Twelve

The next few weeks passed in a flurry of activity. With Beth’s help most of Mara’s meals were edible. She even turned out a tasty apple pie. Not as good as Sadie’s, but she felt immense satisfaction over it regardless.

With Clay she found herself being rocked back and forth between frustration and admiration. One moment he was harassing her, and the next she would remember the gentle side he showed at the barn raising. She didn’t know whether to hug him or slug him with a pot.

One night, after she had washed the dishes, she was walking through the kitchen door when Clay stepped through from the other side. The door nearly slammed into him.

“Whoa there, Fancy Pants! What’s your hurry?”

“Stop calling me that!” she said, wishing the door had slammed into him.

“But it’s fun.”

“It’s improper.”

“Supper tasted good tonight.”

She blinked at the change in topic then sniffed. So he had noticed her cooking had improved. “It was all right.”

“I’m starting to miss that slimy green stuff. What was it—okra?”

She glared. “Green beans.”

“And that freshly charcoaled taste on the dinner rolls—I’m starting to miss that too.”

She huffed. “Keep it up, and that’s exactly what you’ll have tomorrow.”

He laughed, but she sensed it was with her, not at her. As if he found her endearing. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the laugh lines around his mouth formed deep grooves when he smiled.

He stopped laughing, and Mara realized she was staring. She commanded herself to look away, but his eyes held her captive. It dawned on her then. He liked her. She could see it in his eyes. Sure, he was attracted to her looks. But it was more than that. He seemed to like her for who she was.

“I like your hair that way,” he said softly.

Self-conscious, she drew her hand through the strands. She must look awful after sweltering in the kitchen all afternoon. But his eyes said differently. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a tiny bird’s wings. Something stirred within her, something she had never felt before.

When he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, she felt the sensation down to her toes. He was going to kiss her, and every nerve in her body begged for it.

Please, please don’t let Beth barge in this time. She stopped breathing, though her heart was booming like a drum. His gaze fell to her lips. She could almost feel the kiss already, the gentle feather-whisper of his lips on hers.

He blinked and straightened. Clearing his throat, he muttered something about a chore and disappeared out the door.

Disappointment spread through Mara like a disease. Oh, how she had wanted that kiss! She’d never wanted anything that badly, and the letdown was overwhelming. Why did he leave? She was so sure he was starting to care for her, but he’d turned away as if she meant nothing.

Suddenly, she remembered when other suitors had tried to kiss her. She remembered the times she turned away coyly, stringing them along like a marionette. Had Daniel felt this same keen disappointment when she turned away? Did he go home feeling rejected and miserable?

She saw clearly the way she had acted and hated it. Hated the way her eyes were open now to her behavior. It was a wonder anyone had wanted to kiss her at all.

But Clay had wanted to; she hadn’t mistaken that. He changed his mind for some reason, but he’d wanted to kiss her all the same.

It would only be a few weeks before his aunt returned. The thought saddened her. She would miss seeing Clay every day, and she would miss Beth.

Mara sighed and began collecting dishes from the table. She would make the best of the time she had left here. Perhaps by the time his aunt returned, he would begin calling on her at her house.

❧

He couldn’t continue seeing her like this. Clay ran a curry comb through his favorite mare’s hair. Not that she needed it. But he’d had to get out of that house quick. If he’d watched her tuck that golden hair behind her ears one more time, he was going to grab her and kiss her. He nearly had tonight. Only one thought had kept him from it.

I need Your help, God. I know she’s not one of Yours, but—

No. There were no “buts.” She was off-limits to him. If only he could forget the vulnerable side he saw in her at the barn raising. If only he could think of her as he had when he first met her.

But he knew his first impressions were wrong. She may be like Victoria on the surface, but he could see a side of her now that Victoria didn’t have. Mara had pluck. She was a persistent worker, and beneath that beautiful veneer lay a deeply vulnerable woman.

It was as if she knew all about her outward charms but knew nothing of her inward beauty. He wondered if any of her former beaus had ever seen past the beautiful façade. Had they glimpsed the inward beauty, or had they fallen for her based on her looks alone? He couldn’t pass judgment on them. Hadn’t he done the same with Victoria?

If he could make it through the next few weeks, he would be all right. Once he didn’t have to see her every day, surely these feelings would go away. And maybe Mara would eventually become a believer. With all the changes in her lately, he wouldn’t be surprised. God, please use these circumstances to open her eyes to Your love. Help her to see herself as You see her, not as others see her.

❧

“Fiddlesticks!” Mara said as the berry juice splattered onto her yellow gown. The stain seeped into the fabric, and Mara knew it would never come out. Why hadn’t she put on an apron?

Beth grabbed a towel and dabbed at the spot.

“Another dress ruined.” The week was not going well. Clay had been distant, not even baiting her as he usually did. She had cut her blue gown with the pinking shears, and it was beyond repair.

“By the time I finish my work here, I’ll have nothing decent left to wear.”

Beth gave up on the stain. “It won’t come out.”

“That’s all right. I didn’t think it would.”

At some point she would have to go to the mercantile and select one of those frumpy-looking calicoes. To hear her father talking, though, they didn’t even have money for that now.

“I don’t know what I’ll wear to the harvest social,” she muttered to herself. She had worn all her nice dresses dozens of times, and besides they were too fancy for a harvest social. Her serviceable ones were the ones she had been working in, and most of them were stained or ruined.

“Why don’t you make one?”

Mara laughed grimly. “I haven’t the faintest notion how to make a dress.”

“I do. I can help you.”

Mara stopped stirring the preserves. “You can?”

“Sure. My ma taught me how.”

Mara smiled her first real smile of the day. She could already do laundry, clean, and sometimes cook a half-decent meal. Now she would learn how to make her own gowns. And she had no doubt she could come up with prettier ones than the mercantile carried.

❧

Later that day, Sara McClain and Ingrid Manning stopped by, bringing a teacake with them. Mara served tea to the women while Beth went to play in the creek. Ingrid was far along in her pregnancy, and Mara could hardly help staring at the big round stomach protruding from the small woman. If she were ever that big with child, she would lock herself in her room for the duration!

An awkward silence filled the room after the cakes had been served. Why were they here? She hardly knew Ingrid, and Sara had no reason to be friendly with Mara. But, she admitted, that hadn’t stopped her before.

Sara asked Ingrid about baby names, and Mara was grateful for the end to the uncomfortable silence.

“We’re thinking Adam or perhaps Jonah. Which do you like, Mara?”

Mara was surprised Ingrid was even interested in her opinion. “Either one is very nice. What girl names have you selected?”

Ingrid laughed. “Cade is so certain it’s a boy—he won’t even talk about girl names.”

“Isn’t that just like a man? Nathan was so sure Caroline was a boy that he had me convinced too.”

They went on to talk about the community and church, and before Mara knew it, they were asking her to come the following Sunday for Friend Day.

“Well, I—I don’t know.”

“Please? You can sit by me,” Sara said.

“Or with me and Cade.”

Mara remembered the last time she’d sat with Sara and her toddler and was glad for Ingrid’s offer.

“We’re having a picnic after church,” Sara said.

Beth had been asking her to go as well. Maybe she could use a little help from above as she sorted out her problems.

“All right, I’ll go,” she found herself saying.

Ingrid and Sara smiled at one another. “Great. I’m so glad,” Sara said.

After the women left, Mara and Beth weeded the garden. She didn’t enjoy crawling through the dirt, but her dress was already ruined. What was a little dirt?