Love Blooms in Winter Page 18

  “Two eggs and turnip greens.”

  She took a deep breath. Pauline’s eccentric eating habits put a kink in the questioning. It was quite possible she’d eaten turnip greens and eggs for breakfast. “Oh, Pauline.”

  The old woman nodded. “Thought this might put a crook in your bustle.”

  Crook in her bustle? The news would blow her bustle sky-high if she’d been wearing one. How could she tell Tom about the mistake? How could she not? He’d invested nearly two weeks of his time in Dwadlo, North Dakota, and for what? He’d endured Dale’s difficult company for twelve long nights, fought off a pack of dogs daily, joined with people he didn’t know to lay temporary track…But if what Pauline said was true, why hadn’t he recognized her? Or, for that matter, the town?

  The elderly woman finished the pickle and licked her fingers. “It’s a real shame he ain’t kin. I like that feller. He growed up good. Must have come from fine stock—even if he does work for the railroad. I could overlook that.” She spotted the ring on Mae’s third finger. “Jake finally proposed?”

  Absently nodding, Mae still sat in stunned silence.

  “Well, I like him too. He’s about as exciting as watching grass grow, but he’s a good man.” She stood up. “Not as good as Tom, but then I guess that’s water over the dam.”

  The door closed a moment later, and Mae slumped to her side on the bench. Staring at the ceiling, she let the news penetrate. Tom Curtis had been right. Pauline wasn’t his kin. How was she supposed to tell him Pauline now knew the truth without looking like an utter fool? The telegraph machine came to life, and she slowly got up off the bench and walked over to it, deciphering the erratic clicks.

  RAIL TO ARRIVE THIS AFTERNOON STOP TRACK MUST NOW BE COMPLETED BY TUESDAY STOP CAN YOU SMELL TWO THOUSAND HERRING STOP

  Tuesday? Wednesday would have been hard short of a miracle, but Tom couldn’t possibly meet the new deadline. Drat that Joanne and her fancy wedding. Thunder rolled in the distance. Lord, please, not thunder snow again. Mae grabbed the telegram and then slipped on her heavy cloak. Tom needed more help than he had. Picking up the “Closed” sign again, she hung it on the door, locked up, and hurried down the steps. A stiff north wind caught her wrap, and she drew it closer around her. With each adventurous soul she passed, she paused to beg for their assistance in getting the track laid.

  Mr. Mango drew his ear horn into place. “Eh?”

  “Can you possibly help at the wreck site? Anything would be of benefit!” She yelled above the rising wind.

  “Eh?” He bent closer.

  “Go tell everyone who can spare a moment to come help!”

  “Milk?”

  “HELP! THE TRACK HAS TO BE FINISHED BY TUESDAY! JOANNE NEEDS HER HERRING!”

  “I KNOW MY HEARING’S NOT WORTH A HOOT!”

  “HERRING. FISH! FOR JOANNE’S WEDDING!”

  He looked at her as though she was the one with the hearing impairment. “Don’t know as I could fish in this weather, but I’ll wander down that way.”

  “GO TO THE WRECK SITE, MR. MANGO! AND PLEASE TAKE ANYONE YOU SEE WITH YOU. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

  Nodding, he braced his spindly frame against a heavy gust and set off. Mae continued, knocking on every door she came to and begging for help along the way. If the new track would be here by this afternoon, and enough women could help, they might make the Tuesday deadline. She owed Tom that much—at least that much.

  Arriving at the site, she took stock of the dogs tied everywhere she looked. Jeremy was huddled deep in his coat, the familiar rope strips tied around his waist. Dogs yapped and strained to the ends of their leashes when her small party arrived. Seven women had agreed to drop what they were doing and leave their older children to cook the evening meal and care for their younger siblings in order to work.

  Taking hold of one another’s hands, they formed a circle and Mae led them in prayer. “Gracious Father, permit our hands and bodies to do men’s work. Our flesh is willing to help, and we pray for Your blessing on the enormous task set before us.”

  The dark winter clouds held off, offering an occasional snowflake as a reminder that a blizzard could happen at any time. It was still winter in Dwadlo.

