A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (6 page)

Bernice stared at the floor. “I don’t think there’s much I could teach you.”

“Don’t talk like that – there’s got to be some things you’re good at.”

Bernice thought a moment. “I have a very nice curtsy.”

Summer laughed. “Well, that’s something. What else?”

“I can speak a few lines of French.”

“That should impress Warren. Go on.”

“I have nice manners. I can read and write. I … have all my teeth.” She shrugged. “I hope that’s enough.”

Summer sighed, shook her head and walked over to the table. “Bernice, don’t think so little of yourself. Sure, it’s nice to be able to know how to cook and sew and keep a house, but it’s your heart a man is interested in the most.”

Bernice looked up at her, hope in her eyes. “I never thought of that. I guess I’ve been so worried about what I can’t do or offer him as far as skills, that I forgot about that.”

“Well, it’s the most important, as far as I’m concerned. You make that your priority, and everything else will come around.” Summer returned to the stove, poured Bernice a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

Bernice nodded her thanks, smiled and took the cup. Her mind then jumped to an unsettling question. Was her heart in any better shape than her cooking skills?

* * *

Elle bent over, pulled a pie out of the oven with a grunt, turned and set it on the worktable.

“When is your baby coming?” Bernice asked as she got her first glimpse of one of the most beautiful pies she’d ever seen.

“Harvest time would be my guess, and Doc Brown’s. Which means it’s going to be mighty busy around here.”

“I can help if you’d like.”

“You’re likely to have enough work on your own farm, let alone worrying about me. But don’t fret, I’ll have plenty of help. Now, we let this pie cool, then if you like you can take it over to the Johnsons’ place. If you don’t, then Clayton and Spencer are going to be very happy come supper time.”

“Well … maybe you should save it for them.”

“I can make them cookies while you’re visiting with Warren. Summer can go with you – I’m not sure I’m up to a long walk right now.” Elle patted her belly protectively.

“This pie looks wonderful – I’m sure he’ll love it. I just hope he doesn’t ask if I baked it.”

“You’ll be baking one just as wonderful in no time, you’ll see.”

“If you say so. It’s hard to imagine – this is so beautiful.”

“I’ve never thought of my pies as beautiful, but thank you.”

Bernice smiled. “You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do?” She’d already helped Summer with the mending after breakfast, and Mrs. Riley had showed her how to gather eggs—which had been quite the experience. Especially when the rooster took off after her. She hoped no other work today involved irritable farm animals.

“No. As soon as the pie cools, you and Summer can take it on over to the Johnsons’.”

“Where is Summer?” Bernice asked. She’d disappeared right after they’d finished the mending.

Elle smiled. “I believe she’s with Clayton out in the barn.”

“Barn? Is there work to be done in the barn too?” Bernice asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“I don’t think Summer’s working, exactly …”

Bernice’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then she figured it out, and blushed down to her toes. “Oh!”

Elle laughed. “I think part of it is she’s trying to figure out a way to tell Clayton he’s going to be a papa.”

“What did Spencer do when he found out you’re having a baby?” Bernice asked

“I thought he was going to faint. But he got over the shock quick enough. Then he started eating a lot. He tends to do that when he’s worried.”

Bernice giggled again. “Will his brother be any different?”

“No idea. Which is why Summer’s trying to make sure he’s in a good mood when she tells him.”

“I can’t wait until she does,” Bernice said with a smile. Then a thought came to her. What would it be like when
she
had children? How would she tell her husband? Would she just blurt it out, or try to make everything perfect before she gave him the news?

Of course, first she had to get married and to do that she had to have a prospective mate. She glanced at the pie on the worktable. Would a perfect pastry be enough to win Warren Johnson over? Or would the fact she didn’t make it in the first place only add to his reasons not to marry her?

Bernice shook her head. She supposed she’d just have to go to the Johnson farm and find out.

Six

Bernice trudged along behind Summer, praying she didn’t drop the pie – or worse, fall flat on her face on top of it. What a disaster that would be! With her luck, it’d happen in the Johnsons’ front yard … if they had a yard. The Rileys’ farm only had a barnyard. Bernice’s mental picture of a farm had been more like the Edmonsons’ back in Independence, with a small yard in front of the house.

But it didn’t matter how the Johnson farm was situated. She was sure she could still find a way to make a spectacle of herself.

Thankfully, they reached the place without incident. Bernice stared at the two-story whitewashed farmhouse and tried not to gulp. If all went well, this would be her new home. She had a sudden vision of standing on the porch roof trying to wash the second-story windows without falling off. Was that how a farmer’s wife washed windows out here? Or for that matter, anywhere? For Heaven’s sake, why hadn’t she thought of these things before? Who would have thought housework could be so fraught with danger?

Summer marched across the barnyard – no, no front yard here – up the porch steps and straight to the door. “Do you want to knock or shall I?”

“My hands are kind of full,” Bernice said, indicating the pie.

“I’m sure he’s going to love it. It smells wonderful.”

“Yes. If only I’d baked it ...”

“I’m sure he’ll love you for bringing it.”

