When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, “What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?”

“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said. “Go to sleep, now.”

But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods …

She thought to herself, “This is now.”

She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago. -Little House in the Big Woods

Twenty-Nine

“Mom’s doing domestic duty at the farm today,” Kari told Chloe the next morning. They’d made it as far as Springfield, Illinois the day before, and were about to hit the highway again. “I called to check on the girls while you were out getting coffee.”

“Coffee and crullers,” Chloe corrected her happily, plunking the bag down on the table. “Anything going on at home?”

“Miss Lila’s lawyer called her and Dad in to hear about the will. The Bear Track quilt was not mentioned, so I don’t know how that will be resolved.”

Chloe was still coming to terms with what they’d learned about Miss Lila’s quilt. Mary’s quilt. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Miss Lila left Mom and Dad some antique china, and she left you six heirloom linen handkerchiefs with handmade lace edging. And … ” Kari lifted her palms, then let them drop back into her lap. “As promised, she left me the single quilt square Laura made.”

“I’m glad,” Chloe said honestly as she pulled a cruller from the bag. “I’ve developed a theory about that square. I think that after Almanzo died Laura felt an urge to reconstruct her bridal quilt, which burned in the fire. But after making one square, she stopped. It wouldn’t bring Almanzo back.”

Kari nodded thoughtfully as she stirred creamer into her coffee.

“You should frame the square. Just be sure to use archival matting,” Chloe couldn’t help adding.

“I’m going to donate it to one of the homesites.”

“That’s great, but—good luck choosing!”

“I’m leaning toward the museum in Burr Oak,” Kari said. “The family’s time there was so sad, and they left nothing tangible behind. It just feels right.”

Chloe licked a bit of glaze from one finger. “You know, almost all of the disasters that plagued our trip have been accounted for, but not the fire.”

Kari frowned. “You’re right. Haruka said she pulled the museum’s fire alarm, but Wilbur Voss actually got burned in the tavern.”

“Well, last night I read the whole Iowa section of Laura’s memoir, which I only skimmed before.” Chloe balled her napkin. “She wrote about a guy who died after lighting a cigar while drinking whiskey.”

“That’s horrid.” Kari’s mouth twisted. “And … a bit eerie.”

“Kind of,” Chloe agreed. Probably what happened to Wilbur was pure coincidence. But maybe, in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend, it wasn’t.

Once the Rambler was packed, Chloe took the wheel. They drove in silence for some time before Kari said, “Chloe? I am truly sorry I ruined our trip.”

Chloe snorted. “Good God, you had a lot of help. Anyway, it wasn’t ruined. I’m glad we went.” She nibbled her lower lip. “You know, when we were kids it seemed like everything came so easily to you.”

“I always envied you. Your adventures.” Kari stared out the window. “After high school I didn’t have the courage to go any farther than UW–Madison. If I had, I might have been better prepared to marry Tryg and settle down.”

“Maybe, but don’t look to me for relationship advice. I make it up as I go along.” Chloe changed lanes to pass a semi. “Kari, I’d like to give you a little money to help pay that credit card bill—”

“Thank you, but no,” Kari said firmly. “I’m going to tell Tryg about it. We’ll figure something out.”

They reached the land of cheese by early afternoon, and Chloe’s farmhouse an hour later. She grinned when she spotted Roel­ke’s truck in the driveway. He came outside to greet them.

“That’s him?” Kari asked.

“That’s him.”

Kari got out. Roel­ke extended his hand. “Hi, I’m—”

“Thank you for getting those pictures.” She pulled him into a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Roel­ke managed. “I burned them.”

“Good.” Kari stepped back. “And I want to see you at the farm, okay? Come meet my family.”

“Sure.”

Chloe took her luggage and the quilt box inside, and received a joyful greeting from her cat Olympia. She and Roel­ke waved as Kari headed home.

Then Roel­ke crushed Chloe into his arms. “When you told me about this trip, I never dreamed you’d get mixed up in murder. Jesus, Chloe! When I picture that woman pulling a gun on you—”

“I’m fine,” she said, although his embrace made her aware of every bang and bruise.

Roel­ke’s grip tightened.

“First I got so scared I almost peed my pants,” Chloe admitted. “Then I got angry. Honestly, I think deep down I knew Haruka wouldn’t shoot me. She was a wreck after Kim Dexheimer died.”

He stepped back but clasped her shoulders. “You look like a battered woman.”

“Thanks,” she said lightly. “I need you to tell me more about that whole command presence thing. I don’t have it down.”

Roel­ke started to growl. “You should never—”

Okay, that was enough. “I am really glad to be back in Wisconsin.”

