Oh no. Please don’t ask me. Before you came I was dreaming of adventures
. ‘‘I-I’m not sure. I mean, I know that there is an attraction between us—just feel our hands to know that. But am I ready to really love again? I don’t know. I care for you more than any man I know, and when you were gone, I was so afraid you weren’t coming back that I cried. Is all that part of love?’’
‘‘I want to marry you, Sophie. I’m asking you to be my wife.’’
Sophie let his declaration lie between them.
Do I love this man
enough to marry him? To be the mother of his two children and my two?
Four children. How can I be a mother to four children? I want to travel.
I’m still thinking on how I can. What does all this mean?
‘‘I-I don’t know.’’
‘‘Well, that’s certainly not the answer I had hoped for, but then I’ve had more time to think on this than you have.’’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, his mustache tickling her skin, his lips searing it.
‘‘Would you want me to give up the boardinghouse?’’
‘‘Not if you didn’t want to.’’
‘‘Is this why you wanted my opinion on the house?’’
‘‘You saw through me.’’
‘‘Not until now.’’ The rocker barely moved, as if it too were holding its breath. ‘‘Can I think about it?’’
‘‘I sure hope you will.’’ He kissed her hand again.
She tried to draw it back but he didn’t let her. ‘‘I can’t think when you do that.’’
‘‘Good. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.’’
‘‘Really?’’
He stood and bent over the arm of her chair. ‘‘May I?’’ At her nod he lowered his head, brushing her mouth with his before settling his lips on hers.
Sophie kissed him back, her lips remembering how to fit against a man’s, her hand seeking the hair that curled on the back of his neck. When he lifted his head, a lightning bolt outlined him with a shimmer.
That’s just what she felt like inside, all shimmery and as if she might explode. She hadn’t expected to feel this way, but oh, she’d missed being kissed. She blinked lazily and smiled up at him. ‘‘Mr. ‘‘And here I thought it was you. Let me help you up.’’ Wiste, you really pack a punch.’’
The first of the raindrops struck the porch roof and blew a breath of damp coolness over them. They stood watching the storm approach.
The drumming increased, the sky got darker, thunder rumbled right next door. She laid her head against his shoulder and heard the steady drumming of his heart.
A shiver started about her knees and quivered its way up to run tingles around her scalp.
‘‘I should get you inside.’’
‘‘Only a moment more.’’ Could she say yes? Was this love that flowed clear out to her fingers like rain drenched the leaves of the tree, washing away the dust of confusion?
‘‘Sophie, I have something more to say. If you decide to travel, to go find the adventures that you’ve dreamed of, just know that I’ll be waiting here for you to come home.’’
Thunder crashed so close she flinched, and he drew her even closer, sheltering her under his arm. Was it the rain on the roof or was her heart crying that she couldn’t say yes?
‘‘
W
HY COULDN’T I SAY YES?’’ Sophie asked the woman in the mirror.
Here it was, the day before graduation, and she had awakened with swollen ankles and enough puffy skin around her eyes to make her look like a stuffed cabbage. And if not for the potty chair, she’d have had an accident during the night. Why would any man even think of wanting to marry her looking like this?
If Dr. Elizabeth says I have to go to bed,
I will miss the graduation altogether and the big party. I haven’t been to a
party for so long, and I was really looking forward to it
.
She turned at the tap on the door. ‘‘Come in.’’
Mrs. Sam pushed open the door, carrying a tray with coffee and toast. She took one look at Sophie’s ankles and shook her head. ‘‘Oh, I was afraid of this.’’ She set the tray down. ‘‘You get back in that bed, child. I’ll bring in some comfrey tea.’’
‘‘What does that do?’’
‘‘Take down de swelling some, we hope.’’ She hustled out the door, throwing one more comment over her shoulder. ‘‘I’m sending Lemuel for Dr. Elizabeth.’’
Sophie moved the stool closer to the bed with her traitorous foot. Bending over was now an action of yore. How could things change so overnight? True, she’d not let anyone see the puffiness the day before, but this was beyond belief. She stepped up on the stool, turned, and sat on the bed, thinking it must have grown taller in the night.
Then lying on her side, resting before the act of rolling onto her back and pushing herself up against the headboard, she let the tears flow. They seemed to gush at any odd moment, whether finding a number in her account books that didn’t match or seeing the daffodils in their spring glory. She should have paid much more attention to the legions of pregnant women she’d known in Blessing—the tears ran harder, making her gulp—back when she’d been so sure of herself in all things. That seemed another lifetime ago. Today, this moment, she knew nothing other than women had been going through this for generations, which made the continual arrival of babies in Blessing that much more incredible.