  Mae caught Tom’s eye as the recruited women approached him. He left the salvage area and walked over to her. She handed him the telegram, saying, “We’re here to help.”

  He scanned the message and his jaw firmed. “They have to be kidding! We haven’t even started laying track yet. Wednesday was going to be hard enough, but this will be close to impossible.”

  “I know, but Joanne’s herring is in danger of spoiling.”

  Wadding the paper in his hand, he grimaced. “I have a pack of edgy travelers needing rail service, but my job is to get the rail down so Joanne Small can have two thousand herring for her wedding reception?”

  The plan did sound impractical. Mae stepped closer in order to be heard above the whistling wind. “I thought you’d need extra help, so I brought a few friends with me.” She watched Tom’s gaze move to the small huddle of women, shivering in the blustery cold front.

  “That’s my new crew?”

  She nodded. “I can drive a spike. We all can.”

  His gaze shifted back to the pitiful sight of shivering women. “Really.”

  “Well, they say they can. Actually, we’ve never been called to do such a thing, but I’m sure we can help if you tell us what to do.”

  Tom pulled the collar of his coat up higher. “If the shipment is here late afternoon, I’d appreciate all the help I can get for the night, but in order for you ladies to survive the cold you need to have on warmer clothes. Some of your husband’s long-johns and trousers would work. Thick socks for your feet in sturdy boots. When it’s time, I’ll put you all to work.”

  “Thank you.” Mae flashed a smile and then sobered. She had to tell him about Pauline’s revelation. But timing was everything, wasn’t it? Any fool could see that he’d had all the bad news he needed today. She’d tell him later. The minute she returned to the site this evening she would take him aside and clear the air. She wouldn’t mislead him another day. He’d been kind beyond words, but his duty in Dwadlo was over, as far as Pauline was concerned.

  And her duty was clear. She and Jake would care for Pauline until the Lord took her home.

  Late that afternoon Mae opened the trunk where she stored Pa’s clothing and located the needed items. The engagement ring caught her eye and she took it off, placing it carefully in her top dresser drawer. Nailing spikes might further damage the heirloom, and she couldn’t risk that. She quickly changed her clothes and refastened her hair in a tight knot.

  As the last of the hairpins went in, she heard Jake’s buggy pull up and her breath caught. She’d forgotten she’d agreed to see him again tonight. She whirled in a circle. Jeremy was still out at the site working with Tom, carrying supplies to the men, so there was no pot of bubbling stew or chicken and dumplings on the stove. She hurried to answer Jake’s knock at the door. Her fiancé’s eyes coolly swept her masculine attire.

  “Mae?”

  “Oh, Jake.” She moved aside to allow him to step into the room’s warmth. “I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind that you were coming tonight.”

  Removing his hat, he dusted a light coating of snow off the brim. “You’re having more than your fair share of memory loss these days. I went by Dale’s first and you weren’t there, so I assumed you were here.”

  A blush crept up her neck as she fussed with the front of her father’s shirt. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rather hectic week.”

  “And that would explain your choice of dress?”

  “I was on my way to help at the work site. The track must be finished by Tuesday—”

  He squinted at her. “The work site?”

  “Where they’re laying track, Jake. Joanne Small’s herring can’t arrive until it’s repaired.”

  “Herring?”

  “Yes, herring for her wedding,
and time is of the essence—”

  “I don’t care about any debutante’s wedding.”

  No, all he cared about was that chicken and dumplings weren’t sitting on the table waiting for him. Couldn’t he see, as a concerned citizen, that he should pitch in and help? His workload couldn’t be that heavy. Removing his cashmere coat, he draped it over the back of the sofa, carefully smoothing the creases.

  “Then it’s fortunate I arrived when I did. Run along and change your clothing. Surely you can find something for us to eat.” He walked to his usual chair in front of the fireplace and sat down, crossing one well-creased pant leg over the other.

  Mae turned and went toward the bedroom, resentment churning in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to spend the evening eating and then watching Jake dose. She wanted to be in the middle of the action. Plus, it was the least she could do after asking the other women to drop their responsibilities to help with the work. And she had to tell Tom the truth about Pauline. Until the words were out of her mouth and off her conscience, she couldn’t rest.

