Dakota Home

Three

Hassie Knight knew she was an old woman, but she’d never let that stand in her way. For years people had been telling her that someone her age was supposed to retire, to rest and take it easy. She’d always refused to listen. Until recently.

Last February she’d suffered a heart attack that had left her weak as a newborn. Too weak to undergo open-heart surgery like those fancy doctors wanted. When they’d first suggested she stay in the nursing home, Hassie was convinced it would’ve been better had she died. But life was full of surprises, and she’d actually enjoyed the rest and made several new friends.

Then, a couple of months later, her strength restored, she’d had the needed surgery; she’d even let her daughter fly in from Hawaii to fuss over her. By July, she was well enough to attend Gage Sinclair’s wedding to Lindsay Snyder.

It’d been the most memorable summer in more years than she wanted to count. She was back, working at the pharmacy part-time—or at least that was what she let everyone think. Only Leta knew she spent as many hours at the store as she always had.

Leta Betts was her best friend, and now, since Hassie’s heart attack, Leta was her employee, too. Although it was difficult to think of Leta in those terms. Seemed they had far too good a time for this to be considered work.

This particular Friday was a good example. Leta had spent the entire morning mounting a display of different-sized tissue boxes in the front of the store. That woman was more creative than Hassie had realized. Leta had carefully stacked the boxes into the shape of the Eiffel Tower. When she saw what her friend had done, Hassie laughed until her sides hurt. A replica of the Eiffel Tower in Buffalo Valley. My, it was enough to bring on the giggles every time she thought of it.

“I’m going to the post office,” Leta called.

“You already heard from Kevin this week,” Hassie reminded her, knowing her friend was hoping for a letter from her youngest son.

Leta looked a bit sheepish as she headed out the door. Kevin was attending art school in Chicago, on a full scholarship. It was the first time he’d been away from home, and poor Leta was having trouble letting the boy go. Hassie understood. Years earlier, she’d found herself constantly watching the mailbox when Vaughn had gone off to Vietnam. Her son had never been much of a writer, and she’d treasured every letter. Had them still, and reread them at least once a year, around Veterans Day.

Oh, yes, Hassie understood Leta’s apprehensions about her child. Kevin might be eighteen and legally an adult, but he would always remain Leta’s child, the way Vaughn would remain hers.

“I got a letter,” Leta shouted triumphantly five minutes later.

“What’s he say?” Hassie asked, as eager to hear the news as his own mother.

“Give me a minute and I’ll let you know,” Leta said, tearing into the envelope. “Look,” she cried, waving a sheet of paper at Hassie. “He drew me a picture of his dorm and his roommate.” She cupped her hand over her mouth to hide her giggles.

She handed the sheet to Hassie, who took one look and burst into peals of laughter. Kevin had drawn a room, no bigger than a closet, with his own things stacked in a neat, orderly fashion. His roommate, who resembled reggae singer Bob Marley, had his clothes hanging from the light fixtures and spilling out over the windowsill.

“Oh, dear, I’d say poor Kevin is in for an education,” Hassie said, returning the picture.

The door opened and Lindsay walked in, then came to a full stop in front of the tissue display and slowly shook her head.

“Wait until you see what she’s going to make next—London Bridge constructed out of Pepto-Bismol bottles,” Hassie told her.

Lindsay laughed outright at that. “I want to keep a photographic record of these works of art. I’ll come by with my camera.”

“Speaking of art, Kevin sent us a drawing of his roommate,” Leta said, reaching for the envelope tucked inside her apron pocket.

Lindsay unfolded the letter and started laughing again.

Hassie felt downright encouraged by the way Leta and Lindsay loved each other. She was proud of Leta for opening her heart to her new daughter-in-law. Not once since Leta had moved off the farm and into town had she complained, although it couldn’t have been easy for her. She was a widow twice over, and during the course of the summer, she’d lost both her sons—one to college and the other to marriage—as well as her home.

If anything, Leta appeared to take real pride in getting Lindsay and Gage together, a pride Hassie shared. She was firmly convinced that if it hadn’t been for their efforts in guiding the young couple, Gage and Lindsay might never have figured out what Hassie and Leta had seen right off—they were meant to be together.

Hassie wouldn’t want to take bets on who was the more stubborn, Lindsay or Gage. They seemed equally matched in that regard, as in so many others. At their wedding, Hassie had shed a few tears. Leta, too.

“Kevin seems happy,” Lindsay said, studying the drawing.

Lindsay had been responsible for finding Kevin the opportunity to attend art school. His going had been the source of a major disagreement between her and Gage.

