tried to do everything and anything to please Evie. But nothing pleased Evie right now. Mama made excuses for her. She said being in the family way made people moody. Kate had to bite her tongue to keep from saying that Evie had always been moody.

Evie picked up a dish towel to dry the plates. “You don’t have to act like you don’t know what I mean, Kate. You liked working at the paper and seeing your pieces in print. Doing something yourself. Good gracious, you’ve been trying to fix the world for years.”

“Maybe.” Kate dumped a handful of spoons in the drainer.
On to the forks. “So I want to fix the world. What’s the more you want, Evie?”

“I like typing up letters. I know how to keep things organized in an office so work can get done.” She gave Kate a look as if daring her to doubt the importance of that. “And I’m good at it. Very good at it. Mr. Winters said he’d never had a secretary half as good as me.”

“That didn’t keep him from letting you go as soon as he found out you were expecting.”

“Policy. He couldn’t go against company policy.” Evie leaned against the cabinet and didn’t pick up another plate to dry. She stared out the window. “Do you think it would be awful if I went back to work after the baby comes?”

“What would you do with the baby?” Kate looked over at her in surprise.

“There are such things as babysitters. I met a woman at the grocery store who says she loves taking care of babies.”

“Oh.” Kate didn’t trust herself to say more. She couldn’t believe Evie was thinking about turning her baby over to some stranger in Louisville who wasn’t even family.