  An ache started to wind tentacles around her heart. Tom would be gone as early as next Thursday. She wasn’t certain why that knowledge hurt so badly, but she was torn. Jake should be her concern, not Tom.

  Forgive me, Father. You’ve given me a wise and patient man. Help me to appreciate Jake’s good qualities more, because he has them. Anyone would testify that he is usually the first to help in times of trouble, so I can’t understand why he’s turned a blind eye to this dilemma.

  Actually she knew why. Tom threatened Jake’s security, and Jake didn’t like the feeling, but he had no valid concerns. Tom had been a perfect gentleman, but his personality differed vastly from Jake’s serious demeanor. Jake needed to bend, and Tom needed to settle down.

  She returned to Jake. “I think we should both go to the work site and help. I’ll pack some sandwiches, and there’s coffee there.”

  His humorless chuckle rankled her.

  “In this weather? You’re out of your mind.”

  “It’s cold, Jake, but we can dress warmly.”

  “No, thank you. Run along now, Mae. I’m hungry. A nice T-bone will do—with a few boiled potatoes.”

  Turning around, Mae started a second time toward the bedroom to change her clothing, anger working its way up her throat until she couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t fair. He could relent for once and drop his snobbish attitude. She would enjoy a nice thick steak and potatoes too, but she’d promised her friends and Tom that she would help. Closing the bedroom door with a snap, she yanked off the heavy coat and began to unbutton her shirt. But as fast as she undid the buttons, she refastened them.

  The other women would be waiting for her. Women whose husbands had worked tirelessly since the accident. They’d been living on cold sandwiches and pots of black coffee. How dare Jake make her cook while others served in a time of need!

  Her hands paused, and she focused on the window. If Jake was hungry, the fire in the stove was hot. He could cook his own steak.

  Putting the heavy coat back on, she picked up the lantern, tiptoed to the window, and slowly eased it open. Frigid air whipped the thin curtains against the sill.

  In a flash she’d gone through the opening, closed the window, and struck off for Pauline’s house. Surely she would have something to make sandwiches out of.

  The older woman barely cracked the door open when Mae knocked. “It’s me, Pauline.” Mae glanced across the way and saw that her house was still quiet. Jake wasn’t aware yet that she’d left. “Let me in.” The door opened wider and she slipped inside.

  “What’s going on?” Pauline asked as she shut the door.

  “I need to make a few sandwiches.”

  “I have egg salad.”

  Mae’s stomach churned. She’d eaten Pauline’s egg salad before, but it would have to do. “Fine. I need three sandwiches. Let’s make them large ones.”

  The women set to work. A few minutes later, Mae eased out the front door and set off for the work site carrying a picnic basket containing the sandwiches, two apples, and two pieces of raisin pie. Light snow sifted down in flakes so tiny she couldn’t decide if she was walking through snow or mist. Either way, the weather was cold and miserable.

  However, work continued full force when she arrived at the lantern-lit site. Men and women worked side by side. Husband and wife, brother and sister. The heartwarming picture affected Mae deeply, and she blinked back uncharacteristic tears. She was proud of her town, proud of Dwadlo’s close community ties. Through watery eyes she spotted Tom standing knee-deep in muddy snow, inspecting heavy creosote ties. His frosty breath created white vapors as he called out orders to the crew. The very way he took command—his self-assurance without an air of superiority, his gentle but firm way of dealing with people—did something to her heart.

  God, if You sent him here for a purpose, why now? What am I supposed to do? I love Jake…Her thoughts stalled. Did she? Did she really love Jake? If she wanted a good home for Jeremy and Pauline, then yes, she loved Jake enough to marry him, but if she wanted to wake up each morning to warm kisses and the giddy expectancy of a new day with a man who made her feel young and invincible, then marrying Jake would be merely settling.

  Marrying him would be forfeiting an exciting, loved-filled life for one that would be lived his way. Everything would be about Jake. Would that mean that Mae Wilkey would cease to exist? She’d be only the lawyer’s wife, never a woman with her own mind or thoughts again. It would be so much less than she wanted—or deserved.

