Despite Grace’s efforts to hurry, it was dark before she let herself into Mitch’s house. “Mrs. Shaw? It’s Grace.”
“In the parlor.”
Grace latched the bolt behind her and carried her bags to the gold-papered room where Mrs. Shaw snuggled in her usual chair. Her favorite green quilt spread over her knees.
“What a day you’ve had.” Mrs. Shaw pushed herself up. The effort made her wince.
Grace deposited her bags on the sofa and rushed to assist Mitch’s mother. “Are you uncomfortable? What can I do?”
“Nothing just now. So nice of you to come, Grace. I’m sorry about Mrs. Dooley and your pa.” Her tongue clicked. “Mitch’s note said he’s already showing signs of improvement.”
“Digitalis works fast. Some of Pa’s habits must change, but—thank you.” She mustn’t spill her worries onto Mrs. Shaw. “You had a rough night, I heard.”
“Just tired after my walk to your house last night. Maybe Mitchell’s right and I should exercise more.”
“Let’s take a brief constitutional in the morning, then.”
Mrs. Shaw sighed then nodded. “Enough of that. Mitch’s note said you had something intriguing in store for tonight.”
“Ah, yes.” Grace dropped to her haunches and pointed to the first hamper. “Supper of pork roast with dried apples.”
“Tasty but not intriguing.”
“You’ll like this one better.” Grace opened the second hamper, a worn, splintery thing which her mother had used decades ago. To Grace’s pleasure, Mrs. Shaw bent forward, eyes wide, no trace of pain etching her features.
“Well?” Mrs. Shaw squinted.
Grace had thought when she opened the lid, he’d come right out. Instead he licked his paw. This cat was the laziest creature in Colorado. She scooped her hands underneath Bertie’s warm girth and lifted. More like heaved. What did he weigh, anyway?
Mrs. Shaw gasped. “Who is this ginger-winger pumpkin-bumpkin?”
Grace lowered the hefty cat to Mrs. Shaw’s lap, where it snuggled into the soft folds of the quilt. “This is Bertie, Mrs. Dooley’s cat. I didn’t want him to be lonesome tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Missing his mama, poor baby-waby.” Mrs. Shaw’s gnarled hands rubbed his broad back. “Aren’t you the sweetest widdle baby?”
Little? Ha. “Do you want to eat supper in here again?”
“That’d be fine, Grace. Bertie-wertie needs supper, too, I reckon. Don’t you, hungwy-widdle baby?” She glanced up. “What does he like to eat?”
From the looks of him, everything.
“I don’t know. I suspect he’s not much of a mouser, though.” Grace managed not to snicker.
“We’ll see about that, widdle Bertie-wertie.” Mrs. Shaw continued to coo while Grace fixed two plates. She’d hoped to solve two problems tonight: Bertie needed a home, and Mrs. Shaw could use cheering.
They spoke of Pa’s dropsy and Mrs. Dooley’s funeral arrangements while they finished their meals and Bertie nibbled from Mrs. Shaw’s fingers. Then Mrs. Shaw shifted in her seat, adjusting Bertie to a different position. “How are your matches, dear? Will wedding bells ring?”
“I’m certain they will, just not for the matches I made, aside from Bess and Elmer.” Grace tidied up while she explained the day’s pairings at the picnic. “Nell and Irvin. Flossie and Lou. Silas and Myra, all after I matched them to other partners. It’s like they all woke up today and noticed one another.”
“It’s possible. Sometimes love appears sudden-like and without warning. Other times, though, it lies dormant, a seed in a field. Then, with the sun’s warmth and spring rain, something sprouts and pushes its way to the surface.” Her eyes held a curious gleam, much like Bertie’s had when he licked pork from her fingers.
Grace’s hand pressed over her thumping heart. That was how it was with Mitch; Grace could see that now. The seed of her feelings for him had planted in the soil of her heart a long time ago. Had Mrs. Shaw understood it all along?
She hesitated, still holding the plates. She could hide in the kitchen and scrub dishes. Or she could sit back down again and seek a mother’s advice.
Grace set the plates on the coffee table and curled at Mrs. Shaw’s feet, leaning back on her palms. “Did Mitch tell you I offered to make him a match?”
Mrs. Shaw’s fingers stroked the plane between Bertie’s eyes. “He didn’t tell me, but I reckon he declined.”
“It was a desperate, selfish ploy to keep him in town. But you’re right, he passed. He’s a resolute bachelor.” Did the words sound tart? She hadn’t intended it, but the tone slipped out.
“I thought he’d change his mind when the right young lady came along. But that’s not why he turned you down flat as a flapjack. He doesn’t want any match. Not when he’s in love.”
“He is?” The pork and apples in her stomach mutinied. Grace covered her mouth.
“Don’t play coy—oh, you’re never coy, are you, dear? You truly don’t know he’s besotted with you.” Mrs. Shaw’s eyes crinkled with pity.
When Grace was able to breathe again, air came in gasps. “He’s not.” Was he?
Mrs. Shaw cackled. “He’s never spoken a word of it, but a mother can tell. Just like I know Bertie is comfy-womfy on my lap. Yes, you are, widdle pumpkin.”
Bertie blinked at Grace, as if judging her for her lack of understanding, too. But Mitch had never indicated … had he? Grace’s insides twisted with disbelief and hope and happiness—and then she realized that even if Mrs. Shaw was right, it didn’t matter.
“He’s leaving Emerald.”
