To Have and To Hold (17 page)

“How do you know so much about him?” Mary asked, surprised.

Mrs. Jones grinned and waved her hand around the room. “People talk and I listen. We don’t

get many visitors through here, so when someone new shows up in town, we notice. Besides,

you used to live here. We like knowing that things turned out so wel for you. You just never

know what you’l get when you answer one of those ads asking for a wife.”

“Wel , Dave’s a good one,” Grace said. “If I had to pick a husband for Mary, I’d pick him.”

Mrs. Jones’ smile widened. “Is he that wonderful?”

“Yes. You ought to see the way he looks at her. It’s as if no other woman exists.”

Mary tried to participate in the conversation, especial y since they were talking about Dave, but

something kept tickling the back of her mind and even as she tried to ignore it, the sensation

wouldn’t stop. Her gaze was drawn to two men reading their papers and laughing over

something they read. They didn’t seem familiar, but the way they chuckled was. A memory

was returning to her, and as much as she wanted to pul it out from its hiding place, she had a

feeling of dread about it. Did she real y want to find out what it was? Was it worth it?

She forced her attention back to Mrs. Jones and Grace who were laughing and smiling.

Though their mouths moved, Mary couldn’t hear what they were saying. Instead, she caught a

snippet of words spoken in her past. Glancing at the two men who continued to discuss what

was in the paper, she became aware of a visual image that emerged from the memory clawing

at her mind to get noticed.

She was working here at the time. She was nineteen, and Grace had just moved to New

Jersey. Mrs. Jones tried to console her, but she didn’t feel better. She felt as if her world was

coming to an end. Without Grace, she felt lost. No one else understood her like Grace did.

There was no reason to stay in Maine.

Someone tapped her on the arm, jolting her mind back to the present. She snapped her head

in Mrs. Jones’ direction.

“What?” she asked.

Mrs. Jones patted her arm. “I was asking what you’d like to eat.”

“Oh.” Dragging her attention from the two men, she picked up the menu. “I don’t want to spoil

my appetite for lunch, so I think I’l have a muffin and some coffee.”

She nodded and squeezed her arm. “I’l be right back.”

Mary set the menu aside and rubbed her forehead.

“Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s hard to explain, but this place brings back a part of my past and I

can’t see it clearly. I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

“Give it time, Mary.”

“But this memory wants me to remember it. I can feel it trying to break through.” After a

moment, she added, “It has to do with the day you left for New Jersey.”

“That was a hard day,” she whispered.

“Yes. I can feel that it was.”

“What do you remember about that day?”

Mary focused on the memory that wanted to come to the surface. “There are mostly images,

smel s, feelings. I remember cooking in the kitchen.” She motioned to the closed door that

separated the dining area from the kitchen of the restaurant. “I was cooking steaks and

potatoes. I believe there were a couple of apple pies cooling in there.”

Grace’s lips turned up into a smile. “You were famous for your apple pies.”

“Dave’s family likes them as wel .”

“I don’t doubt that. So, is there anything else you remember from that day?”

“Sorrow. I didn’t know what was worth staying in this town for without you in it.” How sad it

was that out of her family of six brothers and five sisters, only one of them meant enough to

stay here for. She didn’t even feel a desire to stay for her parents.

“When you told me you decided to become a mail-order bride, you said you had no reason to

stay here. You said that you heard some men talking over ads they saw in a paper, and when

they left the restaurant, you decided to read the paper they left behind.”

“Yes, I did.”

Now it was coming into clearer focus. She’d spent the morning trying not to cry as she cooked

at this restaurant. Mrs. Jones tried to console her, but nothing anyone said could ease the

heartache she experienced. Even cooking, something she often found comfort in, didn’t ease

the pain. But she had pressed on, determined to push through her heartache and find some

thing worth living for.

She recal ed the sizzling steaks on the cook stove, taking slices of apple pie out to hungry

patrons, clearing tables. The lunch hour had been as busy as usual, but even with the

distractions, she couldn’t forget how hard it’d been to say good-bye to Grace at the train

station. Then the lunch hour passed and she was washing the dishes…

As she finished putting the clean dishes in their proper location, Mrs. Jones came into the

kitchen, a smile on her round face. “Sometimes I don’t know what is filthier. Food that sticks to

a pan or the mess some of those men leave out there for us to clean up.” She chuckled and

shook her head. “But it’s a living, so I won’t complain. My husband started this place, and I like

to keep it going. I feel close to him when I’m here.”

Mary forced a smile at the woman’s joke.

A sympathetic expression on her face, Mrs. Jones softly said, “I’m sorry about your sister.”

She gulped back another wave of tears at the reminder. Keeping her focus on the task before

her, she managed to reply, “I don’t know what I’l do without Grace.”

“I suppose when a woman is married, she’s got to go wherever her husband’s job is. That’s

why I came here, and once Oliver died, I didn’t have the heart to leave.”

Her lips gave a slight tremble as they turned upward. “I’l be fine. Besides, moving to New

Jersey wil be an adventure for them. It’s good that Calvin found something that pays wel .”

“Most jobs pay better in the bigger cities.”

Mrs. Jones turned to the coffee pot on the stove. “Good. It’s ready. Wil you give the two

men at table ten a cup of coffee? I need to check on something. I wil be back in fifteen

minutes.”

She nodded and fil ed the cups. Gingerly holding the hot cups, she passed through the kitchen

door to the almost vacant dining area.

The neatly dressed middle-aged men, who sat at a smal table in front of a window overlooking

the town, seemed amused about something they were reading in the paper.