Once she’d heaved herself into some sort of propped-up position, she mopped her cheeks with the edge of the sheet, wondering if the skin on her ankles would pop before her belly did.
Six more weeks of this. Her mother was a saint. Ingeborg was a saint. Any woman who went through this was a saint.
She’d dozed off when another tap came on the door and Dr. Elizabeth entered with her black leather bag. ‘‘Sorry it is coming to this. You’ve done well so far.’’ She took out her stethoscope and checked Sophie’s heart and lungs. ‘‘Are you having trouble breathing?’’
‘‘Only if I try to bend over, or when—’’ ‘‘You stand up or sit down or . . . ?’’
‘‘Something like that. Even my skin hurts.’’
‘‘I’ll have Mrs. Sam rub some glycerin cream into it. Skin stretches, but you’re pushing beyond an easy stretch.’’ Moving down over the mound, she listened to the baby heartbeats. ‘‘Two for sure now.’’ She smiled at Sophie, who did not smile back. What if . . . ?
She had to ask.
‘‘Elizabeth, they’re . . . all right, aren’t they?’’
‘‘Far as I can tell.’’ She looked deep into Sophie’s eyes. ‘‘You’re thinking about Grace and her deafness, aren’t you?’’
Sophie nodded, ashamed she was so obvious. Her sister only gave joy to anyone who was around her. Why did it matter that she did it without hearing? Sophie wanted it not to matter for her babies, but deep inside, she knew it did.
‘‘God only knows. Someday maybe we’ll understand more, but right now, well, I’m grateful for every baby that is born whole and healthy.’’ Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth straightened. ‘‘What I do know is that mothers taking better care of themselves have healthier babies. Not lacing their corsets also gives healthier babies. Imagine being pinched into smaller spaces while you are growing.’’
She pressed the skin around Sophie’s feet and ankles and looked at her equally swollen hands. ‘‘Keep your feet up. The less walking the better.’’ When Sophie started to say something, Elizabeth raised her hand. ‘‘I know. Graduation is tomorrow, and you want to go to the party, but even if you rode in a wagon or buggy, you’d be bumped around more than I want you to be. I’m sure it will be hot, and much as I hate to say it, you would be better off here.’’
Tears leaked out around Sophie’s determination and rolled down her cheeks. ‘‘It’s not fair.’’ Hearing the familiar lament she’d uttered so many times since Hamre’s death only increased her misery. Missing out on one more thing since she’d returned, like she’d missed out on the winter dances and dinners around the family table. This time Sophie would miss Grace’s important day, a day they would have shared if Sophie had had sense enough to care back then.
Now she was bawling like a calf who’d strayed too far from its mama, and as she did, she accepted that she couldn’t go to Grace’s graduation. Her life was her babies now, and they needed her feet up.
Forcing the words out through the gulps, Sophie answered Elizabeth. ‘‘I-I know. I will stay here . . . for the babies.’’
The westbound train whistled and, even though slowing, shook the entire building. While Sophie hardly ever paid attention to it anymore, Elizabeth rolled her eyes. ‘‘You must have to straighten pictures every day.’’
‘‘You’ve noticed we don’t have a lot of pictures on the walls.’’
‘‘Good thing. Do you have any questions?’’
‘‘I had one earlier, and now I can’t remember it. I’m going to have to let out those two dresses. . . .’’ A sigh slid up from her puffy ankles and out her lips. ‘‘Maybe I should just wear a sheet.’’
An answering smile met her. ‘‘That’s a thought,’’ Elizabeth said. ‘‘We could sew two of them together at the shoulders and sides, hem them up, and away you go.’’
Sophie giggled and she could feel her arms and legs relaxing. ‘‘Now that would be a sight.’’
A bustle out in the vestibule caught their attention, then two male voices and Lily Mae answering.
‘‘Oh, that must be Mr. Gould, and now I won’t get to meet him either.’’ She slitted her eyes in thought. ‘‘I sure hope those rooms are at their best. I reminded Mrs. Sam about that yesterday. I should have put them on the first floor; then I could have made sure.’’
‘‘Sophie, Sophie, you know they took care of it all. And you’ll get to meet him. I’ll make sure of it.’’
‘‘But not now. My hair’s a mess. I’m a mess.’’ She raised her hands and let them fall on her stomach. ‘‘Nothing is going right.’’ Nothing had since Hamre.
