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Two weeks later, Bertha lay on her bed, feet aching, heartbroken, and emotionally and physically drained. Most nights, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind kept spinning in circles like the merry-go-round at the school when the boys tried to make the girls fly off.
The sheriff had truly put Asa in jail. At least he put the British guy behind bars, too. Poor Leona. Not to mention Asa and Josiah. And to think Leona actually apologized to the other two couples as if she’d done something wrong. There was no way Asa nor Josiah was guilty.
The Monday morning after the weddings was the first day the restaurant was open for breakfast. The place had been packed with people lined up outside the door. Didn’t matter that they were there hoping to see Leona or hear any new gossip, the till was full by the end of the morning.
They’d kept Leona mostly confined to the kitchen. Every time the door to the kitchen swung open heads would turn hoping to see the new wife of the man in jail. Ooh, how she’d wanted to knock some of those heads together.
Thankfully, Suzanna and Julia were on hand to serve, and their husbands were outside the building keeping people in line. The owners of the town’s several newspapers were particularly anxious to get a story. Sorely, bless his handsome heart, stayed in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the back door. Besides the mess with the necklace, his simple kiss on her cheek Saturday night had kept her awake. Was he the one for her? If so, would she be expected to ‘mourn’ James for a full year? Ridiculous, considering she’d killed him.
Pale morning light snuck through a split in the drapery panels as her mind roamed over the events of the past week. Leona was putting on a brave front but trying to carry on without Asa. Each morning her eyes were as red as the day before. The boys had found two bodies in the woodshed, then were kidnapped. The fear and resulting chaos had everyone on edge. But now that Asa was free and the perpetrators behind bars, and he and Leona could start their married life. Daniel and Julia were settled into their new apartment above his office. While Suzanna continued to teach, she and King had made the house she and Julia had shared their home. King still traveled to and from his ranch while helping Leona at the restaurant. With the amount of snow they’d been getting, there weren’t many travelers to fill the rooms, so the hotel itself was empty.
Not that she minded. With no one to bother her, she had free rein of the bathroom. Apart from the pounding of Josiah’s feet above, her room was peaceful and quiet.
Except for a few brief glimpses of Sorely when people were out searching for the boys, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man. Had she imagined his attraction to her? Had his kiss on her cheek meant nothing to him? She had thought about turning so he’d kiss her on the lips, but with others around, she couldn’t. Now she was glad she hadn’t. He obviously didn’t care for her.
With her friends all married, they didn’t have the time to spend with her. She was lonely. So, so lonely. Her heart ached with loneliness. Even with all the times she’d been alone when James traveled, she’d never felt this way. Maybe if she had never made friends, she’d be all right, but having learned what friendship was like, she’d never be the same.
With the new year a week old, maybe it was time to make plans for her future. She’d planned to stay in Deadwood, but how would she handle it if she were to see Sorely? He’d seemed like he was the one to spend her later years with, but it wasn’t meant to be.
Bertha whipped back the blankets and shuddered as the cold air hit her. Even with the furnace heating the entire building, the rooms were downright chilly in the morning until someone got the fire going. She tossed off her nightgown and, as fast as she could, dressed in her long underwear, stockings, black woolen skirt, and long-sleeved white blouse. Hoping to add some brightness to her day, she tossed a yellow shawl over her shoulders.
After doing her morning routine in the freezing bathroom, she ran down the stairs to get the stoves going and start the coffee. The silence outside was strange. Usually, even at this early hour, the loud voices of men, he laugher of the ladies of the evening from their balconies, and the squawks, squeals, and moos of livestock filled the air. After getting the fires going and putting on a pot of coffee, she pulled back the window over the sink and slapped a hand at her chest.
No wonder no one was about outside. They must have received at least a foot of snow overnight and it was still coming down. When she’d retired to her room last night, only a few snowflakes had been floating lazily from the sky. Someone must have opened the snow gates and not closed them. With the curtain of snow still falling it was difficult to see across the alley to the building next door. She poured herself a half cup of coffee, filled the rest with milk, and added two spoons of sugar to make the brew palatable. She favored a cup of tea over coffee, but with winter setting in, supplies were slow to arrive and what tea was on hand was for customers. She returned to the window to watch the snow pile up.
She was halfway through her cup of coffee when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Thinking it was Asa or Leona, she didn’t bother turning around, but filled another cup for whomever was joining her.
“Good morning, Bertha.”
