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“Can’t argue that. You need me right now? I have to take care of the horses.”

“No.”

He headed toward the door.

“But,” she said, halting him, “it occurred to Emma and me that we haven’t written home to our father. He isn’t in good health, and I want him to know Emma and I arrived safely and are doing well.”

“A good idea. We can give it to Ashford tomorrow at church. Mr. Ashford’s the local postmaster.” He opened the door.

“Asa, wait. I’d like you to write a line to my father. I think that would reassure him.” Her father had been very concerned about his twin daughters going away to marry strangers.

Asa paused, his expression froze into vertical lines. “I’ll see about that later.” He escaped out the door.

Escaped exactly described his exit.

Judith stood by the dry sink, unable to move for a moment. Then she walked to the chair by the table and sat. Why would writing a line to her father flummox her husband? What could be more natural or simple? Something more than natural reticence was at work here. She thought over the many letters he’d written her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t write a few lines. He didn’t want to. Why? Why did he avoid any mention of anything personal? What was wrong with her simple request? What was going on within her husband?

Feeling confused, she bowed her head and whispered, “Heavenly Father, something is not right. What is it? What should I do? Say? Should I confront Asa plainly?”

At the word confront, panic swept over her. The old pang twisted around her heart. She pictured again that day in 1861. Tom Southby had been going off to war, and she’d decided she couldn’t let him go without telling him how she felt. With a red face, Tom had thanked her for caring for him but said he couldn’t return the same to her. Once again she flushed with the heated humiliation over those horrible moments. He’d said they’d always been the best of friends and he wanted to leave it at that. Best of friends. She’d been in love with him since sixth grade. Yet it wasn’t Tom’s fault that she wasn’t pretty enough.

With effort, she mastered the old hurt and shame. Praying for guidance and peace, she sat for several minutes, hoping for something to occur to her. Then she recalled her late mother’s favorite verse, Isaiah 26:3. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is steadfast because he trusts in You.”

One thing came clear. She was allowing Asa’s hesitance to reveal anything about himself to disturb her peace. And that was what she’d really come here to find—a husband and a peaceful life with him. She went over the past two days and the innocent questions she’d asked her new husband and his avoidance of replying to each one.

She recalled Mrs. Ashford’s favorable assessment of Asa’s character. “Lord, I feel I’ve married a good-intentioned man,” she murmured. “I sense nothing false about him. He doesn’t make up answers to suit my questions. That’s what a dishonest man would do. But why is talking about himself an issue for him?”

No answer came, but her tension eased. Heartened just a little, she straightened and slowly rose. She had chores to do and a life to live. “I’m not alone, Father. You are here with me, and I trust You. I would not have come here just to escape my contentious sister-in-law. You opened this door, and Emma and I walked through it. We both had peace about this decision. And now I’ve given my sacred pledge to Asa. No turning back.”

She picked up the sack of spices and looked for a place to store them. She continued her audible prayer. “And, Lord, help Emma find a place and a new beginning here. It’s too bad she’s not suited to teach.”

She drew herself up and began humming her mother’s favorite hymn, drawing strength from its words and hearing her mother’s voice in her memory. “Come thou fount of every blessing.” Judith had much to sing about—a husband and home of her own along with a beloved sister nearby and, as always, a faithful God—and finally work to do, a kitchen to organize.

Maybe she wasn’t a woman that a man would fall in love with, but she could take care of a house and be a helpmeet. She could hold up her end of the bargain she’d made with Asa. She could be a good wife. Experience had taught her that love was for pretty girls like Emma and even unlikable Mabel Joy, but not her.

Chapter Three (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)

On the way to church on Sunday morning, Asa thought over the few days he’d been married. When he had rejoined her yesterday, Judith had not repeated her request that he write a note to her father. In the end he’d decided he must write a line in that letter or cause more questions. What were the odds that the woman he married would be someone he recognized? The memory of when they had seen each other in person over a decade ago came flooding back to him. He’d been elected captain of the Rock River Illinois Militia, and all the volunteers had gathered at the train station in Rockford to set off for war. Remembering how callow and naive he and the other militia volunteers had been expanded through him like hot grapeshot. They’d thought the war would end in weeks, not years.

As Asa drove down Main Street past all the shops closed for the Sabbath, his thoughts filled with the past.

That day in 1861, all the militia families had come to see their men off. Judith and Emma had been there in the crowd. Of course he hadn’t been introduced to Judith individually but to all the families of the Illinois militia. Later, however, her brother Gil had often showed him the tintype of his pretty twin sisters, a connection to home.

