that nothing you do is lacking.”
“Is it any wonder why I married him?” Grace told Dave and Mary.
Dave smiled, final y feeling the last of his tension leave. This was what being with Mary’s family
should be like. It was so different from the atmosphere in the parlor. No wonder al the
children were playing in the front yard. They were smart enough to get out of the house so
they could enjoy themselves. Turning his attention back to Mary, Grace and Calvin, he joined in
the conversation, putting her mother far from his mind.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Mary decided to start making breakfast before her mother or Grace and her
family woke up. Dave had offered to keep her company in the kitchen, but she’d told him she
wanted to be alone. And she did. The previous day and evening had been tense. Her mother
wasn’t forgiving her and Dave, and she sensed something happened between her mother and
Dave to make things worse but she lost the nerve to ask Dave about it. The only thing she
knew for sure was when she saw them in the parlor staring at each other, neither one was
happy.
She wasn’t sure how breakfast would go, and if she could make something for her and Dave to
eat before her mother woke up, that would suit her just fine. As she gathered the ingredients to
make Dave the french toast and hash browns he’d wanted the day before, she decided she’d
make enough for everyone except her father who was only eating soup.
She worked on the breakfast, her thoughts not on anything in particular. But she was getting a
strange feeling from the past. It wasn’t a good feeling, which was why she tried to delay it.
She’d cooked in this kitchen many times, and she thought any memories associated with
cooking would bring her a feeling of peace. This time she was aware of despair and
hopelessness. She couldn’t imagine having a future here. Wel , not a happy one. She’d
existed in Maine, accepting people’s opinions of her and believing what they saw when they
looked at her was how she truly was.
She finished with the hash browns and set the pan on the worktable before she walked over to
the window. There was no mirror in the kitchen, but she thought she might get a good view of
her reflection. She looked at the window pane and focused on her face. Bits and pieces of
how she used to see herself crept into her awareness. Squinting, she took in the frizzy hair that
refused to stay in place. Her face seemed a bit awkward, the nose unusual y big and the lips
too thin. Love is for beautiful women, Mother. I understand why men ignore me. She rubbed
her eyes. This was why she hated mirrors when she lived here—before she met Dave and
could final y look in one without feeling unattractive.
Turning from the window, she returned to the cook stove, dipped two slices of bread into the
batter and placed them in the frying pan. As she placed it on the cook stove, she heard
footsteps heading for the kitchen, and judging by the sound of them, they were a woman’s.
She held her breath, praying it was Grace. But as luck would have it, it was her mother. Mary
swal owed the lump in her throat and focused on the food in front of her. Just what was she
supposed to say to her mother?
Her mother grabbed a cup from a hook on the wal and poured some coffee into it.
Steeling her resolve, she glanced at her mother. “I hope you don’t mind that I decided to make
breakfast.”
“Seeing as how you started without asking, I don’t have a choice now, do I?”
Her face warmed from the admonition. “I wanted to be useful.”
“Where’s that husband of yours?”
“On the porch…I think.”
“At least he isn’t in here. Men don’t belong in the kitchen. This is a woman’s place.”
Surprised her mother would say that, she studied the woman as she sipped her coffee. “I
know. I cook at home.”
“Wel , your husband doesn’t seem to understand what’s right for a man or a woman. I hear
you’ve worn pants.”
Further embarrassed, she averted her eyes from her mother’s intense stare and picked up the
spatula to turn the slices of bread over. “On a farm, pants come in handy for some of the
chores.”
“I don’t know exactly. I just know I’ve needed pants.”
“That’s rather odd. How could you know you’ve worn pants but not remember why?”
Mary shrugged. “I get glimpses of my life.” She cleared her throat and prayed Grace would be
in the kitchen soon. “I was in pants at one time, and I know I was doing something on the
farm.”
Her mother grunted but didn’t say anything.
After a moment, Mary added, “Dave and I won’t be here most of the day. I’l take him to the
lighthouse so he can see the Atlantic.”
“I thought you came here to see your father.”
“It’s Father’s wish that I take Dave out there. He told me to go there when I saw him.” As an
afterthought, she added, “Yesterday.”
“Let’s just hope Providence doesn’t cal him while you’re off having a good old time with that
husband of yours.”
Taking the slices of bread out of the pan and placing them on the plate on the worktable, Mary
ventured, “Why don’t you like Dave?”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You real y want to know?”
She hesitated, debating whether or not she was asking for more trouble by pressing the issue,
but final y she decided she had to know what was going on if there was any chance she might
salvage whatever relationship she shared with her mother. She braced herself for whatever her
mother was going to say and nodded. “Yes.”
