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Then she did touch its smooth metal and wood. “I can see you’re going to be an indulgent husband.”
“No,” he replied with something like a grin in his tone. “Arbitrary and overbearing to the end.”
His unexpected but almost teasing reply eased her tension. “No one has ever given me such a lovely gift.” Impulsively she whirled to him and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. Shocking herself.
He looked abashed. “I wanted to give you something special but useful.”
“I love it. So thoughtful.” She felt herself blushing.
He stepped away from her, acting uncomfortable. “I’m going to feed the fire, bank it down for the night.”
She watched him, not knowing what else to do.
Then he escorted her to the bedroom curtain. “Night... Judith,” he said formally.
“Good night, Asa,” she replied, her throat thick with gratitude for his understanding. It felt strange to call a stranger by his given name and to hear him address her in the same way.
She entered the room and sat down on the bed, suddenly spent. For a moment she just sat there, gazing around in the scant light, listening to Asa moving about the cabin, barring the door and then extinguishing the lamp. She heard the ladder rungs creak as he mounted them to sleep in the loft.
Finally she let out a sigh. Sights, sounds jumbled in her mind. She swept them away by rising and preparing herself for sleep. Light from the fire around the curtain provided just enough for her to do what she needed, and soon she snuggled into the chilly bed, shivering slightly.
Her deep fatigue and rampant confusion fought it out, but fatigue won and her eyes closed just as she finished her nightly prayer. It included concern for her sister, whose day had not gone as expected, either.
At the last moment, she recalled that upon meeting Asa, she’d thought she’d seen him somewhere before. But that was ridiculous, probably just nerves. She’d given her promises to Asa, and even if she wasn’t the pretty sister, the one men always paid attention to, she would do her best to be a good wife.
* * *
Asa soon wrapped himself in his quilts on the pallet he’d made up in the loft. The knowledge that someone else was sleeping here leaked through him, easing a tightness in his chest. A woman was here, and he wouldn’t face another long winter alone in his cabin.
Yet after the war, he’d come to the cabin wanting to be alone.
Army camps had been crowded, teeming with thousands of men. He’d never been able to get away, by himself. And when he’d returned home, people had sought him out and brought up the war every time they met him. He’d finally left home to come here to homestead, find peace. Put the past behind him...if he ever could. But he found that silence only caused him to remember sights he longed to forget.
He tried to relax and stretch out, forcing himself not to dwell on how pretty his bride was and how sweet. He began to tell himself that everything was going to turn out right. He had a place of his own and now a wife.
After they got used to each other, life would smooth out. His past, his secret guilt, would remain secret. She had not said a word about recognizing him. After all, she would have seen him only at a distance, and he’d been in uniform and bearded both times. He would be able to keep the past and the present separate.
He continued to reassure himself. He’d made a wise decision to go along with Mason Chandler and put that ad in the Dubuque paper. Everything was going to turn out fine. He’d survived a war. He could survive adjusting to marriage. Though the war had burned away all his tender feelings, he would be a good provider and try to think of his wife’s needs before his own. That’s the best he could do.
Chapter Two (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)
The next morning, Judith dressed and walked out through the curtain. She’d heard Asa, who had already built up the fire before he left, telling her he was going to milk the cows. She approached the area near the hearth that appeared to be the kitchen, preparing herself to make her first meal in her new home for her new husband.
She’d never cooked over an open fire before. Her home had always had a wood stove, but cooking was cooking, right? And she definitely didn’t want to make a mess of her first meal for Asa. On a wooden counter she found a bowl of brown eggs. Nearby in a barrel were a sack of flour and some other necessaries, and she began to mix up pancakes.
Outside she heard someone stomping his boots and then, with a gust of cold wind, Asa hurried inside. “Got a dusting of snow last night.” He hung his coat and muffler on pegs by the door.
“Well, that’s not surprising for March,” she replied, trying to sound natural, though her stomach was doing some kind of nervous jig.
“What’re you mixing up?”
“I thought pancakes for breakfast?”
He nodded. “Soon I’ll be tapping trees.” He set a jug of milk on the counter.
“Tapping trees?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“To make maple syrup.”
She sent him an approving glance. “You are an enterprising man, Asa Brant.”
He grunted in reply and walked over to warm his hands by the fire.
She was curious about this man. Now they could get to know each other better. “Did your father teach you how to tap trees?”
“Noah Whitmore taught me.”
“Noah?” She mixed in some of the milk he’d brought.
“Man who married us.”
“Oh.” The scene yesterday in the schoolhouse where they’d exchanged vows flooded her. She shook it off. “I’ve never cooked over an open fire before,” she admitted. “I take it I pour the batter into the skillet and then hold it over the fire?”
