Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver (10 page)

“You have to be
in
love with him.”

Ebba stared at her. “I don’t understand. What’s the difference between loving Daniel and being in love with him?”

“Exactly,” Ma said with a grin. “Most folks don’t understand that there’s a difference.”

“What is it?”

“That, child, you’re going to have to find out for yourself. Everyone’s different, and what their love looks like for another person is different. But trust me – you’ll know when you get there.”

T
he rest
of the day was spent cleaning house, baking cookies, organizing sleeping arrangements for the wedding guests and (for Ebba, anyway) learning everyone’s names. “Now let me see …” She eyed the Italian boy staring back at her. “You’re Arturo, right?”

“That’s right!” he said with a smile. “Now the rest!”

Ebba studied the two girls standing next to him. Arturo, she knew, was ten and a half. One of the girls wasn’t much younger, the other younger still. “This is going to be harder,” she admitted, then bit her lip in concentration. “Don’t tell me. Just give me a minute.”

The two girls started to giggle, but quickly slapped their hands over their mouths to stifle it. “What do we get if she guesses wrong?” one of them asked their older brother.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked at Ebba. “What do they get?”

She held out her empty hands. “I have nothing to give you, I’m afraid.”

The younger girl stomped her foot. “Then I’m not going to tell you my name.”

The other girl rolled her eyes. “Her name is Gabriella, but we call her Gabby.”

“That’s not fair!” Gabby cried. “Fine then!
Her
name is Melania, but we call her
Mel.

“Is that so?” Ebba said with a nod. “All right then, we have Arturo, Gabby and Mel.”

“I’m six!” Gabby blurted.

“You are?” Ebba said enthusiastically. “You’re very tall for six.” In fact, all of Bella’s brothers and sisters seemed tall for their age. Arturo might be ten and a half, but was almost as tall as his twelve year-old sister, Lucia. “How old are you, Mel?”

“I’m nine,” she said proudly.

“So let me see if I have this,” Ebba said. “Rufina’s the oldest, right?”

“She’s sixteen,” Arturo volunteered.

“Right,” Ebba said. “Then there’s Alfonso and he’s fifteen?”

“Fourteen,” Gabby corrected with a grin.

“Fourteen,” Ebba repeated. She tapped at her temple as if that would help her remember. “Lucia is twelve. Arturo; you’re ten and a half, Mel is nine, Leo … Leonardo …”

“We just call him Leo,” Mel said. “And he’s seven and a half, remember?”

“I do now, but after an hour I probably won’t,” Ebba admitted.

“And that doesn’t even include our other brothers!” Gabby added, hopping up and down.

“Good heavens, there are more of you?” Ebba squeaked.

“Of course there is,” Arturo said as if offended. “Don’t you remember them from this morning?”

“I’m afraid this day has me a little muddled, children, what with the wedding and all. You’ll excuse me if I have to ask you to remind me about things?”

“That’s okay,” Mel said. “We forget things too.”

“What are your brother’s names?” Ebba asked with a smile. Not that she’d remember them by the time the children left to go home.

“Thatcher is two,” Arturo said. “And the twins, Alastair and Hugh, are six months old.”

Ebba sighed. “There’s no shortage of twins in this family, is there?”

“I bet you and Daniel will have twins,” Arturo said. “
Zio
Calvin said so.”

Ebba walked over to the kitchen table and sat. “How about letting Daniel and I get married first, then we’ll see what happens?” she said diplomatically.

“I bet you have
triplets
!” Gabby said and started bouncing again.

“Oh dear me,” Ebba said in a rush. “That’s too much to think about at the moment. Let me concentrate on my wedding for now.”

The children laughed. “You’re fun to talk to – I wish we could stay longer,” Arturo said. He put his hands on the shoulders of his sisters. “Let’s go find Bella. I know she has work for us to do.”

“Can we call you
Zia
Ebba?” Gabby asked.

Zia
must mean “aunt,” Ebba realized. “Of course you can. Once I marry Daniel, that’s exactly what I’ll become.”

“Hooray!” Gabby said and started to jump again.

Arturo gave her a gentle shove and guided her and Mel to the kitchen’s backdoor. “My sister Bella will want you to come to dinner. You will tonight, won’t you?”

Ebba gave him a blank look. She could hardly think straight, let alone plan where she would eat later that day. “I’ll have to leave that up to Daniel, I’m afraid. For all I know I might be cooking supper here.”