She wondered what made them laugh but refrained from asking. Setting the cups in front of

them, she smiled a polite greeting. Since they didn’t seem to notice her, she turned to

straighten some chairs around the tables.

“How desperate would a woman have to be to answer one of these things?” The brunette

picked up his coffee and drank it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the blond pointed to a page in the paper. “Look

at this. ‘Thirty-eight-year-old widower in need of a wife to be a mother to five children. Only

thin women should apply because I can’t afford to buy new clothes.’ How tacky is it to dress

your new wife up in your dead wife’s clothes?”

He shrugged as he added a spoonful of sugar to his cup and swirled the spoon in it. “I suppose

he wants to be frugal. Men out in Washington Territory probably don’t have the kind of money

we do.”

“It’s not like we’re exactly rich, but come on! What woman would answer this?” He took

another look at the paper. “What woman in her right mind would answer any of these?”

“One who’s desperate to get married and can’t find a man any other way. She’d have to be

downright ugly, dul , or stupid.” Then he shot a look at Mary who turned her attention back to

arranging the menus on the tables. Clearing his throat, he gulped down his coffee and stood

up.

His friend finished his cup, folded the paper, and placed it in front of him on the table. “Wel , we

better get back to work.” He tossed a couple of coins on the table and stood up.

“Have a nice day, ma’am.” The brunette nodded her way before they left.

Sighing, she went to retrieve their empty cups. She understood they left the paper on the table,

conveniently turned to the various ads asking for mail-order brides, on purpose, and she

supposed she should have been offended. But she wasn’t.

Grace’s presence had been the one reason she lingered in Maine as long as she did. She

heard of men out west seeking wives and had been tempted to marry one, but she couldn’t

bear to be apart from her sister. It seemed that fate dictated the separation anyway, leaving

her free to pursue her own dreams for the first time in her life.

She didn’t want to work at the restaurant forever. She took the job to show her parents that

she could be useful, that she could offer something valuable to others, even if she couldn’t get a

man’s attention. They didn’t say either way if they liked the fact that she could make the best

food in town. It was hard to know what they thought of her.

Though she wasn’t an old maid at nineteen, she felt the hand of time ticking against her. She

wanted what Grace and her other sisters had: a husband and children. She wanted someone

to share her life with, someone who would be closer to her than her family was. Didn’t these

men asking for wives want the same thing?

Giving a subconscious glance over her shoulder to ensure that she was stil alone in the place,

she seized the paper from the table and scurried back to the kitchen before anyone could see

her with it.

The memory faded, and she found herself back in the restaurant, sitting across from Grace

who was staring expectantly at her.

“What is it, Mary?” Grace asked. “What else do you remember?”

Mary sighed. Now she understood why she didn’t like looking in mirrors, and she knew why

she’d been unhappy in Maine. Deciding not to tel Grace this, she opted for saying, “I

remembered why I went to Nebraska as a mail-order bride.”

She nodded. “It took a lot of courage to do that. I don’t know if I would have had the nerve.

There are so many unknowns about going somewhere you’ve never been to and marrying

someone you’ve never met. I admire you for being so brave.”

“I’m not sure courage had anything to do with it.” It seemed to her that she had no choice, not if

she wanted to have a family of her own. She’d had no prospects here. If she had stayed,

she’d stil be living with her parents, cooking in this restaurant, and probably regretting not

taking the chance to go west when she had it.

“I couldn’t have done it,” Grace said.

Mrs. Jones came out with a muffin and two cups of coffee. “I’m sorry I took so long. And don’t

worry about paying. This is on me.”

“Thank you,” Mary replied.

“You should bring that husband of yours on by so I can meet him.”

“I’l do that.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” Grace said, motioning to the window. She waved to Dave as he passed

by. As he headed to the entrance, she told Mrs. Jones, “He’s been so good to Mary.”

Mary nodded. Dave was good to her, and now understanding what led her to become a mail-

order bride, she appreciated him al the more.

Mrs. Jones turned her attention to Dave as he walked into the restaurant and headed over to

them. Mary wasn’t sure if he was stil upset with her, so she studied his face for an indication

of how he felt and was relieved when he smiled at her. Good. He wasn’t stil mad at her. She

didn’t know if he’d insist she tel him what happened with her mother. Hopeful y, he’d let the

matter drop. She didn’t want to think of it anymore. She just wanted to pretend it never

happened and move on with her life. She hoped he could understand that.

Grace made the introductions as he sat next to Mary, and afterwards, Mrs. Jones asked,

“Would you like something to eat? I told Mary not to worry about the bil , and I extend the

same invitation to you.”

“That’s nice of you, ma’am,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind some eggs and bacon.”

“I’l be right back,” she promised before she went to check on the other customers then headed

for the kitchen.

“She’s going to want to know al about you,” Grace warned Dave with a twinkle in her eye.

“The whole town’s been talking about the man Mary married.”

The two men who’d been reading the paper stood up from their table and set some coins on

the table. When their gazes went from her to Dave, she imagined they were wondering what a

good looking man like Dave was doing with someone plain like her. She shook the thought

away. Of course, they weren’t thinking that. Maybe the men in the past would have, but these

weren’t the same men and they’d offered a smile at her and Dave as they’d passed by, not a

critical smirk.

Mrs. Jones returned with Dave’s food and sat down to join them for a brief chat. Forcing her

mind off how things real y were versus how she imagined them to be, Mary picked up her

muffin and ate it.