Even though she was aware someone was entering the kitchen, hot coffee sloshed over her shaking hand. That voice. One she hadn’t heard in a while. “Ouch.”
“Here, let me help.” Sorely turned on the cold water. “Hold your hand under the water.” He stood beside her, took her hand, and held it beneath the water.
“I’m . . . I’m fine.” The warmth of his hand took her mind off her burning skin. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
He took a towel hanging from a rack by the sink and removed a plate of butter from the ice box. He turned off the water and dried off her hand. For a rough and tumble man, his tenderness came as a surprise.
“Come, sit down.” Holding her hand in the towel, he led her to a chair. “I’m going to put some butter on the burns.”
“No. Wait. There is an aloe plant on the counter by the ice box. Break off a leaf and bring it to me.”
“But Ma always used butter or lard on burns.”
“So did my grandmother, but I learned the aloe trick when I was traveling in the south after the war. It takes away the pain and heals the burn quicker than butter or lard.” When he brought the leaf to her, she tore it lengthwise, and rubbed the inside on her hand.
“Hmph. You learn something new every day.” Sorley brought her cup to her then took his from the counter and sat across from her.
Bertha’s heart skipped a beat, but bit back a laugh at his stockinged feet, the left one sporting a hole in the big toe. It didn’t matter. He was every bit as handsome as the last time she’d seen him. He obviously hadn’t shaved this morning, but at least he hadn’t grown that awful beard back. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of suspenders held up his dungarees.
The sting from the burn was rapidly disappearing, “What are you doing here so early?” Darn. She hadn’t meant the question to sound so snippy. “I mean, why aren’t you at King’s ranch? Isn’t that where you work in the winter?” He’d told her once he took care of King’s racehorses at a place outside of town in the summer.
“Leona said she needed some meat and eggs for the restaurant. Since King’s been busy being a new husband, he didn’t have the time to come out and get them himself, so he asked me to do it. I managed to get into town late yesterday afternoon before the storm hit. But by then, the snow was too heavy for me to return.”
“But where did you stay last night?”
Sorely refilled their cups. “Black?”
“No. Cream and sugar.” She stood.
“Sit. Let me get it.” He returned with the items and retook his seat. “King said I could stay here.” He chuckled. “I have a feeling my staying with them would have put a damper on their . . .” He wiggled his hand. “You know. So, he told me to stay here. I’m in a room on the second floor.”
Heat rose to her face. Yes, she did know. That’s why she’d seen so little of her friends. “I’d bet any money there will be a trio of babies born come fall.”
“I’d take that bet.” He moved his cup around in circles. “I missed you.”
He’d missed her? Then why hadn’t he come by? Should she ask?
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around since the opening of the restaurant. One of King’s men decided to head south for the winter, and with Asa and Josiah living in town, he’s shorthanded. Once I bring the horses in from the training site, I usually stick around and help out, but this year, he’s needed me more.”
“Oh.”
“I bet you thought I’d forgotten about you, didn’t you?”
Her cheeks burned. “Well . . .” She glanced into his twinkling eyes. “I guess I did.”
Sorely shook his head. “My fault completely. I could have sent a note, but I’m not much of a writer.” He stared into his cup. “You know, love letters. Poems. Stuff like that. I’m just not that kind of a man.”
Love letters? Poetry? What was he talking about? “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He stared into her eyes. “I’m not sure why, but from the moment I saw you after the fire, it was if I’d known you before.” He took her hand. “I’m not a man of words, but something hit me. Like an arrow to my heart.”
Wow. What should she say? Would he think she was copying him if she agreed? “Um.” She squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to say anything. Especially if you don’t return my feelings. I’ll understand. A woman like you and a man like me.”
“What on Earth are you talking about? A woman like me? A man like you?”
“Why, you’re classy. Anyone can see that. I’m just a simple farmhand.”
Bertha laughed. “You? Simple? I get the feeling there’s nothing simple about you.” She shook her head. “As for my being classy? Why, that’s downright silly.”
“I have a question to ask you.”
Was he going to be like some others in this town who wanted to know the gory details of her killing James? She’d thought he was different. “What?”
“May I kiss you? I’ve wanted to since I first set eyes on you.”
Oh my. Did he mean another kiss on the cheek or a real one, smack on the lips?
She must have waited too long to answer. His face red and lips tight, Sorely stood. “That’s all right. I guess I’d seen things between us that were wrong.” He spun on his worn-out socks. “I’ll be heading back to the ranch as soon as possible.”