  The answer was suddenly clear. She loved Jake, but not the way she should. The mutual affection they shared was good, and it might last a lifetime, yet did she want to settle for a lifelong friendship when it was deep love and affection she longed for?

  Would that be fair to Jake or herself?

  Twenty-Five

  Her unsettling thoughts lay heavy in Mae’s heart as she set the wicker basket on a makeshift table. She walked over to Fisk and asked, “Where do I start?”

  Minutes turned into hours. The sounds of steel hitting steel filled the snowy night air. Lil made a steady rotation with the coffee pot, serving up the black steaming liquid by the gallons. Mae watched her friend pause in front of Fisk.

  “I suppose you want another cup. It’s your fifth.”

  “Just fill the cup, Lil. I don’t need you keeping track of how much coffee I drink. It’s none of your doin’.”

  Mae laughed to herself when Lil silently mimicked his words. Fisk turned and stared at her. “You say something?”

  “No, sir. Just pouring your coffee.” Lil tipped the pot and filled the cup to the rim.

  He eyed the exaggerated level. “You did that on purpose. I can’t pick up the cup without spilling it.”

  “I did?” She tipped the pot and added a few more drops.

  When Fisk sprang to his feet, Mae intervened. “Children. Must I send you to your rooms?”

  “Be fine with me.” Lil glanced at Mae. “I’m freezing my socks off out here.” She moved on, politely filling all the workers’ cups to the proper level.

  Ever so slowly, the tracks began to take shape.

  Close to three in the morning, Mae took a break. Her back ached from bending, and she couldn’t feel her hands or feet anymore. She found the picnic basket and hunted Tom down. He needed to stop and eat.

  “There’s still a lot of track to finish before Tuesday.” Even so, he followed her to the locomotive.

  “Folks have to eat.”

  Tom had set the shifts to four-hour periods because of the extreme cold. Mae had taken a break earlier, but she knew he hadn’t. He’d been working almost twenty-four hours straight. The effort was going around the clock. While some men worked, others would sleep so the work never ceased.

  “I’m almost too cold to be hungry.” He found a place to sit and motioned for her to join him. She unwrapped a sandwich and handed it to him. He took a bite, pulled the sandwich back, s
tudied it, and then brought it again to his mouth.

  “What’s wrong? Isn’t it good?” She probably should have warned him Pauline made the sandwiches, especially as she tended to get her ingredients mixed up.

  “It’s okay.”

  Mae bit into her sandwich, pleasantly pleased with the taste. Pauline had done a good job this time. The eggs actually looked and tasted like something that came from a hen.

  “In fact, it’s good,” he amended, wolfing the first half down.

  Eating in companionable silence, Mae gave in to exhaustion. She wanted to tell him about Pauline’s shattering revelation, but words failed her. Lack of sleep and bone-numbing cold stole her courage. Her life had been so simple a week and a half ago. Impregnable. Contented. She studied Tom’s features from the corner of her eye. Why him? Why had he come along now? A couple of years ago she could have done something about her need for him. Why was the need suddenly eating her alive?

  “Mae?”

  Startled, she focused on her half-eaten meal. “Yes?”

  “I’ll be leaving Thursday.”

  Hammering noises faded into the icy distance and silence settled around her. There was a strange ringing in her ears, and her stomach suddenly felt sick. “I thought as much.” When he turned to focus on her, she intentionally avoided his eyes. She couldn’t cry in front of him, not when she had accepted another man’s ring. Her empty finger reminded her of the token of Jake’s love that she’d left in the dresser drawer.

  She couldn’t go back on her answer to Jake. Her father taught her that a person’s word was their honor, yet marrying one man and being in love with another hardly seemed honorable.

  Would she do God a disservice by carrying on the charade? Wasn’t it possible that once Tom left she’d settle down and realize that what she was starting to feel for him was purely fascination? New man in town. Single man from a big city. Warm, fun to be around. Sighing, she looked at his handsome face and admitted softly, “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  His response came back so quietly she barely heard the words that washed over her. Jake was the only man who’d ever courted her. She didn’t know this frenzied feeling that raced through her blood like lightning had even existed until now. And she had to ruin the moment. He needed to know he was right, that though her intentions were pure, she’d brought him here needlessly.