It had been a brave thing for Kevin to stand up to his family and tell themhe didn’t want to be a farmer, he wanted to study art. Technically, the land Gage farmed belonged to his half brother, but Kevin had no interest in living the life of a farmer. It was Gage who loved the land, who’d worked it and paid off the debts incurred by Kevin’s well-meaning but financially irresponsible father. In Kevin’s view, the land didn’t belong to him; he considered it more burden than blessing, and so he’d deeded the family farm to Gage. His older half brother had earned it. Then, with a wisdom and maturity beyond his years, he’d announced that he had his own path to follow. Hassie had rarely seen more courage in a boy of that age.

“I think he’s happier now than at any time in his life,” Leta said, and her eyes shone with pride and perhaps the sheen of tears. “Thank you, Lindsay.” Leta hugged her and Hassie reached for her kerchief, blowing hard.

“You ready for one of those home pregnancy test kits yet?” Hassie asked.

Lindsay blushed.

“Hassie,” Leta chastised. “They’re newlyweds.”

“So? Doesn’t mean Lindsay can’t get pregnant now if that’s what she wants.”

“I don’t need any home pregnancy kits,” Lindsay told her, and then winked. “At least not yet.”

Saturday morning, with her weekly shopping list in hand, Lindsay left her husband winterizing the farm equipment and drove to town. As she neared Buffalo Valley, she reflected on her own happiness, the deep contentment she felt these days. She’d made the transition to married life with hardly a pause. At thirty, she’d been ready for marriage and prepared, mentally and emotionally, to start her family.

Only yesterday, Hassie had teased her about being a newlywed. Marrying Gage was the best thing she’d ever done. Never in her life had she been this certain about any decision. A hundred times a day she sent up a prayer of thanks that she’d moved to Buffalo Valley and met Gage—and that she hadn’t made the mistake of marrying a vain, self-centered man like Monte Turner. It astonished her now that she’d been so blind about Monte all those years. Gage was everything she could have wanted in a husband, and their being together was a gift both refused to take for granted. She could hardly believe that her heart could hold this much love.

The fact that Maddy had purchased Hansen’s Grocery was a bonus that brought Lindsay a twinge of joy every time she thought about it. They’d been best friends their whole lives, sharing more than some sisters did. When she’d first moved to Buffalo Valley, Lindsay had poured out her heart in lengthy, emotion-filled letters to Maddy. And they spoke frequently—her long-distance phone bills last winter were as high as the heating bills.

Maddy, who’d always been intuitive, had realized the potential in Buffalo Valley long before Lindsay had seen it herself. Without her friend’s encouragement, Lindsay didn’t know if she would ever have found the courage to leave Savannah and her dead-end relationship with Monte.

Then, right after the wedding, everyone had been stunned when Maddy announced she was buying the grocery store and moving to Buffalo Valley, too. Everyone but Lindsay. From the moment Maddy arrived for the wedding, Lindsay sensed that her friend had come to stay.

When she returned to Savannah to pack her things, Maddy’s mother had tried desperately to change her daughter’s mind. Lindsay had said nothing one way or the other; the decision rested entirely with Maddy. She’d known for a long time, though, that her friend was unhappy with her job. Unhappy, overworked and underpaid. Maddy needed an out, and Buffalo Valley needed her.

Now she was here, and pretty soon Maddy would be an integral part of the community. The people of Buffalo Valley would quickly see what a prize they had in Maddy Washburn, and they’d come to value her generosity, her sincerity and humor the same way Lindsay did.

When Lindsay had arrived a year earlier, Buffalo Valley was fast taking on the appearance of a ghost town. Only a handful of businesses had survived the farm crisis and those that had were hanging on by a thread. Joy had left the community; so had self-respect—and hope.

She’d had her students write about their families’ histories in the area, and that was when she’d seen the first spark of rekindled pride. Those papers had given Lindsay an idea. With the support of the town council and the help of nearly everyone in Buffalo County, the high-schoolers had written a play entitled Dakota Christmas. It was no small undertaking, but together the entire community had renovated the town’s old movie house for the performance.

People came from as far away as the Canadian border to see the play. Almost every family saw a part of its own history re-enacted. The play had been the highlight of that first year of teaching for Lindsay. In the months that followed, with the theater cleaned and repaired, the owners had decided to keep it open. Second-run—and occasionally brand-new—movies were regularly shown these days, to the delight of everyone in town and beyond.

