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Cutter’s Creek, June 1878
Maisie twirled and twirled until she was dizzy. She wore the purple-and-white ball gown Jonathan gave her for Christmas, at the same time he’d given her mother the green day dress she’d fallen in love with at the mercantile.
The three of them were at the annual town picnic, a tradition started back when Merritt and Rafe had gotten married. Now Maisie and Jonathan had been married in that very place, right before the picnic started. He’d wanted to get married immediately, but knew he wasn’t ready – not if he was to give Maisie and her mother a proper house to live in. Now it was nearly completed, and he was ready to provide for them properly. In the meantime, the three had become a family, and Jonathan couldn’t be happier.
Nor could Maisie or her mother. “I love you,” Maisie called as she twirled again.
“You’re going to wear that dress out,” he joked. “Besides, the dancing hasn’t even started yet.”
She stopped, shaded her eyes with a hand and pointed. “Look, there’s Jasper with his fiddle. Now it will.”
Jonathan followed her gaze. Most of the town had turned out for the double event, bringing plenty of food, fun and more congratulations than he could count. And to think he’d almost lost it all because of fear. All three had their battles with it, but they all won. For Jonathan and Maisie, they hadn’t realized there was a battle. Thank Heaven Mama did, having just won her own. Freedom from fear was a beautiful thing.
“Eldon told me we should finish the barn next week,” Jonathan told his wife as he took her by the hand. They heard the soft sound of a fiddle being tuned and headed in that direction. Now that everyone’s belly was full, the dancing would start.
“That’s wonderful news. Is the roof all done?”
“On the house or the barn?”
“The house, silly,” she said with a playful slap.
“Of course.”
She sighed in contentment. “It will be wonderful to sleep there tonight. Mama’s going to love it.”
He grinned. “Mama won’t be there – not on our wedding night. She’s staying at the Petroffs’ – she and Mrs. Petroff are making pies tonight.”
“But it’s her house too ...”
“And she’s been married before,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“Oh yes, well ...” she said with a blush. “Then she ought to know ...”
“She ought to and she does. You mother is a right smart woman, Maisie.” He stopped and took her by the shoulders for a quick kiss. “I’m so glad I found the two of you. I wish I could’ve met your pa.”
She smiled. “He was a good man – he’d have liked you.”
“I’m sure I’d have liked him too.” They watched for a moment as the townsfolk of Cutter’s Creek cleared away picnic blankets to make room for dancing. Jonathan leaned his head atop his wife’s. “And I will restore all the years the locusts hath eaten,” he quoted.
Maisie smiled. “And so He has.”
He smiled too. “Yes, He most certainly has.” He let go and faced her with a bow. “Mrs. Bridger, may I have this dance?”
Maisie took his hand and kissed it. “Yes, Mr. Bridger, you most certainly may.”
And the music began.
The End