Dakota skies, p.14
Dakota Skies, page 14
“Willie isn’t going to pay for her ticket and I can’t afford to buy her airfare to Las Vegas or wherever he’s living now,” Sarah protested. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
Dennis finished with the pump and led her inside the station, where he rang up the total on the old-fashioned register. “You’re afraid Calla’s going to accuse you of taking her father away from her.”
“You’re right—I am.” Her daughter’s attitude seemed ridiculous to Sarah. “He ignores her, abandons her emotionally and financially and is completely worthless as a father, yet Calla thinks he walks on water.”
“That’s fairly typical, I’d think.” He reached for her hand, holding it between his own. “He’s her father. It’s obvious she’s built Willie up in her mind as this wonderful, caring father figure. She needs to see him that way, otherwise she’d have to deal with the rejection she feels when he ignores her.”
Dennis was pretty wise about people, and Sarah knew he’d figured out the reason for Calla’s behavior. But that didn’t make living with her daughter any easier. She found it almost impossible to say nothing while Calla went on and on about what a fabulous father she had. She talked this way to anyone who’d listen. She’d even taken the postcard to school with her to show the new teacher.
Ironically, Calla’s attitude toward Sarah was hostile. When Sarah had recently confronted her about it, Calla had insinuated that the failure of the marriage must have been Sarah’s fault. If she’d been a better wife, none of this would have happened. If she’d tried harder, loved him more, they could still be a family. Her daughter simply didn’t know the facts, but Sarah couldn’t tell Calla about her father’s neglect and infidelity; she felt she had no right to place that burden on a fourteen-year-old. Besides, it was her problem, her history, not Calla’s.
“How’s it you’re so smart?” she asked, squeezing Dennis’s hand, grateful for his unflinching support. “You should’ve been a psychologist.” She smiled at him, loving him more than ever.
“If I was so smart, I’d have found a way to convince you to marry me.”
“Dennis, don’t, please.” She closed her eyes, unable to cope with any additional pressure, especially from him. Not when marriage was impossible.
“It’s crazy for us to go on like this,” he argued. “You know how I feel about you.”
“Yes—I know.”
“You’re thirty-four and I’m twenty-nine. Big deal.”
“It isn’t only that,” she said, resisting the urge to cover her ears. She hadn’t come to him to fight, especially when the subject was one they’d already covered so many times. She needed comfort and reassurance, not pressure.
Refusing to discuss it further, she slid a hand inside her hip pocket for her cash and counted out three fives to pay for the gasoline. She put the money on the counter.
Dennis ignored it. “I love you, Sarah.”
The best thing to do, she decided, was change the subject. “I went out to see Jeb on Sunday.”
“Are you saying you prefer not to talk about us?”
“Yes.” Unable to meet his eyes, she looked away.
His sigh revealed both frustration and defeat. “All right,” he said. “How’s Jeb?”
“Disagreeable as always. I brought him some biscuits and gravy. Made them myself, just the way Mom used to.”
“I imagine he scarfed them down fast enough.”
Sarah smiled. “Between growls.”
Since the farming accident that had claimed his leg, her brother, who’d never enjoyed social situations, had become a real loner. Jeb’s entire life now revolved around his bison, and his only social activity occurred when his family and friends made their infrequent trips out to the ranch.
“Did Calla go with you?”
“No.” Her daughter was uncomfortable around Jeb, uncertain how to act. Most of the time, Jeb was gruff and unfriendly, even to Sarah and his father. When Calla was there, he tended to ignore all three of them. Every once in a while, her daughter would agree to accompany Sarah on the long drive, but not often. When she did make the trip, Calla spent her time looking at the calves.
“He’s going to be all right, you know.”
“How can you say that?” Sarah cried. Dennis knew she worried about her brother, knew that everyone did. “It’s been three years. I’d hoped—I assumed that…” Her voice trailed off.
“We all did,” Dennis said with such gentleness that she raised her eyes to meet his. “Don’t let yourself worry so much about him.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Then let me help you.”
Without realizing it, Dennis made everything so much more difficult. “I can’t do that, either.”
“Try… Let me take you to dinner Friday night. Just the two of us. We’ll give Buffalo Bob’s karaoke machine a try.”
“I can’t sing.”
“You can. I’ve heard you!”
Once more she attempted to change the subject away from the two of them. “Did I tell you I sold another quilt? A lady in Dickinson saw that sunflower quilt I made and phoned and ordered one for herself.”
