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Authors: Ruth Ann Nordin

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“Yes, of course, I wil .”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I know you wil . Now, I want you to do something for

me.”

“Anything.”

“Take that husband of yours to the lighthouse.”

“The lighthouse?” she asked, surprised he should ask such an odd request. “Wouldn’t you

rather I take you there?”

“No. I’ve been there already. I think he ought to see the lighthouse and the Atlantic before you

return. It’s always been my favorite spot. You go out there and al your problems seem to

melt away. It gives you an appreciation for the things that matter. When you see how large

the ocean is, you realize how fleeting life is and you can’t help but want to live each day as if it’s

your last. When you experience that, you learn to let go of the smal things and focus on what

matters. You’l take Dave there for me, won’t you?”

Noting how happy he seemed by the idea, she nodded. “Yes, I wil .”

“Good. And don’t you let your mother make you feel guilty for going to Nebraska. Focus on

your husband and children. Your mother is fine here with your brothers and sisters. She has

plenty of people to take care of her.”

“Alright.”

“I need to rest. We’l talk later.”

Mary stood up and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you.”

He’d fil ed in some of the missing pieces of the puzzle that bothered her. Perhaps things

weren’t as easily resolved as she thought they’d be when it came to her mother. He let go of

her hand and closed his eyes. She left the room so he could sleep.

Chapter Sixteen

Despite the large gathering of family members in the dining room, Dave couldn’t help but notice

how tense Mary was during supper. She’d been equal y tense during the lunch and had asked

him if they could sit further away from her mother. He was more than happy to oblige her.

He’d have to be blind not to see the cold looks her mother gave her from time to time.

As he ate, he debated, once again, whether he should approach her mother or not. He didn’t

care if Mary was her daughter. Mary was his wife and that counted for a lot more than the

woman’s relationship with her daughter.

“It’s too bad you didn’t make something, Mary,” her brother Stan cal ed out from across the

large table.

“That’s a good idea,” another one of her brothers agreed. “We’d love to have one of your

pies.”

Stan picked up his glass of lemonade and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what Mary

makes. Everything she cooks tastes like gourmet cooking.”

“Yep. If there’s one thing she can do, it’s cook. So what do you say, Mary? Wil you cook

something tomorrow?”

Mary glanced at her mother, so Dave turned his gaze in her direction as wel . She cleared her

throat and said, “It depends on what Mother thinks. This isn’t my house.”

Her mother’s lips formed a thin line and she refused to look at Mary. She just chewed her food

slowly, obviously in no hurry to swal ow it so she could respond to what Mary said.

Setting his fork down next to his plate, Dave leaned forward with his elbows on the table and

told Mary’s brothers, “She’s famous in Nebraska for her cooking, especial y her apple pies.

People fight each other for a slice.”

“Oh yes, her apple pies.” Stan rubbed his stomach. “No one else makes pies like that.”

“I sure wouldn’t mind another one of those,” her other brother added.

“I haven’t had one yet,” Calvin spoke up after he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Once you do, you won’t like mine anymore,” Grace teased. “Mary, you should make

something, even if it is your apple pie. I’d be happy to help.” Shooting a sly look at Calvin, she

added, “Then I won’t have to be too jealous when you fal in love with her cooking.”

A couple of others chuckled at her joke, but his mother-in-law’s frown deepened, something

Dave noticed even if no one else did.

“Oh come on, Mary,” Stan said. “What do you say? For old time’s sake?”

Smiling, Mary nodded. “I can do that.”

Forcing his gaze off of her mother, Dave said, “I hope you make enough for everyone.” He

winked at Stan. “Since I’m her husband, I’m guaranteed a slice.”

Her mother set her napkin on the table, col ected her plate and stood up to leave the room.

While the others at the table commented on their favorite foods that Mary could make, Dave

watched as her mother headed for the kitchen. He’d just about had it. What was wrong with

Mary being appreciated for her cooking? It was something she wasn’t only good at but also

enjoyed. Why would her mother begrudge her that?

Her mother returned with dessert so the conversation came to an end as people helped

themselves to blueberry pie. As Dave tested it, he couldn’t help but think there was no

comparison between Mary’s pies and her mother’s. Mary’s was much better.

After they were done eating, the women cleaned up the table while Dave joined Calvin and Stan

on the porch while other men stayed in the parlor to talk. On a nice day, he preferred to be

outside, and being outside also put enough distance between him and his mother-in-law where

he could calm his mounting anger.

“What’s bothering you?” Calvin asked him from where he leaned against the porch railing. “You

wish Mary hadn’t agreed to cook for the rest of us?”

Dave rocked in the chair and grinned. “As long as she’s up to it, I think it’d do her good to

cook. She enjoys it. Says it relaxes her.”

“I’m looking forward to trying the pie. I’ve heard they’re a legend.”

“They are,” Stan added from where he sat next to Dave. “Too bad we had to lose her. I know

it was for a good cause, but between you and me, no one comes close to Mary when it comes

to cooking.”

Dave shifted in his chair. “Yes, it’s one of her many attributes.”

“Oh right.” Stan nodded. “She’s good at sewing, too. I hear Mother misses the dresses Mary

used to make for her.”

