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“I’ve always liked peppermint sticks,” Jonathan announced before biting off a chunk of his and sucking on it a moment. “What’s your favorite candy, Mrs. Woodhouse?”
Maisie’s mother looked at him as if he were an outlaw asking her to hand over her jewelry. “I’ve not had candy in a long time. Too expensive.”
He noticed she spoke with an effort, and appeared to have trouble breathing. “Are you quite all right?” He wasn’t about to ask her if she wanted to go back to the boarding house, not yet. She needed to know she was safe – and that the boarding house was no fortress.
She nodded jerkily.
“Here, Mama – try a licorice whip,” Maisie offered.
Jonathan smiled at the flicker of delight in Mrs. Woodhouse’s eyes. “Is licorice one of your favorites?”
“Yes, long ago.”
He exchanged a quick glance with Maisie, who could only shrug. “Why long ago?”
She took the candy from her daughter. “Samuel and I ... we used to walk to the corner sweetshop when we were younger. Back when we were courting ...” There was a hint of a smile on her face.
“My father was quite the romantic,” Maisie added. “He and Mama used to walk all the time together and talk and talk and talk – isn’t that right, Mama?”
Mrs. Woodhouse nodded, nibbled at the candy in her hand, and pleasure washed over her face. “Lovely.”
“Come look at the dresses, Mama. Licorice isn’t the only thing that’s lovely in here.”
Jonathan smiled again as Mrs. Woodhouse followed her daughter to a rack of ready-made clothes. From the looks of it, she was starting to relax – she’d been terribly nervous, or terrified, earlier. Now she just seemed a little stiff. Maisie was beginning to relax too.
Abigail suddenly appeared in the storefront. “My heavens, how long have you all been here? I didn’t even hear the bell ring.”
“No matter – Jasper helped us,” Jonathan told her. “Then he disappeared down the hall. I figured he was talking to you.”
“No, he went straight out back to unload the wagon.”
“Does he need any help?” Jonathan offered. He glanced at Maisie, who smiled and nodded that it was okay for him to leave them for a while.
“He won’t turn it down,” Abigail said. She noticed that Maisie’s mother was with her and grinned. “Mrs. Woodhouse – how nice to see you! Maisie is showing you the new dresses, I see.”
Mrs. Woodhouse looked at her with a weak smile. “Yes, they’re lovely. But we could never afford one.”
Abigail cast a quick glance at Jonathan, then looked away. “Well now, it doesn’t cost a cent to look, and they’re so much fun to try on. See a particular one you like?”
“Oh, but I couldn’t ...”
Jonathan watched Abigail assure the woman it was perfectly all right. He imagined womenfolk did like to see what they looked like in a pretty frock, though what was the point when you couldn’t buy it? “I’ll mosey to the back and help Jasper,” he told Maisie. “Fetch me if you need me.”
“Fine – we’ll be right here.”
He strolled down the hall and out the back door, where Jasper was unloading crates. “Can I lend a hand?”
“Sure,” he said. “But should you leave Maisie alone with her mother?”
“Abigail and Mrs. Whitehall are with them. I don’t think Mrs. Woodhouse is going to bolt and run,” Jonathan grabbed a crate, hefted it out of the wagon and added it to the stack Jasper was making.
“It’s great to see her out. Did you have to drag her?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘drag’. Maisie was just firm about the fine weather.”
Jasper set a crate down and stared at him. “About what?”
“The weather.” Jonathan waved at the sky. “You know – ‘it’s a beautiful day, be a shame to waste it.’ The only way to prove it was for Mrs. Woodhouse to come outside. And Maisie just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Land sakes, it’s about time someone didn’t. But I’m glad it was Maisie. We’ve mentioned to her before we thought Sarah got away with too much. We watched that poor woman slip away for months.”
“Why didn’t you convince Maisie of what needed to be done?” Jonathan asked as he hauled another crate from the wagon.
“Partly because it’s none of our business. And both of them were so fragile after Mr. Woodhouse passed. Maisie pulled out of it, but Sarah didn’t.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” a voice interrupted from the other side of the wagon. Both men turned to find Rev. Howard Latsch making his way around the vehicle. “Fine day, isn’t it?” He did a double take when he saw Jonathan. “Excuse me, but you look familiar.”
Jonathan laughed. “I knew I should’ve stopped by to visit you earlier, Reverend. I’m Jonathan Bridger. Last time you saw me I was just a youngun, helping with the town’s first Christmas festival.”
“Oh yes, I do remember you!” He suddenly froze, his eyes darting around as if checking for poisonous spiders. “Er ... is the rest of your family here?”
Jonathan cleared his throat. This seemed to be the normal reaction for most Cutter’s Creek residents when first encountering him. “No, I’m on my own now.”
