The Forever Man

“Last night I was Tate,” he reminded her. “What happened to turn me back into Mr. Montgomery?”

She turned to the door, resting her hand on the knob, hesitating at his query. “Nothing, I suppose. Tate it is. I’ll go and get the wrench from the kitchen for you.”

“I want to be in town by noon, Johanna. I’ll take the sewing machine upstairs now, and you can decide what else you want moved after you find the tools. If you call out for the boys, they’ll help you get the eggs and butter ready for me to take.”

“Yes, all right.” Her voice floated back to him from the wide stairway as she hurried down to the first floor, and he smiled at her words. He had a notion that Johanna Patterson wouldn’t always be so agreeable. In fact, if he had her pegged right, she’d be a worthy opponent for any man. No matter—he’d never backed off from a battle before. Settling down to a marriage with Johanna might very well be a real struggle, but it was one he was more than willing to wage. She’d make a good mother for Pete and Timmy. As for himself, he’d have the farm to run, and hot meals on the table and clean clothes to wear every day.

He turned to where the sewing machine stood. It would be awkward carrying it, but not more than he could handle. Kind of like the agreement he’d made with Johanna Patterson, he thought with amusement. He might find things a little awkward at times, but he’d warrant he could handle her. Matter of fact, sorting out Johanna Patterson might prove to be the most interesting part of the bargain.

* * *

“Blest be the tie that binds…” Voices soared around her as Johanna mouthed the words, her throat too dry to add sound. The hymnal she shared with the man next to her would have been impossible to read from, had she held it alone. Her hands were cold, her fingers trembling, and only Tate’s sure strength kept the book from tumbling to the floor.

“…our hearts in Christian love…” he sang, his voice a pleasant rumble in her ear. At least he could carry a tune, she thought. That was one thing she knew about him now. No, she knew he liked cream in his coffee and he had a heavy hand with the sugar spoon, if this morning’s meal was anything to go by. He’d eaten two bowls of oatmeal, laden with brown sugar and half a dozen biscuits, fresh from the oven, then been generous with his praise for her cooking.

His hand slid the songbook from her grasp, and she glanced up at him in surprise. The closing hymn was over, and he placed the book on the pew, then stepped a few inches closer to her. His pant leg brushed her skirt and his palm cupped her elbow as his head bent, the better for him to speak privately.

“You weren’t singing.”

Her breath caught, shivering in her chest, and she wished fervently—just for a moment—that she was at home, feeding the chickens or milking the cows or even carrying those dratted apples to the fruit cellar.

“Are you all right, Johanna?” The teasing note was gone, a worried tone taking its place.

She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just wondering what we do next.”

He glanced over his shoulder to where the townsfolk were streaming down the aisle and out the door of the small church. Curious glances had warmed his back all through the service. Whispers of conjecture had accompanied the sound of the piano playing, and even now half a dozen women were gathering at the back door, their heads together. If he was half as smart as he’d always thought, he’d have arranged for himself and Johanna to show up at the parsonage after church.

“Pa? Are we goin’ now?” Pete’s loud whisper was impatient.

Tate bent past Johanna and spoke to the boy. “In a few minutes, Pete. Remember what I told you? Miss Johanna and I need to talk to the parson for a few minutes first.”

The boy sat down on the wooden pew again, his hands hanging between his knees, his face dark with displeasure. Beside him, Timmy yawned widely and swatted at a lazy fly that had settled to rest on the pew in front of him. He waved his cap at it as the insect circled once over his head, and then cast his attention at the dust motes that floated in the brilliant sunlight from a nearby window.

“Have you told them?” Johanna asked quietly, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited for the church to empty.

Tate’s nod was quick, his look a warning as three women made their way back up the aisle to where his family waited.

“Why, Johanna Patterson, it’s sure good to see you here this morning,” Esther Turner sang out loudly. “Thought you’d forgotten the way to church.”

Selena Phillips turned an exasperated glare on the woman. “You know Johanna hasn’t got a horse and wagon these days, Esther. It’s bad enough she walks to town and back all week.” She turned wise blue eyes on Johanna, and said quietly, “I’m so glad to see you today, Johanna. You’ve been a stranger lately.”

Marjorie Jones adjusted her feathered hat, settling it a bit forward on her head and touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “I hear tell there’s gonna be a wedding today. Anybody you folks know?” The look she threw at her friends was all but triumphant. That she’d stolen a march on them was obvious from the surprise they didn’t even attempt to conceal.

“You’re gettin’ married?” Esther squeaked. “You and this gentleman here, Johanna?”

