Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 2

  Margaret wandered from the kitchen and headed toward the stairs. Just one more peek at her bedroom to be sure nothing still hid in a corner. She smiled, thinking about the games she’d played in that room with friends growing up and the times they’d hidden under the covers, certain that monsters hid under the bed.

  She trailed her fingers along the fir banister on the way up the stairs and patted the newel post at the top one last time. Regret at parting with her old home hit her again, but she pushed it away. Regret didn’t belong in her life, and she’d not let it get a stranglehold over her emotions again. Life should be lived forward, and constant time spent looking back only brought pain. She’d learned that these past four years.

  The schoolmarm’s cabin was small, so she’d given some of her furniture to a needy mill family with six children. But she kept the treasured pieces she could never part with—her bed, which her father had fashioned himself, and also the solid pine table and chairs he’d built for her mother.

  The creaking of wagon wheels and a jingling harness drew her thoughts back to the present. She looked at the gold watch hanging on a chain around her neck and smiled. Julius was right on time.

  “Hello, the house,” a ringing masculine voice called.

  Margaret swung open the front door and stepped onto the small covered porch, shading her eyes from the summer sun’s reflection off the nearby Columbia River. “Afternoon, Julius. Your mules are looking good today.” She nodded at the matched pair of dark bay mules that were his pride and joy and was rewarded by a beaming grin.

  Julius Winston’s mouth sported a gap where a tooth used to reside, rumored to have been dislodged by a kick from a disgruntled mule. But that hadn’t changed his near worship of the creatures. No one who saw Julius’s contagious smile thought long about the missing tooth, as the man’s entire face was transformed by his grin. A happier teamster she’d never met, and that was saying a lot in this bustling, growing mill town.

  He jumped off the wagon seat and dusted his hands against his pant legs. “Yep—they shore do, don’t they, Miss Margaret? Why, just t’other day I was tellin’ Grant down at the Company store—‘Grant,’ I said—‘don’t ya just think Molly and Verna is looking spry and sassy this summer? Why, their coats is shining so bright sometimes, they like to hurt m’eyes.’” He chuckled and slapped his leg.

  Margaret’s spirits lifted a bit at the happy chatter from the older man. With Julius warmed up to his favorite subject she doubted she’d need say more than yes, no, or smile the rest of the time it took to load the wagon.

  Julius drew the mules to a halt in front of the cabin, and Margaret sat on the hard seat of the wagon, taking in the features of her new home. She and some ladies from church had readied the cabin, giving it a sound cleaning earlier in the week and leaving the doors and windows ajar to air it out for a day. By the time they’d finished scrubbing the floors and windows, it opened its welcoming arms with a freshness and sparkle that brought joy to Margaret’s weary heart.

  Papa would be happy she’d made the decision to move. He’d always worried about her staying to care for him instead of taking up official residence in the schoolteacher’s cabin. The teacher for the upper grades was married and didn’t need the little house, so it had stood empty the past two years.

  A sense of loss swept over her. Her father, both protective and proud, had loved her with a fierce paternal love that had helped fill the chasm created by the death of her mother when Margaret was young. But now she needed to draw her thoughts away from the past and try to absorb herself in the future.

  The cabin sat back from the Columbia River, close to the base of the hill. She wished it were within view of the magnificent Bridal Veil Falls. The awesome pounding of the water and the mist dancing like prisms in the sun were a constant source of pleasure whenever she found time to walk the mile or so to its base.

  It was only a one-minute walk from her new home to the two-story schoolhouse, recently built to accommodate the growing number of students. Who’d have believed this small town would ever boast nearly forty students, ranging from the first reader to the seventh? Margaret loved teaching, even with the challenges some of the more trying students often presented.

  Julius jumped down from the seat and scurried around to reach for her hand. “Help you down, Teacher?”

  “I think I’d like to sit for a few moments, if you don’t mind. Would you tie the mules, and then I’ll join you?”

