What is it, Mutti?” Peter hurried to the bedside. When he reached out to see if she had a fever, she waved his hand away.
“Is nothing,” Mutti said. “I must rest.” She hunkered down and turned her back on him.
“But you just called for me.”
Mutti nodded her head. “Is small house. Jane must be alone for a while.”
Peter sat down in the chair by the bed. Leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs, he stared down at the floor, agonizing over what might happen if he didn’t speak up, terrified to risk it.
Mutti turned over in bed. She pulled the covers down below her chin. “You are going to let them go?”
“Please don’t worry,” Peter said. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll take good care of you.”
She sighed. “For that I do not worry. I worry for you.”
He frowned. “I’m not coming down with whatever it is. My throat’s fine. My lungs are clear.”
Mutti rolled her eyes. “Lungs clear. Brain clouded.” She paused. “You love her. You think I don’t see?”
He took a deep breath. “I have nothing to offer. She had a fine house with her first husband, and this Mr. Huggins will likely provide her with another.”
“And what is a fine house without love?”
He met her gaze. “And what is life with a monster?” He stood up. Mutti opened her mouth to say more, but he held up his hand. “Please. You’re going to say it doesn’t matter. But it does.” Surprised when tears threatened, he drew a ragged breath. Forced a smile. “Molly calls me a good monster, and I’ll never forget that. Between the two of them, they’ve healed something I didn’t think could ever be right again. Those are good memories. And I don’t want them ruined by the memory of yet another beautiful woman looking away when I declare—when I ask—” He broke off. “Sleep well, Mutti. I love you very much.”
There was no point in his trying to sleep. Peter didn’t even try. Instead, he headed outside to the barn. He hung a lantern on a nail by Molly’s stall and brushed her sleek coat until it shone. He mucked out stalls. Finally, when he ran out of work, when his feet felt like two blocks of ice, he headed into the little tack room. He closed the door behind him and started a small fire in the woodstove before perching on a bale of hay and propping his feet up on a crate.
He woke with a start to Solomon’s crowing. With a groan, he stood up, stretching before opening the door to the tack room and peering across the way through the little window that faced the house. The snow was beginning to melt. The clothesline was no longer buried in a snowdrift. He left the door open to the tack room and made his way past the stalls and out into the fresh air. The sky was getting lighter in the east. In the west, it was still dark.
A sliver of moon hung low in the clear sky. If he was going to take Molly for a sleigh ride, he’d better get it done today. He’d bring her out after breakfast and— He gulped. Jane was lighting the lamp in the bedroom window. He looked back at the barn. And finally up to the sky. I’m afraid. God…. I’m so afraid.
He turned toward the house. He hadn’t felt this way since that long-ago day when he perched in a tree and watched gray uniforms emerge from a cornfield. Everyone told him he’d been brave that day. Maybe he had. He’d wanted to defend his friends. What was a man worth if he wasn’t willing to try just as hard to save himself? Taking a deep breath, Peter whispered, “Help,” and headed inside.
It was still dark when Jane rose and lit the lamp in the window. Without bothering to do anything about her hair, she slid her bare feet into the moccasins Peter had made for her, then grabbed a blanket and headed into the other room. Peter. She’d heard him leave the house. He hadn’t come back inside. The idea of him sleeping in the barn spoke volumes. Whatever flights of fancy she’d entertained, whatever she thought she’d read in his dark eyes, obviously she’d been wrong. He was avoiding her.
She laid Mr. Huggins’s letter on the table, then lit another lamp and tiptoed to Peter’s room to look in on Anna. The old woman was sleeping peacefully. Whatever vestiges of illness she was fighting off, it was obvious she no longer needed special care. Mr. Huggins was right. It was time to go.
Back in the main room, Jane heated water. She didn’t want to disturb Anna by grinding coffee. She would settle for hot water until everyone was awake. Then they’d have a proper breakfast, and she’d tell Molly what she’d decided they must do.
She sat for a moment staring down at the letter, praying desperately for peace. Finally it came. Taking up the pencil, she wrote the letter that Peter would take to the depot today. Tears slid down her cheeks as she signed it, then folded it and slipped it into the envelope. Swiping them away, she clutched the mug of warm water between her palms and looked around the room. She gazed up at the sampler. For a moment, she closed her eyes. Please be my strong tower today.
