Authors: Jill Stengl

Lonely In Longtree (15 page)

“I'm taking no chances. Rumors have reached my ears, and your father suggested this plan. Watch your step and hang onto my arm while we cross the yard. It started snowing while we ate.”

Monte located their bags in the loft of the Martins' stables and loaded them into a buggy. The horse waited, already harnessed, where Marva's father had left it. “What if they come searching for us?” she asked.

He helped her into the buggy and covered her with rugs. “We run that risk, but at least this way we have a chance.” He climbed to his seat and clucked to the horse. “Let's just hope nobody sees us leaving town. Myles promised to provide a distraction. I think he's playing the piano and singing.”

“I'm sorry to miss that, but I'd be sorrier to get shivareed.” Snowflakes swirled around the side lamps like tiny moths. Marva buried her face in Monte's shoulder, yet she could hear the horse's hooves thudding in mud and spattering in puddles.

Once they were safely out of town and on the road to Bolger, she felt her husband relax. Marva sat upright. “I used to think a shivaree was funny, but now that I'm the bride, I don't care for the idea one bit.” Snowflakes found their way beneath the buggy top to chill her cheeks.

“It's a crude and disrespectful custom, in my opinion,” Monte said. “We can't drive faster than a walk because of ice, but I'm hoping the cold will discourage anyone from trying to follow.”

“Maybe someday we'll travel to Niagara Falls, but Minocqua will be honeymoon paradise enough for me.” Marva spoke with certainty.

Monte chuckled. “Don't expect it to look like it did last summer, sweetheart. We've had little snow here as yet, but I imagine we'll find plenty of it farther north.”

“I don't mind. Being snowed in with you will be exciting.” She hugged his arm, and he reached over to pat her mittened hands.

“Thank you.” His voice held a wealth of love.

Epilogue

“Did you hear that?” Marva sat bolt upright, lowering her book.

Monte loaded another log on the fire, set the screen back in place, and straightened. “No, I was making too much noise. What did you hear?”

“I think I heard a loon.” Marva dumped Patches the cat from her lap, rushed to the cabin door, and stepped out on the porch. Ice still clung to the far shore, but the lodge side of the lake was open. Moonlight sparkled on its surface. How delightful was the splash of water on the shore after months of frozen silence!

Monte followed her outside. Ralph pattered down the steps and rushed toward the lake. A flock of ducks took off with a clamor of quacking and flapping wings.

“It's early yet, but you might have heard one. The lake ice is slow to break up this year.” Monte wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, rested his other hand on the rail, and listened with her.

Marva shivered and hugged herself, leaning into his solid warmth. “Maybe I imagined it.”

“I don't think so. Let's wait a minute more and see if it will call again. It might have been flying overhead when it called, you know.” He let go of the rail and held her with both arms.

Marva could not imagine greater happiness than she had known since her marriage to Monte. The two of them clashed at times, yet they resolved their differences without acrimony; their brief periods of discord seemed only to emphasize the general felicity of the match. Monte wrote during the day while Marva was busy with chores and projects. Every evening they spent together, reading beside the fire or simply talking. Often they planned travel vacations, perhaps to Florida or even to Europe, yet neither cared if anything actually came of their plans. For now, it was enough to be together.

Marva's parents had chosen to live inside the main lodge, where they seldom needed to step outside during winter months. Papa, however, engaged in ice fishing whenever his rheumatism would allow it. Mother kept busy sewing for the needy in the community and organizing a Concerned Women of Minocqua club.

Myles and Beulah, who was expecting again, planned to travel north and visit for an entire month during the summer, and Beulah's parents also planned to holiday at the lodge that year with their children.

Ralph trotted back to the cabin, a dark shadow with a wagging tail. Panting, he collapsed on the porch with a rattle of his bony legs against the floorboards.

Marva smiled at the familiar sound. Her two cats despised the good-natured but clumsy dog. Tigress had moved into the lodge with Marva's parents. There she earned her keep by cleaning out an invasion of deer mice. But to Marva's relief, Patches had seemed to declare and maintain an armed truce with Ralph throughout the winter. Now that the hound could spend more of his time outside, the calico cat would undoubtedly be happier in the cabin. Marva's pets could never again roam outside, since too many Northwoods beasts and birds viewed a cat as a tasty snack.

A piercing, warbling cry drifted across the waters, repeating again and again as if two birds called to each other. Monte and Marva remained quiet until the echoes died away. “A mating pair, do you think?” she asked.

“Most likely the same pair that raised two chicks down that way last summer.” He pointed to his right across the lake.

“Now I can believe that spring is here,” Marva said, nestling close to his chest. “Now that the loons are back.”

He quoted softly, “ âFor, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.' ”

He paused. “That works if you substitute
snow
for
rain
and
loons
for
turtles
.”

“It means turtledoves.”

“I always thought it meant snapping turtles.”

Marva laughed and tried to push away. “I was savoring your sweet quote, and then you go and spoil it with snapping turtles. Have you no romance in your soul?”

“I have,” he protested, drawing her back. “As you know very well, woman.”

Again the loon's call echoed across the lake.

About the Author

Jill Stengl is an award-winning author. She lives in the Northwoods of Wisconsin in a log house on a lake, along with her husband, Dean, and their two younger children, Jim and Peter. Their oldest, Tom, is an officer in the U.S. Air Force, and their daughter, Anne Elisabeth, is a junior in college. Along with her writing, Jill continues to homeschool Peter and serves as housemaid to three spoiled kitties. Jill enjoys writing fiction that portrays God's involvement in the lives of everyday people throughout history. Jill's Web page is www.jillstengl.com.