“So stop him. You love him, too. It’s as plain on your face as your freckles.”
Did everyone know her feelings before she did? “I can’t argue with God’s plan, and frankly, I think it’s time for Mitch to head his own clinic. He’s an excellent doctor, but that’s not the biggest obstacle. Mitch holds a high regard for marriage, but he’s made it quite clear he won’t marry, himself.”
“I’m responsible for that, I fear. I shouldn’t have put Mitch in the middle like I did. His pa was always working, and on those few occasions he was home, he couldn’t read my mind about how much I wanted him around.” Mrs. Shaw cringed. “I’m not proud of how I treated him, berating him instead of telling him how I felt. He’s the one who chose to wander elsewhere after one too many arguments, but I didn’t help matters. Neither of us sought the Lord to help repair things. And Mitch paid the highest price of all.”
Grace had never heard of Mitch’s father’s adultery. Just allusions here and there to arguments and standoffs.
“Love is a lot more complicated than I want it to be.” Her mismatches were proof of that. She almost laughed. She was Miss Matched—mismatched—after all. She’d paired things that didn’t fit together.
“No one ever said love—of any kind—is easy. I said things to Mitch I shouldn’t have, to keep him from uprooting us from Emerald. Love that boy to pieces, yet I’m still capable of stabbing him through the heart with my words. How is that loving?”
Grace’s finger plucked the rug. “The two men I love most in the world are in the clinic, one’s ill and the other leaving town, and they’re probably fighting.”
Mrs. Shaw’s hands left Bertie for the first time since Grace arrived with the cat. “Oh, Gracie. Love is tomfool crazy, whether it’s for your man or your kin or a cat. But it gives you the strength to work for your beloved’s best. You keep on loving them, you hear? Even if neither comes around. Mitch may cut off his nose to spite his face and miss out on a loving life with you. Your pa may doom himself to a life of anger at God and reject His blessings. But you keep loving them and praying for them and working for their best, and I’ll seek His help so I can do the same.”
Bertie nodded. Maybe he was falling asleep, but Grace preferred to think he agreed with Mrs. Shaw. A laugh bubbled to her lips—happy. Restful. She couldn’t change the minds of either Mitch or Pa—or God, calling Mitch to head a clinic—but she could trust God to accomplish His purposes.
She stood and kissed Mrs. Shaw’s forehead. “I love you, too, you know.”
“Of course I know that. You’re sweet as taffy, sharp as a pin, and the best fit for my Mitch. Why else have I been playing matchmaker, praying for five years for you to be my daughter-in-law?”
Mitch stood over Sidney’s bed and tugged the stethoscope’s earpieces from his ears. “Swelling’s going down already and your heart sounds much better. Want to listen for yourself, Doctor?”
“No need. You’re more than competent.” Another heartfelt compliment of Sidney’s.
Mitch chuckled and returned the stethoscope to his bag. “I’ll check on you in a few hours. Unless you need something else?”
“One thing. I want to talk to you about what you said before I—you know.” He gestured toward his heart. “You’re leaving the practice?”
Mitch hoisted a bentwood chair bedside the bed and sat down. “You’ve taught me so much, Sidney. I’m not ungrateful, but it’s time I head my own clinic.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised, the way I’ve pushed you away.”
“It’s true that I can’t leave my faith at the clinic door. God works miracles and healing, and I can’t do my job without Him. But I don’t want to leave. Not Emerald or you or—Grace.” Had Sidney heard the catch in his voice? Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope you understand.”
Sidney nodded. “Not easy to say this, but you’ll be missed.”
“You have an asset in Grace.” An understatement if he’d ever uttered one.
“She’d have made a fine doctor. Don’t know why she wouldn’t try medical school.”
“Because she never felt called to it. She likes how things are.”
“You’re not going to try to take her with you, then?”
So Sidney had noticed Mitch’s affections. Well, it didn’t matter. “She wouldn’t go if I asked. Grace thinks of me as a friend.”
“Grace thinks of you as a resolute bachelor. You’ve made that point quite clear over the years.”
That. Mitch propped his elbows on his knees. “I’m not sure that was God’s will as much as my fear. But she’s not interested in me that way.”
“How do you know, eh? You two are the biggest fools in Emerald. After me, o’ course, for punishing the Almighty for taking my wife, fighting Him. I know what it’s like to lose the woman you love, Mitchell. Broke my faith.”
Mitch sat up. “But God didn’t break with you.”
Sidney sighed. “I know. Got some thinking to do. But so do you. You love Grace, and don’t you deny it. Try imagining life without her for a minute. Go on, do it. If you can tell me you’re fine living without Grace, I’ll drop the subject.”
The thought induced panic. Pain.
He didn’t even have to speak. Sidney chuckled. “You’d best have a heart-to-heart with my girl. Find out if she’ll marry you.”
“Hold on there, Sidney. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“About you having my blessing to marry Grace? Thought you were quicker witted than that.”
Mitch laughed, but pain still sluiced his insides. “Thank you, sir. I mean it. But I couldn’t pull her from Emerald. Or you.” Especially now that Sidney was ill.
“You’re a fool, Mitchell.” Sidney patted his shoulder, as if he pitied him.
“A sorry one.” Mitch rubbed his forehead, as if the answer lay in his brain somewhere.
He couldn’t live without Grace.
Nor could he live with her, away from her father, even if she loved him back.
But he couldn’t help hoping that she did.