Sarah was passionate about quilts and took real pride in her small business. She bought muslin and colored it with natural dyes, which created subtle tones and interesting, often unusual effects; no two bolts of cloth ended up looking exactly the same. Then she worked out designs, using the traditional patterns as a basis. Her sunflower quilt, for instance, was a variation on the classic “Dresden plate” design. That quilt had taken first place in the State Fair in Minot two years earlier and sold for an incredible one thousand dollars. Her second and third sales came within four months of each other and she’d been selling consistently since. It wasn’t enough money to support herself and Calla, but it made a difference.
“Thanks for the dinner invitation, but I’d better not. I have to finish that quilt for my new customer.”
“You can’t stop sewing long enough to eat dinner?” Dennis asked wryly.
“Dennis, please, I don’t want to go through this again.”
“Have dinner with me,” he said. “Friday night. Please.”
“I can’t.”
“You can sleep with me, but you can’t go out with me and—”
“Shh.” Embarrassed, she looked around, fearing someone might have heard him.
“And,” he went on, “it’s perfectly fine to come to me when you need something.”
“I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t use me, Sarah. This can’t just be on your terms, you know.”
She hung her head, not knowing what to say. “All right, we can go out to dinner,” she whispered. She knew he was right; she did use him and when she didn’t need him, she avoided him. Dennis deserved better.
“Good, and when we’re done eating, we’ll drive over to my house and you can have your way with me.”
“Dennis!”
“You think I’m joking? It’s been July since we…”
“That’s all?” It’d seemed much longer.
To her surprise, Dennis burst out laughing. His hug was spontaneous and she found herself smiling.
“We’re going to do the town,” he insisted. “Kick up our heels and let down our hair. Just the two of us. No more secret meetings. I’m not ashamed to let everyone know you’re with me.”
The joy evaporated from her. “Dennis, I don’t think—”
“Then let me do the thinking. Now, no more arguing. Friday night Calla’s working, right? I’ll order one of Rachel’s pizzas for your dad—and I’ll give Calla a good tip for delivering it. Then you and I are going to celebrate the sale of your quilt.”
Sarah closed her eyes, allowing herself the luxury of dreaming that a future was possible for her and Dennis, even though she knew it wasn’t.
* * *
“Lindsay phoned,” Leta announced when Gage walked into the house late Thursday afternoon.
Gage managed to hide his reaction beneath a scowl. He’d been waiting to hear from Lindsay ever since the night they’d dug around that old fireplace. If there’d once been a moveable brick, there wasn’t one now.
He believed Lindsay when she said she’d seen—or heard—it move. Granted, that was about twenty years ago. He suspected there must’ve been a mechanism that triggered it someplace on or near the fireplace. He’d checked everywhere he could think, with no success.
“She wants to remind you about Friday.”
Gage didn’t know why he’d ever agreed to talk to the high-school students. Well, yes, he did know. It’d been the only way he could think of to see Lindsay again without being overt about his feelings.
“Are you going to call her back?” his mother asked as she began shucking corn, preparing the evening meal. She was humming softly to herself, and Gage knew she loved all this. He wasn’t fooled. His mother and Hassie would like nothing better than to do some matchmaking between him and Lindsay. Gage was willing, although pride demanded that he not let it show. The problem was with Lindsay.
“I don’t think there’s any reason to return the call,” he said.
His mother stopped and smiled at him. “Lindsay’s a beautiful woman,” she said dreamily.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” he muttered. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Well,” Leta said, “I thought you’d welcome an excuse to talk to her.”
“I don’t.” It was best to maintain this air of disinterest, otherwise his mother would go at the matchmaking full-tilt. She’d be pressuring him to ask Lindsay out; he didn’t want to tell her he already had and that Lindsay’s answer was no.
“You like her, don’t you?” His mother sounded worried.
Maybe he was overdoing the disinterested part. “She’s all right.”
“Hassie and I think she’s wonderful with the kids.”
He shrugged, but he shared their opinion.
“Did you know the high-schoolers are publishing the first Buffalo Valley newspaper in ten years? Lindsay drove all the way to Grand Forks yesterday afternoon to have it printed.” Leta filled a large pan with water for the corn and started mixing dough for buttermilk biscuits.
“The kids produced the entire newspaper themselves,” she went on. “Kevin wrote the piece about the Hansen Grocery being up for sale and he drew the political cartoon.”