That old theater was the only source of entertainment, other than taverns, in a fifty-mile radius, and it’d brought people back into Buffalo Valley once again. Buffalo Bob’s 3 OF A KIND was thriving, thanks in part to the karaoke machine. Sarah Stern had recently rented a store for her quilting shop and was offering classes to local farm wives. Rachel Fischer’s weekend pizza parlor was open five days a week now. It was encouraging to see the town slowly return to life, and Lindsay experienced a sense of elation as she parked the truck in front of the grocery.

Maddy was in the front, manning one of the two registers, when Lindsay walked in. Busy with customers, her friend took a quick moment to acknowledge her with a cheerful wave.

Lindsay reached for a cart and headed down the aisle, amazed once again at the difference in the store. Not that Maddy stocked anything the Hansens hadn’t. The change was in the atmosphere, in the impression people got when they stepped inside.

The Hansens had lost heart. That had been apparent outwardly, in the carelessly arranged shelves, the lack of any interesting displays, the sometimes dirty floors. It was also revealed in the attitude the Hansens brought to their work. Whenever Lindsay had come into the store, she’d been subjected to a litany of everything that was wrong with the community, the country and the world in general. After five minutes of listening to doom and gloom, she always left feeling depressed and annoyed.

Maddy was lighthearted and friendly, and most people were drawn to her. Her beauty was undeniable, but she’d never bothered much with makeup or worried about style, which she thought of as trivial concerns. Once, in college, Lindsay had accused her of downplaying her attractiveness and Maddy had vehemently denied it. Not until years later did Lindsay really understand or appreciate her friend’s uniqueness. Beauty, natural or otherwise, meant little to Maddy. She accepted people exactly as they were—herself included.

Lindsay hoped fervently that Maddy would find the same happiness she had. There’d never been a long-standing relationship for Maddy. Once she’d started her job as a social worker for the state, her clients had dominated her time and her life. There simply hadn’t been room for a man.

Now that Maddy was living in Buffalo Valley, Lindsay felt confident all of that was about to change. The shortage of available women was at a record high. Apparently, Dave Stafford, a local farmer, had recently advertised for a wife—and found one. As soon as word got out about Maddy, she was sure to have more opportunities to date than at any time since she’d turned sixteen.

Lindsay glanced at her list. Almost finished. She grabbed a box of oatmeal and then a package of dog treats from the next aisle and steered her cart toward the check-out counter where Maddy waited. “I see you’ve been busy,” she told her friend. “That’s great!”

Maddy nodded. “This week has been my best so far.”

Lindsay knew Maddy was determined to make this business a success. She’d invested everything she’d managed to save, plus a small inheritance she’d gotten from her grandfather’s estate. This store, and its success or failure, was her future.

Setting her groceries on the counter, Lindsay looked around and noticed Bert Loomis stacking canned tomato soup on a shelf. The Loomis family farmed 1200 acres near Bellmont. The twins, Larry and Bert, were the youngest of six boys. Neither one showed much inclination toward farming, nor any great intelligence, at least of the academic kind. Lindsay knew the expenses involved in sending them to college made it out of the question. Like so many others, they had few options after graduation—either look for work in the big cities or join the military. Both Larry and Bert were notorious troublemakers, and it was just like Maddy to take them under her wing, Lindsay reflected.

“I thought you hired Larry?” Yet Bert was the Loomis twin busy stocking the shelf.

“I did, but it seems I got two boys for the price of one.”

“They’re a real handful,” Lindsay warned, and she should know. She remembered her first day of teaching and the trouble those two had given her with their fighting and constant bickering. Not only that, they couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. She marveled that Maddy had the courage to hire one of them, let alone both.

“They’ve been a real blessing to me,” Maddy insisted.

Lindsay didn’t know what it was about Maddy, but she seemed to bring out the best in other people. That was her gift. “I have an idea I want to talk to you about when you’ve got a chance,” Lindsay said, once she’d finished writing out her check. “How about lunch tomorrow? Come over to our place, okay? It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to sit down and chat.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Maddy waved at Rachel Fischer, owner of The Pizza Parlor, as she came into the store.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lindsay said, mulling over her idea. This was going to work out so well, discussing ideas with Maddy and not having to pay long-distance telephone rates to do it!

An afternoon with Lindsay was exactly what she needed, Maddy thought as she drove out of Buffalo Valley early Sunday afternoon. They’d barely had time to do more than greet each other in passing since Maddy had moved to town.

So much had happened during the first few weeks. As soon as the store was officially hers, Maddy had painted the outside and spruced up the grocery’s interior—scrubbing and waxing floors, dusting shelves, washing windows. She would’ve liked to change the sign out front, but that meant laying down money needed elsewhere. Working seven days a week, although the grocery was closed on Sundays, Maddy was definitely ready for a break.

