The next morning Olivia went downstairs to help with breakfast, only to find the kitchen empty. Someone, probably Benjamin, had put wood in the stove and lit it, but otherwise there were no signs of life. She decided to make coffee, praying it turned out right, then gather some eggs. Maybe that was where Charity or Ebba were, though they usually made coffee first.
She grabbed a basket near the back door, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, left the house and immediately stepped into at least a foot of snow. “My goodness!” She glanced over her shoulder at the farmhouse’s second story. The Johnsons weren’t going anywhere today. In fact, if it snowed again like this they might be stuck at the Weaver farm for some time.
She waded through the snow to the henhouse and went inside. “Good morning, girls,” she replied to their clucks and other noises. She hadn’t gathered eggs before, but she’d watched Charity do it once. How hard could it be?
She only got pecked twice, and was proud of that. The chickens didn’t act very happy when she stuck her cold hand underneath them, but if she was a chicken, she wouldn’t be either. And she collected over a dozen eggs. She returned to the house, shivering and hung up her shawl.
“Good morning.”
Olivia looked up. “George. What are you doing down so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged and glanced at the stove. “Coffee should be done soon.”
Olivia noted his monotone and wondered if it was on purpose. Or did he feel sad too? Her dilemma hadn’t left her – if anything, it got worse overnight. She was staring at a man she could never have and for good reason. “Would you like some breakfast?” she asked to get her mind off it.
“I am a little hungry. Do you need any help?”
“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Otherwise I’m not sure what you’ll be eating.”
He chuckled. “That’s all right. I’m a wonder with eggs – why don’t I make those?”
“That wouldn’t be right – you’re a guest here.”
“So are you. Can’t we show our hosts some appreciation by making them breakfast?” He smiled.
Confound it! She didn’t want to encourage his affection, but she was having trouble keeping hers locked up. Regardless, she couldn’t argue with his logic. She went to the hutch to gather what he’d need for the eggs. “I’m not sure that makes sense.”
“Who says I have to make sense?” He went to the back door and peeked out the window. “Oh my. That’s a lot of snow.”
“I’m afraid it is.” She returned to the stove and worktable with the lard, a fry pan and the makings for hoecakes. “Looks like you’re stuck here awhile.”
He turned from the window. “I don’t mind. Do you?”
“Would it matter if I did?” She began opening the sack of cornmeal.
He went to the table and put his hand over hers. “Do you?”
Olivia took a deep breath. “George, it doesn’t matter whether you’re here for a day, a week or who knows how long. Eventually, you’re leaving. Let’s not be fools, you and I.”
He sighed and released her hand. “I suppose.” He grabbed a few eggs from the basket. “Why don’t you fix us each a cup of coffee and I’ll start the eggs.”
“If that’s what you want,” she said softly.
“I want to make you breakfast, Olivia. Is there anything wrong with that?”
She couldn’t detect anything in his voice to let her know how he really felt. It was soft, gentle and flat as the Texas plains. “No, there isn’t. I’ll get the coffee.”
They worked together in silence. She had just finished preparing his mug – two spoonfuls of sugar, no milk, just as he always took it – and had started on the hoecakes when Charity came into the kitchen, wide-eyed. “My goodness – I overslept.”
“Perfectly understandable,” George said. “Would you like some eggs?”
“You’re making breakfast?” Charity asked in surprise.
“Why not? We’re up, and as I told Olivia, I’m quite handy with eggs.”
“And I’ve watched you make hoecakes, so I thought I’d try it,” Olivia added nervously.
“I don’t mind telling you that would be lovely.” Charity got a cup and saucer from the cupboard, headed for the coffee pot and poured herself some. “I can fry some bacon up in no time. Do you mind getting some from the smokehouse, Olivia?”
“I don’t mind at all.” Olivia reached for the shawl near the door and headed outside again. She got a small slab of bacon, returned to the house and took a bracing breath before entering. Something had changed between George and her over the last few days – namely, that they both seemed to realize the roadblocks to any relationship between them. They knew how they felt about each other … but also that there was no way presently to make it work.
She’d have to either avoid him (unlikely in such close quarters) or stay neutral in his company until he left. If not, her heart was in imminent danger of breaking. If that happened on top of everything else she’d suffered, she’d be worthless, an emotional cripple. She didn’t want to do that to the Weavers, who’d done so much for her. Turning into a perpetual fountain of tears would not a good way to repay them for their kindness.
So she would work and work hard, earn her keep and learn as much as she could from the Weaver women while in their company. As soon as she was confident she could strike out on her own, she would. Maybe she could find a job in town – Hank’s restaurant came to mind. She smiled. Yes, the next time the family went to Nowhere she’d speak with Hank about a job. She knew she could wait tables, and by the time she was ready she might have picked up some cooking tips.
Soon she had a whole platter of cornmeal cakes ready to eat – not one of which she’d burnt – and deployed the butter crock and a jar of honey to go with them. One by one the Weavers filed into the kitchen, got their coffee and asked George what he was doing. In no time at all everyone had been served with hoecakes, eggs and bacon.