“I’ll look forward to reading it.”
“Kevin told me this morning that Lindsay’s started a drama club. She approached Joshua McKenna about cleaning out the old theater and using it for a stage play, which I thought was an excellent idea. Don’t you?”
A play? What would she think of next? “I suppose she’s planning a production of Les Miserables.”
“Not a musical,” Leta said with a laugh. “A Christmas play. They’re going to write it themselves.”
The way Lindsay worked, she’d probably persuade all the townsfolk to help her with her project, whether they wanted to or not. Gage could see it already. He’d be spending every evening for weeks down at the theater with a bunch of other guys getting the place fixed up—and he’d do it gladly. “She, uh, certainly has ambitious plans.”
“Lindsay Snyder is just what this town needed,” his mother said firmly.
Gage could do nothing but agree.
“She’s exactly what you need, too.”
Gage didn’t want to continue down this path. “I’ll go wash for dinner.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“About Lindsay? Oh, sure, she’s a welcome addition to Buffalo Valley.” No argument there. Everyone knew what would have happened without her, what might still happen with the bitter news of low grain prices.
“Gage?”
He turned reluctantly.
“Lindsay’s been in Buffalo Valley more than two months now.”
He didn’t comment.
“Are you going to ask her out or not?”
“You mean…on a date?”
“What else? You’re thirty-five and it’s long past time you were married. I was hoping—”
Gage held up his hand. “Mother, I love you, but this isn’t a subject I’m willing to discuss with you, especially not right now.”
Her shoulders lifted as if she were about to say something else, then she stopped herself. “All right. If that’s the way you want it.”
Gage headed for the stairs as Kevin burst in. “I got a copy of the newspaper!” he said with rare excitement. He waved it in the air like a kid hawking papers on a busy street corner.
“Look here.” He carefully smoothed it out across the kitchen table, and his mother pulled out a chair and sat down. Kevin and Gage stood behind her as she opened the paper.
“Who formatted it in this newspaper style?” Gage asked, impressed by the paper’s professional appearance.
“Miss Snyder has a laptop she brought into school, and she let Stan Muller type it up.”
“He did a good job,” Gage said approvingly. “You all did.” For the next five minutes, Gage heard another round of Miss Snyder this and Miss Snyder that, until he wanted to shout at his brother to stop.
“Did you hear about Ambrose Kohn?” Kevin asked.
Gage knew the farmer, but only vaguely. He lived in the next county over and owned thirteen thousand acres of prime farmland. The Kohn family had money, and not all of it was tied up in their acreage.
“What about him?” Leta asked before Gage had the opportunity.
“He drove all the way over from Devils Lake to ask Miss Snyder to the Halloween costume party the Elks club is putting on.”
Despite his efforts to hide his reaction, Gage’s jaw tightened. Then, as casually as he could, he asked, “Did she take him up on his offer?” Still, he was sure Lindsay must’ve said no to Kohn. Since she’d already turned him down, explaining that she didn’t plan to get involved with anyone for at least a year, he doubted she’d accept an invitation from Ambrose.
“That’s the kicker. She’s actually going. Jessica and a couple of the other girls are helping her plan a costume.”
Gage couldn’t believe his ears. His mother whirled around in her chair, eyes narrowed accusingly. Without saying a word, she told him it should have been Gage taking Lindsay to that dance and not some stranger from another county.
Gage had always thought of himself as a peaceable sort of man, but right then it was all he could do to keep from plowing his fist through the wall.
Speaking to a room full of high-school students, dismantling her fireplace—oh, he was just fine for those things. But a date? No, sir. She preferred someone else. Anyone else.
“Gage?”
His mother was studying him. “What?” he snapped.
She flinched at his anger. “Are you going to let Lindsay slip through your fingers like that?”
“Enough, Mom. I—”
“You like Miss Snyder?” Kevin asked, studying Gage.
“Stay out of this,” he growled at his younger brother.
“Did you hear?” his mother cried. “Lindsay’s dating Ambrose Kohn. Aren’t you going to do something?”
“Doesn’t look like I have much choice in the matter, now does it?” he said. “Ambrose Kohn has a whole lot more to offer Miss Snyder than I do.”
“But if she marries Ambrose, she’ll move away and Buffalo Valley needs her.” Leta seemed to think Gage was the only hope the community had.