  His expression softened as he glanced from her to the cabin and back, seeming to understand her need for some time alone. She welcomed this move, but sadness also pervaded her heart. Change so often resulted from some type of difficulty. Yes, it could be mixed with joy, but she appreciated the time to make the adjustment.

  She loved this two-room cabin in the clearing, built of lumber sawed at their local mill and lovingly crafted by several of the townspeople. Glass windows, brought by train from Portland, flanked both sides of the sturdy door. The cabin could easily withstand the heavy winds that often blew rain and snow through the Columbia River Gorge, keeping its occupant snug and dry.

  Margaret loved the cheerful, multicolored patch of flowers along the front, planted by her students early this spring and tended by a different family each week. A mix of towering fir and maple trees created a welcome spot of shade during the heat of the summer months. And possibly best of all, the cabin boasted a small vegetable garden in the back lot. Her father had been an avid gardener, and Margaret had hated the thought of giving up the summer vegetables. Now she’d simply grow her own.

  Julius hitched the mules to a nearby tree and turned back toward the wagon but halted at the sound of a man’s hail a few yards up the path. A young man in his early twenties strode into sight. Sunlight danced on his uncovered, curly brown hair, and his rugged face lit in appreciation when he saw Margaret. “I see I made it in time to help you unload.” He stopped several feet from the wagon and grinned.

  Margaret’s pulse skipped a beat, and her breath quickened. Andrew Browning had started coming around a few weeks before her father’s death, and she knew that he’d developed an interest in her, but she hadn’t quite decided how she felt about him. Right now her heart felt too sore to think about courting so soon after Papa’s passing. Thankfully, Andrew hadn’t pushed his suit and seemed content to remain friends. But his appearance today and offer of help warmed her, and she gave him what she hoped was a pleasing smile. “Thank you, Andrew. There isn’t much to unload, and Julius assures me he can handle it without much bother.”

  Julius’s chest puffed out at her words, and his whiskered cheeks turned pink. “Yes, ma’am. No bother a’tall.”

  Andrew’s expression lost some of its excitement, so Margaret hastened to his rescue. “Julius?”

  “Yes, Miss Margaret?” He swept off his hat and looked up.

  “I know you don’t really need any help, but do you suppose Andrew might stay and offer a hand?” She rose from the buckboard seat and grasped the rail, but Julius stepped to the side of the wagon and helped her down.

  “Guess it wouldn’t hurt, if’n he stays and helps.” The wide smile again lit the older man’s countenance. “Nothin’ here I can’t do myself, but it might go faster with another set of hands.” He cast a sly glance at the once again grinning Andrew. “Although it do appear he’s cleaned up some after workin’ at the planer mill—might be a shame to get them nice duds dirty packing in boxes and furniture.” Julius winked.

  Andrew hurried to the back of the wagon and hoisted a wooden crate onto his muscular shoulder. “Don’t you worry about my clothes, Julius. They’re not my Sunday best. I didn’t want to get planer shavings on Miss Margaret’s nice things, so I changed before I came.”

  Julius patted his mule on the rump as he headed toward the back of the wagon. “Ah-huh. Well, let’s get to work, so Miss Margaret is feelin’ to home before the sun goes down.” He nodded at Margaret. “How ’bout you stand inside and direct where you want these things?
No sense you gettin’ dirty or hurtin’ yourself packin’ in heavy boxes.”

  The next half hour flew by as the two men toted boxes inside. The furniture she’d brought quickly found a place in her new home, and within a short time she stood at the door and surveyed her small domain. The kitchen was just inside the door, with her pine table and chairs a few feet from the sink that boasted a water pump. The far side of the room contained her comfortable old sofa, a round pine table next to it, and two wing-backed stuffed chairs.

  Her bedroom lay beyond the cozy living area. The men had set up her bed, matching dresser, and nightstand. It was now a warm, friendly place with colorful braided rugs, polished pine furniture, and a woodstove for the cold winter months.

  Julius stepped up beside her. “Looks like that about does it. Want I should stay and pry the lids off those crates?”

  Andrew picked up a hammer and strode to the nearest box. “I can get these, Julius.”

