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December 1860
“I’m glad Mother finally agreed to let me come early to help with Christmas baking.” Bertha pressed a star-shaped cookie cutter into her cookie dough and placed it on the baking sheet. “But I have to admit her changing her mind came as quite a surprise.”
Mamaw set aside her rolling pin, folded over her pie crust, put several cuts into the fold, placed it in a pie tin, and spread it open. “I was surprised myself.”
“Do you think she’s up to something?”
With a shrug, Mamaw poured a sweet apple mixture on top of the pie crust. “I don’t know what it could be.”
“When I’m done with the cookies, would it be all right if I go for a walk?” She put the full cookie sheet into the oven. “I’d like to take advantage of it being sunny and not too cold.”
Mamaw gave her a sideways glance. “Are you sure that’s the reason, or are you hoping to see a certain young man?”
Heat rose to her face. How did her grandmother know what she’d been thinking? “I don’t know how he’d know I’m here. I didn’t send him a message or anything.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at how fast news spreads from farm to farm.” Mamaw placed the top crust over the apples and crimped the edges together with a fork. “And, yes, you may go for a walk after lunch.”
Bertha tugged on clunky, winter boots her mother would be appalled she was wearing, put on her long, wool coat and hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, slipped on her mittens, and left the warm, sweet-smelling house. For a moment, she stood on the porch, letting her eyes adjust to the sun glaring off the snow. As Minnesota winter days went, this one was a pleasure. The cloudless sky was bright blue and the air not so cold as to take her breath away.
She stepped from the porch onto the shoveled path leading to the barn and other outbuildings. She left the clean path and kicked her way through several inches of snow. There was enough to make it seem like Christmas. With no animals in the fields, the snow was smooth and sparkled like a blanket of diamonds. There weren’t even any deer, rabbit, or mice tracks to mar the pristine setting.
How could her mother not love it here? It didn’t take long after a snowfall for roads in the city to become slushy and filled with dirt and refuse. With smoke rising from chimneys, snow didn’t stay white and pure for long. She drew in a deep breath, letting the cold, clean air fill her lungs.
Even with no more than six inches of snow on the ground, breaking trail in a long skirt was difficult and, before long, sweat trickled down her back. She came to the crossroads. Should she head left and visit Becky? The urge to go in the opposite direction was strong, but a female didn’t just show up at a man’s farm uninvited, even if many people lived at that farm.
While the trail to Becky’s was pristine, a single set of large-footed tracks came down the middle of the trail to Sy’s farm and led toward their fishing spot. Her heart skipped a beat. Could they be Sy’s? To make the trek easier, she stepped from impression to impression.
Before long, the fishing spot came into view. A man sat on a log, elbows resting on his knees, seeming to stare at the frozen creek. Wearing a heavy coat, scarf, and what looked like a hat made from fox fur, it was difficult to tell who it was, but she remained silent and stared, hoping it was Sy. The person finally stood and turned toward her.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Sy. Her Sy. “I didn’t think I’d see you, either.” Since it was unseemly for a woman to make the first move, she resisted the powerful urge to throw herself into his arms.
In three long strides, he stood before her and cupped her face in his mittened hands. “I missed you. Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited your grandparents?”
Bertha rubbed her cheek against his mitten. “Mother decided I couldn’t come here anymore. It seems she thinks spending time with a farm boy is not for me.”
“And what do you think?”
There was something in his eyes. Sadness? Hopefulness? Fear? “I think my mother is crazy. I should be the one who decides who I want to spend time with, not my parents.”
He stepped back, took her hand, led her to the log he’d been sitting on, and let her sit first. The last time she’d been here, the creek water flowed freely, the sun sparkling over the surface nearly blinding her. Today, the creek was frozen and covered in several inches of snow. No birds sang, no flowers swayed in the breeze, and, thankfully, no mosquitos.
When they were seated beside each other, he looked sideways at her. “And who do you want to spend time with?”
James’s face flashed through her mind. If she had to decide, a farm boy would be at the top of her list—especially if that farm boy was Sy. “You, of course, silly.”
Sy scooped up a handful of snow and squished it into a ball. “Why weren’t you here at Thanksgiving?”
“Mother insisted on having it at home. All my relatives were there. It was quite noisy.” She nudged him with her elbow. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
“The same. Ma cooked her fool head off. My uncles and their families came.” He shrugged. “But it would have been better if you’d been at your grandparents. We could have gone skating on the pond. Killed my brothers in a snowball fight.”
“At least I’m here now and nothing will stop us from having fun.”
“You’ll save a dance for me?”