Bernice’s chest tightened at the thought, and she closed her eyes a moment to calm herself. Summer was right; she
was
nervous. Probably more nervous than the night of the Valentine’s dance when she’d shown up wearing a borrowed dress. But it was the nicest dress she’d ever worn. “You should knock now.”

“Just giving you a moment to finish your thoughts.”

Bernice stared at her. “How did you know I was thinking about things?”

“How can I not know? The look on your face says it all. You’re worried. Stop. It’s going to be fine.”

Bernice drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I’m ready. Knock.”

Summer gave a few raps on the door then took a step back. Bernice held her breath.

Nothing.

“Maybe they’re out working in the orchards?” Bernice offered.

“You could be right,” Summer agreed.

Suddenly, the door opened. An elderly man in stocking feet poked his head out. “Well, I’ll be – if it ain’t Summer Riley!” He opened the door wide and looked at Bernice. “And who do we have here? Wait, don’t tell me – let me guess!” He pointed out at her and grinned. “My new daughter-in-law!”

Bernice sighed in relief and smiled.

“I knew it was you the moment I saw ya. What brings you to the farm, ladies? Other than the obvious,” he added with a wink at Bernice.

Summer elbowed her in the ribs.

“Oh, yes. I’ve brought Mr. Johnson a pie.”

“Well fancy that.
I’m
Mr. Johnson!”

Summer laughed. “You’d better keep your eye on this one,” she told Bernice.

Her smile broadened. “I won’t mind. I’m used to dealing with troublemakers.”

“Ya are?” he asked with a gasp. “Just where do ya come from, young lady – Dodge City?”

“Not exactly. Independence, Oregon.”

“As if you didn’t know,” Summer said with a smirk. “I heard you were the one that sent for her.”

Bernice glanced between them. Did Mr. Johnson mind that Summer knew?

“I did, that’s true enough. And I must say, yer a pretty little thing,” he added to a blushing Bernice. “Won’t ya come in, ladies?”

“Is Warren inside, or out in the orchards?” Summer asked.

“He’s in the kitchen havin’ some lunch. That pie’ll make a nice addition to his meal.”

Bernice’s stomach began to flutter, and she hoped she didn’t trip.

Mr. Johnson stepped aside as they entered, closed the door, then led them to the kitchen. “Look who came to visit, Warren!”

Warren sat at the kitchen table, a fork halfway to his mouth, and looked up. His eyes widened at the sight of Bernice. He fumbled with his fork and dropped it, only to have it land on his food with a
plop
. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said, “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

Old Man Johnson covered his face with his callused hand in exasperation.

Warren looked down at the fork, then at his shirt. It was obvious he’d been working in the orchards – bits of dirt and debris were scattered all over him, especially on his shoulders and in his hair. “I wasn’t … um, expecting a visitor … Miss Caulder.” He recovered himself enough to stand up, then spied the pie she held. “But I don’t mind. Won’t you sit down?”

Mr. Johnson pulled out a chair for Summer, then eyed Warren. He took the cue, quickly coming around the table to do the same for Bernice.

Warren sat back down, and they all fell silent until Mr. Johnson gave his grandson a look. “Looks like a mighty fine pie Miss Caulder done brought for ya, Warren. Ain’t ya gonna thank her proper?”

Bernice stiffened in her chair. What did
thanking one proper
mean around here? Would he shake her hand?

He stared at her, his face flushed. “Thank you, Miss Caulder. It … looks quite fine.”

“I didn’t make it,” she blurted, then snapped her mouth shut.
Drat!
She hated when she was so honest.

“Oh? Who did?” He looked at Summer.

“Elle made it, but we thought you’d like to have some. And it gave us a reason to come for a visit.”

Bernice closed her eyes and cringed. Did she have to be so obvious about it? But then, how else was she going to say it? They
had
to come to the Johnson farm so Bernice could get to know Warren better. “I hope you like apple,” she said – and cringed again. Oh for Heaven’s sake, they were apple farmers! They probably only ever
had
apple pie.

“Of course I do,” Warren said. “Everybody around here does. And it’s a good thing to, or we might lose half our business.”

“Do you only sell your apples in Nowhere?” Bernice asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh no – folks come from outlying areas to buy them. Some of them ship them as far as Seattle.”

“That’s amazing. I had no idea fresh fruit traveled so far.” He began to study her, and she willed herself to sit up straight and not blush. A lot of good it did – she could feel her cheeks grow hot.

Warren smiled. “Who knows – maybe you’ve eaten some of our apples in Independence and didn’t even know it.”

“I have no idea. I think most of our fruits and vegetables came from nearby farms.”

“Well …” Warren fidgeted in his seat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you let me finish my lunch I’d love to have some of that pie you brought.”

Bernice smiled, nodded – and felt for a moment as if only Warren was in the room with her. She glanced around in alarm – but no, Summer and his grandfather were still there. It was an odd sensation, one she’d never felt before. “All right,” she said shakily.

