this time of day.”
While Grace and her daughter headed to the dining room, Mary faced her mother. “Father said
I wasn’t happy here when I lived here. Is that true?”
Her mother shook her head. “He thought it was good that you left. Said it was the best thing
for you.”
Mary studied the uncertain look on her mother’s face. “But you don’t agree?”
“You can’t fault a mother for wanting to keep her children close by, can you?”
Noting the reserved tone in her mother’s voice, she cleared her throat. “But we write. I don’t
remember the letters, but Dave says we keep in touch.”
“It’s not the same.” She offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and motioned to the dining
room. “Now, let’s eat. It’s been a long day, and there’s more to do.”
Mary’s stomach tensed, and she felt a drop in appetite. Her mother wasn’t pleased with her.
She wondered if it was because she left for Nebraska or if her mother hadn’t been pleased with
her other times in the past. Maybe she could ask Grace about it after supper.
Reluctant to drop the conversation, Mary obeyed her mother and went to the dining room. She
couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with anyone. After she got into her chair, she bowed
her head as Calvin led the prayer and opened them when she trusted herself not to cry in front
of everyone. It didn’t seem right that her mother’s words should affect her this much. Yes, the
words stung. Knowing she displeased her mother by leaving Maine wasn’t pleasant. But in the
whole scheme of things, it was a minor thing. Or was it a sign that her life here had been an
unhappy one, as her father said? She dared a glance at her mother who doted on her
grandchildren from where she sat at the head of the table. Dave sat closer to her mother than
she did, which offered a nice barrier at the moment. She wondered if he chose to sit there for
a reason. Did her father say something to him about her life here before she left Maine?
With a sigh, she picked up her fork and stared at the pot roast and mashed potatoes. The
food seemed familiar. She’d had this meal at this house before. She tried to hold onto the
images flickering through her mind. Glimpses of more people wove in and out of the stream of
her memories. Her brothers and sisters. That’s who they were. It seemed to her that while
they were content, they weren’t laughing, not like the Larsons did.
Surprised, she glanced around the table and realized that while Grace, Calvin, and their children
kept their tones pleasant with her mother, the atmosphere was too orderly and structured. It
was formal. Stiff. Awkward. No one said anything wrong, but she had the feeling they were
too careful with their words. If she hadn’t become familiar with the way the Larsons were
whenever they ate together, it might not have startled her as much as it did.
Mary glanced at Dave to see if he picked up on the difference, but he gave no indication that he
noticed it. She sighed and ate her food, not necessarily because she had the desire to eat but
because she knew she better eat since breakfast was a long ways off.
“Mary, would you like anything else?” Grace asked, motioning to her nearly empty plate.
Mary shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“It was a fine meal, Mrs. Peters,” Dave told her mother before he wiped his mouth with a cloth
napkin he’d left at the side of his plate.
Mary knew that meant he thought the meal was alright but not as good as hers, and she
wondered if it was wrong that she liked knowing he preferred her meals to her mother’s.
“It was a good meal, Mother,” Grace added. “Did you use a new spice?”
Her mother nodded. “Actual y, I did. I can give you the recipe.”
“Yes, I’d like it.” Grace brought her napkin up from her lap and dabbed her lips. “I’l clean up.
You rest.” Mary got ready to get up and help her sister, but Grace motioned for her to stay
seated. “You had a long trip. Rest.”
Mary settled back into her chair and folded her hands in her lap.
Calvin motioned to the children and said, “You can go to the parlor.”
“Yes, Father,” they said and quietly got up and walked out of the dining room.
Mary blinked. While she didn’t think Isaac or Rachel were bad children, they typical y ran out of
the kitchen when she told them supper was over. She glanced at Dave and noticed his elbows
were on the table and his napkin hadn’t been in his lap. No one else put their elbows on the
table, and, like Grace, their napkins had been in their laps. This seemed to be another
difference between what her life had been in Maine and what it was in Nebraska.
Calvin picked up his cup of coffee. “So Dave, you’re a farmer?”
“Yes. I grow corn and beans.” Dave took a gulp of his coffee. “I was born in New York. My
family moved out west when I was a child to take advantage of the Homestead Act.”
“I’m afraid I could never be that brave,” Calvin replied. “You have a lot to overcome out there,
don’t you? I hear locusts can eat entire crops. What do you do in a case like that?”
“We make provisions to save food in an underground cel ar.” Dave glanced at Mary and smiled.
“Mary’s done a great job of making sure we’re prepared for anything, and better yet, she has a
way of seasoning foods so that her preserved foods taste as if she just cooked them.”