That’s enough. This muddling around in misery doesn’t
change anything
. Besides, it wasn’t true anyway. Just not the way she wanted things. Well, then. Her thoughts had steamed up like the train that had just blown through, and the words fell faster and faster as she stared at the ceiling. ‘‘And on top of that Garth asked me to marry him—’’ ‘‘Did you say what I thought you said?’’
‘‘And even after all this, I still want to travel—’’ ‘‘Sophie!’’
Finally another rib-rattling sigh. ‘‘And I don’t know what to do.’’
‘‘Garth asked you to marry him?’’ Elizabeth’s eyes were wide.
Sophie nodded. ‘‘He said he loves me, but I couldn’t say yes. I said yes too fast last time.’’ Moisture joined the tears on her cheeks. ‘‘No. I made Hamre say yes too fast. I’m not the same girl. At least I don’t want to be the same girl. What do I want now that I have a choice? A choice that includes two babies?’’ Blowing out a deep breath, she finished, her bottom lip in the pout she hadn’t allowed herself for months. ‘‘All I know is I’m so huge the bed might break, and then I’ll fall onto the floor.’’
Elizabeth rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. When the silence fell, they could hear someone walking in the room overhead. Sophie made a face and clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘‘They couldn’t hear me, could they?’’
‘‘I doubt it. But I have some advice for you. All you can do right now is take care of yourself and the babies. All the rest will work out in God’s good time.’’
Sophie swallowed and mopped her eyes with a napkin. ‘‘Sorry.’’
‘‘No problem. An outburst once in a while by a pregnant woman is not a bad thing. You’ve been through a lot, Sophie dear, and God isn’t going to desert you now.’’
Sophie huffed a sigh that puffed out both cheeks. ‘‘Thanks. You won’t tell anyone, will you?’’
‘‘Tell anyone what?’’ Elizabeth put her stethoscope back in her bag.
‘‘About what I said.’’
‘‘Doctors never tell anyone anything they’ve been told.’’ She patted Sophie’s hand. ‘‘You talk it all over with your mother. She’s the best advisor around.’’
Sophie slept through much of Saturday, or rather napped, since sleeping for any length of time day or night was becoming more difficult by the day.
Sunday morning she drowsed awake when she heard the church bells, shed some more tears at missing the graduation, and fell asleep again.
In the evening she heard laughter and recognized both Grace and Astrid’s voices. Surely the other voice was her mother’s, and when they trooped into her room, Ingeborg was along too.
‘‘Since you couldn’t come to the party, we brought the party to you,’’ Astrid said, setting a handled basket on the hassock.
‘‘Oh!’’ Sophie teared up again. It would be lovely to have a conversation without busting into waterworks. ‘‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come. How did it go?’’
‘‘We are all graduated,’’ Grace said. ‘‘That means we are women now, not just girls.’’
‘‘Not in my mind,’’ Ingeborg said. ‘‘You are all still my little girls.’’ She included Sophie in the warm glance.
‘‘Little?’’ Sophie stared at her belly, making the others laugh.
‘‘Well, in our minds you are all still little girls.’’ Kaaren kissed Sophie’s forehead. ‘‘Somehow I don’t remember being this big.’’
‘‘I don’t remember that either, but maybe over time we’ve forgotten some things.’’ Ingeborg walked around the bed and took Sophie’s hand.
‘‘You and Grace were so little, I was terrified you wouldn’t make it.’’
‘‘I think these two are going to be born walking,’’ Sophie said.
‘‘We wanted to bring ice cream, but Mor said it would melt before we got it here.’’ Astrid took a jar of canned raspberry juice from the basket. ‘‘I’ll take this out to the kitchen and make swizzle to have with our cake.’’
‘‘There’s ice in the icebox. Just ask Mrs. Sam.’’
‘‘We brought you some things to keep you busy,’’ Ingeborg said, taking a roll of fabric from another basket. She unrolled it to show an open-front baby gown with two sets of ties. ‘‘I thought you could embroider on this, and I brought knitting needles and baby yarn too, along with the instructions. Plus you can finish the handwork on these little hats, so you will have one for each baby. Can you sit in the chair?’’
‘‘With my feet on the stool I can, for a while at least. I tried working on the books earlier this morning, but I didn’t last long.’’
‘‘Have you met Mr. Gould yet?’’ Ingeborg asked.
Sophie shook her head while fingering the little garments. ‘‘I wanted to, but . . .’’ She gestured to her hair. ‘‘I look a mess, and I can’t do anything without huffing and puffing.’’ Tears. She was going to shrink her face by the time these babies were born with all the water pouring down it.