“You won’t have to cook supper yet – you’re getting married,” Mel chimed. “Once you are,
then
you’ll have to do all the work.”

Ebba smiled nervously. “Well, I suppose that’s good to know.” She wasn’t sure if the child was joking or not.

Arturo grinned and, with Mel and Gabby in tow, left the house.

Okay, definitely joking.
Ebba sighed in relief and closed her eyes a moment. The day had been a whirlwind, and she felt like a tumbleweed tossed around by it. She didn’t expect there to be so many people, all of which she was about to be related to. “Auntie Ebba,” she mused aloud. By her estimation, she was about to inherit six brothers and sisters-in-law and … fifteen nieces and nephews?

“Oh my Lord,” she whispered as the realization hit. “It’s like a small town out here.” In which she was the only newcomer – and everyone had the same surname …

She pushed the thought aside, got up from the table and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was near three-thirty and Charity would be starting supper soon. She wanted to help, but wasn’t sure what Charity would have her do. Then she heard footsteps descending the stairs and figured she’d soon find out.

But it was Rufina, not Charity, who entered the kitchen.
Sixteen, oldest of Bella’s siblings, everyone calls her Rufi,
Ebba quickly reviewed in her mind.

“Hello,” the girl greeted her.

“Good afternoon,” Ebba said. “Is Charity upstairs?”

“Yes, she’s feeding Truly. She asked me to come down and get things started.”

“For supper?” Ebba asked. “If so, I’d like to help.”

“Yes,
grazie
.” The girl went to the stove, grabbed a couple of pieces from the wood box in the corner and stuffed them into the stove’s firebox. That done, she started gathering what they’d need to prepare supper: pots, pans, a mixing bowl.

“How can I help you?” Ebba asked. She’d never seen anyone work so fast.

“We’re going to make chicken and dumplings,” Rufi announced. “There are potatoes in the root cellar outside. Why don’t you fetch a basketful?”

Ebba glanced around. “Where’s the basket?”

“In the root cellar, silly. After you fetch the potatoes, then you return it.”

Ebba nodded and left the kitchen. Samijo had pointed out the root cellar when they’d gone to her house earlier that morning. Once there, she found several baskets, took one and hoped the potatoes weren’t in some dark corner. She wasn’t fond of reaching into such places, especially if something with more than two legs had set up house there. The cellar was large and the only light was from the open door.

Thankfully, she spotted the potatoes and easily got the job done. She went back to the house, took the potatoes out of the basket, and was headed to the root cellar to return it when the sneezing started. “Oh no, not again!”

She hurried back to the house as fast as she could, grabbed the kettle, then ran outside to the pump to fill it. Returning to the kitchen, she set it on the stove and breathed a sigh of relief.

Rufi gave her a confused look. “Are you in a hurry to make some tea?”

“It helps with … with …” She sneezed again. “… with that.”

“Didn’t
Nonna
make you chamomile tea? That’s what helps me.”

“Chamomile tea?” Ebba said in surprise. “I’m not sure. We had tea earlier today, but I didn’t know what kind it was.”

“Did it help with the sneezing?” Rufi asked.

Ebba made to sneeze again but held a finger under her nose to stop it. “Yes, it did!”

“Well then, don’t just stand there, make yourself a cup,” Rufi said with a laugh.

Ebba went to do just that before she fell into a full sneezing fit. For Heaven’s sake, around here all she had to do was go outside to get one going. At least in the city it took a while. But here in the Weavers’ little valley, such was not the case. And if she was going to live here, she’d have to figure out what to do. “How much tea does Ma have in the house?” she mused aloud.

“I have no idea, but with all your sneezing she won’t have it for long.” Rufi seemed far too amused by her suffering.

“Oh my heavens,” Ebba said, alarmed. “That means we’ll have to make another trip to town to get more. What an endeavor that will be!” Endeavor, indeed. Would Daniel make the trip just because she was sneezing her head off? Would she even be up to going with him? This ailment of hers was more trouble than it was worth. Could a man divorce a woman on grounds of allergies?

“I hear ginger tea works well too. At least that’s what my
nonna
in New York told me,” said Rufi.

Ebba already had a cup and saucer out. She grabbed the tea canister she’d seen Ma use earlier and opened it – half-full! “Oh good, there’s enough.” But how long would it take her to use it all up?

“I’ll get the chicken ready,” Rufi told her. “After you have your tea you can peel the potatoes. Is that all right?”

