turned to him and looked pleased that he’d spoken. “Yes, I understand. It would be good to open the cabin and let the fresh air inside.”
And he thought that their relative idleness might be another reason for her asking questions. Once they were busy with the productive part of the year, farming, gardening and such, they’d settle into an easy pattern of being busy, too busy for personal questions and they’d just make do with idle conversation. He wanted to hear her fill up the silence but not ask him to join in. Even he noted the inconsistency in this. But it was the truth.
“And I’m looking forward to seeing my sister, Emma.”
To this, he nodded. He’d almost forgotten her sister would be there.
As soon as they reached town, Asa pulled up in front of Ashford’s. He guided Judith inside and breathed in the scents of the tidy general store—primarily dried apples and cinnamon. He felt relieved. He could leave her here for a while and not have to watch every word he said or she said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brant! I saw you from my window.” Mrs. Ashford hurried into the store from the rear. “How are the newlyweds?”
Asa nodded politely. “Doing fine, ma’am.” He touched Judith’s elbow and then turned and left. Saved by the storekeeper’s wife. She’d talk Judith’s ear off, and perhaps that would satisfy his wife’s desire for ready conversation.
* * *
Bolstered by his touch and being greeted as a wife, not a pitied spinster, Judith smiled at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m here to buy some spices. I guess bachelors use only salt and pepper.”
“You give Ned your list, then come on up,” the woman instructed. “Your sister and I are just finishing up a few chores and have time for a chat.”
Judith watched the woman head up the back stairs. She went to the counter and handed the storekeeper her list. After discussing the items as to quantities and specifics, she followed Mrs. Ashford.
How was spontaneous and lively Emma faring living with these strangers, and was she upset her intended had not been here to meet her? Judith also craved a private chat with Emma about her puzzlement over Asa. She hoped that Mrs. Ashford would grant her and Emma a few moments alone to talk.
Judith found that a vain hope.
Mrs. Ashford poured them all fresh, steaming coffee and then sat at the head of the dining table. Judith had been given the seat with the view out the windows toward the river. She watched a steamboat heading toward the Pepin pier. “I love your view.”
“Yes, I told Mr. Ashford to build on this side of Main Street. I wanted a good view. The forest can be so forbidding. Plus if the river ever floods, we’ll be on higher ground. The shops across the street are much too close to the river.”
Judith glimpsed the blacksmith’s sign across and to her right. That’s where Asa was. Her heart tightened. Something was trapped within Asa and she didn’t know what. He was like a parcel glued and tied shut. Was this just due to their being strangers to one another? Yes, that must be it, she hoped.
“Now, how is it going with you and Mr. Brant?” the storekeeper’s wife asked the very question Judith could not quite figure out herself.
And what did the woman expect her to say? “He won’t talk to me and I can’t figure out why”? “We’re doing fine. Just getting to know each other. Asa is so considerate.” But secretive. Or maybe not. Maybe men just didn’t talk much about themselves. But why can’t he even tell me how many brothers and sisters he has or the name of his hometown? Judith pushed this out of her mind and hoped her expression revealed nothing.
Mrs. Ashford was staring at her, obviously wanting more details about the newlyweds.
Casting around for a safe subject, Judith lifted her cup in front of her face. “Mr. Brant—Asa—presented me with a sewing machine for a wedding gift.”
“I know!” Mrs. Ashford crowed. “I helped him choose it from the catalogue for you. Such a thoughtful gift, and so useful.”
Judith agreed, interrupting the flow of the woman’s conversation.
“It’s too bad the weather has been so cold. We usually have a lovely spring here in Pepin.” Their hostess kept up a steady stream of chatter, to which she and Emma merely had to agree.
Judith was aware that her sister was trying to hide mirth at Mrs. Ashford’s curiosity and constant chattering. Emma possessed a ready and sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. Judith sent her a reproving glance.
Emma bit her lower lip.
Judith thought, Please, can’t I have a moment alone with my sister?
As if Mrs. Ashford heard Judith’s thought, she rose from the table. “I need to brown the beef for lunch and start it cooking. Please excuse me.”
Judith drew in a relieved but silent breath.
Emma muffled a giggle behind her hand.
Judith scolded and quizzed her sister with a glance.
“She never stops talking,” Emma whispered, “unless she’s eating or sleeping.”
Judith lifted her hands in a gesture that said What can I do about that?
“She’s really nice and kind, but I have trouble not teasing her. I don’t think she’d appreciate it.” Emma’s expression became serious. “How are you doing? What’s worrying you?”
Though she and Emma weren’t identical twins, they had always been attuned to each other. “It’s nothing, really.” Judith spoke in a low tone. “It’s just that Asa...avoids everyday questions. I asked him if he had brothers and sisters and he said, ‘Some of each.’”
Emma laughed.
Judith glared at her. “It’s not funny. We get along very well unless I ask him a personal question.”
“Perhaps he’s just a very private person,” Emma suggested.
“Even with his wife?”
“His very new wife. Just give it time, Judith.” Emma pressed a hand over Judith’s, which clutched her coffee cup.
Judith nodded. Her sister had given her good advice. She relaxed her hands. “What are you keeping busy doing?”
“I help with some chores, and yesterday I helped in the store. Mr. Ashford did it out of kindness, I think, to give me a chance to talk to someone besides his wife and daughter. The people here are really—”
They heard the sound of rapid footsteps and then Mr. Ashford called from the back door, “Katherine! You’ll never believe this!”
Both Judith and Emma turned to see the storekeeper hurry into the room and over to the front window. Mrs. Ashford bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is it?”
Mr. Ashford waved a paper. “This is his letter of resignation, and there he goes. He’s getting on the boat! I can’t believe it!”
“Who?”
