Betsy carried her mending into Mrs. T’s house. “Hello!”
“After being cooped up for over two weeks, I imagine it feels good to get out,” Mrs. T said as she hugged her.
“Yes, it does.” Betsy turned and gave Clara and Elsa quick hugs. “Pa’s staying home today. Marie and Will are springing back nicely. Doc said since they’re strong, the cough will run its course in about three weeks.”
“How’s Greta?” Samantha asked as she joined them.
“Still puny, but she kept broth and cider down for the past three days.” Betsy smiled. “She’ll just take a mite longer, but God was merciful.”
Everyone sat down and started to sew. Betsy popped her thimble on her finger and deftly let down the hem in Marie’s dress. Her needle stopped midair when Samantha blithely announced, “Betsy, we were talking about you last week when you weren’t here. We all agree—you and Ty ought to get married.”
She felt the tingle of a blush start at her bosom and climb straight up to her forehead. Bad enough Mrs. Crabtree scurried all over town, whispering tales. Now her own friends were imagining things! “Mr. Walker and I are good friends—nothing more.”
“There’s a pity,” Elsa muttered.
Mrs. T patted her hand. “Things have changed since you refused his suit. Your father went to church this past week. He’s finally shedding his anger at the Lord. He’ll be sure to tend to the children’s spiritual lives.”
“I know, but—”
“Your other concern was that the children needed daily care,” Mrs. Tidewell continued.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Samantha impatiently shoved her sewing aside. “You live right next door. The kids already practically live at the smithy. You did all of your weaving there this past winter. They can spend the daytime with you and the nighttime with your father.”
“We have it all planned out.” Clara grinned at her.
“And don’t you dare try to convince any of us that Tyson won’t welcome your little brothers and sisters. He’s crazy about them.” Samantha paused. “When Greta’s fever was so high, he called her ‘our Greta,’ and his love for all of them is plain as can be.”
Mrs. Tidewell picked up her Bible and started to read 1 Corinthians 13. “‘Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up … Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.’”
She looked up at Betsy. “Charity is love—love freely given. You’ve been so busy loving others, you’ve been blind to how much someone loves you. Ty Walker’s a fine man. He’s been patient and gentle, trying to earn your heart. Think on how he hasn’t envied your time with the children, how he’s prayed and believed alongside you ’til your father returned to the Lord, how he’s still hoped to capture your heart without asking you to sacrifice anything that was dear to you. For years, you put everyone’s needs ahead of your own. Ty’s come to town and done that for you.”
She let out a small laugh. “Betsy, you’re two peas in a pod. Surely God fashioned you to be together. Don’t you think it’s time both of you were free to receive love, too? The man adores you. You love him, don’t you?”
“I do love him,” Betsy confessed quietly. “He’s everything I ever dreamed of as a young girl. I lost my heart to him weeks ago, but I couldn’t ask him to take on my family.” She smiled. “I guess I’ve been pretty silly—he’s already done that from the day we met, but I lived by fret instead of by faith.”
“That settles that! I’ll bake the wedding cake,” Elsa planned.
“We’ll all finish that quilt for you,” Clara agreed.
Samantha rubbed her hands gleefully. “I just got new fabric in. You can choose something pretty, and we’ll make a dress for you, too!”
“I don’t think I can go to him. It’s so—so … bold!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. T said. “Ruth went to Boaz. That was way back in the Bible days when women were far more reserved. She did it; you can, too!”
“Oh, what will I say to him?” Betsy fretted.
Mrs. Tidewell drew her out of her chair and nudged her to the door. “Love will find a way.”
Betsy started down the street. Her heart beat twice as fast as normal, and her boots scuffled the clumps of snow. Did she dare go speak her heart? The air was redolent with smoke from chimneys. As she drew closer to the smithy, she could hear Ty’s mighty hammer at work. Her nerves jangled with every strike. What do I say? Moments later, it wasn’t the metallic clang of hammer and anvil, but the solid sound of a mallet on wood.
The moment he spied her, Ty set down his mallet and hastened to her. “Betsy! What is it? Is our Greta all right?”
Our Greta. Samantha was right—at some point, Ty had already wormed his way right into the family. “She’s fine.”
He wrapped his hands around her arms. “What is it, then? Where is your cape? You’re cold!” He pulled her close to the forge and briskly rubbed her arms. “Do you need something?”
I need you. The words sounded too stark, too forward. Betsy hitched a shoulder and shivered as he took her chilly hands in his, gently blew on them and rubbed them until they warmed. How could I have doubted that this man loves me?
“I was working on something special. Want to see it?”
She nodded.
Ty turned and lifted a big, wooden frame. As he swiveled, her jaw dropped open. A beaming smile lit his face. “The glass was broken in several places. I asked Mrs. Tidewell for a few patterns. This is the one she said would work best. What do you think?”
He’d taken the broken pane of glass and cut it into more pieces, then added in a few pieces of colored glass. He’d connected them with leaded cames into his own version of a stained glass window. “I got the pieces of blue and green glass from the peddler who came through last week. Elsa and Shane were by the other day. She said her grandma called this quilt pattern Old Maid’s Puzzle.”
She choked out, “Mrs. T calls it Old Maid’s Choice.”
“Don’t you think it’ll look wonderful in the cabin?”
Betsy reached out and tentatively ran her fingers over the edge of the frame. She whispered a quick prayer for courage, then asked, “Would you be willing to let me share this window with my youngers during the daytime if they still slept at Pa’s each night?”
Ty stared at her, set down the window, and gathered her in his arms. “Sunshine, I’d share that window with them day and night if it meant you were mine.”
“So this old maid doesn’t have to make a choice between her family and the man she loves?”
“You’re a beautiful young woman, not an old maid. Love, my sweet Betsy, isn’t something that draws lines and shoves others out. Love is a bond that draws others in. You already took my heart. Are you ready to take my name?”
“Yes,” she whispered before his lips met hers.
Two weeks later, as soon as the kids’ coughs settled, everyone in Hickory Corners met at the church. Betsy wore the pretty yellow dress her friends helped her make. She wiggled her toes in the soft kid boots Ty had given her and brushed one last kiss on Pa’s cheek before he walked her down the aisle.
The wedding ceremony was sacred and beautiful until Pastor Tidewell asked, “Do you, Tyson, take Elizabeth to be your wife—”
“No!” Greta cried. “No!” She stood up on the pew and burst into tears.
Betsy’s heart flipped for a moment, but she squeezed Ty’s hands and promised, “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Greta wasn’t about to wait. She planted her little hands on her hips and piped out, “You marry our Betsy. Not ’Lizbeth. You’re ours!”
Folks in the church muffled their laughter.
Ty kept hold of Betsy’s hand. He led her over to Greta, and said very evenly, “Betsy is a little name. Your sister’s whole, big name is Elizabeth—just like my name is Tyson, but you call me Ty.”
Greta wound her arms around his neck and gave him a weak hug. “I didn’t want nobody else to get you. You b’long to us!”
“Yes, I do,” he agreed. “Now if you let go and sit back down with Smidgen, Betsy and I will finish here so you can have some yummy cake.”
Later that afternoon, Ty carried Betsy over the threshold of their cabin. He kicked the door shut, and afternoon light flooded through his beautiful window and spilled across the quilt the sewing circle had finished just days before.
He kissed his bride long and deep, then set her down and held her close. “Welcome home, Sunshine.”
Betsy beamed up at him. She knew she’d made the right choice.