“If she marries Ambrose, she marries Ambrose,” he said as though it was of little concern to him.
Kevin glanced from Gage to his mother. “I think it’s too soon to know if she’s going to marry Mr. Kohn, Mom. This is only their first date.”
October 5th
Dear Maddy,
It was so wonderful to get your letter. You’re right, homesickness has hit me hard. This isn’t like being away at college. Living in Buffalo Valley is an entirely different world. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve discovered something about myself that I didn’t know, something I’d only suspected. I love teaching school! The kids are terrific and smart and fun. The best part is they’re game for just about anything. As you know, we’ve had our ups and downs. Their idea of life in the city is what they see on MTV. Can you imagine teaching a room full of teenagers who learned everything they know about sex and intimacy from Madonna?
I’m enclosing the first edition of the Buffalo Valley High School newspaper. I’m so proud of this paper. My students spent hours putting it together: the writing, the political comments, the artwork. Everything.
Take a good look at the political cartoon. That was done by Kevin Betts. Is he good or what? I don’t think anyone knows how much his artwork means to him. When I told him I thought it was terrific, he brushed off my compliment, almost as if he was embarrassed. One day after school, I found a drawing he did of his brother standing in a wheat field and it was so damn good it brought tears to my eyes. I was blown away by his talent. Without telling him, I’ve contacted a number of art schools around the country and inquired about scholarships. Once I get the information, I’m going to approach Gage, his older brother, about having Kevin apply.
Before you ask, yes, Gage is the farmer I mentioned earlier and no, there’s nothing romantic going on between us. Absolutely nothing. I knew it was a mistake to tell you about that kiss, but the whole thing was a fluke and won’t be repeated. I’m sure he regrets the incident as much as I do. Okay, okay, we did go to dinner, but we went as friends and nothing more. Honest. I can’t deal with anything beyond that just yet.
All right, I know you’re dying to find out what’s been happening with Monte. Well, here goes. He wrote me again last week, and this time he didn’t just demand that I come back, he actually said he misses me. Oh, he did add that he thinks I made a terrible mistake. As usual, he’s hoping I’ll have a change of heart soon. Fat chance of that! He’s annoyed that I haven’t answered his other letters. Then he had the gall to tell me he won’t allow me to blackmail him into marriage. He just doesn’t get it.
Dennis finished with the pump and led her inside the station, where he rang up the total on the old-fashioned register. “You’re afraid Calla’s going to accuse you of taking her father away from her.”
“You’re right—I am.” Her daughter’s attitude seemed ridiculous to Sarah. “He ignores her, abandons her emotionally and financially and is completely worthless as a father, yet Calla thinks he walks on water.”
“That’s fairly typical, I’d think.” He reached for her hand, holding it between his own. “He’s her father. It’s obvious she’s built Willie up in her mind as this wonderful, caring father figure. She needs to see him that way, otherwise she’d have to deal with the rejection she feels when he ignores her.”
Dennis was pretty wise about people, and Sarah knew he’d figured out the reason for Calla’s behavior. But that didn’t make living with her daughter any easier. She found it almost impossible to say nothing while Calla went on and on about what a fabulous father she had. She talked this way to anyone who’d listen. She’d even taken the postcard to school with her to show the new teacher.
Ironically, Calla’s attitude toward Sarah was hostile. When Sarah had recently confronted her about it, Calla had insinuated that the failure of the marriage must have been Sarah’s fault. If she’d been a better wife, none of this would have happened. If she’d tried harder, loved him more, they could still be a family. Her daughter simply didn’t know the facts, but Sarah couldn’t tell Calla about her father’s neglect and infidelity; she felt she had no right to place that burden on a fourteen-year-old. Besides, it was her problem, her history, not Calla’s.
“How’s it you’re so smart?” she asked, squeezing Dennis’s hand, grateful for his unflinching support. “You should’ve been a psychologist.” She smiled at him, loving him more than ever.
“If I was so smart, I’d have found a way to convince you to marry me.”
“Dennis, don’t, please.” She closed her eyes, unable to cope with any additional pressure, especially from him. Not when marriage was impossible.
“It’s crazy for us to go on like this,” he argued. “You know how I feel about you.”
“Yes—I know.”
“You’re thirty-four and I’m twenty-nine. Big deal.”
“It isn’t only that,” she said, resisting the urge to cover her ears. She hadn’t come to him to fight, especially when the subject was one they’d already covered so many times. She needed comfort and reassurance, not pressure.