“If I could get away with it, I’d save all my dances for you.”
Her comment brought a smile to his face, making her heart skip a beat. James had a nice smile, but it didn’t send her heart racing like Sy’s. She couldn’t help but compare the two men. For all his polish, James didn’t stand a chance against Sy. If the two were ever to meet, and the chances of that were slim to none, Sy would outshine James by a wide margin. Sy was sunshine while James was gray and cloudy. This summer when she’d put her hand on Sy’s bare forearm, he was all muscle. Even on the hottest days, she’d never seen James without a frock coat and precisely folded cravat.
Their differences never ended. James, beaver top hat. Sy, flopping straw hat with more than a few holes in it. James, boots polished to such a sheen, they reflected the sun. Sy, in the summer, bare feet; in the winter, heavy, worn work boots. James, striped pants, and vest cinched at the waist. Sy, brown corduroy pants and cotton shirts. Today his long, heavy work coat covered what he was wearing.
She leaned her head on Sy’s shoulder. If she had her choice, it would be an easy one. Sy kissed her temple and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. If it weren’t for her toes beginning to get cold, she could sit like this forever. But there was much to be done at the farm before everyone arrived.
“I have to get back. Mamaw needs my help preparing for everyone’s arrival.” Not to mention the food to be made for the Christmas party at the church. That was probably why her mother hadn’t come with her—she’d have to help with cooking and baking. At least with her absence, she was able to see Sy. Otherwise, she’d be confined to the house until the party.
Sy stood and, taking her hand, helped her to her feet. “I need to get back, too. Pa will be wondering where I am. I’m sure he has wood for me to split.” He squeezed her gloved fingers. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’d love to take you on a sleigh ride. With Les and Becky, of course.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll have to get permission from Mamaw, first.” He held her hand as they plowed through the snow. Even through several layers of wool, his heat warmed her fingers.
“That shouldn’t be a problem then, should it?”
“I don’t think so.”
Sy stopped in the middle of the trail and frowned down at her. “Do you spend time with anyone at home?”
Bertha bit back a sigh. How did a woman explain one man to another? Probably better to tell the truth. “There’s a gentleman whom I’ve seen a few times.”
“Do you like him? Is he handsome? Is he rich?”
Was Sy jealous? He sounded as if he were. “He’s nice enough. I guess he’s good-looking. He works in his father’s bank. Mother and father approve of him, but he’s not you.”
Sy ran the toe of his boot through the snow. “I imagine they wouldn’t approve of me.”
Unfortunately, he was right, but hurting Sy’s feelings was not something she wanted to do. “I don’t know why not. You’re educated. Hardworking. And, as far as I’m concerned, quite handsome.”
Sy’s cheeks turned red. “Aww. You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” She tugged at his hand to get them moving. “I’ll introduce you to them at the dance Saturday night. They’ll like you. You’ll see.” She paused at the path’s crossroads. “I really need to get back.”
“Can I kiss you first?”
“Do you need to ask?” His kiss was brief but warmed her right down to her toes. Would the snow melt as she walked home?
Sy’s sigh wisped across her lips. “I’ll see you Saturday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
****
At the front door of schoolhouse, Bertha held back the urge to slap her mother’s hand. Why was she being so picky about how she looked? Patting a curl in place. Making sure not a wrinkle showed. Pinching her cheeks to give them a blush. What was her problem? Truly, Bertha didn’t care how she looked tonight. Sy had seen her wet, muddy, and sweaty—even though according to her mother, women didn’t sweat. Well, once she started dancing tonight, she’d certainly be sweating.
“What’s this?” Mother’s hand shook as she held out Bertha’s dance card.
“Why, I believe it’s my dance card, Mother.”
“Don’t be obtuse. Of course, I know it’s your dance card.” She shoved the card beneath Bertha’s nose. “I want to know why all the spaces are filled with this Sy person’s name.” She swished her skirts aside as a family passed them by.
The farmer’s wife frowned. Was she afraid she’d get germs from a farmer and his family? Her mother was going to embarrass her for sure.
“You know it’s improper for a young, unmarried girl to dance with only one man. What will people think?”
Bertha folded her arms over her chest and met her mother’s eyes. “They will probably think that Sy and I like each other and want to dance.”
“Hmph. That’s probably what these backwoods people will think. In Saint Paul, people would believe you’re engaged to be married.” She tore up the dance card. “And I won’t have you marrying a farm boy.”
“Mother, we’ve had this discussion before. Can we not have it again where others can hear us?”
