To Have and To Hold (29 page)

this foolishness, then you need to remember your son. Give him a mother he can respect.” He

pushed her out of his way and headed up the stairs.

Chuckling, she softly cal ed out, “Too bad you didn’t give me your holier than thou speech years

ago.”

He gritted his teeth and continued the rest of the way up the steps. He got her meaning. He

didn’t want to, but he did. If he was right, then Bert knew she’d been unfaithful in the past. As

far as he was concerned, he knew way too much.

He entered the bedroom he and Mary were sharing and quietly shut the door. Slipping out of

his clothes, he joined Mary in bed and drew her to him. He always found comfort in holding

her. When they first married, he held her at night and was grateful the aching loneliness in his

life had come to an end. Then when she miscarried, he shared in her sorrow. With the birth of

their children, he shared in her joy. Then when she lost her memory, he took comfort in

knowing that even if she might never remember him and their children, she was stil with them

and would get to know them. Her tender heart would lead her to love them in time, which it

had. It didn’t take her long to develop a bond with their children and then with him. And now as

he held her, he was thankful that he could trust her to be faithful to him.

He’d had enough of being here. The only saving grace in the whole matter was that Mary

seemed to have come to peace with something she needed to be at peace with while being

here. He wasn’t exactly sure what that something was, but in the past, she’d been reluctant to

say anything about her life in Maine and now that wal had been removed. In some ways, it’d

been healing for her to return, so he couldn’t say the trip had been for nothing.

Mary stirred in her sleep and settled her head on his chest. Tightening his hold on her, he

closed his eyes, final y relaxing enough so he could drift off to sleep. The sooner he slept, the

sooner morning would be here and they could leave. One thing was for sure. He wouldn’t take

their life back home for granted anymore. He hadn’t appreciated his family enough. Never

again would he assume al families were like his.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next morning after breakfast, Mary debated whether she should see her mother or not. It

would be the last time she would, and even with the argument they’d had, it didn’t seem right to

leave without at least saying good-bye. She turned to Grace who was, once again, helping her

with the dishes while Katie took care of the dining room.

“Is Mother so upset with me that she doesn’t want me to tel her good-bye?” Mary dared to ask

as she washed the last dish in the sink.

Grace finished drying a plate and put it on the shelf. “You might be asking the wrong question.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe you should be asking if you’l regret it if you don’t say good-bye.”

Mary hadn’t thought of it that way, but she saw the logic in her sister’s reply. She took a deep

breath. “She’s my mother. I can’t leave without saying good-bye…even if she doesn’t want to

hear it.”

Grace nodded. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“You and Calvin wil be at the train station before we leave?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’d rather go with Dave to Mother’s.” She wondered if he was awake yet. He’d decided

to sleep through breakfast, something very unlike him. “I should see if he’s up.”

She quickly finished washing the last dish and handed it to Grace. As Grace took it, she

headed for the stairs. On her way there, Katie left the dining room and cal ed out to her. She

turned to face Katie, not surprised that her sister was overly cheerful. With Katie, it was hot or

cold, and today, she chose hot.

“It was good to see you again,” Katie said as she came over to her.

To be polite, Mary smiled. “Thank you for letting me and Dave stay here.”

“What are sisters for?” Katie hugged her. “I’m sorry you won’t be staying longer, but I

understand you need to get back to Isaac and Ruth.”

“Ruth?”

“Sure. You told me your children were Isaac and Ruth.”

Mary was ready to tel her that she remembered clearly saying her children were Isaac and

Rachel but took a good look at her sister and thought of what Grace had told her. It was sad

that Katie had to play such games in order to feel good about herself. Deciding to let the

matter drop, Mary said, “I better get Dave.”

As she turned to go to the stairs, she saw that Dave had reached the top of the staircase,

carrying their carpet bags. Their eyes met and she caught the anxious look in his eyes.

Figuring it was because he wanted to leave, she went to the hooks by the front door and put on

her bonnet.

Bert and Gerald opened the front door with their fishing gear.

Mary laughed. “You two fish every day?”

“We sel some of the fish, so it’s also a job,” Bert replied, patting his son on the shoulder. “And

Gerald catches more than me more often than not.”

“I want to be like Pa and keep fishing when I grow up,” Gerald said.

Mary grinned. “That’s a high compliment, Bert. Isaac wants to be like his father, too.” She

glanced at Dave as he hurried by Katie.

“He makes me proud,” Bert said, giving his son’s shoulder another pat. “It was nice to meet

you.”

She indicated her agreement, and Bert extended his hand to Dave. “And it was nice meeting

you, Dave.”

Dave reached Mary’s side, put one of the carpet bags down, and shook his hand. “Nice to

meet you, too.”

“Thank you,” Bert added with a glance at his son. “For everything.”

Dave nodded, released Bert’s hand and put on his hat. Turning to Mary, he picked up the

carpet bag. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She thanked Katie and Bert for their hospitality before she left the house, Dave fol owing

close behind. As they headed down the porch steps, she said, “Grace and Calvin wil see us at

the train station.” She paused for a moment. “I need to see my mother.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Taking a few seconds to word her sentence careful y, she final y said, “Because if I don’t, I’l

know I didn’t give things one last chance to work out between me and her.”

