how to breathe. She tried to dismiss this and behave as though his touch had not affected her so. She looked to the front of this room where they had pledged themselves to each other. She recalled his gentle, chaste kiss and Asa’s whisper, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.” She trusted Asa, but the worry lingered. What wasn’t he trusting her with?
* * *
Late on the next day, Asa finished washing up at the dry sink and then took his seat at the table. Judith had prepared another deliciously fragrant meal for him. She was using up the last of the venison from the smokehouse in a stew. She set the pot in the center of the table. And then sat down across from him. The pleasure of the moment of having a pretty, cheerful woman here and the scent of well-prepared food flooded him. Caution leaped up inside him like a wall, a fortress around his feelings. He couldn’t afford this softening. He couldn’t let down his guard or all the regret might unman him. He didn’t want anyone to know about his war record. If he did, the talk would begin. And no one would let him live in peace.
She bowed her head, waiting for him to say grace. Then, with effort, he voiced his usual grace without betraying his anxiety and looked up to watch her dish up his plate first.
Judith paused and pursed her lips. “Emma is very bright and very good. But sometimes her high spirits can carry her away.”
He wondered what she was leading up to.
She sighed and then looked across at him. “I hope her high spirits don’t upset the school board.”
Hearing the concern in her voice and not knowing what he could do, he shrugged. Then a thought came. “What everyone is really most concerned about is that she prepare the students for the big spelling bee in April. If she does that right, I don’t think they’ll care about her high spirits.”
Judith gazed at him. Then, reaching across the table, she touched his hand. “Thank you. I know I’m only four minutes older than her, but in temperament, I am the older sister. And I worry about her sometimes.”
She glanced downward. “Asa, I’d like to invite the Ashfords and Emma for dinner someday. But there are a few things that I’d need to buy for the house before we have company.” Still not meeting his gaze, she raised a hand. “Nothing extravagant. I need fabric to make window curtains and dishcloths. I’d like to buy a set of dishes, not china, just sturdy everyday dishes.” She glanced up then, looking uncertain.
He looked down at the dented tin plates and mugs he’d always used. Of course a woman would want better than this. “Sorry,” he said, his voice coming back. “I should have discussed our finances with you. You buy whatever you need.”
He cleared his throat. “Our fields will provide most of our food. I hunt in the fall. And in the winter, I work with leather. The blacksmith keeps those belts and harnesses and sells them for me.” He rose and went to the hearth. “Come here.”
She obeyed him.
He showed her the loose stone that hid a cavity in the side of the fireplace and the small cloth sack of gold and silver coins stashed there. “We have plenty, Judith. Just tell Mr. Ashford to put everything on our tab. I pay him once a month.”
“Thank you, Asa. I’m not an extravagant woman, but I do want to—” she waved a hand toward the room “—make everything more homey.”
He returned to his place at the table, and she followed him.
“I want you to...do that, too,” he said. But you’ve done so much more. The chain around his heart tightened. If only he had more than a house and sustenance to offer her. Judith deserved the best. But he would give her the best he could of the material world. The pity was that he could not give her more of his true self, his empty heart.
* * *
The thaw had started. All around, Judith heard the sound of water trickling and dripping from the roof and the rivulets that ran down the trail toward town. She hummed as she finished setting the table for six. Her first dinner party would be today. The Ashfords and Emma were coming for supper. The cabin door and both windows stood open to let in the breath of spring. This would be her debut as the mistress of her own home, inviting others to a meal.
She’d planned the supper carefully. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, tender dandelion greens salad, her mother’s cloverleaf rolls and cherry pie for dessert. She glanced toward the window, where the two dishcloth-covered pies were cooling on the sill.
Then, glancing at the clock, she took the last of the chicken out of the skillet, spitting hot and golden. She set it on the pan in the warming oven. Then she went out to the springhouse to get the cream to whip up for the pie.
She heard the voices of people walking up the trail. She quickly retrieved the cream from this morning’s milking and hurried toward the house.
“Judith!” Her sister’s happy voice carried to her.
“Emma!” Judith replied and then hurried inside to change into her clean apron for the final preparations.
As she walked in, Asa stepped out of the bedroom, where he dressed. He looked very handsome in a blue-and-white-striped shirt she’d pressed this morning. He was freshly shaved and his hair was neat. She stood rooted to the spot. She had married a handsome man. Once again the sensation of recognition trickled through her and then vanished.
Emma reached the door first. “Sister!”
Setting down the pot of cream, Judith swung around and welcomed her sister with a quick hug for her first visit there. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Emma replied, sniffing the air. “Your fried chicken?”
Judith nodded, looking past her sister and welcoming the Ashfords inside. A happy hubbub of welcomes and greetings filled the next few minutes. Then everyone had entered and their guests had sat down on the benches by the table—all except Mrs. Ashford, who was walking around as if on an inspection tour.
She paused at Judith’s grandmother’s sampler. “This is very fine handwork. And is it on silk?”
“Yes,” Emma spoke up and explained the history of the piece.
Judith listened as she mashed the potatoes, mixing in butter, salt and pepper with warm milk.
Mrs. Ashford pronounced her verdict. “That’s an heirloom.” Then she beamed at Judith. “You have a very cozy home here.”
Pleased, Judith finished the potatoes and set them on a trivet near the fire. “I just need to whip up the cream for our dessert and then we can eat.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Amanda Ashford asked.
“No, I think everything is in hand.” Judith walked to the window, holding the bowl of cream in the crook of one arm and whipping the cream with a wire whisk. Then she gasped. One of her pies was missing.
“What is it, Judith?” Emma asked.
Judith turned. “I baked two pies, but one is gone.”
Everyone rose from the table to look at the windowsill, where one pie still sat under a dishcloth. The two men hurried outside to see if the pie had somehow fallen off the sill.
Asa