“Fine. I’l tel you. He was rude to me yesterday. Talked bad to me right in front of your
brother and sisters. Never apologized for it either.”
Mary frowned as she dipped more slices of bread into the mixture for the french toast before
putting them into the pan. “That doesn’t sound like Dave.”
“How wel can you know him? You don’t even remember him since you lost your memory.”
“But I do know him. I might not remember everything, but I do know him, in my heart.”
Realizing that was a vague answer, she shrugged. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“I suppose you have to support him since you’re married to him.”
“No, I’m not supporting him because I’m married to him. Dave is a kind and good man.”
A couple sets of footsteps coming down the stairs stopped her mother from responding.
Thankful for the reprieve, Mary turned back to cooking.
Grace, fol owed by her children, came into the kitchen. “I must wake up earlier. You two make
me look bad. Calvin and the children are apt to think I’m lazy.”
“Nonsense,” her mother assured her with a smile. “The older I get, the earlier I wake up. I
didn’t get up at dawn when I was your age.”
Mary gritted her teeth as she flipped over the slices of bread in the pan. Had it been her who
slept in, she was sure her mother would find a cutting retort on how she’d do better to wake up
earlier in the day since sloth was a sin. Her first inclination was to find a way to excuse her
mother’s behavior because she got the feeling she’d done that in the past. But Mary was tired
of living in the past or trying to figure out a way to appease her mother. Ever since she walked
into this house, her mother hadn’t been pleasant to her. If her mother made an effort, then they
could work something out, but as it was, her mother didn’t leave room for resolving any past
differences. Quite frankly, if Dave had been rude to her mother—something she stil didn’t
believe, then he did it for a good reason.
“Since it’s a nice day, why don’t I take the children outside,” her mother told Grace. “They are
so adorable, much like you were at their age, Grace.”
“Alright,” Grace replied. “I’l stay in here and help Mary.”
“Come on, children,” her mother told them. “Let’s go out to the porch.”
“Are you sure you want to do that when my husband is out there?” Mary snapped, unable to
stop herself. As it was, she did good to refrain from saying anything else, and she had plenty
she wanted to say at the moment!
“This is my house,” her mother replied. “I wil not be a prisoner in it.”
“Wel then don’t complain about anything he does to upset you,” she retorted.
Grace’s eyes grew wide and the children stood stil in shock. Her mother’s face turned red and
her lips formed a thin line.
Mary mental y cursed herself for saying that. She couldn’t recal a time when she came right
out and acted in such a bold manner, but her mother hit a nerve by criticizing Dave, and she had
to draw the line somewhere. Of al the things Dave had done for her, loving her and finding
beauty in her when so few others—including her mother—had, she couldn’t tolerate her mother
speaking poorly about him.
Her mother looked at Grace. “Take the children out there. I must talk to my wayward
daughter.”
Mary spun around and banged the spatula on the worktable. “Why? You don’t want her to
witness how you’ve been treating me and Dave ever since we got here?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” her mother told Grace. “Go.”
The children bolted out of the kitchen, knowing better than to stick around, and Mary couldn’t
blame them. They didn’t need to hear any of this. She glanced at Grace who didn’t budge.
She could see the conflict in her sister’s eyes. Grace wanted to stay and help Mary, but Mary
knew this would make things hard on Grace and her family. At least Mary lived in Nebraska
and would never return. She could afford to be ostracized by their mother, but Grace lived
close enough where she might have to come back.
“Go, Grace,” Mary softly said. “You don’t need to be a part of this.”
Grace shifted from one foot to another and gave a slight shake of her head. Noting the scowl
on her mother’s face, Mary motioned for Grace to leave. Grace sighed and obeyed, her
shoulders slumped.
Mary gripped the table, bracing herself for what was to come. She’d never stood up to her
mother before. She could feel she hadn’t. But she needed to. Taking a deep breath, she
decided to make one more attempt at reconciling things. She owed it to her mother to do that.
“Mother, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just don’t like hearing you speak il of Dave. I do
remember that no one wanted to marry me, and I left to get a husband. Providence has been
good to me in that Dave happened to be at the train station when I arrived in Nebraska. So wil
you please be nice to him?”
“Did you give him the same speech you just gave me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you tel him I spent nineteen years raising you or that I taught you al you know about
sewing and cooking? Did you tel him I took care of you when you were sick as a child? And
because of al of that, he needs to be nice to me?”
Mary’s pulse quickened.
“Of course not,” her mother bitterly replied. “You didn’t think of any of the things I did for you.