Refusing to discuss it further, she slid a hand inside her hip pocket for her cash and counted out three fives to pay for the gasoline. She put the money on the counter.
Dennis ignored it. “I love you, Sarah.”
The best thing to do, she decided, was change the subject. “I went out to see Jeb on Sunday.”
“Are you saying you prefer not to talk about us?”
“Yes.” Unable to meet his eyes, she looked away.
His sigh revealed both frustration and defeat. “All right,” he said. “How’s Jeb?”
“Disagreeable as always. I brought him some biscuits and gravy. Made them myself, just the way Mom used to.”
“I imagine he scarfed them down fast enough.”
Sarah smiled. “Between growls.”
Since the farming accident that had claimed his leg, her brother, who’d never enjoyed social situations, had become a real loner. Jeb’s entire life now revolved around his bison, and his only social activity occurred when his family and friends made their infrequent trips out to the ranch.
“Did Calla go with you?”
“No.” Her daughter was uncomfortable around Jeb, uncertain how to act. Most of the time, Jeb was gruff and unfriendly, even to Sarah and his father. When Calla was there, he tended to ignore all three of them. Every once in a while, her daughter would agree to accompany Sarah on the long drive, but not often. When she did make the trip, Calla spent her time looking at the calves.
“He’s going to be all right, you know.”
“How can you say that?” Sarah cried. Dennis knew she worried about her brother, knew that everyone did. “It’s been three years. I’d hoped—I assumed that…” Her voice trailed off.
“We all did,” Dennis said with such gentleness that she raised her eyes to meet his. “Don’t let yourself worry so much about him.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Then let me help you.”
Without realizing it, Dennis made everything so much more difficult. “I can’t do that, either.”
“Try… Let me take you to dinner Friday night. Just the two of us. We’ll give Buffalo Bob’s karaoke machine a try.”
“I can’t sing.”
“You can. I’ve heard you!”
Once more she attempted to change the subject away from the two of them. “Did I tell you I sold another quilt? A lady in Dickinson saw that sunflower quilt I made and phoned and ordered one for herself.”
Sarah was passionate about quilts and took real pride in her small business. She bought muslin and colored it with natural dyes, which created subtle tones and interesting, often unusual effects; no two bolts of cloth ended up looking exactly the same. Then she worked out designs, using the traditional patterns as a basis. Her sunflower quilt, for instance, was a variation on the classic “Dresden plate” design. That quilt had taken first place in the State Fair in Minot two years earlier and sold for an incredible one thousand dollars. Her second and third sales came within four months of each other and she’d been selling consistently since. It wasn’t enough money to support herself and Calla, but it made a difference.
“Thanks for the dinner invitation, but I’d better not. I have to finish that quilt for my new customer.”
“You can’t stop sewing long enough to eat dinner?” Dennis asked wryly.
“Dennis, please, I don’t want to go through this again.”
“Have dinner with me,” he said. “Friday night. Please.”
“I can’t.”
“You can sleep with me, but you can’t go out with me and—”
“Shh.” Embarrassed, she looked around, fearing someone might have heard him.
“And,” he went on, “it’s perfectly fine to come to me when you need something.”
“I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t use me, Sarah. This can’t just be on your terms, you know.”
She hung her head, not knowing what to say. “All right, we can go out to dinner,” she whispered. She knew he was right; she did use him and when she didn’t need him, she avoided him. Dennis deserved better.
“Good, and when we’re done eating, we’ll drive over to my house and you can have your way with me.”
“Dennis!”
“You think I’m joking? It’s been July since we…”
“That’s all?” It’d seemed much longer.
To her surprise, Dennis burst out laughing. His hug was spontaneous and she found herself smiling.
“We’re going to do the town,” he insisted. “Kick up our heels and let down our hair. Just the two of us. No more secret meetings. I’m not ashamed to let everyone know you’re with me.”
The joy evaporated from her. “Dennis, I don’t think—”
“Then let me do the thinking. Now, no more arguing. Friday night Calla’s working, right? I’ll order one of Rachel’s pizzas for your dad—and I’ll give Calla a good tip for delivering it. Then you and I are going to celebrate the sale of your quilt.”
Sarah closed her eyes, allowing herself the luxury of dreaming that a future was possible for her and Dennis, even though she knew it wasn’t.