Mrs. Jorgeson glanced over her shoulder at the young women, tittering behind their fans, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. “Oh, I don’t care what these biddies think. I do care if my daughter wants throw her life away on a farm boy.”
“That farm boy happens to be very nice, Mother, and I hope you’ll be kind to him when I introduce him.”
“Hmph. We’ll see about that, young lady.” Without another word, she lifted her nose in the air and passed the girls who gave Bertha compassionate looks. Did they have mothers like hers or were they enjoying her discomfort?
“Oh, Bertie.” Becky stood before her and held her hands. “I thought you were exaggerating when you said how your mother was. I’d be so embarrassed if Ma treated me like that in front of everyone.”
Bertha blinked back tears. “She can be difficult. I just wish I knew why she’s so against country people.” She set her jaw. “And I will be dancing with Sy tonight. No matter what she says.”
“I hope so.” Sy’s deep voice came from behind her.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she swore the lanterns grew brighter. “I had my dance card filled up with your name, but Mother tore it up.”
“I heard. I take it she’s not impressed with me.”
Bertha hooked her arm through his. “It’s not you, she disapproves of anyone from the country.”
“Well, my dear. Let’s see her try to stop us from dancing.” He nodded to Becky and his brother. “I think I hear a square dance starting. Care to form a square?”
Let’s see Mother try to stop a dance with another couple. Even she wouldn’t go so far, would she?
Students’ desks were pushed up against the wall. Alongside the teacher’s large oak desk, long boards, covered in cloth, were stretched between sawhorses. Food covered both surfaces. From the tops of the windows, pine swags had been hung across the room. Lanterns hanging from sconces along the walls gave the room a warm, homey glow.
Once the dancing started, it wouldn’t take long for the corner, red-hot, pot-bellied stove make the room too warm. People of all ages formed several squares and waited for the caller to begin.
As she stood across from Sy, she caught her mother, not paying attention to her and Sy, but the school’s front door. Was she waiting for someone? Not her father as he was standing by the punch bowl talking to a portly gentleman.
“Ladies and gentlemen let’s get this shindig rolling. Bow to your partner and do-si-do.”
The voice of the caller took Bertha’s attention from her mother. Even though she wore her best white gloves, Sy’s heat burned through the fabric to her skin. His smile made her forget everything but him. When they switched partners, she couldn’t help noticing how Les’ touch did nothing to her. No tingles. No warmth. No heart fluttering.
By the time the dance was over, someone had opened a window to let in fresh, cooler air. She fanned her heated face and glanced at her mother, who was talking with a man. When her mother pointed to her, the man looked over his shoulder. Who? What? Why was he here?
The musicians broke into a waltz. Sy held his hand. “May I?”
“You certainly may.” Instead of enjoying being in Sy’s arms, her mind roiled with what her mother was up to.
“What’s wrong?”
She brought her mind back to Sy. “Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. You keep looking at that man over there, who, in turn, keeps staring at you.” He spun them to the other side of the room. “Who is he?”
Bertha sighed. She might as well let him know. “He’s the man my mother wishes me to marry.”
Sy came to a halt and released her. “You’re marrying him? Why didn’t you tell me?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You . . . You . . .”
“Sy, stop.” People were beginning to stare. “I didn’t say I was going to marry him. I said my parents want me to marry him. It’s two different things.”
“Not from where I stand. You have to do what your parents tell you.” He grabbed her hand, led her out the front door, and stopped short of the privies.
Bertha shivered against the freezing air and the icy tone in Sy’s voice. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why is he here?”
“I don’t know.” She threw her arms in the air and slammed her hands at her waist. “I certainly didn’t invite him.”
“What’s his name?”
“James.”
Sy snorted. “What a sissy name.” He was being petty, but he couldn’t help it. “Have you spent time with him when you were home?”
Bertha twisted her fingers together. “Yes.”
The word came out as a whisper, but to him it sounded like a gun going off. “Has he kissed you?”
“Yes.” Tears filled her eyes. “But his kiss meant nothing. And I only spent time with him to keep my mother off my back.”
“Bertie.” Pawpaw’s voice came across the yard. “Come inside. Your mother wants you.”
Sy turned his back to her. “You’d better go inside. It’s cold out here.”
She grabbed his arm and swung him around. “I don’t want to go inside. I don’t want . . .”
“It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t want. You have to obey your parents.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I want you to know, no matter what happens, it’s you I want to be with. It’s you I l—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it.” He pressed a light kiss on her cheek. “You’d better go inside.”
****
“Are you coming?” Mr. Schaeffer called.
