get to see her in a wedding dress.”
Nate hadn’t thought about all she was losing in her flight north. The home she’d known for seven years, her friends, all the memories she’d made in this place. But she had no choice. “I guess you’ll take your memories with you.”
“And my baby.”
“And Missy.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She pushed from the table, gathered the dishes, carried them to the basin and poured hot water over them.
He saw she was about to wash them. Saw weariness in the way she moved. He sprang to his feet. “You sit and I’ll take care of the dishes.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, but he took her by the shoulders and guided her back to the table and eased her down into the chair. She let out a sigh of relief.
As he washed the few dishes and dried them, he talked to her. “We have to be at the depot at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”
“Not a problem. We’ll be ready to go.”
He dried the last dish and hung the towel on the rack by the stove. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
Her eyebrows came up. “You mean, besides marry me?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Do you need me to bring a trunk from the attic or...” He had no idea what she might need.
“I’m packed and ready to go.” She patted his arm. “Missy and I have been on our own for a while Nate. We won’t be a nuisance. I promise.” She rested her hand on the top of her tummy bulge. “All we need is the protection of marriage so Vic can’t convince strangers I’m a runaway wife.”
“Vic won’t bother you again. I promise.” He hoped his words were not another pretend vow.
Louise was awake long before it was time to rise. The baby kicked as if excited about the journey. Just stay where you are for a few more days.
She lifted her head from her pillow. Did she hear a tapping at the door? A chill wove around her spine. Not Vic! She’d locked the doors solidly. But she knew that wouldn’t prove enough barrier to stop the man.
“Louise, are you awake?” Nate whispered from the other side of the bedroom door. He’d spent the night in the parlor, which should have made her sleep a lot better than it did.
Her lungs emptied in a whoosh and she rose gingerly from bed, donned a wrap and cracked the door open. “Yes?”
“I’m going to get a wagon. Lock the door after me.”
She waited until he went outside to move down the hall as fast as she could and turn the key.
Missy had begged to sleep in the room with Louise last night, saying she was afraid to be alone, afraid Vic would find her. She sat up as Louise returned to the bedroom. “Today we start our great adventures.” She lifted her hands over her head and laughed. With an ease Louise could barely remember, Missy scurried from bed and began to dress.
“Remember to wear your warmest clothes.” Although the weather had been mild, it was December and the temperatures could drop anytime.
Missy chattered as they dressed. “I’ve always wanted to see what was north of here. But more than anything, I want to get away from that vile Vic.”
“You’re about to get your wish.” Louise put the last of her things in her valise. She wouldn’t need much for the journey. Everything else was in a small trunk—baby things, some outfits for after she’d had the baby and a few mementos of her mother.
She paused a moment to let regrets at what she was about to leave waft through her, combined with wishes for what might have been if her mother had stayed.
Aunt Bea had told her the truth about Louise’s mother. Not that she died and that was why Louise and her pa were on their own, as Pa always said, but that she’d left Pa because she couldn’t stand the mining camps. Aunt Bea said she thought Ma had tried to take Louise, but Pa wouldn’t allow it. Louise thought Aunt Bea only wanted to remove the look of shock from Louise’s face. Ma had died of consumption three years after leaving them.
Louise reached into the trunk for an item.
“I have something of your mother’s,” Aunt Bea had once said, and brought out a painting of a young child. The painting she now held in her hands.
“Is that me?” Louise had fingered the frame.
Her aunt had nodded. “Your mother was a talented artist. The picture is now yours.”
“Thank you.” The painting had been her most cherished possession ever since. In it she was sure she saw love. But love had not been enough to make her mother stay. Because of that thought she’d never display the picture. For a moment she mused on a thought. What was enough to make any person stay? If not love, then what?
She’d considered the question many times and had never found an answer. Nor did she expect to today, either. She put the picture into the trunk, closed the latches, then went to the kitchen.
They ate a hurried breakfast. Aunt Bea insisted they take an abundant lunch for the journey, most of which was the remainders of meals Louise had prepared in the past two days.
A wagon rattled up to the house and Nate knocked.
She unlocked the door and stepped back to let him in.
“Where’s the luggage?” he asked.
Louise directed him to the two trunks—hers and Missy’s, and he hoisted one to his shoulder and trotted to the wagon. She and Missy carried their smaller bags. In minutes, he had both aboard and stood at the door. “Are you ready?”
Louise and Missy pulled on their warmest outer clothing. Aunt Bea pressed a gray woolen blanket into each of their arms.
“Stay safe. Let me know when you arrive.” She hugged Louise.
Tears stung Louise’s eyes. Aunt Bea had only twice before hugged her. Once when she told her about her mother and the other time when Gordie was killed.
“I’ll send a letter,” she promised Aunt Bea, then let Nate lead her to the wagon and help her aboard. He had to practically lift her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m such a size right now.”
“For better or worse,” Aunt Bea reminded them.
Louise met Nate’s gaze, as full of secret and regret as hers. He acknowledged the moment with a little nod of his head and a barely there smile before he turned to assist Missy.
They rattled down the street to the depot. He helped them alight and, with his arm around Louise’s shoulders, led them inside where it was marginally warmer than outside. It would be warmer if the door was closed, but the ticket man had it propped open.
She sat on