Mr. Johnson smiled. “I’ll get some plates and put the coffee on. Nothin’ like coffee with a good piece of apple pie. You just wait, young lady – come harvest season, you’ll get all sorts of apple recipes from the womenfolk around here. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Riley?”

Summer tore her gaze from the pie to look at him. “It certainly is. I’ve only been here for one harvest so far, but I have gathered quite a few recipes. It was fun experimenting with them. And the harvest was an experience in itself, though it was a lot of work.”

“You held up well, I hear,” Warren said. “Clayton brags about the things you and Elle did with those apples.”

“He gives us far too much praise. For one, we’re not used to heights.”

“Heights?” Bernice said as she paled. They weren’t the only ones …

“Somebody has to get up in those trees and pick the apples,” Warren commented, then caught the look on Bernice’s face. “Something wrong, Miss Caulder?”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Of course! What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

“You just looked kind of … strange, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” she chirped, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Okay. I just noticed ... I mean, I thought … well, never mind.”

“How can ya know what she’s thinkin’ or feelin’ if you don’t spend any time gettin’ to know each other?” his grandfather asked.

Bernice watched Warren’s jaw tighten. Did he not like the idea?

“True, Grandpa. But …”

“No buts! You too younguns are gonna get to know each other and that’s that! And there’s no better way to do that than a stroll through the orchards. After we have some pie and coffee, you can escort these ladies home.”

“Grandpa, there’s work to do …”

“I know, and part of yer work is escortin’ the ladies. I’ll see to the rest ‘til ya get back.”

“No one escorted them here,” Warren pointed out.

“An oversight on yer part, I’d say! Think of the dangerous road they had to traverse alone!”

Summer fought against a giggle.

Warren rolled his eyes. “Grandpa, the only thing dangerous out in the orchards is that skunk you saw the other day.”

“Ain’t that bad enough? Worse than a run in with a bear in my book. You make sure you see ‘em home safely, ya here?”

Warren sighed. Bernice wished he didn’t sound so forlorn. “Yes, Grandpa. I’ll do my best.”

His grandfather rubbed his hands together in glee and turned to the stove. “This is gonna be a very interesting afternoon of pie and coffee.”

* * *

“Then what happened?” Summer asked, an intense gleam in her eye.

“Betsy hit the man over the head with a frying pan, then … well … she kind of smashed his face with it.” How they’d gotten on the topic of her and Betsy’s kidnapping from the Valentine’s dance, Bernice wasn’t quite sure, but she did find regaling the tale rather fun. Besides, the look of horror on Warren Johnson’s face was worth it.

“Ooh,” Mr. Johnson said as he scrunched up his face. “That had to hurt.”

“Then what happened?” Warren asked, his eyes just as intent on Bernice as Summer’s.

“Then the men rescued us … I guess. Though I think Betsy pretty much already had. I suppose if Garrett Vander and the other men hadn’t showed up, we might still have been in a pickle. But as it was, I believe Betsy would’ve gotten us out of it. She’s very resourceful.”

“Obviously,” Warren said, “Especially with a frying pan.” He sat back in his chair, his pie untouched. He’d been so enthralled with her story he hadn’t taken a single bite, or a sip of coffee. “You were unharmed then? They didn’t …”

Bernice closed her eyes against his words – the same ones her mother had used before going into a tirade of questions and accusations. “No, but I was scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

Warren leaned forward. “You’re a brave girl to have endured such an ordeal.” His eyes roamed her face, and she could sense his admiration and … something else.

“Remind me to tell you of my own encounter with such men,” Summer said. “But right now, I think we better get back.”

Bernice smiled, nodded and scooted her chair away from the table. Before she could make a move to stand, Warren was out of his and heading her way. She instinctively waited as he came around behind her. These were the manners Professor Hamilton and Cecil Winters had taught her, and she wondered where he’d learned them – from his grandfather? Or when he was away at school? “Thank you,” she said with a smile and a nod of her head as she stood.

“My … my pleasure,” he said, his voice low. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see the ladies home now, Grandpa.”

“Ya do that, boy. I’ll just go out and see what mischief I can get into while yer gone.”

“He can’t get into too much,” he told Bernice as she stood. “We won’t be gone that long.”

“We?” Summer asked teasingly.

“I mean …
I
won’t be gone that long,” he corrected.

Bernice felt herself blush. Surely he hadn’t meant to imply that he was thinking about returning to his farm with her, did he? No, of course not. She was a silly duck to even think of it. She turned and stepped away from the chair, one foot moving too fast. It caught on a chair leg, and down she went …

… or would’ve if Warren hadn’t caught her. He’d hooked an arm around her belly with lightning speed – and enough strength to knock the wind from her. “Whoa there! Be careful, now.”

She fought for breath as he righted her and got her on her feet. She gasped for air and wanted to thank him, but couldn’t talk yet.

“Are you all right, Miss Caulder?”

“I … I will be … give me a moment.”

“That would’ve been a mighty big tumble if Warren hadn’t come to your rescue,” Mr. Johnson pointed out, winking at Summer. Summer winked back.

Warren ignored them both and concentrated on Bernice. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”