“Wait, Sorely. You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”
He turned back, a hopeful look on his face.
“I mean, I’d love to have you kiss me. I feel the same way. I felt this instant connection, like I’d known you my whole life. It’s something . . .”
“Yes?”
She twisted her hands together. “Something I’d never felt with James.”
Sorely stood before her. “Then by all means . . .”
His breath was warm, his lips tender, and the instant his touched hers something opened inside her like the first flower of spring bursting forth in joy at new life. A memory flashed behind her closed eyes. A stream. A fish. A young boy with red hair. A first kiss. A thrill of first love.
She leaned back and opened her eyes, seeing Sorely for what seemed like the first time. His eyes were wide, his breath coming fast.
Could it be? “Sy?”
He nodded. “Bertie?”
She slapped a hand over her lips. “I can’t believe it. You’re Sy Anderson?”
A look of wonder crossed his face. “Yes. And you’re Bertie Jorgenson?”
Excitement such as she’d never felt before hit her. Her breath caught in her chest. Tears pooled in her eyes. Without thinking she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, never wanting to let go. His hug back was equally fierce. “How is this possible?”
Sorely drew his arms away. “Maybe we should sit down and talk.”
“Good idea, since I don’t think my legs can hold me up right now.”
Sorely helped her to a chair and pulled one up so that his knees were touching hers. “I knew you seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out from where.”
Bertha ran a finger down his cheek. “It’s been twenty years and a lot has happened since then.”
“But why are you called Bertha when you had introduced yourself as Bertie?”
“Bertha Mae is my real name. My grandparents always called me Bertie. So, whenever I was at their farm, I was a different person, so I considered myself Bertie.” Sorely took her hands in his. “What about you? I knew you as Sy. Why are you called Sorely?”
Sorely chuckled. “When I was in the war, when we had a chance, I used to play poker with the other guys. I guess I was a sore loser. My friends, and not those not really my friends, started calling me Sorely as in ‘He is surely a sore loser.’”
“But I thought your last name was Anderson.”
“It sort of was. My father, whose last name was Swenson, died when my youngest brother, Ches, was a baby. After a year or so, my mother met my stepfather, whose last name is Anderson. We took his last name, but not officially. When I joined the service, I had to use my real last name. Both names stuck. I never did hear the last name of your husband, so I never made a connection to Bertha Woods.”
Like twenty years before, her heart was still beating so hard, he had to see it pounding against her blouse. “What have you been doing all these years? How is your family? Have your brothers married? Are your parents still alive?”
Sorely held up a hand and laughed. “Hold on. Let me refill our coffee and then you can fill me in on your past. But first . . .”
He leaned across their laps and kissed her again, sending waves of pleasure through her. Is it possible for one’s heart to feel at home? Because it was exactly how she felt right now. At home. And even though it was beating like a rabbit trying to escape a hawk, her heart was at peace. He broke the kiss much too soon, refilled their coffee cups, and took his seat.
A batch of nerves briefly overcame her joy at finding her first love. How much should she tell him about her life with James? He grinned at her. All of it. She wanted all of it off her chest.
“Now, where were we?” He tilted his head toward her.
Bertha giggled and pushed him back. “I think we need to catch up on our lives before we take this any further.”
Their coffee was ignored and turned cold as they talked for the next hour. Asa, Leona, and Josiah came and went, eating breakfast and preparing for the day, but Bertha paid them scant attention. Her attention was solely on her old friend, but his presence raised an important question.
“Should I call you Sy or Sorely?
“You can call me whatever you want.” He gave her a quick kiss before pulling her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her. “Sy Anderson. Sy Swenson. Sorely Swenson. I don’t care. I know this is short notice, but now I know why I never married before. I was waiting for my first love to return to me.”
Tears pooled in her eyes at his words.
“And, whichever name you choose to call me, the most important would be ‘husband.’”
“Husband?”
“Yes. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Barely able to control her emotions, she put everything into the kiss she gave him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”
Applause came from the door between the kitchen and dining room where Asa, Leona, and Josiah stood. Leona nudged her husband. “Looks like we have another wedding to plan.”
Sy kissed Bertha’s nose. “We sure do. And the sooner, the better.”
Bertha sighed as twenty years of pain and loneliness were washed away. Sy picked her up and twirled her in a circle reminding her how her life had come—full circle.