“Wel , there’s more to Mary than those things. She’s got a good heart. She helps a lot of folk

without expecting anything in return. She’s a good wife and mother. She’s a good friend to my

sisters and sisters-in-law. I don’t know how I lucked out in marrying her, but I thank God every

day for her.”

Stan stared at him for a moment, as if he hadn’t considered Mary like that before, and maybe

he hadn’t. Dave didn’t know how Stan saw her, nor did he particularly care to. He heard a

couple women from the parlor and figured they were done cleaning up from the supper so he

stood up.

“If you’l excuse me,” he said before he went into the house.

He searched for Mary but didn’t find her in the parlor where a couple of her sisters were. As he

headed for the kitchen, her mother happened to be coming toward him down the hal way.

When she saw him, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“Mrs. Peters,” he began before she could turn from him and go back to the kitchen, “may I have

a word with you?”

Her spine stiffened. “I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“I won’t take up much of your time. It’s about Mary.”

She let out a long sigh. “What is it?”

Once he reached her, he lowered his voice. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“Then don’t.”

Surprised at her sharp tone, he paused before continuing. “The fact of the matter is, Mary

doesn’t remember how things were when she lived here.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been informed of that.”

“I’ve talked to your husband, and he fil ed me in on how it was for Mary.”

She stared at him, her face void of emotion.

He struggled to hide his irritation. It’d been trying enough to hold his tongue during the supper

where this woman managed to be pleasant to everyone else while ostracizing Mary, but the

way she was looking at him now—as if he was inconveniencing her by talking about her

daughter—was pushing him to the point where he was ready to be outright rude to her. “I’d

appreciate it if you showed Mary the same concern you show your other daughters.”

“You don’t know everything, and I don’t care for the fact that you’re passing judgments on me.”

“Are you saying your husband isn’t aware of how things were?”

“I’m saying this doesn’t concern you. It’s a family matter.”

“With al due respect, ma’am, as Mary’s husband, I am a part of this family.” As strange as it

was. In al his years, he’d never come across a family who was ful of contention like this one

was.

“But you didn’t grow up here, so you don’t know al the facts. You’d do wel to focus on things

that pertain directly to you. Now, if you’l excuse me, I have a sick husband to tend to.”

He knew when something was a lost cause, and this woman had no intention of changing the

way she did things. Reluctant, he stepped aside so that she could pass him and go up the

stairs. As much as he wished Mary had told him why she never showed him her mother’s

letters in the past, he couldn’t blame her for keeping quiet. Wel , in a little less than two weeks,

he and Mary would be on their way back to Nebraska and then none of this would matter.

Mary was right. They just needed to get by until then.

He turned to go to the kitchen to see if Mary was there when someone cal ed out to him from

the parlor. He looked over his shoulder and saw one of Mary’s twin sisters.

“You can’t let my mother bother you,” she said as she walked toward him. “She’s set in her

ways.”

Her mother wasn’t merely set in her ways; she was downright rude to her daughter. With a

sigh, he said, “I’l remember that,” and turned his attention back to the kitchen. Mary was

bound to be there.

“The best thing you can do is give Mary a break from here,” she continued before he could take

his first step to the kitchen.

Interested, he looked back at her. “That’s not a bad idea.” Mary probably could use some time

outside this house. Grace must have known that since she took Mary to the restaurant. “If the

weather’s nice tomorrow, I’l do that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She shot him a smile and then returned to the parlor.

He frowned, not sure what to make of the smile she’d given him. Something about it didn’t sit

right with him. Shaking his head, he decided to let the matter go and strode to the kitchen.

Mary and Grace were talking at the cook stove where they were boiling water.

Mary looked over at him and smiled. “If you’re thirsty, we’l have tea ready in a couple

minutes.”

“I can wait.” He glanced at Grace. “Could I talk to Mary?”

“Sure.” Grace pul ed off her apron and hung it on the hook by the doorway. “I’l be outside with

the children.”

Mary nodded and waited for her sister to leave before turning her attention to Dave. “Is

something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Though it wasn’t the ful truth, he saw no reason to bother Mary with the

details. Besides, she was beginning to understand how her mother was, and the last thing he

wanted to do was have her cry again because her mother saw no need to be nice to her.

Settling his hand on the smal of her back, he whispered, “I missed you.”

She glanced at the doorway.

“No one can see us,” he assured her before he let his hand drop back to his side. “And if

someone did, they can talk to me about it.”

She looked as if she was going to protest but then nodded. “Alright.” She picked the pot of

boiling water off the cook stove and fil ed up the three teapots. “My father thinks it’d be nice if I

took you to the lighthouse.”

“That’s a good idea. When did you want to go?”

She shrugged. “I suppose tomorrow if the weather is nice. I’d like to tel him you saw it before

he passes away.”

“We’l do that.”

He helped her col ect the cups to put on the trays. “Mary?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing wrong with tel ing someone you don’t like the way they’re treating you.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked up from the tray she was placing cups on. “What

made you say that?”

“I notice things, and I don’t like a lot of it. You shouldn’t have to do something or be agreeable

to someone just because you want to avoid an argument. There are some people you can’t get

along with, no matter how hard you try.” Deciding to leave it at that, he picked up two trays.

“I’m not going to make apple pies because they want me to,” she said as she picked up the last

tray.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He figured she was going to make the pies because she

missed being in the kitchen, and he couldn’t blame her for that. Cooking made her happy, and

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