“Seems kind of funny to have breakfast ‘fore doin’ chores,” Benjamin commented as he stood in a corner, wolfing down his breakfast.
“Go do your chores and come back for more, then” George waved the spatula at him.
“You enjoy cooking?” Harlan asked.
“After Victoria died, I had to do all of it.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked. “I’m not a great cook, but eggs are what I’m best at.”
Charity laughed. “You must eat a lot of eggs.”
“Charity!” Bella scolded.
“It’s true, we do. One of our customers has a farm about a mile out of town and brings us eggs every other day. We have plenty of them.”
“That explains it.” Ma smiled at Olivia. “How are you feeling this morning, child? You look a little pale.”
Olivia put a hand to her forehead. “I do?”
Ma eyed her. “Do you have a fever?”
Olivia put the back of the same hand to the back of her neck. “I don’t think so. I was just working over the stove.” She pointed to the few remaining hoecakes – Benjamin and Daniel, in particular, had gone through them like a locust plague.
Ma left her seat, went around the table and checked Olivia herself. “A little warm, but nothing to be concerned about.”
Olivia glimpsed George’s shoulders slumping in relief before he turned back to his breakfast. His concern for her warmed her heart. But don’t take it any further than that, she told herself. He’s leaving soon.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right, child?” Ma asked again.
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Olivia insisted. If Ma kept pressing, she might start crying, and she didn’t want that. She’d caused enough concern.
Ebba rose from the table and glanced toward the stairs in the hall. “I better go check on the children.”
“If they’re still sleeping, don’t wake them,” Charity advised. “We let them stay up too late again last night.”
Ebba smiled. “They had fun.”
Benjamin set his plate near the dry sink. “I gotta get those chores started. Hurry up, Daniel – finish your bacon.”
Daniel gulped down the last slice, grabbed an extra hoecake – much to Olivia’s pleasure – and followed Benjamin out the door. She watched them go, took another sip of coffee and went back to her own plate. Maybe a little extra milk in the cornmeal mix next time … she almost laughed. She felt herself fortunate to have done as well as she did with them. Beginner’s luck?
George brought the coffee pot to the table and refilled everyone’s cups. “Hey, where’s Bernice, Warren and Grandpa?”
“Let them sleep,” Ma argued. “They were up as late as everyone else. Besides, it’s obvious you folks aren’t going anywhere today – might as well enjoy your time while you’re here. Read a book, sit by the fire, maybe make a snowman with the little ones later.”
Olivia’s head came up. “That does sound lovely.”
“It’s fun,” Harlan said. “Last winter Bella’s brothers and sisters rolled Leo up in a big ball of snow and turned him into a giant snowman. Funniest thing I ever did see.”
Olivia giggled. “Oh dear! Was he able to get out of all that snow?”
“Have enough pinecones thrown at you and you can get out of anything.” Harlan laughed.
George laughed too. “Snowmen sound like fun. We could create an army of them.”
“I’d settle for one or two,” Harlan said. “The littler ones especially enjoy it. The babies are too young yet.”
“I can watch the babies while everyone plays outside,” Olivia offered, though she’d rather have built a snowman herself. She wanted to start helping the Weavers as much as she could.
“That’s mighty kind of you,” Ma said. “I’ll watch them the first round – you can take the second.”
“All right.” Olivia smiled. She enjoyed doing things with the Weavers.
“Last fried egg – who wants it?” George called out. He looked at Olivia and smiled. “How about you?”
She caught herself smiling back, too late to stop it. Well, just because she was keeping a careful distance didn’t mean she had to be a cold fish. But she hoped this didn’t happen all day. “All right.”
He shoveled it onto her plate. She watched him eat as she did, noted the friendly smiles he gave everyone and his cheerful demeanor. This was the man she met at the Christmas dance, much less stoic than the one she spoke with this morning. Maybe he was working to keep a careful distance too. She hoped he was having better luck than she was.
She finished her egg and cleared the dishes as everyone left to start their day. Everyone except George, still hanging around the kitchen. “I can help with the dishes,” he offered.
“No need. Why don’t you read a book like Ma suggested?”
“I could do that. I could also stay.”
She stared at him. Was he leaving it up to her? Oh, please, no. Her heart wanted him to stay, to enjoy his company, but her head knew the danger of spending too much time with him. Her heart won the last battle. Her head had better win this one. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, George, but I can manage on my own,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage.
“Well … all right.” He scowled and walked out of the room.
Olivia sighed. Well, no one said exercising wisdom would be easy.
After the dishes were done, she watched out the window as the Weavers built snowmen in front of the house. And in the barnyard, and the orchards, and between the main house and Calvin’s. With all those Weavers, the work naturally spread far and wide. It really was becoming a snow army outside. She held two-year-old Truly in her arms so she could see out too.
“Would you like some coffee?” Charity asked.
“Please.” Olivia kept watching the fun outside. “Does your family do this every time it snows?”
Charity joined her at the window. “Oh yes – with this many children, we can’t deny them their fun. But I must say, this is the most snowmen I’ve ever seen. Calvin and Benjamin must have made six between here and the barn.”