“Well, land sakes alive,” Selena said breathlessly. “As I live and breathe, you couldn’t have surprised me any more if you’d tried, child.”

“We only just decided yesterday,” Johanna said, aware of the warmth of Tate’s hand on her elbow. And then that hand slid around her back and rested on the far side of her waist, allowing the whole length of his arm to press against her shoulder blades and ribs. She caught a quick breath and glanced at him. He was beaming at her, almost as if he were a genuine groom, anxious for his wedding to begin.

“Miss Johanna and I are just waiting our turn,” he explained to the three ladies. “Soon as the preacher gets finished with his goodbyes out front, he’s going to come back in here and marry me to this lady. Me and my two boys, that is. She’s agreed to take on the three of us, and try to get us straightened out a bit.” His smile was wide and his eyes were warm with humor as he offered his explanation.

“Well, I never…” Esther spouted. “You’re going to marry up without any fuss at all, Johanna?”

Marjorie set her jaw. “Don’t know why your friends can’t be here, too.”

Selena Phillips bent closer to where Johanna stood. “Perhaps you’d rather do this privately, Johanna. You’ve always been a quiet girl.”

Johanna shook her head. “Yes…I mean, no, I don’t mind if you want to be here for the wedding, Miss Marjorie. You too, Miss Esther. And you,” she said finally, reaching to touch Selena’s arm.

“Kinda sudden, isn’t it?” Marjorie asked, her eyes narrowing as she turned to the man who’d set tongues wagging’ for the past hour or so.

“I’m Tate Montgomery, ma’am. And I’ve been known to make quick decisions in my life. This one promises to be the best idea I’ve ever had. Miss Johanna has agreed to be my wife, and I’d like to invite you and your friends here to watch us do the deed.”

“You new in town, Mr. Montgomery?” Esther Turner chirped.

“Pretty much so, ma’am. But I’m well established already. The bank has my money, so I guess I’m on my way to being a solid citizen. I’ve got an account started at your husband’s store, Mrs. Turner. And here I am in church. What more could you ask of a man?”

Behind them, boots clumped up the aisle, and an impatient voice heralded a new arrival to the group. “Mrs. Jones, I’ve got your boys in the wagon. If you don’t want to walk home, you’d better be on your way.”

Marjorie turned to face her husband. “There’s to be a wedding, Hardy. Bring the boys back on in and wait, why don’t you?”

His keen eyes scanned the small group. “You the groom?” he asked sharply, pinning Tate with his stare. “You marrying up with Fred Patterson’s girl?”

At Tate’s smile, he nodded vigorously. “About time she found herself a man. She’s too young to be wearin’ herself to a frazzle out there.”

Tate swallowed a chuckle. If nothing else, Hardy Jones was blunt. “I’m honored to be marrying the lady. She’s agreed to be a mother to my boys.”

From her other side, Johanna heard a hushed sound that sounded dreadfully like words she’d never dared to allow past her lips. She darted a glance at Timmy and Pete. Timmy’s head was nodding, and his one foot swinging several inches above the floor. Pete was glaring at the floor, his lower lip stuck out, his face flushed and darkened with anger.

“Pete?” she whispered. Surely Tate had told him the wedding would be today, hadn’t he?

Dark eyes met hers and Pete’s mouth twisted into a pout. “I don’t need a mother,” he whispered. “I got my pa.”

“Oh, Pete!” She bit her lip. Whatever Tate had told him, it hadn’t prepared him for this. “Can we talk about this after a while?” she asked softly, leaving the security of Tate’s arm to bend closer to the boy.

“Won’t do any good.”

Johanna’s heart beat faster as she lowered herself to the pew. Careful not to touch the child, she blocked him from view of the others. “Maybe we can be friends, Pete.”

“I don’t need any friends.”

“I do.” The words were faint, spoken on an indrawn breath. Johanna had let them slip from her mouth without thinking, and only after they had been uttered did she realize the truth they held. She didn’t have a close friend to her name. Selena Phillips had always been kind to her. The other ladies in town had greeted her nicely and spoken to her politely. But never had she had a real friend.

From the far side of Pete’s sturdy body, a small, warm hand crept to touch her palm as it rested on her lap. Timmy leaned forward, in peril of falling to the floor, balancing himself oh the very edge of the seat, and smiled at her sleepily. “I’ll be your friend, Miss Johanna.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Her throat ached with unshed tears, and she blinked her eyes vigorously, lest she allow even one teardrop to fall. “I’d like that,” she whispered.

Pete roughly pushed his brother’s arm aside. “I’m your friend, Timmy.”