Just keep a plate warm for me.” And then he was jogging down the steps, pulling on his jacket and hat.
“Well, I never,” Mrs. Ashford said. “What is the world coming to?”
“I don’t know,” Emma replied. “I’ll head downstairs.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Ashford said. “Call me if you need any help.”
“I will.” Emma snagged a shawl and headed down the back steps. “Sorry, Judith!”
Judith rose. “I don’t know what to say. May I help you in the kitchen? Or go help my sister?”
Mrs. Ashford pulled herself together. “Why don’t you go down and help your sister finish your shopping? I’m making plenty of lunch. When your husband comes back, you two are more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”
The woman was indeed kind and hospitable. “Thank you. But I think he’ll want to go home as soon as we’re done.”
“I understand.” The woman beamed at her. “Newlyweds.” And then she returned to the kitchen.
Blushing, Judith donned her shawl and carried the rest of her warm wraps outside and into the store. The thought occurred to her that people here might look to her sister to fill in at the school, but that wouldn’t work. Emma had applied to teach in their home district and had been turned down as “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.” Nonjudgmental Emma had been surprised, but Judith hadn’t.
Very smart and good at all subjects, Emma would have made a lovely teacher, but all through school she’d been scolded for her humor and sudden outbursts of excited interest. Emma would never be the strict spinster teacher that school boards preferred. Emma was too pretty and jolly for them.
* * *
Carrying a sack of spices, Judith hurried inside, chilled from the short ride home. Asa came in after her and set several bags on the table. He went immediately to the banked fire and stirred it back to life.
“That woman can sure talk,” he said, rising. Asa had surprised her by accepting Mrs. Ashford’s lunch invitation.
Judith chuckled. “Yes, but her Salisbury steak and potatoes did not disappoint.”
“Can’t argue that. You need me right now? I have to take care of the horses.”
“No.”
He headed toward the door.
“But,” she said, halting him, “it occurred to Emma and me that we haven’t written home to our father. He isn’t in good health, and I want him to know Emma and I arrived safely and are doing well.”
“A good idea. We can give it to Ashford tomorrow at church. Mr. Ashford’s the local postmaster.” He opened the door.
“Asa, wait. I’d like you to write a line to my father. I think that would reassure him.” Her father had been very concerned about his twin daughters going away to marry strangers.
Asa paused, his expression froze into vertical lines. “I’ll see about that later.” He escaped out the door.
Escaped exactly described his exit.
Judith stood by the dry sink, unable to move for a moment. Then she walked to the chair by the table and sat. Why would writing a line to her father flummox her husband? What could be more natural or simple? Something more than natural reticence was at work here. She thought over the many letters he’d written her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t write a few lines. He didn’t want to. Why? Why did he avoid any mention of anything personal? What was wrong with her simple request? What was going on within her husband?
Feeling confused, she bowed her head and whispered, “Heavenly Father, something is not right. What is it? What should I do? Say? Should I confront Asa plainly?”
At the word confront, panic swept over her. The old pang twisted around her heart. She pictured again that day in 1861. Tom Southby had been going off to war, and she’d decided she couldn’t let him go without telling him how she felt. With a red face, Tom had thanked her for caring for him but said he couldn’t return the same to her. Once again she flushed with the heated humiliation over those horrible moments. He’d said they’d always been the best of friends and he wanted to leave it at that. Best of friends. She’d been in love with him since sixth grade. Yet it wasn’t Tom’s fault that she wasn’t pretty enough.
With effort, she mastered the old hurt and shame. Praying for guidance and peace, she sat for several minutes, hoping for something to occur to her. Then she recalled her late mother’s favorite verse, Isaiah 26:3. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is steadfast because he trusts in You.”
One thing came clear. She was allowing Asa’s hesitance to reveal anything about himself to disturb her peace. And that was what she’d really come here to find—a husband and a peaceful life with him. She went over the past two days and the innocent questions she’d asked her new husband and his avoidance of replying to each one.
She recalled Mrs. Ashford’s favorable assessment of Asa’s character. “Lord, I feel I’ve married a good-intentioned man,” she murmured. “I sense nothing false about him. He doesn’t make up answers to suit my questions. That’s what a dishonest man would do. But why is talking about himself an issue for him?”
No answer came, but her tension eased. Heartened just a little, she straightened and slowly rose. She had chores to do and a life to live. “I’m not alone, Father. You are here with me, and I trust You. I would not have come here just to escape my contentious sister-in-law. You opened this door, and Emma and I walked through it. We both had peace about this decision. And now I’ve given my sacred pledge to Asa. No turning back.”
She picked up the sack of spices and looked for a place to store them. She continued her audible prayer. “And, Lord, help Emma find a place and a new beginning here. It’s too bad she’s not suited to teach.”
She drew herself up and began humming her mother’s favorite hymn, drawing strength from its words and hearing her mother’s voice in her memory. “Come thou fount of every blessing.” Judith had much to sing about—a husband and home of her own along with a beloved sister nearby and, as always, a faithful God—and finally work to do, a kitchen to organize.
Maybe she wasn’t a woman that a man would fall in love with, but she could take care of a house and be a helpmeet. She could hold up her end of the bargain she’d made with Asa. She could be a good wife. Experience had taught her that love was for pretty girls like Emma and even unlikable Mabel Joy, but not her.
On the way to church on Sunday morning, Asa thought over the few days he’d been married. When he had rejoined her yesterday, Judith had not repeated her request that he write a note to her father. In the end he’d decided he must write a line in that letter or cause more questions. What were the odds that the woman he married would be someone he recognized? The memory of when they had seen each other in person over a decade ago came flooding back to him. He’d been elected captain of the Rock River Illinois Militia, and all the volunteers had gathered at the train station in Rockford to set off for war. Remembering how callow and naive he and