Ebba nodded, a finger still under her nose as she did her best not to start sneezing again. Soon the kettle began to boil and with a sigh of relief she fixed herself a cup of tea. That done, she found a knife she could use to peel the potatoes and got to work.

“Aren’t you going to drink your tea first?” Rufi asked.

“I’ll drink it as I peel. Don’t worry, I’ll try not to sneeze on the potatoes.”

It was meant as a joke, but Rufi grimaced anyway before returning to her own work. Neither of them talked for a while until Rufi broke the silence. “Are you excited to get married?”

Ebba stopped peeling. “I will be if I can stop sneezing long enough.”

“You must be miserable.” Rufi continued to work.

“Not all the time,” Ebba said. “But out here is definitely ... difficult. I can’t imagine feeling like this day in and day out.”

Rufi turned to face her. “I’m sorry that you suffer. I get like that sometimes, but nothing like you. I hope one day when I am married that I don’t …” She snapped her mouth shut and covered it with a hand, then just as quickly removed it. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to make it sound like …”

“Like the end of the world?” Ebba asked.

“I did not mean it that way.”

Ebba sighed and nodded. “I understand.” She looked the girl over. As all the other Weavers said, she really was beautiful and would have no problem finding herself a husband when she was old enough. But even as pretty as she was, what if Rufi suffered the same thing Ebba did? She laughed at the thought.

“What’s so funny?”

Ebba waved a hand at her, then pointed to her nose. “This. How long do you think Daniel will last before he decides he doesn’t want a sneezing wife?”

Rufi looked shocked. “Don’t say such a thing! Daniel and his brothers are good men! They would never think of backing out of a marriage because of a silly thing as sneezing!”

Ebba stared at her moment. She noticed her Italian accent got thicker when she was angry. And the girl was angry – her stance had become defiant, feet apart, hands balled into fists. “I’m sorry if that offended you. I didn’t mean to insult the Weaver men, especially not when I’m about to marry one. It’s just that I feel so helpless when I get like this.”

“You’re not sneezing now,” Rufi pointed out. “It seems to have stopped.”

Ebba took another sip of tea. “That’s because I’m not outside. It gets better when I’m in the house. The tea helps too.”

Rufi went to the table and sat. “Don’t worry, Ebba. We’ll figure out what helps and what doesn’t. Besides, come harvest time we all have to work outside. You can’t stay in the house forever.”

“No,” Ebba said in dismay. “I can’t.”

E
bba spent
the rest of the evening in despair, and not even Daniel’s happy countenance was enough to pull her out of the pit. He smiled at her from across the kitchen table at suppertime, made jokes with Benjamin and chuckled every time Sebastian tossed the spoon off his high chair.

But nothing seemed to help. All Ebba could think about was a life spent locked indoors for her health’s sake. Rufi was right – she couldn’t just hide inside the farmhouse. She’d have to go outside at some point. And what about summer? The days would be growing hotter, and that meant open windows. What was she going to do then? She couldn’t expect everyone else to suffer the summer heat because of her.

She knew marrying a farmer wasn’t a good idea. She should’ve waited for another prospect to come along. So what if it meant months and months of extra work and verbal abuse from Mrs. Feldnick? Maybe she could have found a husband that lived by the seashore. Or maybe Oregon – she’d heard parts of Oregon were nice and rainy …

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Ebba looked at Daniel across the table, her eyes itchy and red. The sneezing had stopped, but her eyes hadn’t. “Nothing,” she said.

“I don’t believe ya.”

She didn’t feel like debating. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Seems a shame to waste a nice evening like this.” Ma said. “Why don’t the two of you go sit on front porch for a while and get better acquainted?”

Ebba’s eyes widened in horror. “Ma, I can’t …”

Ma’s own eyes narrowed in determination. “You can and you will. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“But Ma, you know what will happen the moment I step outside …”

“I do. How else will we figure out how to help you if we don’t have something to fix? I’m going to try a different remedy – and to do that I need you sneezing.”

Ebba’s entire face twisted up in consternation. “You must be joking.” Was she about to become a science experiment?!

Apparent, yes, she was. “I most certainly am not joking,” Ma replied. “Daniel, take your bride out to the front porch and do some sparking or something.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up. “Yes, ma’am!” He sprang up from his chair and came around the table to where Ebba sat. “Ya heard the woman – let’s go!”

“Are you out of your mind?” Ebba gasped, gripping the table with both hands. “This will never work.”