Rev. Latsch visibly relaxed. “Oh, are you now? That’s fine. You must come have supper with Mary and I some evening. You remember Jack and Willow Carlson, don’t you?”
“Yes, I remember them.”
“Jack’s preaching this Sunday. You ought to come hear him.” He raised one eyebrow at him. “How long have you been in town? I haven’t seen you at Sunday services yet.”
Jonathan smiled ruefully. “Only a couple of weeks, but I’m long overdue to come to church – and I’d love to hear Mr. Carlson preach.”
“Splendid!” He turned to Jasper. “How’s Miss Woodhouse?”
“She’s in the mercantile with Abigail.” Jasper grinned. “And her mother’s with them.”
“Mrs. Woodhouse?” Rev. Latsch said in surprise. “Then if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must go say hello.”
Jonathan watched him go in the back door rather than walk around the building and use the front. “That’s one thing I like about Cutter’s Creek – everyone is so at home.”
Jasper laughed. “None more so than Rev. Latsch. But I’m glad he’s going in to check on Maisie and her mother. Mrs. Woodhouse refused to see him anymore – he and Mary tried, but the only person she’d let near her was Maisie.” He removed another crate and added it to the pile. “It’s a miracle she’s out of the house.”
“Well, miracles do happen,” Jonathan said. “And a lot of prayer doesn’t hurt either.”
“It certainly doesn’t. Let’s get the rest of these out of this wagon and join the others. I feel like we’re missing out on watching the Almighty work.”
Jonathan smiled but said nothing. If Mrs. Woodhouse got better, could he court Maisie? She was a sweet, kind and lovely girl, even when she was worn to a frazzle. If this was her worst, then her best had to be wonderful. And she seemed as attracted to him as he was to her. He just hoped and prayed that Mrs. Woodhouse would let the good Lord work so he could find out.
* * *
“OH, MAMA, THAT LOOKS beautiful on you!” Maisie gushed as her mother stared at the full-length mirror. Abigail had taken several dresses off the rack and brought them into her and Jasper’s quarters in the back of the building. They were in the sitting room off the bedroom, happily helping each other try on different frocks.
Sarah Woodhouse smoothed the skirt of the green velvet day dress. “I’ve never seen anything so fine.”
“It looks lovely on you, Mrs. Woodhouse,” Abigail said.
“It certainly does,” agreed Maisie. She held up a dress in front of herself. “What do you think of this, Mama?”
Mrs. Woodhouse turned to her daughter and smiled. The first smile Maisie had seen from her in a long time that was genuine and not the result of the woman’s mind latching onto the past. Then she held up a purple and white ball gown.
“Oh my,” her mother said. “Will you look at that?”
“I’d so much like to try it on, but ...”
“But what?” Abigail said. “We’re playing dress-up, remember?”
“Dress-up?” Maisie’s mother said, then laughed – a genuine, honest-to-God laugh!
Maisie felt tears sting the back of her eyes. “That’s right, dress-up.” It was more fun to think about playing rather than ‘trying something on that you couldn’t afford.’
Now her mother giggled! “Yes, indeed.” She looked at the dress in Maisie’s arms. “Go ahead, try it on. I’m sure it will look beautiful on you.”
Maisie smiled and fought the urge to wipe her eyes. “Thank you, Mama, I will.” She went behind the changing screen and began to undress. This was the first time she’d seen her mother act like her old self in over a year. It was a good sign – maybe she could get her mother out of the boarding house a little every day from now on.
After several minutes of struggle, she stepped out from behind the screen. “Oh, darling!” her mother said, clapping her hands. “That’s beautiful!”
Maisie twirled in a circle. “Do you really think so, Mama?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, I do,” Abigail said. “Heavens, Maisie, you look divine in that.”
Mrs. Woodhouse made a choking sound, and Maisie rushed to her side. “Mama, what is it?”
Her mother shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry ...”
“For what?”
“F-f-for not being able to provide for you. For wasting our time. I’ve been so ... so ...”
Maisie pulled her mother into her arms. “Don’t cry, Mama. We’ve both suffered since Papa died.”
Her mother gently pushed away. “No one more than you, my dear. But I can’t seem to help myself ...”
“But look at you now, today. You’re doing wonderfully.”
“But I feel so ... frightened. Of everything.” Sarah glanced around Abigail’s sitting room. “I don’t remember the world being so big or scary.”
“Is it because Papa isn’t here anymore?” Maisie asked softly.
Her mother nodded. “That and other things. I’ve been so afraid since he passed, so helpless ...”
“But you don’t have to be, Mama,” Maisie said. “Together we’ll be fine.”