Olivia laughed. “Do you like living here?”
Charity glanced at her. “Yes, very much. I come from back east, from a family of some means – not like the Vanderbilts, but we were well-off. I became a mail-order bride to avoid a scandal.”
“Oh! What, um … what kind of … no, it’s none of my …”
But Charity just shrugged. “The kind of scandal that produced Sebastian.”
Olivia looked out the window again. Sebastian and Benjamin were laughing as they placed rocks onto the face of the snowman they’d just built. She would never have known they weren’t blood relations. “Benjamin loves you very much. I’ve seen it time and again since I’ve been here.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of love. This family is … well, I can’t begin to describe them. I just thank the Lord He brought me here.”
Olivia released the curtain. “Do you think He brought me here?”
Charity put her arm around Olivia. “I really couldn’t say, but I can tell you this: there’s no better place to be in times of trouble.”
Olivia smiled. “Thank you, Charity. I needed to hear that.”
Charity hugged her, then went to the kitchen for more coffee.
Olivia kept watching the family play outside. Even Ma and Harlan were building a snowman, though it looked more like a giant snowball with a face. She shifted Truly in her arms and turned away. “Why don’t you play with your new blocks? Would you like that?” She set Truly on the floor, and the child grabbed two wooden blocks and started clacking them together.
“Here we are.” Charity re-entered the parlor, carrying a tray with coffee for two. “Sometimes I like being inside while everyone is outside. Gives me a moment of quiet.”
Olivia smiled. “That’s understandable.” She took a cup and saucer from the tray, sat and took a slow sip. She examined the pretty blue and white pattern of the cup and saucer and wondered if she owned anything so pretty. She wasn’t sure she owned anything now, not after being robbed.
The word “loss” had taken on so much meaning for her in the last few weeks. She’d lost her possessions, lost her memory, found and possibly lost the man of her dreams. Perhaps he was never meant to be. The best she could do was let George be on his way with no argument or protest from her. If God willed it, He could bring him back.
“There you are,” Bella said as she entered the parlor. “Coffee! Wonderful, I could use some.” She disappeared, returning with a cup and saucer in her hands, sat in the chair opposite Olivia and smiled at her. “Are you having a good day?”
“I’m having a quiet day.” She glanced between the two women. “I’ve been meaning to ask – would the two of you mind giving me a few cooking lessons?”
“Lessons?” Bella was clearly surprised. “But your polenti this morning were delicious.”
Olivia shook her head. “I’d seen Charity make them, and I got lucky this time – I really don’t know many dishes.”
“We’d love to,” Charity told her.
Olivia smiled in relief. “Thank you so much.”
Bella smiled. “Perhaps you want to learn to cook because you are to be married soon?”
Olivia blanched.
“Bella,” Charity said, “I don’t think Olivia and George have come to any such understanding …”
“Senza senso! Anyone can see they are perfect for each other!’
Olivia took another sip of coffee. So much for a quiet day. “Charity’s right, Bella. There can be nothing between George and me.”
“Nothing?” Bella said as her eyebrows shot up. “No, no, no. I have seen there is not nothing between you.” She waved her hand back and forth. “I am not blind.”
Olivia sighed. What could she say to convince anyone? The Weavers would have to see for themselves when George and his family left and she never heard from him again. Only then would they be convinced.
“Olivia?” Bella pressed. “You are not going to let him get away, are you?”
“Bella,” Charity cut in. “She’s in no position to …”
“Of course she is!” Bella protested. “I do not believe she is in no position. Why should she be? What is stopping them?”
Olivia was getting agitated. “What’s stopping us? He lives in another state, and I can’t remember who I am!”
Bella was unconvinced. “Basta. You can move there, or he can move here. You will remember, or you can make new memories. L'amore conquista tutto, or do you not know?”
Olivia blinked. Whatever her past had comprised of, it didn’t include fluency in Italian. “Lemorey … what?”
Bella finally noticed Charity glaring at her. “It means ‘love conquers all.’ Scusi, sometimes I cannot keep my mouth shut.” She gave her coffee – black, no sugar – a vigorous stir. “I do not want you to suffer the breaking heart, is all.”
Charity nodded. “I think that’s how we all feel. I know there are …certain difficulties in building a relationship with George, as Bella seems to have forgotten. But we just want you both to be happy. And we know you …” She abruptly cut herself off. “Forgive me. Now I’m talking too much.”
But Olivia picked up on the change in the tone – she’d heard it too many times while staying with the Weavers. “Is there something you and the rest of the family aren’t telling me?”
Bella gulped.
Aha, Olivia thought. Suspicion confirmed. “What is it?”
Charity and Bella exchanged a glance. “What would you like us to teach you?” Charity asked hastily.
So now they were changing the subject? Olivia sighed. Fine. She’d discover what they were keeping from her soon enough, now that she was sure there was something. Bad enough she had to get through the rest of the day and possibly several more before she was free of George. Now she had things being kept from her, probably involving the past she couldn’t recall. Just what did the Weavers know that she didn’t? Whatever it was, she was determined to find out.