Molly was going to be so angry about not having time to finish her doll quilt before they left. She would promise the child that they would have a cabinet photo taken of her with Katie and the finished doll quilt so that Anna could see it. Maybe that would help. Certainly Anna would enjoy a memento of their brief friendship.
The door opened, and Jane sprang to her feet. Peter moved slowly, unwrapping his scarf, removing his hat, hanging everything up before he said a word. When he did, it was to nod at the envelope on the table. “I was hoping …” He paused. “You’ve written your answer.”
Jane nodded.
“I wanted to …” His voice trailed off again.
“You must be so cold.” Jane set the mug of warm water down. “Did you sleep at all? Anna’s resting. I haven’t heard her cough once. I’ll make coffee. And breakfast. Just let me get dressed.” She headed for the bedroom.
“Don’t go.”
She turned to face him, afraid to say anything, afraid she’d heard what she wanted to hear, not what he’d actually said.
“Did you hear me, Jane? I said, ‘Don’t go.’”
“I heard.”
He looked away. “I have a medal for bravery. For what I did that day.” He drew his palm across the scarred cheek. “But I’m not brave. I’m terrified right now. Terrified to talk and afraid that if I don’t I’ll lose—” He closed his eyes, then finally looked her way. Shook his head. “Molly’s right. I am a monster. I know that. Stephen McClure gave you so much. You had a servant, for goodness’ sake. And this Huggins fellow? I can’t compete with any of it.” He took a deep breath. “But I love you, Jane. Heaven help me. I love you, and I love Molly. But if you can’t love me back, I understand. Really, I do.”
Jane swallowed. Couldn’t he hear her heart beating? See her trembling? She nodded toward the letter. “I did my best to explain—to apologize. I never intended to mislead him. I just—I just wanted what was best for Molly.” She paused. “We lost the house, Peter. Stephen made some terrible investments, and then he died, and we lost it. I had to sell it to pay all the people we owed money. I paid them, but—” She began to cry. “Things got hard. And I was so lonely. I answered an advertisement in the paper. And Mr. Huggins—” She gave a short, throaty laugh. Shook her head. “Poor Mr. Huggins. I told him we would be catching the train for Omaha.”
“Omaha?” Peter frowned.
Jane nodded. “However desperate my situation, I could never marry one man when I was in love with another.” Her voice wavered. “I didn’t think you—” She cleared her throat. “You didn’t kiss me. That night when you could have. You made a joke instead of kissing me.”
“You wanted me to kiss you?”
She nodded. “I love you, too, Peter. I just—”
Whatever she was going to say slipped her mind as he pulled her into his arms.
“Molly.” Jane tickled the sleeping child’s cheek. “It’s time to get up. Breakfast is ready.”
“I’m not hungry.” She was lying with her back to Jane, and she didn’t budge.
“Peter’s taking us to post my letter to Mr. Huggins. He said you wanted a sleigh ride, and it’s a beautiful day. He thought you’d want to go along.”
Molly shrugged. “I want to stay here. With Anna. I want to finish Katie’s quilt.”
“I know. But you need to trust me—”
“—in the matter of Mr. Huggins,” Molly groused. “I know.” She finally rolled onto her back. And sat up. And looked from Jane to Peter and back again.
Jane leaned into Peter, and he put his arm around her as he said, “I have a question for you, Molly.”
Molly grabbed Katie and held her close. “All right. Go ahead.”
“I want to ask your mother to marry me. Is that all right with you?”
With a shout of joy, Molly launched herself into Peter’s arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss, first on his good cheek and then on the bad one.
Anna spoke from where she was standing in the doorway. “What am I seeing?”
Jane let go and went to her side. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. Let me—”
Anna shooed her away. She glared at Peter. “You have asked?” Peter nodded. She looked at Jane. “And you have said yes?”
Jane nodded and glanced at Molly. “We both have.”
Anna raised both hands to the heavens. “Praise be to Gott!” She smiled and shook her head. “So sick I was of being sick.” She looked at Peter. “I thought never would you ask.”
“Mutti,” Peter scolded. “You were pretending?”
Anna shrugged. “Maybe a little.” She forced a cough, then turned toward the kitchen, waving for everyone to follow her. “Come. We have springerle for breakfast today, ja?” She grinned at Peter. “All you want.”