* * *
“Lindsay phoned,” Leta announced when Gage walked into the house late Thursday afternoon.
Gage managed to hide his reaction beneath a scowl. He’d been waiting to hear from Lindsay ever since the night they’d dug around that old fireplace. If there’d once been a moveable brick, there wasn’t one now.
He believed Lindsay when she said she’d seen—or heard—it move. Granted, that was about twenty years ago. He suspected there must’ve been a mechanism that triggered it someplace on or near the fireplace. He’d checked everywhere he could think, with no success.
“She wants to remind you about Friday.”
Gage didn’t know why he’d ever agreed to talk to the high-school students. Well, yes, he did know. It’d been the only way he could think of to see Lindsay again without being overt about his feelings.
“Are you going to call her back?” his mother asked as she began shucking corn, preparing the evening meal. She was humming softly to herself, and Gage knew she loved all this. He wasn’t fooled. His mother and Hassie would like nothing better than to do some matchmaking between him and Lindsay. Gage was willing, although pride demanded that he not let it show. The problem was with Lindsay.
“I don’t think there’s any reason to return the call,” he said.
His mother stopped and smiled at him. “Lindsay’s a beautiful woman,” she said dreamily.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” he muttered. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Well,” Leta said, “I thought you’d welcome an excuse to talk to her.”
“I don’t.” It was best to maintain this air of disinterest, otherwise his mother would go at the matchmaking full-tilt. She’d be pressuring him to ask Lindsay out; he didn’t want to tell her he already had and that Lindsay’s answer was no.
“You like her, don’t you?” His mother sounded worried.
Maybe he was overdoing the disinterested part. “She’s all right.”
“Hassie and I think she’s wonderful with the kids.”
He shrugged, but he shared their opinion.
“Did you know the high-schoolers are publishing the first Buffalo Valley newspaper in ten years? Lindsay drove all the way to Grand Forks yesterday afternoon to have it printed.” Leta filled a large pan with water for the corn and started mixing dough for buttermilk biscuits.
“The kids produced the entire newspaper themselves,” she went on. “Kevin wrote the piece about the Hansen Grocery being up for sale and he drew the political cartoon.”
“I’ll look forward to reading it.”
“Kevin told me this morning that Lindsay’s started a drama club. She approached Joshua McKenna about cleaning out the old theater and using it for a stage play, which I thought was an excellent idea. Don’t you?”
A play? What would she think of next? “I suppose she’s planning a production of Les Miserables.”
“Not a musical,” Leta said with a laugh. “A Christmas play. They’re going to write it themselves.”
The way Lindsay worked, she’d probably persuade all the townsfolk to help her with her project, whether they wanted to or not. Gage could see it already. He’d be spending every evening for weeks down at the theater with a bunch of other guys getting the place fixed up—and he’d do it gladly. “She, uh, certainly has ambitious plans.”
“Lindsay Snyder is just what this town needed,” his mother said firmly.
Gage could do nothing but agree.
“She’s exactly what you need, too.”
Gage didn’t want to continue down this path. “I’ll go wash for dinner.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“About Lindsay? Oh, sure, she’s a welcome addition to Buffalo Valley.” No argument there. Everyone knew what would have happened without her, what might still happen with the bitter news of low grain prices.
“Gage?”
He turned reluctantly.
“Lindsay’s been in Buffalo Valley more than two months now.”
He didn’t comment.
“Are you going to ask her out or not?”
“You mean…on a date?”
“What else? You’re thirty-five and it’s long past time you were married. I was hoping—”
Gage held up his hand. “Mother, I love you, but this isn’t a subject I’m willing to discuss with you, especially not right now.”
Her shoulders lifted as if she were about to say something else, then she stopped herself. “All right. If that’s the way you want it.”
Gage headed for the stairs as Kevin burst in. “I got a copy of the newspaper!” he said with rare excitement. He waved it in the air like a kid hawking papers on a busy street corner.
“Look here.” He carefully smoothed it out across the kitchen table, and his mother pulled out a chair and sat down. Kevin and Gage stood behind her as she opened the paper.
“Who formatted it in this newspaper style?” Gage asked, impressed by the paper’s professional appearance.
“Miss Snyder has a laptop she brought into school, and she let Stan Muller type it up.”
“He did a good job,” Gage said approvingly. “You all did.” For the next five minutes, Gage heard another round of Miss Snyder this and Miss Snyder that, until he wanted to shout at his brother to stop.