  “Ah-huh.” Julius plucked his hat off the table. “Well, then, I guess I’ll go split a little kindlin’ before I head home. Wouldn’t want the neighbors’ tongues waggin’, the two of you bein’ alone in the house without a chaperone.” He grinned on his way out the door.

  Margaret leaned against a post on the edge of the porch. “Thank you again, Julius. You’re a blessing.”

  The red crept up his neck and washed across his cheeks, and his infectious grin erupted. “Aw, it were nothin’.” He moved past the wagon where the patient mules dozed and headed toward the chopping block.

  The screeching of nails reluctantly parting from a crate drew Margaret back inside. “Andrew? I appreciate your help.”

  “Happy to.” His warm smile gave her heart a jolt. He reached for another box and applied the claw of the hammer to a stubborn nail. “Everything out of your house, or do you need more help?”

  She sank down onto the nearby sofa and shook her head. “It’s all here, and the ladies at church offered to help me clean the old place for the new tenant. I hear he’s arriving next week.”

  Andrew raised sparkling brown eyes that smiled into hers. “Good. I’d hate to see you do that alone.” He sat back on his haunches. “Looks like that’s the last box. Want me to stay and help you unpack?”

  “No, you’ve done enough. Besides, I’m not sure where I want things to go just yet. I think I’ll sit for a while—maybe rest my feet and decide what I want to put where.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea.” He rose and brushed back the hank of curly hair that insisted on draping over his forehead, then set his hat on his head.

  Margaret glanced with appreciation at his well-built frame. He wasn’t tall but had broad shoulders and muscular arms from off-bearing boards at the planer mill. When he grinned two dimples peeked out at the corners of his mouth, giving him a decidedly roguish look.

  Her thoughts drifted to another pair of dark, intense eyes and a tall, slender man. Nothing about Andrew reminded her of that other man, but just thinking about Nathaniel now caused a thrill of excitement to course through her body. After four years she still remembered how she’d felt any time she’d heard Nathaniel’s voice or looked into his eyes.

  When Andrew cleared his throat, Margaret pulled her thoughts back with a reluctance that surprised her. She’d left the past behind long ago and had worked hard to put the anger and hurt away as well. It wasn’t fair to compare Andrew to Nathaniel. Besides, Andrew seemed too kind and honest to disappear from the life of a girl he’d sworn to love.

  “If you’re sure you don’t need any more help, I’ll get to my supper, such as it is.” Mischief lit his brown eyes. “Sure would be nice to have someone around who loved cooking.”

  Margaret’s mouth twitched in a smile. “Gertrude was just telling me that Sally Mae Kent is looking for a beau. I hear she’s a fine cook.”

  Andrew’s face fell. “Oh. I don’t think. I mean, I don’t want….” He took off his hat and slapped it against his leg.

  Margaret stifled a giggle.

  Andrew stared at her with a straight face. “Blast it, Margaret, that’s not funny.”

  She shook her head as she tried to contain the first bit of real humor that had sliced through her heart since Papa’s passing. Sally Mae was a nice girl, even if she did chatter like a magpie. She latched onto any young man who glanced her way, and Papa used to say she’d marry anything wearing trousers.

  “I’m sorry, Andrew. And don’t worry, I won’t let on to Sally Mae that you’re looking for a good cook.” She covered her mouth with her hand in hopes of hiding the smirk that wouldn’t be stilled. Poor Andrew, he was such fun to tease.

  He jammed his hat back on his head and grimaced. “You’d best not.” His lips quirked, but for a moment it didn’t appear that a smile would win the tug-of-war.

  Margaret couldn’t hold the laughter back any longer—it spilled out of her mouth. Andrew sat for a full minute, then threw back his head and guffawed, his twin dimples breaking out. “Guess you got me that time,” he choked as he tried to catch his breath. Swiping a hand across his eyes, he took a step toward the door. “Well, good night, Margaret. And please let me know if you need anything more. I’ll let Julius know he can head on home.”