Al you can think about is what he’s done.”
At that moment, Mary remembered her mother’s unenthusiastic response when she told her
that the man she wrote to wanted her to come out to Nebraska to marry him. Her mother tried
to discourage her from going and even insisted she get a return ticket. It was then she
understood why her mother didn’t like Dave. “You never wanted me to get married,” she softly
said.
“Nonsense. It’s not my fault the available men in this town found nothing worth loving when they
looked at you.”
For a moment, it felt as if her mother had slapped her. Then she recal ed what her mother had
written her in a letter shortly after she married Dave. Her mother had written that it was a good
thing men out west were desperate for wives or else she wouldn’t have gotten married. She
also recal ed throwing the letter away before Dave could read it. She was afraid he might find
her lacking if he got the idea she wasn’t attractive because he’d made her feel attractive for the
first time in her life.
Mary final y made eye contact with her mother, and as she did, she felt as if she was seeing
her for the first time. “I understand your grievances are not real y toward my husband but in the
fact that I’m no longer here to do your bidding. I won’t be leaving him to come back here, no
matter what you say or do. I also understand the animosity you feel toward me for leaving in
the first place has increased over the years until you can’t stand the sight of me. I’m going back
to Nebraska with my husband. If you can manage to be nice to me in the letters, then I’l be
happy to receive them and to write you back. If, however, you continue to make unkind
remarks regarding Dave or me, then I won’t respond anymore. The choice is yours.”
Mary forced herself to remain stil and wait for her mother to respond. The easy way would be
to leave immediately, but she figured she had to at least give the impression that her mother no
longer intimidated her because, truth be told, even now her hands were trembling and her
throat was dry.
“It’s not your place to give me an ultimatum,” her mother final y said, her tone cold.
So her mother wouldn’t treat her any differently. She didn’t have to come out and say it. Mary
saw it in the hard expression on her face. “I have my answer then.”
Mary took off the apron and set it on the worktable before she headed out of the kitchen. She
tried not to run out of the house in case she showed her mother that her response bothered
her. As it was, her face was hot from the humiliation of knowing how little her mother real y
thought of her and tears stung her eyes. But as long as she calmly walked out of the house,
keeping her back to her mother, she could preserve the last remaining bit of pride she had.
When she made it onto the porch, she quickly veered away from Dave, her sister, Calvin and
the children so she could gather her bearings. She knew Dave would fol ow her, and sure
enough, she heard his footsteps behind her while she hurried down the porch steps. It wasn’t
that she minded him fol owing. She just wished she could stop the tears from fal ing. No
amount of wiping them away or wil ing them away worked.
“Mary?”
“I’m not going back in there,” she forced out, her voice shaky.
He caught up with her, but she didn’t slow her pace. Ignoring the stare from a woman who was
sweeping the
porch of the house across the street, Mary turned toward the wooded area of
town. “I don’t care for Mother, and she doesn’t care for me. What else is there to say?”
And real y, that summed it up perfectly. She might not have al the details of her relationship
with her mother in the past, but her mother had been used to getting whatever she wanted and
when Mary left for Nebraska, that was when she fel from grace. It was the day her mother
lost control. Mary recal ed boarding the train the day she left Maine and thinking she would
never return, even if the man she went to meet didn’t want her. She’d been determined to
make it in Nebraska one way or another.
They reached the wooded area, so she stopped and turned to Dave. Before he could say
anything, she stepped toward him and col apsed against him. He brought his arms around her,
and she gave into the need to cry, taking comfort in his strength. He rubbed her back in
soothing circular motions as she al owed herself the freedom to mourn things that could never
be between her and her mother, things she wished were different but would never be.
After her sobs subsided, she stil remained in his arms, feeling protected from the harsher
realities of the world. With a long sigh, she closed her eyes and spent the next couple of
minutes listening to the melody of the birds singing around them.
“You don’t have to go back into the house,” he final y whispered.
“Good.”
“Wil you tel me what happened?”
She shrugged. “What’s to say? My mother resents the fact that I left Maine. She won’t try to
resolve things with me. I told her she needed to accept my life with you or I had nothing else to
say to her. She made her choice, so that’s the end of it.”
He kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold on her. “It’l be alright, sweetheart. We
have each other and our children.”
“I’l never treat our children the way she treated me.”
“I know you won’t.”
She opened her eyes and stepped away from him so she could wipe her cheeks.
“Feel better?”
She nodded. “Somewhat. It’s going to take time to get over this.”
“I know. But I’m proud of you, Mary. You stood up for yourself. And in the future when you