He let her go, accepting her change of subject. “I know you just got home, but … are you game for a drive before supper?”

“Um … sure.” Chloe eyed him. Something was up.

They got into his truck. “So,” Roel­ke said as they pulled out, “did you find Laura?”

“Yes and no.” Chloe propped her toes on the dash. “Actually, I seem to have found her older sister, Mary. In more ways than one.”

“Yeah?”

“Not what I expected. I shouldn’t have just assumed that any lingering trace of the Ingalls family would come from Laura.” Chloe thought about the quilt she’d started, which so echoed Mary’s. She thought about the laughter she’d heard in the Kansas prairie, and the longing she’d felt in the Ingalls House in De Smet. Maybe, deep down, Mary hadn’t been quite as serene an adult as she’d appeared.

“Hunh.”

“I believe I did find Laura twice, though. Once was in the Burr Oak Cemetery. I didn’t understand it at the time, but last night I read in her memoir that she thought it was a beautiful and peaceful place, and often played there.”

Roel­ke rubbed his jaw. “Well, hunh.”

“And later, in the farmhouse where she lived with Almanzo for so many years, I’m positive I felt something of her in their bedroom.” Chloe looked out the window.

“Well, maybe you’ll have another chance. Will there be another symposium next year?”

“Maybe. And that would be great, but … I think I’ll pass.” The scholarship was important, but Chloe wanted to keep Laura as the trusted childhood friend she remembered.

Roel­ke squeezed her knee. His hand was warm and strong, and felt like it belonged there.

Ten minutes later he parked in front of his family farm. He turned to face her. “Chloe, I want to buy this place.”

“I know, but … you said you couldn’t afford it.”

“Can we go sit on the porch and talk? Something has changed.”

Chloe remembered Kari’s advice about neutral places vs. a man’s ancestral home. “Let’s just talk here. What’s going on?”

“I think I can buy the place. Because of you.”

She edged closer to the door. “Roel­ke, I can’t be the reason you do or don’t buy this farm. Not financially, not emotionally. That’s way too much pressure—”

“Hear me out.” He held up one palm. “I can afford it because of something you said.”

Chloe’s eyebrows rose. “Me?” she asked doubtfully.

“I rented a plane one day and flew over the farm. From the air it’s really striking how the property nestles up against the state forest. I remembered the fun Libby and I used to have at the springs. Then I remembered you talking about how people used to come enjoy the mineral springs around here, and how most of the springs are gone now.”

“So?”

“So, the springs here are still flowing. I’ve talked with some people about the property’s historical significance, and the natural habitat. Long story short, it qualifies for a preservation easement. With that, I can manage the purchase.” He’d been gazing at the house, but turned to look at her. “All because you talked about the history stuff.”

“Yikes.” Chloe tried to figure out how she felt about that. “That’s wonderful.”

“You don’t sound like you think it’s wonderful.”

“I—I’m just not sure what it means. For you, for me. For us.”

“Chloe, I want a home,” Roel­ke said simply. “The idea of sharing it with you makes me happy, and I’d hoped it would make you happy too. It doesn’t, and that makes me sad. But it doesn’t change what I want.”

Chloe hugged her arms across her chest.

“I needed to decide about buying the farm for myself. It’s my family heritage, my savings, my career being affected.”

“Well, my career too,” Chloe objected. “As long as we’re a couple.”

“What I mean is, I’m not trying to make a choice for both of us.” Roel­ke beat the steering wheel with his thumb. “I’m ready to settle down. If you’re ready to move on, I get it.”

“No, I’m not ready to move on. But Roel­ke, I’ve got nothing to contribute. I’ve got very little in the bank, and student loans, and a crappy car, and—”

“You’re worried about money?” Roel­ke looked like she’d smacked him in the face with her checkbook. “I didn’t ask you about living together because—”

“Why did you ask me? It never came up before.”

“Believe me, the idea didn’t pop into my brain when I saw that For Sale sign.”

“But things are good for us now. Why risk it? What is it you want?”

“I want you to make a quilt for our bed and plant weird heirloom vegetables in our garden. I want to hear you hum hymns while you wash dishes—”

“I don’t hum hymns while I wash dishes!”

“Yeah, you do. ‘For the Beauty of the Earth,’ most often.”

Chloe wondered what else she didn’t know about herself.

“I want Olympia to sleep in a sunny window. I want to sit in a porch swing with you and watch fireflies.”

Chloe stared at her knuckles. That all sounded good. In a scary kind of way.

“I want to crawl into bed with you when I come home at three a.m. after a bad shift,” Roel­ke said. “I want to be available if you have a bad shift. I want life to be a little easier for you.”