But obviously Judith didn’t remember seeing him that day, or the day when what was left of the militia had returned in ’65. Relief whistled through him once more.

Bringing him back to the present, the schoolhouse door came into view. Soon he halted his team and went around to Judith. She braced herself on his arms as he helped her down.

The soft expression on her face worked on him. He resisted the urge to pull her close. Instead he handed her the cloth-covered cake she’d baked for the after-church social. “I’ll take the horses to their area and then join you inside,” he said.

“Thank you, Asa.” Judith paused. “Where do you usually sit?”

Asa grinned, understanding that even in church, people claimed their places. “Near the back on the right.”

She smiled in return and walked over the packed snow to the school entrance. The door opened and a man’s voice called, “Welcome. Come in from the cold.”

Asa steered his team to the long hitching shelter. He had already blanketed his team before leaving home and had slipped on their blinders to block their interacting with the other teams of horses also tied under the roof.

He’d helped build this shelter himself last fall and had suggested the windbreaks on three sides. His team would be fine under cover and out of direct wind. He turned and walked resolutely toward the schoolhouse. He noted his wife had dressed with care for the Sunday service. Of course everyone would be watching them.

Getting married had disturbed his ordinary life, during which he’d kept everyone at arm’s length. It was all so confusing. And he must keep this new inner confusion over his unexpected attraction to his bride—to her thick, dark hair, pert nose and warm brown eyes—concealed behind an untroubled face.

* * *

Tense, Judith stepped inside the school, carrying her cake plate. Asa had told her that in the winter, everyone who wanted to brought a covered dish and stayed after services to eat and talk. So she’d baked a brown butter cake yesterday. Today would be the first time since their wedding that she and Asa had appeared together before the whole community. Though Emma liked attention, Judith did not. But now it would be unavoidable. She crafted a smile and put it in place. No one must see any division between Asa and her. Or it would invite speculation.

The worship service went smoothly, and then it was time for the potluck dinner. Within a very few moments, the men had set up folding tables and positioned the school benches around them. And after the deacon, Gordy Osbourne, said grace, the potluck began. Everyone filled their plates from a variety of fragrant bowls and platters.

Judith didn’t want to slight anybody, so she took a spoonful or piece of everything. With her plate full, she found herself and Asa sitting with the couple who had welcomed her at the door and another young couple, the blacksmith and his wife, Levi and Posey Comstock. Judith had hoped to sit near Emma, but her sister had stayed near the Ashfords.

Judith waved to her and Emma waved back, her expression one of suppressed excitement. What had happened to cause that? Had she gotten word that her intended husband, Mason Chandler, was returning?

Judith ate and replied to those who spoke to her, but primarily she listened in order to learn more about her new neighbors. Then, near the end of the meal, Mr. Ashford rose. “May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at the storekeeper.

“Many of you know but others may not be aware that we lost our teacher yesterday.”

A few startled gasps, and then the room swelled with upset murmuring.

Mr. Ashford held up his hand. “The school board has already met and has found a replacement so that school will go on.”

Judith then glimpsed her sister’s face. And she thought, Oh, no.

“Miss Emma Jones has consented to finish out the school year as interim teacher.”

Judith felt her jaw drop and quickly shut her mouth so no one would detect her hesitation over this development. Would Emma be able to curb her naturally lively personality enough to please the town?

“Miss Jones,” Ashford continued, “completed eleventh grade with honors and is of impeccable reputation. And we have stressed to her the importance of preparing our students to compete in the upcoming Third Annual Pepin Regional Spelling Bee in April.”

The murmurs switched from surprised dismay to approval, many heads were nodding and everyone was smiling at her sister. Judith forced herself to look pleased and approving. But the phrase from years ago played in her mind: “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.”

Had Emma forgotten? That didn’t seem likely. Judith tried to remember how Emma had reacted to that rejection. But it had happened in the midst of the war, and that conflagration had overshadowed everything else.

Should she say something to Emma? No. The matter had gone too far. And since the school year would no doubt end in May, perhaps all would be well. And after all, Emma was nearly a decade older than she’d been during her first attempt at becoming a teacher. She might not upset the school board with her liveliness.

Then Judith recalled Emma’s advice to her as they chugged into sight of Pepin a week ago: “embrace the adventure.” Well, Judith only hoped Emma’s latest adventure would turn out for the best. She didn’t want her sister’s feelings to be hurt.

Asa leaned close to her ear. “Something wrong?”