Pleased by his compliment, she blushed with pleasure, but then her gaze went to her mother
whose lips formed a thin line. Her mother didn’t make eye contact with her as she stood up to
help Grace take care of the rest of the dishes.
Calvin finished his coffee and stood up. “Perhaps we should retire to the parlor and talk more
there. I’d like to learn more about what you do.”
Dave stood with Mary and patted the smal of her back. She glanced at him, but he wasn’t
looking at her. She wondered why he patted her back. It seemed he was sending her a secret
message and she thought it might be in relation to her mother, but without talking to him, it was
hard to tel .
Since the men waited to fol ow her to the parlor, she led the way. Behind her, Dave was tel ing
Calvin about digging up the cel ar when he first got his land. As interested as Mary was in
relearning this, she couldn’t focus on what he was saying. She couldn’t help but think that
coming here real y was a big mistake, and she wished she had listened to her gut instinct when
it tried to warn her while she was in Nebraska.
Chapter Eleven
When it was final y time for bed, Mary set the kerosene lamp on the dresser and stared at the
place on the wal where a mirror should have been. So she asked to have the mirror removed
because she didn’t want to see her reflection in it. She didn’t mind looking at herself back
home. Maybe she wasn’t as pretty as some women, but she thought she looked just fine.
Dave closed the door behind him and let out a long sigh. “Today was a long one.” He went
over to her and kissed her. Brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, he smiled. “I’l be
honest. I’m glad my parents had a mind to go to Nebraska. I have no desire to live in this area
of the country.”
“I don’t either,” she admitted, thinking of the open land and wide blue sky. She missed sitting
on the porch
in the middle of the day and sewing while her children played and seeing Dave pop
out of the fields or barn from time to time.
He sat down on the beds he’d joined together and pul ed off his boots.
She turned from the dresser and studied him in the dim light coming from the lamp. “We were
always happy together, weren’t we?”
His eyes grew wide. “Of course, we were.”
She relaxed. Good. She liked to think she and Dave were always happy together. As he
unbuttoned his shirt, she decided to press him further. “Was I always happy in Nebraska?”
“Yes.” He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and gave her a good look. “What’s this about?”
Shrugging, she walked over to the bed and sat next to him. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s just that
I don’t think I was happy here. It seems I was happier once I went to Nebraska.”
With a smile, he reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Wel , I know I was happier when you
arrived there.”
“But you were happy before.”
“Yes, but you made things much better.” He leaned toward her and kissed her. “You are the
best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
After a moment, she asked, “You aren’t disappointed that I’m not as pretty as some women,
are you?”
He sighed and brought his arm around her shoulders. “I forgot how things were for you here,
how people made you feel about the way you look.”
“You knew what they thought of me?”
“Wel , I did, but it’s been so long since it’s even been a problem that I forgot al about it.”
“How was it a problem?”
He pul ed her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. “Wel , I recal you didn’t think you
were attractive. I thought you were, but you didn’t agree with me. It’s because of what some
people told you while you were growing up.”
Since Grace pretty much said the same thing, she nodded. “I don’t remember what people
said about me. Grace wouldn’t go into detail when I asked her.”
“I don’t know the details, Mary, and I don’t want to know them. None of what anyone said or
wil say about you wil change anything. You’re beautiful to me. That’s al that matters, isn’t it?”
She blinked back her tears, surprised by how much he loved her. They were, indeed, happy
together. “Yes, it is al that matters. You’re right.”
He brushed her cheek with his fingers, his touch a light caress across her skin. Her body
responded easily to him. It probably always had. “I wish I could remember more about the
day we met.”
“I think you wil . Just give it time.”
“Dave?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
She was almost afraid to ask what else was on her mind, but since he was answering her other
questions, then perhaps he’d answer this one. “What did you and my father talk about? Al my
father told me was that I’m happier now than I was when I lived here, and he’s glad I’m with
you.”
“Your pa told me how things were for you when you lived here. It wasn’t easy to hear.”
She straightened up so she could look at him. “Was it that bad?” Grace wouldn’t tel her much,
but maybe Dave would.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
She watched him in the soft light, gauging by the slight frown of his lips and furrowing of his
eyebrows that her past angered and hurt him at the same time. Sighing, she shrugged and
decided to let the matter go. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d never regain this part of her
memory.
As she stood up to get her nightshirt from the drawer, he softly said, “The problem with a lot of
people is that they either speak without thinking or they only like a person as long as they can
use them.”