  Margaret sensed Andrew’s reluctance to leave, but she wasn’t in a position to ask him to dinner and wasn’t sure she’d want to, even if her kitchen was in order. Her heart had mended after Nathaniel’s betrayal, but could she really know that Andrew was different? Besides, hadn’t God assured her while seeing Nathaniel that He was in control and her future was secure? Hadn’t that meant she had a future with Nathaniel? She shook her head. Trust didn’t come easy nowadays—not in her own ability to hear God’s voice, nor in a man’s ability to keep his word.

  She enjoyed Andrew’s company but felt in no hurry to be courted. Her married friends didn’t understand her hesitation, as many women at the age of twenty-one were married and had a child by now.

  Andrew was the first man who’d tempted her to forget Nathaniel. Silly, she knew. It had been four years. For months she’d swung between anger and grief—first furious that he hadn’t come to take her away when he’d sworn he loved her, then crushed that he hadn’t returned to explain.

  “Margaret, did you hear me?” Andrew tentatively touched her shoulder, and she jumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No. I was gathering wool for a moment. What were you saying?”

  He bent his head and drew a deep breath, then raised his eyes to meet hers. “There’s an ice-cream social at the church in two weeks. Would you care to come with me?” His expression was both hopeful and full of doubt.

  Margaret’s thoughts stilled. She hated to encourage him, but staying trapped in the gloom that had surrounded her for so long didn’t set well. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  His face went from blank amazement to joy in two swift seconds. “You would? Wonderful! Maybe I’ll see you at church tomorrow, as well?”

  “That would be nice, Andrew.” She walked him to the door and watched as he strode down the path. Maybe life would settle down and bring some positive changes. After four years, it was time to move on.

  Andrew walked down the path away from Margaret’s cabin, a lightness in his step that he hadn’t expected. He’d come to her house to help in an effort to keep the promise he’d made to her father a couple of weeks prior to his death. He hadn’t expected to find his heart pounding and his palms sweaty when he’d asked Margaret to accompany him to the ice-cream social. Sure, he’d been interested in Margaret since he first saw her. What man wouldn’t be? She was a beautiful woman with a generous heart and a quick intellect, although she could also be a bit stubborn and independent when the mood hit her.

  He glanced over at the quiet mill as he walked past the first large building to his right. With no trains running and the planer mill shut down, one could actually hear the birds singing in the fir trees that lined the path.

  He hadn’t t
hought too much of Mr. Garvey’s request to watch out for Margaret in the event anything happened—after all, Jacob Garvey was only in his late forties and had appeared to be in good health. But something about the urgency of the request had made Andrew wonder if Jacob knew something he’d not shared, and it seemed that had been the case. Now Andrew found himself in a quandary—the woman he’d been somewhat interested in had been placed in his care by her deceased father, and without her knowledge. From what he knew of Margaret, he guessed that she’d be none too happy if she discovered the truth. Of course, with her father gone there’d be no way for her to know, and Andrew would certainly never willingly share what had passed between Jacob and himself. There was no point in upsetting her or making her doubt that his interest in her was genuine.

  If his reaction to her nearness back at the cabin was any indication of the turn his heart had taken, his interest was even stronger than he’d realized when he’d given his word to Margaret’s father. He smiled as he recalled the flush on her cheeks when she’d laughed at his discomfort. Yes, indeed. He was going to enjoy keeping his word to Mr. Garvey.

  Chapter Three

  Salem, Oregon

  “I declare, Samantha! You are the clumsiest girl. You’d think at thirteen years old you’d be more careful. Why I took you and your no-account brother in, I’ll never know.” Hands on her hips, Mrs. Stedman stood over the skinny girl, then leaned to pick up the soiled linen that had slipped to the ground under the sagging clothesline.

  Samantha McGavin narrowed her eyes and shook her head, sending the dark blond braids into a mad dance around her shoulders. The heavyset woman wouldn’t hesitate to dole out punishment if sassed, but Samantha couldn’t tolerate the words she’d just heard. “I thought I pinned it on tight. But I wish you wouldn’t talk so about my brother. It’s not his fault he’s a little slow.”