He moved to her side. “Right. Always warm the skillet over the fire first, melting the fat.” He opened a crock that obviously had fresh rendered tallow in it. “Here are a couple of trivets so you don’t have to hold the heavy pan and try to flip at the same time.” He pointed to the trivets stacked under the counter. Both wrought iron, one with shorter legs and one with longer.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll become accustomed.”
“Should have got you a wood stove. It might have been more practical than a sewing machine—”
Judith halted in midstep. “Asa, you chose the perfect wedding gift. I love to sew, and I’ve wanted a sewing machine...forever.” Their gazes locked. The air between them seemed to thicken, and she felt herself blush.
“Glad you like it,” he said finally.
“I do.” She looked down, and her stomach growled embarrassingly. “I better get these pancakes done.”
He stepped back.
She moved toward the fire and the trivet he’d positioned for her.
He suddenly gripped her arm. “Be mindful of your skirt near the fire. A woman was burned just this winter from not being careful.”
She halted with a gasp. “I’ll be careful.” She looked down to her skirt and where the fire was on the hearth. She set the cast iron skillet on the trivet, poured in batter and reached for the spatula. “I’ll be careful,” she repeated.
Asa grasped the coffeepot bubbling on a hook over the fire, moving to sit at the table. “Coffee?”
“Thank you, Asa.” She concentrated on the batter bubbling in the pan, then on flipping the first pancake and keeping her skirt back from the fire. Soon she carried a platter of pancakes to the table, where Asa had poured cups of coffee and set out a cruet of maple syrup and a jug of cream.
She bowed her head, waiting for Asa to offer grace. So far the morning was going well. Her husband was not talkative, but after all, they were strangers. And he had showed concern for her safety. That loosed the tightness within her.
* * *
She wanted him to pray? After a hesitation, Asa said simply the prayer his father had always prayed, “Thanks for the food and for the hands that prepared it. Amen.”
She looked up, shyly smiling.
Asa nodded and helped himself to the top two large golden pancakes. His mouth watered.
Judith waited for his first bite before she forked one onto her plate.
“Mmm-mmm.” He could not stop the sound of pleasure. “Made a nice big stack, too.”
“I guess I’m used to cooking for more than two,” she admitted. “My brother brought home a wife from Kentucky, but I still did the majority of the cooking.” She looked to him. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Some of each.” Asa took another bite and chewed. A personal question—just what he wanted to avoid.
Judith was staring at him. The silence between them grew.
He couldn’t think of a safe subject, nothing too personal, to talk about. He’d forgotten how to make conversation.
Finally she broke the silence. “What kind of man is Mason Chandler?”
“Honest. Hardworking. I’m taking care of his cow and we hope a new calf soon,” he continued in between bites, “till he gets back.”
Another silence hung over them. He would have been happy just to eat with someone else at the table. But he could tell she wanted to find out more about him. How could he steer the conversation away from personal questions? He combed his mind for a topic.
“We have a cow, and I think I heard chickens outside?” she asked finally.
“Two cows of our own and about a dozen chickens.” He took another bite of pancake dripping with butter and syrup. They were so tasty and light, he felt like...doing something to thank this woman. She was watching him, so he continued the conversation as best he could. “I plan on buying a couple of shoats this spring to fatten through the summer. Make pork sausage this fall and cure some bacon.”
She nodded and continued eating. In between bites—and to his relief—she chattered about her home farm and family.
He got the distinct feeling that she didn’t like her sister-in-law. Soon breakfast ended and he rose from the table. And before he knew it, he said, “Fine meal, ma’am.” These were the words his father had said at the end of each meal. Asa hadn’t seen his family since he moved here and barely wrote. Having this woman here was stirring him up, making him remember what family was.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “What are you up to today?”
“Have some work in the barn, and I’ll bring more wood in, too.” He motioned toward the nearly empty wood box near the door.
“I’ll wash up,” she said, “and then I need to get more acquainted with my kitchen.”
“Make a list of supplies, whatever you need.” And then, pulling on his jacket, he shut the door behind himself.
* * *
Taken aback by his abrupt departure, Judith stood and carried the dishes to the counter, where a dishpan sat. Well, dirty dishes constituted a common and inevitable part of her life. She wondered for a moment if Mabel Joy, her brother’s Kentucky wife, was enjoying being on her own without help from Emma and her. Mabel Joy had wanted them gone, and they were.
Her husband’s use of the married title, ma’am, had startled her. She’d been a miss for so long, thought she’d always be. Mabel Joy had taunted her, telling her it was too bad she was plain and no man would ever marry her. Well, someone had married her. I am married.
Judith tried not to let the newness, the strangeness of this cabin, of having a husband she never expected to have, unsettle her. “I’ll become accustomed soon and then this will feel like home.” Tears rushed into her eyes. Was this mere homesickness? Or regret? Or fear? But of what? Everything had gone well.