The back of Chloe’s throat began to ache. She couldn’t bear the intensity of his gaze. “I … um … I need to take a walk.”

She got out of the truck, walked across the lawn, continued around the house. Her mind cataloged the back yard—overgrown garden, large barn, sheds, even an intriguing old log cabin—but she refused to personalize the place. Instead she retreated behind the barn and sat down. Leaning against the old boards, she stared into the sun-dappled greens and browns of the Kettle Moraine State Forest. Roel­ke’s farm had more Big Woods than the Pepin homesite, now.

She considered what he’d said. It all sounded really good. But it just wasn’t that simple. Was it? Was it possible to gather the pieces of their oh-so-different selves and stitch a shared life together?

Chloe sat for a long time, thinking about Roel­ke. What she could do for him, what she couldn’t. A warbler sang from the trees. The afternoon smelled of earth and growing things. “I just don’t want to screw this up,” she whispered. The warbler kept on singing.

Finally she stood and started back. As she reached the house, a totally unexpected sound floated softly through the air: an acoustic guitar. She rounded the corner and slowly approached the porch. “You’re playing music!”

Roel­ke stopped mid-strum, looking abashed. “Well, this farm can’t just be a memorial. I realized I needed to think of something I could do here. Something to make this place new.”

“Now is now,” Chloe agreed.

“I had this old guitar in the closet, and brought it out here yesterday, and … it was okay.”

“I’m really glad.” Chloe sat down beside him on the top step. “You know, I’ve always thought that Big Woods was my favorite Little House book because it’s a Wisconsin story.”

“Fair enough.”

“But it’s also the only book where the Ingalls family felt truly rooted.” She watched a robin hopping through the weeds. “Roel­ke, every time you and I reach a good place, I’m afraid to change anything. I think, Why look for trouble? I’ve also been afraid that moving in with you, here or someplace else, would just lead to more changes.”

He put his guitar aside and nodded.

“But life is a river, and we can’t stop the current.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. I got pregnant while I was living in Switzerland. I lost the child, and I still grieve.”

“I … wow.” He took that in. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks. But the thing is, I don’t know if I want to get married. I don’t know if I want to have kids. Are you thinking about those things?”

“Holy toboggans, no!” He looked a little panicked. “Chloe, those questions are for someday. Maybe. And what happened in the past is … well, past. All I can handle thinking about is right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Chloe let that in. “Well, let’s talk about now. What about finances? I need some money of my own.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“This will always be your family farm.”

“We can make it our farm.”

“I need some space of my own.”

“Fine by me. It’s a big place.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“In fact … ” Roel­ke jumped to his feet. “I have an idea. Come on.”

He led her to the small cabin. “The first Roel­ke immigrants lived here,” he told her. “How about we fix it up and turn it into your private space? For reading or sewing or rosemaling—whatever you want.”

Chloe caught her breath. “Oh Roel­ke. That would be perfect.”

Looking pleased, he opened the door and stepped aside. “Take a look.”

Chloe stepped across the threshold—and something immediately assaulted her senses. Something dark and heavy that lingered in the shadows.

Roel­ke grinned at her from the doorway. For a long flustered moment she had no idea what to do or say.

Then she stepped back outside and deliberately turned away. Whatever remains in the old cabin can wait, she decided firmly. It is not my problem today.

Grabbing his hand, she towed him to the center of the yard. The farm wrapped itself around them like a warm and welcoming embrace. Much better.

“Roel­ke, my only other attempt to make a life with someone ended badly. You obviously have a whole lot more money than I do. If Ralph Petty figures out a way to fire me, I’ll have to look for a new job. And … I suspect you deserve a woman who’s younger and calmer than I am.”

His mouth twitched toward a smile. “Nah.”

“Kari thinks us living together here is a bad idea.”

“So does Libby.”

A breeze ruffled the nearby trees, and puffy clouds sailed across the sky. The moment felt full of possibility. Chloe turned and leaned back against the man she loved. I will not be ruled by fear, she thought.

Everything she’d learned and lost on the road trip to Laura Land swirled in her mind. Laura had been a child when she stitched her first Bear Track quilt. She’d been a very young woman when she took her bridal quilt to the home she’d share with Almanzo. Laura had much grief and loss ahead of her … but love and joy too. And in the end, far from where she’d expected to settle, she’d finally found what she’d been searching for.

Maybe sometimes, Chloe thought, you just have to climb onto the wagon and set off with a heart full of hope. And that was a whole lot easier with a good man on the seat beside you.

She screwed up her courage. “If the offer’s still open, I would like to move into the farmhouse with you.”

Roel­ke wrapped his arms around her. “The offer is definitely still open,” he said, voice husky. He kissed her temple. “Welcome home.”