After what seemed like a long time, he nodded. “I reckon you’re right. Alright. We’l go over to

her house.”

The walk to her mother’s was increasingly painful with each step, but she steeled her resolved

and pressed forward. She could do this. Ignoring the racing of her heart, she went up the

porch steps to the house she’d grown up in, a place once familiar but now seeming to be a

shadowed part of her past.

When she stood at the front door, she looked at him. “I should probably do this alone.”

He seemed ready to protest but then sighed. “Very wel . I’l be waiting for you.” He went over

to one of the chairs and sat down, setting the carpet bags at his feet.

“I won’t be long,” she told him before she opened the door and stepped into the house.

The sound of voices coming from the parlor caught her attention, and she saw Leah and her

mother talking on the couch. She halted in the doorway and waited for them to notice her.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with it, Mother,” Leah said as she pul ed a needle through the

quilt they were working on. “Mary’s made her choice.”

“Her father pushed her to it,” her mother replied with a shake of her head. “It was only my duty

to submit to his authority that prevented me from putting my foot down.”

“But you couldn’t expect her to stay here when no man wanted to be with her. We should be

glad Dave is wil ing to tolerate her, looks and al .”

Her face warm, Mary cleared her throat, deciding she better stop them before they said

anything else to further embarrass themselves.

Their heads snapped in her direction, and Leah’s eyes widened. “Mary,” she began, “I didn’t

hear you come in.”

Mary clasped her hands together. “I came to talk to Mother.”

Leah glanced between their mother and Mary before she stood up. Mary stepped aside while

Leah left the room, not bothering to make eye contact with her sister. Once Leah was in the

kitchen, Mary went into the parlor and sat across from her mother who was focusing on her

sewing. Mary recal ed sitting in this chair by the open window when she told her parents she

decided to become a mail-order bride. She had carried Neil’s ad with her for two days before

she got the nerve to approach them because she was afraid she’d have to tel them she was

going to answer it whether they liked it or not. That moment had been awkward but not nearly

as bad as this one.

She straightened in the chair, gaining strength in knowing Dave was outside waiting for her and

that her children were waiting for her to come home. “I thought it’d be nice if we could resolve

our differences and communicate amiably with one another.”

Her mother shot her a pointed look. “I notice that’s not an apology.”

She shifted in the chair. “I have nothing to apologize for.”

“Nothing to apologize for?” she snapped. “You showed such little regard to me and to your

father, and you think you have nothing to apologize for? Your father was much too soft when it

came to you. He spoiled you.”

Mary debated what she might say in response, but she couldn’t think of anything her mother

might accept. So she settled for the only thing that seemed safe to say. “I loved Father.”

She huffed. “And a fine way of showing it. You weren’t here when he died.”

“He wanted me to take Dave to the lighthouse. I was fulfil ing his wish.”

“Convenient how you had to run off with that man.”

“Can’t you please accept Dave? He’s my husband and the father of my children.”

“So, you’l be returning to Nebraska?”

“Yes.” The fact that her mother was even asking such a thing was disheartening. “We can stil

write letters and—”

“It’s not the same thing, and you know it!”

“No, it’s not.” And that was a blessing in and of itself when she thought over how her life had

been here, how confined she was by what others wanted her to be instead of being given the

freedom to be who she truly was. She glanced out the window and wondered if Dave could

hear them. She hoped not. Turning her attention back to her mother, she shrugged. “I don’t

know why you can’t accept the fact that I left home, but I did and I have a family to take care

of.”

“What wil you do when your children leave home and tel you they won’t be coming back

because you don’t mean anything to them?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and slowly opened them. “That’s not true. I didn’t leave

because I didn’t love you.”

“No?”

“No. I left so I could get married and have children.”

“Because you didn’t care about me. I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“No, it wasn’t because you weren’t good enough for me. I keep tel ing you that, but you won’t

listen to me. You’re my mother. Of course, I care about you.”

“You have an odd way of showing it,” she muttered as she turned her attention back to the quilt

and pul ed the needle through it.

Mary watched her, unable to figure out what she might say to get her mother to understand

that just because she went to Nebraska, it didn’t mean she rejected her.

“I believe you have a train to catch so you can return to your life with
him
.”

She shook her head in disbelief. Her mother refused to let her back into her life, and she had

no idea why. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask her mother why it needed to be this way,

but then she shut it. Circles. Al they’d been doing was going in circles. Blinking back the tears

from her eyes, Mary released her breath and eased out of the chair.

“You know my post office box number if you wish to write me,” Mary said.

Her mother didn’t respond. She just pul ed the needle through the quilt as if Mary wasn’t

standing right in front of her, hoping for some indication that she’d at least consider writing her

in the future so they could work things out. But the consolation wasn’t going to come. She

didn’t understand her mother at al . Why didn’t she want her to be happy? Did she real y want

her to stay in Maine for the rest of her life without Dave and their children? She would’ve been

miserable if she stayed here. Why would her mother wish that for her?

After considerable debate, she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry, Mother. I

never meant to displease you.”

She left the house and Dave rose to his feet. His eyes bore into her, but she couldn’t look at