Except that Asa’s reply to her one personal question had gone unanswered. Why hadn’t he just told her how many brothers and sisters he had? It had been a commonplace question. Had he been teasing her? He hadn’t sounded so. A feeling of unease flickered inside her. She shook herself and began cleaning up breakfast. The large midday meal would come soon enough. I’m being foolish to fret. My husband is just not a talker by nature, that’s all. He will come to know me and then he will speak more.
* * *
On the wagon bench two mornings after their wedding day, Asa and Judith set out for town to do a few errands. Normally they would have walked into town, but he needed the blacksmith to check one horse’s shoe, and the metal rim of one of his wagon wheels needed fixing. And he didn’t know how much Judith would be buying at the store.
He felt his wife warm at his side. I’m not alone anymore. A blessing. And a worry. So far he thought he’d done a pretty good job of keeping up the pretense of a good husband. After all, she couldn’t see inside him, inside where he was a hollowed-out shell. He’d drawn on memories of how his mother and father had behaved together. If he could just keep that up, all would be well. Under a clear blue sky, he drew in a deep draft of the sharp early March air.
Though the sun shone bright and warmed his face, the horses’ hooves still threw up snow on their way into town. He and Judith had navigated through two days of marriage. He’d successfully avoided any and all personal questions. She’d asked him what his hometown was; he mentioned visiting Chicago. She’d asked if he’d served in the Union Army and he’d nodded and then asked about her family. He thought he’d done pretty well under the circumstances. He understood his wife’s wanting to ask him things. Women did that.
But soon she’d be more used to him and then there would be no more personal questions. And also no more temptation for him to answer them. Somehow his new wife caused him to want to open up, tell her about himself. But if he started, couldn’t that go too far? Reveal everything? He mentally shook himself. Enough thinking.
“Wish the thaw would begin in earnest,” he said to break the silence. “These bright sunny days make me want to get out and begin tilling my fields. Yet it’s way too early.”
She turned to him and looked pleased that he’d spoken. “Yes, I understand. It would be good to open the cabin and let the fresh air inside.”
And he thought that their relative idleness might be another reason for her asking questions. Once they were busy with the productive part of the year, farming, gardening and such, they’d settle into an easy pattern of being busy, too busy for personal questions and they’d just make do with idle conversation. He wanted to hear her fill up the silence but not ask him to join in. Even he noted the inconsistency in this. But it was the truth.
“And I’m looking forward to seeing my sister, Emma.”
To this, he nodded. He’d almost forgotten her sister would be there.
As soon as they reached town, Asa pulled up in front of Ashford’s. He guided Judith inside and breathed in the scents of the tidy general store—primarily dried apples and cinnamon. He felt relieved. He could leave her here for a while and not have to watch every word he said or she said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brant! I saw you from my window.” Mrs. Ashford hurried into the store from the rear. “How are the newlyweds?”
Asa nodded politely. “Doing fine, ma’am.” He touched Judith’s elbow and then turned and left. Saved by the storekeeper’s wife. She’d talk Judith’s ear off, and perhaps that would satisfy his wife’s desire for ready conversation.
* * *
Bolstered by his touch and being greeted as a wife, not a pitied spinster, Judith smiled at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m here to buy some spices. I guess bachelors use only salt and pepper.”
“You give Ned your list, then come on up,” the woman instructed. “Your sister and I are just finishing up a few chores and have time for a chat.”
Judith watched the woman head up the back stairs. She went to the counter and handed the storekeeper her list. After discussing the items as to quantities and specifics, she followed Mrs. Ashford.
How was spontaneous and lively Emma faring living with these strangers, and was she upset her intended had not been here to meet her? Judith also craved a private chat with Emma about her puzzlement over Asa. She hoped that Mrs. Ashford would grant her and Emma a few moments alone to talk.
Judith found that a vain hope.
Mrs. Ashford poured them all fresh, steaming coffee and then sat at the head of the dining table. Judith had been given the seat with the view out the windows toward the river. She watched a steamboat heading toward the Pepin pier. “I love your view.”
“Yes, I told Mr. Ashford to build on this side of Main Street. I wanted a good view. The forest can be so forbidding. Plus if the river ever floods, we’ll be on higher ground. The shops across the street are much too close to the river.”
Judith glimpsed the blacksmith’s sign across and to her right. That’s where Asa was. Her heart tightened. Something was trapped within Asa and she didn’t know what. He was like a parcel glued and tied shut. Was this just due to their being strangers to one another? Yes, that must be it, she hoped.
“Now, how is it going with you and Mr. Brant?” the storekeeper’s wife asked the very question Judith could not quite figure out herself.
And what did the woman expect her to say? “He won’t talk to me and I can’t figure out why”? “We’re doing fine. Just getting to know each other. Asa is so considerate.” But secretive. Or maybe not. Maybe men just didn’t talk much about themselves. But why can’t he even tell me how many brothers and sisters he has or the name of his hometown? Judith pushed this out of her mind and hoped her expression revealed nothing.
