Lovage was pleased that she and her mother had found a few minutes to be alone, even if it was to work in the garden. As the firstborn, she and her mam had always been close, and had become more so after her mother had been widowed three years ago. Lovage had missed her mother dearly in the time they’d been apart. She’d always considered her mother her best friend, so this morning was doubly precious.
When her mother married their late father’s best friend the previous year, Lovage had remained behind in New York when her mam and her new husband, Benjamin, and all their children, had made the move to Delaware. Lovage had four sisters and a brother, and Benjamin had five sons still at home, so it had been quite an effort to move them all. While the family got settled in Delaware, their mother had entrusted her with the responsibility of selling the livestock and the farm equipment, as well as disposing of the household goods.
Blending two large families and two homes into one wasn’t done easily or quickly, and the couple had decided that a new start, a new home and a new community would give them the greatest opportunity for success. Lovage was glad to remain behind to help her mother in whatever way she could, but she’d missed the bustle of her large family and was glad when the last of the decisions were made, the final shipment of household goods was on its way to Delaware, and she was free to come.
“Smell this lavender,” her mother said, bringing her back into the present. “And see how the thyme is growing. I was afraid that it wouldn’t. But there’s more rainfall here than back home, and the pond helps. There’s a good market for dried lavender, for sachets and hanging arrangements.”
“The soil seems free of rocks,” Lovage observed.
Her mother laughed. “No rocks in Delaware. At least not down here. Benjamin says it gets a little rocky upstate near the Pennsylvania state line. This whole garden used to be fenced in for the dairy cows. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hoe took root and blossomed.”
“The cows had a pond and wrought-iron bench? I’m confused.”
“For years it was a cow pasture and then, when the English farmer retired, his wife wanted a pretty pond and an herb and flower garden. You can see someone loved and tended it. Either that or the cows wanted somewhere nice to sit.”
Lovage laughed, picturing a cow sitting on the iron bench with a gardening trowel between her hooves. “I can see that this is a wonderful spot for you. But you inherited Grossmama’s green thumb. Any plant will grow for you.”
“And you have the gift, too,” her mam replied. “It’s a true blessing.”
Lovage clasped both of her mother’s strong hands and led her to the wide iron bench with the high back and the grapevine pattern. A grape arbor arched overhead with spreading leaves and tiny green concord grapes, providing relief from the hot July sun, something they both could relish. “Sit with me,” she urged. “You’ve been on your feet since before six this morning.”
Her mother’s smile lit her green eyes. “And that’s different from every other morning in what way, dochtah?”
“It isn’t. That’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to get up so early. You have Ginger and Bay and the younger girls to help you with breakfast and the chores. And now me. I want you to take better care of yourself.”
“It’s a wonder how I managed before you got here, my love.”
“Be serious.” She caught her mother’s hand again and clasped it with affection, taking in the broken fingernails and calluses. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Lovage thought with a glance at her own hands. Too bad she didn’t inherit Mam’s sunny disposition and lovely features instead of taking after her father.
She looked into her mother’s smiling face and tried to reason with her. “You have to let us help you, especially now with all these extra boys in the house. Boys needing clothes washed, eating everything that isn’t tacked down, tracking in mud and wood shavings. And now that I’m here, I’ll be able to take over a lot of your chores, just like at home in New York.”
“This is our home now.” Her mother pulled her hand free and hugged her. “And those boys are Benjamin’s sons and now my sons and your stepbrothers.”
“I know that.”
Her mam patted her cheek fondly. “Of course, I know how much you did for me both before my marriage to Benjamin and after. But...now that you’re here, things have to be different. It’s time you started thinking about yourself. About the life you’ll have separate from me—marriage, your own home, babies, God willing.”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about that.” Lovage gazed out over the garden. “My place right now is with you, helping you.”
“Oh, Lovage.” Her mother sighed. “You being my eldest, it’s natural that you feel the most responsible. But it’s time you flew the coop, my chick. Find yourself a good man and let him court you the way you deserve.”
Against her will, Lovage thought of Marshall Byler and how he had flirted with her the previous day at the harness shop. “And what if that’s not what I want?”
Her mother drew back, looking at her with true concern. “You don’t want to marry and have your own home? You don’t want a husband and children? I don’t believe that. Children are God’s greatest blessings. And His grace, of course. If any woman was born to be a mother, it’s you, Lovage.”
Lovage removed her straw hat and dropped it onto the brick walkway, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. Carefully thinking over her words before they spilled out all higgledy-piggledy, she straightened her starched white kapp and repinned the back of her hair securely. “I do want those things. It’s every girl’s dream... Her own kitchen...red-cheeked babies with sticky hands and butterfly kisses. But—”
“But nothing. If you want those things, you need a husband. And you need a partner to share the burdens of life,” her mother said softly. “A godly man who shares your faith, and will laugh with you and lend you his strength when you most need it. Don’t you want that?”
“I do want all those things someday,” Lovage assured her. “But not now. Now, I want only to be here with you, to help you through this.”
“Help me through this?” Her mother’s eyes widened in puzzlement and then she sighed. “Lovey—”
“There you are, my Rosebud,” boomed a deep male voice. Benjamin was a sturdy, fiftyish man of medium height, with rusty brown hair streaked with gray and a pleasant, weathered face with a high forehead and a broad nose under his straw hat. His full beard had a reddish cast and that, too, had begun to gray. At the moment, he was carrying a tray of assorted herb seedlings and had a twenty-pound bag of bonemeal tucked under one arm.
“I should have known to look here first.” He swung the white picket gate wide and strode into the garden. “And you with her, dochtah. What do you think of the place? I warn you, your mother had the final say. So if it doesn’t please you...” He chuckled. “You must blame her.”
Lovage’s mother laughed with him.
“Speak up, wife,” he implored. “Where do you want the bonemeal?”
She got up and went to him. “Anywhere at all, Benjamin,” she answered, taking the tray of