She turned from the dresser, her nightshirt in hand, and studied the hard lines on his face. She
didn’t think he often looked like he was ready to fight someone. “I get the idea.” So that’s how
her life had been. People mocked her looks and took advantage of her. No wonder she was
miserable when she lived here. “I wish we weren’t staying for two weeks.”
“If I’d known, I don’t think I would have come at al . I thought this was going to be a good
experience for you. I’m afraid it won’t be.” When his eyes met hers, he continued, “You didn’t
say much about your life here. You just said you worked at the restaurant where people
couldn’t get enough of your pies, and you enjoyed taking walks through town.”
“Then the letters from Grace…?”
He shrugged. “Grace doesn’t write about the past. She just tel s you how she and her family
are doing. You write her the same things.”
She didn’t know what to say to that so she decided to get ready for bed. They’d stick it out for
the two weeks they would be here and then go back home where they would put this whole
thing behind them. By the time she slipped out of her undergarments, he had removed his
clothes and placed them on the chair in the corner of the room.
She turned the knob on the kerosene lamp until the room was dark except for the moonlight
that poured in through the open curtains at the window. She thought about drawing the curtains
so the room would be dark, but she liked knowing the same moon lighting up the sky here in
Maine was also in Nebraska so she opted to leave them open.
lips met hers, and the undeniable hunger in his kiss told her they’d be making love instead of
going to sleep right away. Her nightshirt fel softly to the floor as she wrapped her arms around
his neck. Her naked body molded into his, aware of his growing arousal. Something in his
desire for her made her recal how beautiful he’d made her feel every time they came together
when they were first married. She remembered thinking when they were together like this in
the dark, she could imagine she was attractive. Except, she knew she didn’t have to imagine
it. She real y was that way with him. Clinging to him, she deepened their kiss, longing for al
the shadows of her past in Maine to fade into the recesses of her mind where they belonged.
His lips left hers as he ran his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. His hands were
unusual y hungry, unusual y demanding. But she didn’t mind it. It was absolutely wonderful to
be coveted so passionately.
“I love you, Mary,” he murmured as he kissed her neck.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her body tingling with delight as his lips teased her earlobe.
He brought his hands up her back and then to her head where he cupped her face. His lips
returned to hers, and he brushed her tongue with his. The ache between her legs made her
moan with desire for his erection which pressed into her abdomen. She loved the feel of him
inside her. Not only did it feel good, but she felt complete with him when they were intimately
connected that way.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across her mouth. Intoxicated, she responded to
his intimate exploration of her mouth by exploring his. At the moment, there was no one else
who existed. It was just the two of them, and she got a glimpse of a time when they’d made
love in the river that wound through their property. No one had existed for her at that time,
&n
bsp; either. She recal ed feeling complete back then, knowing her husband desired her.
She’d felt incredibly lovely when he made love to her when they first married. A link to how
she’d felt about herself back then was returning to her, and she knew it stemmed from her
experience while growing up. She began to understand why she requested that the mirror be
removed from her bedroom. She hadn’t liked what she saw when she looked at her reflection,
believing that when she saw herself, she saw the same undesirable woman who would never
be loved by a man.
But she was loved. Dave found in her something lovely to adore, and it made al the years
she’d felt unworthy of love fade into the shadows of her past until she could look at herself in
the mirror and find a woman worth looking at. She now understood how much he’d done for
her when she first married him. And it made her love him al the more.
When he ended the kiss, he took her hand in his and led her to the bed. She settled onto it and
waited for him to join her before she brought her lips back to his.
He brought her into his embrace and rol ed onto his back so she was on top of him. She
straddled him and, with her sensitive nub demanding to be stroked, rubbed herself along his
erection. Breathless, she ended the kiss and straightened her back so that she could move her
hips to heighten her pleasure. He whispered his encouragement, so she continued. Closing her
eyes, she focused on the way her body felt against his.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and moaned, his hips moving in rhythm to help her achieve
her climax, and it didn’t take long before she reached her peak. She stil ed and let out a soft
cry as her orgasm crashed into her, each wave of pleasure less intense than the first. When
she was satisfied, she took him inside her and bit her lower lip in appreciation for how
wonderful he felt as he fil ed her core.
He brought his hands to her hips and guided her movements as he thrust deeper inside her.
Her tender flesh squeezed him, pul ing him further in, and the sensation made her gasp in
pleasure. They worked together in unison, aiming for the same goal, and to her surprise,
another orgasm overtook her. His impatient thrusting only served to prolong her climax, and
just as she began to relax once more, his body tensed and he moaned as he reached his own