“Did you hear about Ambrose Kohn?” Kevin asked.
Gage knew the farmer, but only vaguely. He lived in the next county over and owned thirteen thousand acres of prime farmland. The Kohn family had money, and not all of it was tied up in their acreage.
“What about him?” Leta asked before Gage had the opportunity.
“He drove all the way over from Devils Lake to ask Miss Snyder to the Halloween costume party the Elks club is putting on.”
Despite his efforts to hide his reaction, Gage’s jaw tightened. Then, as casually as he could, he asked, “Did she take him up on his offer?” Still, he was sure Lindsay must’ve said no to Kohn. Since she’d already turned him down, explaining that she didn’t plan to get involved with anyone for at least a year, he doubted she’d accept an invitation from Ambrose.
“That’s the kicker. She’s actually going. Jessica and a couple of the other girls are helping her plan a costume.”
Gage couldn’t believe his ears. His mother whirled around in her chair, eyes narrowed accusingly. Without saying a word, she told him it should have been Gage taking Lindsay to that dance and not some stranger from another county.
Gage had always thought of himself as a peaceable sort of man, but right then it was all he could do to keep from plowing his fist through the wall.
Speaking to a room full of high-school students, dismantling her fireplace—oh, he was just fine for those things. But a date? No, sir. She preferred someone else. Anyone else.
“Gage?”
His mother was studying him. “What?” he snapped.
She flinched at his anger. “Are you going to let Lindsay slip through your fingers like that?”
“Enough, Mom. I—”
“You like Miss Snyder?” Kevin asked, studying Gage.
“Stay out of this,” he growled at his younger brother.
“Did you hear?” his mother cried. “Lindsay’s dating Ambrose Kohn. Aren’t you going to do something?”
“Doesn’t look like I have much choice in the matter, now does it?” he said. “Ambrose Kohn has a whole lot more to offer Miss Snyder than I do.”
“But if she marries Ambrose, she’ll move away and Buffalo Valley needs her.” Leta seemed to think Gage was the only hope the community had.
“If she marries Ambrose, she marries Ambrose,” he said as though it was of little concern to him.
Kevin glanced from Gage to his mother. “I think it’s too soon to know if she’s going to marry Mr. Kohn, Mom. This is only their first date.”
October 5th
Dear Maddy,
It was so wonderful to get your letter. You’re right, homesickness has hit me hard. This isn’t like being away at college. Living in Buffalo Valley is an entirely different world. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve discovered something about myself that I didn’t know, something I’d only suspected. I love teaching school! The kids are terrific and smart and fun. The best part is they’re game for just about anything. As you know, we’ve had our ups and downs. Their idea of life in the city is what they see on MTV. Can you imagine teaching a room full of teenagers who learned everything they know about sex and intimacy from Madonna?
I’m enclosing the first edition of the Buffalo Valley High School newspaper. I’m so proud of this paper. My students spent hours putting it together: the writing, the political comments, the artwork. Everything.
Take a good look at the political cartoon. That was done by Kevin Betts. Is he good or what? I don’t think anyone knows how much his artwork means to him. When I told him I thought it was terrific, he brushed off my compliment, almost as if he was embarrassed. One day after school, I found a drawing he did of his brother standing in a wheat field and it was so damn good it brought tears to my eyes. I was blown away by his talent. Without telling him, I’ve contacted a number of art schools around the country and inquired about scholarships. Once I get the information, I’m going to approach Gage, his older brother, about having Kevin apply.
Before you ask, yes, Gage is the farmer I mentioned earlier and no, there’s nothing romantic going on between us. Absolutely nothing. I knew it was a mistake to tell you about that kiss, but the whole thing was a fluke and won’t be repeated. I’m sure he regrets the incident as much as I do. Okay, okay, we did go to dinner, but we went as friends and nothing more. Honest. I can’t deal with anything beyond that just yet.
All right, I know you’re dying to find out what’s been happening with Monte. Well, here goes. He wrote me again last week, and this time he didn’t just demand that I come back, he actually said he misses me. Oh, he did add that he thinks I made a terrible mistake. As usual, he’s hoping I’ll have a change of heart soon. Fat chance of that! He’s annoyed that I haven’t answered his other letters. Then he had the gall to tell me he won’t allow me to blackmail him into marriage. He just doesn’t get it.