Tears began to stream down Sarah Woodhouse’s face. “I cheated you. I cheated you out of time. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t say such things, Mama. We’ll get that time back, don’t worry.” Maisie hugged her again as Jonathan’s words rang true: love and time. Followed by don’t coddle her! Her mother had just confessed how horrible she’d been. Maisie wasn’t going to say Mama’s behavior these last months was all right, because it wasn’t. But there was something she could say. “Mama?” she whispered as she stepped away from her.
“Yes?”
“I forgive you.”
Now that really got the waterworks going. Abigail quickly rushed into the bedroom, returned with a handkerchief and handed it to Mrs. Woodhouse. “Oh, Maisie!” her mother cried. “I’ve been so awful, so horrible!”
Maisie nodded. “I wish I could understand why. But just so long as I have my mama back, it doesn’t matter.”
Her mother pulled her in for a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, my darling. You stayed by my side this whole time when I was such a wretch. I didn’t see it until I got out of that awful house.”
“That ‘awful house’ has kept us warm and dry.” Maisie sighed. “But I understand why you were afraid.”
Her mother stepped back, eyes wide. “Yes,” she said weakly. “And I fear I still am.”
* * *
THEIR SECOND OUTING was to attend Sunday service the next day. Once again, Jonathan escorted Maisie and her mother from the boarding house to their destination, but this time Mrs. Woodhouse was less timid and more excited.
It wasn’t that novel for Jack Carlson to preach – he and Rev. Latsch shared the pulpit – but he was a very different preacher. Despite being completely blind, he walked around rather than staying in the pulpit – to watch him move about without tripping or falling seemed miraculous. One would never know he couldn’t see ... until he got a little off track and his wife Willow had to steer him in the right direction.
“Everyone’s looking at us,” Mrs. Woodhouse said to Jonathan on her left and Maisie on her right.
Jonathan leaned toward her. “They’re happy to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” she said. “I feel like the Prodigal Son.”
“Things turned out all right for him, Mrs. Woodhouse,” he said gently.
Her breathing was shaky. “I’m not used to being around people. There are so many ...”
He put a reassuring hand on hers. “It’s all right, ma’am. I’m right here and so’s Maisie.”
She looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Bridger. You’re most kind.”
He gave her hand another gentle pat, then watched Jack ascend to the pulpit. He motioned everyone to stand and the hymns began, followed by prayer, a few announcements, then his sermon, which centered on the 23rd Psalm.
Jonathan watched out the corner of his eye as Mrs. Woodhouse hung on every word. She needed the peace and stillness Jack talked about, needed it something fierce. An ugly fear had managed to get the woman in its tight grip and threatened to tear her apart.
After the message, a few more hymns and the benediction, Jonathan stood and ushered his charges from the pew. He stuck close to Maisie’s mother to make sure people didn’t crowd her.
“Sarah?” Mrs. Petroff asked from behind them. “Sarah Woodhouse?”
Jonathan smiled at Mrs. Petroff, then at Maisie’s mother. “You’re very popular today.”
“Who would have thought?” she whispered back.
“Sarah!” Mrs. Petroff took her hands and squeezed them. “It’s so nice to see you. How are ... I mean ...?”
“She’s very well, thank you, Mrs. Petroff,” Jonathan said. “And you?”
Mrs. Petroff’s eyes darted between them. “Oh, me? I’m well, thank you.” She turned back to Mrs. Woodhouse. “Would you and Maisie like to join my family and me for supper next week?”
“We’d love to,” Maisie said before her mother could demur.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Petroff beamed. She looked at Jonathan. “And how about you, young Mr. Bridger – would you like to come?”
“Me?” he said. He wasn’t expecting an invitation, but as he seemed to have made himself guardian of Maisie and her mother, perhaps people were taking notice.
“Of course, we’d love to have you,” Mrs. Petroff said. “Merritt remembers you – she’s married now, you know.”
“Yes, I know, Jasper and Abigail told me.”
“You must come – she and her husband are moving soon.”
“Then I’ll be sure to attend.”
“How lovely – I can’t wait to tell James. Oh, but he’s so hard of hearing now – that’s one of the reasons he isn’t in church this morning.”
Jonathan remembered Mr. Petroff – a nice person, as all the Petroffs were. Merritt, their granddaughter, was only a few years older than him. He tried not to sigh – he should be married by now. From the sound of it, Merritt had been for quite awhile.
He glanced at Maisie, still chatting away with Mrs. Petroff. Even her mother was paying attention, listening to the matron tell stories of Merritt’s children, a boy and a girl. Both women smiled, and he noticed Mrs. Woodhouse was more relaxed than she’d been at the start of the service. Fear was lessening its ugly grip. Now if he and Maisie could just get it to let go completely, they might be able to move on with their own lives.
Maybe ... maybe even together?