Bertie sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
His stomach clenched as she walked away. The light from the open door cast a square of light on the snow, then disappeared when the door closed, leaving him in the darkness. He tipped his head back and blinked back the moisture in his eyes. The stars in the winter sky blurred. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
His heart was breaking. She’d been kissing another man. Jealousy filled him until he was ready to smash his fist against a tree. He was pretty sure he was in love with Bertie. Whenever she went back home, she was all he thought about. Even his brother’s incessant teasing about acting like a lovesick cow didn’t stop the feelings rushing through him. Ma had commented on his sullen behavior, and Pa had told him to get over it. He walked to the door. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this moron was simply here to visit with her parents. Maybe he wanted to see how the other half lived.
Sy stopped and hung his head. Face it, you idiot. There was no way he could compete with a banker’s son. He was a simple country boy who didn’t even have his own farm. Everything he had, even though he worked hard for it, came from his parents. Of course, Bertie’s parents would want something better for her.
“Hey, Sy, you comin’ back in or what?” Les poked his head out the door. “They’re starting another square and the girls want to dance with us, and some clown is trying to butt in.”
“I’m comin’.” If Bertie still wanted to dance with him, who was he to argue. He narrowed his eyes against the bright light as he entered the main room. The man stood in his place across from Bertie. Sy tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, but I was promised this dance.” As the man stepped back, his glare could have stopped a bear in its tracks. Her mother’s face was red enough to explode. This was probably going to be his last dance with Bertie. Why couldn’t it have been a waltz?
All too quickly the dance was over. Hurry up musicians, strike up a waltz before the man comes to dance with Bertie. Even if he were to cut in, he’d have had a chance to hold her in his arms once more. Too late. The man approached.
“I believe this next dance is mine.”
Please play a schotize or a polka or anything but a waltz. Once again, he was out of luck. Sy drifted behind those choosing to sit this one out. Bertie’s mother’s smile was a testament to how she felt about her daughter dancing with the moron. When the music was over, Bertie was led to her parents’ side. Her father walked to the band and whispered something in the fiddler’s ear. The musician played a short ditty, then stopped.
“Ladies and gentlemen, there is an important announcement to be made.”
Before Bertie’s mother tugged Bertie to the center of the floor, she sent a smug look his way. This wasn’t going to bode well for either of them. Once again, his stomach clenched. That character followed, grinning like a fool. People around him whispered.
Les and Becky stood beside him. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Becky put a hand on his arm. “He’d better not be doing what I think he’s going to do. Bertie belongs to you.”
A lump built in his throat. “Not if her parents say she doesn’t.” They weren’t close enough to hear what the man was going to say, but his actions spoke louder than words.
****
Bertha tried to yank her hand from her mother’s grip. “Mother, stop pulling me. What is going on?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Now stop being difficult. Your father and I know what’s best for you.”
Over her mother’s shoulder she sent Sy, Becky, and Les a pleading look. Would they come rescue her? People were watching. She searched for Papaw and Mamaw. Surely, they’d come to help. Mamaw held her fingers to her tight lips and shook her head. Papaw’s clenched his jaw but looked away.
“Listen up, Bertha Mae,” her mother hissed in her ear. “You will say yes.”
“Yes, to what?”
“Don’t be obtuse. Surely you know what’s going to happen.”
James strode across the wooden floor and knelt in front of her. A collective gasp came from the crowd looking on.
“James, get up.” Panic made her chest hurt. “What do you think you’re doing?” Ignoring her protests, James stuck his hand in his pocket and produced a ring. The diamond, and it must certainly be a diamond, sparkled in the lamplight. “Don’t do this, James.”
“Bertha Mae Jorgenson, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?”
If she screamed help, would anyone get her out of here? She wasn’t ready to get married. She was only seventeen. Besides, it was Sy she loved, not this man kneeling before her and everyone at the party.
Her mother clapped her hands. “Of course, she’ll marry you.” She pinched the back of Bertha’s arm. “Say yes, my dear,” she whispered into her ear. “Say yes, or your father will make sure your little friend over there never gets a job anywhere in the territory and his father will lose his farm. Now remove your glove and hold out your hand like a good little girl.”
With one last look at Sy and with tears streaming down her face, she did as her mother commanded. James slid the ring on her finger, rose, and kissed her on the cheek.
Like a king addressing his kingdom, James swept an arm to the crowd. “This lovely woman has just made me the happiest man in the world.”
Bertha’s ears rang from the applause filling the schoolhouse. She couldn’t stop the tears.
“See, she’s so happy, she’s crying.” Her mother’s voice rose above the clapping.
Through her blurry eyes she couldn’t miss Sy leaving the building. Her fate was sealed.