Lindsay was waiting for her on the porch steps, with Mutt and Jeff, her dogs. “I made us a Cobb salad,” she said as Maddy climbed out of her Bronco. The dogs, who knew Maddy well, greeted her with ecstatic barking and wagging tails.

“Hi, guys!” Maddy crouched to give them both some enthusiastic ear-scratching and tummy-rubbing, then got up to throw her arms around Lindsay in a hug. “Hi, you.”

“Come on inside.” Lindsay held open the door and Maddie entered the house as the dogs dashed past her. Lindsay grinned. “They never change, do they? Now sit down before the salad gets warm and the bread gets cold.”

Maddy had never seen Lindsay happier and wished she could find that kind of contentment, too.

“You made the bread yourself?” Maddy asked. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ll have you know I’m turning into a halfway decent cook. And baker. I bought the butter from you, though.”

Maddy bowed in mock acknowledgement. “Hey, where’s Gage?”

“He’s off visiting Brandon Wyatt,” Lindsay answered. “He said he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of a female gabfest.”

Maddy pretended to be insulted, but she didn’t really mind. And even if she had felt slighted, she could forgive Gage just about anything. She’d liked him from the moment they’d met, and couldn’t be happier that Lindsay had married such a good man. Gage was hardworking, decent, honorable. And Maddy had recognised the attraction between them immediately. She’d had a feeling that first afternoon that this was only the beginning. And she’d been right.

“Okay,” Maddy said once they were sitting at the table over their salads and warm, crusty slices of sourdough bread. “What’s your idea?”

“It has to do with Sarah Stern.” Lindsay clasped her hands in front of her and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I was thinking about having my uncle Mike display her quilts in his furniture store.”

“That’s a stroke of genius!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Lindsay nodded regally and stabbed a slice of avocado with her fork. “You and I both know how beautiful Sarah’s quilts are, but Uncle Mike doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. He’s particular about the store and the displays. Mom showed him the gifts I brought last Christmas—the quilted table runners—and he liked them, but he hasn’t seen an actual full-size quilt yet.”

Lindsay’s uncle owned one of the more upscale furniture stores in Savannah. Anything purchased at Mike’s was quality. He wouldn’t be an easy sell.

“I hope this works out,” Lindsay added, frowning slightly. “I don’t know why, but Sarah and I have never really connected. A number of times last year, I could have used a friend like Sarah, but she rebuffed every effort I made.”

“She’s been nothing but kind to me,” Maddy countered.

“Of course she has. She likes you. It’s me she has a problem with.”

“She’s warming up, though, don’t you think?”

Lindsay reached for a slice of bread and slathered it with butter. “Somewhat,” she agreed. “The thing is, I genuinely like Sarah, and I think she’s very talented. She gave Gage and me a quilt as a wedding gift and it’s exquisite. I’d like to help her, if I can, and in the process get to know her better.” Lindsay hesitated. “In knowing Sarah, perhaps I’ll understand Calla better, too. I worry about that kid.”

“Calla?”

Lindsay propped her elbows on the table. “You know—teenage angst.”

Maddy studied her friend and admired her for the caring, generous teacher she’d become this past year.

They chatted about the town and Lindsay’s growing relationship with Angela Kirkpatrick, her long-lost aunt. The two had become close and Maddy knew it thrilled Lindsay to have family nearby. They communicated mostly through e-mail, but had also visited each other several times. Angela had met Lindsay’s parents at the wedding, and they kept in touch, as well.

After a while, Lindsay’s eyes grew serious. “Are you going to tell me what happened in Savannah?”

Maddy knew that eventually Lindsay would get around to asking her. As an idealist, she’d gone into social work, believing she could make a difference, and she had. What she hadn’t expected was the toll it would take on her own life. In the eight years she’d worked for the state, Maddy felt she’d given away so much of herself, there was nothing left. So many people needed help. More than she had to give. Unfortunately, she’d learned that the hard way.

Early in the year she’d faced the biggest crisis of her career with thirteen-year-old Julie Pounder—and everything had gone wrong. Julie was dead, and while Maddy knew she wasn’t to blame, she felt responsible. She hadn’t been able to deal with the aftermath of the girl’s death; she still couldn’t. Every time she thought about it, she wept, and didn’t want to spoil this afternoon with tears.

“I can’t talk about it yet,” Maddy said, not wanting to elaborate further. “I will in a month or two.”

“All right,” Lindsay murmured and affectionately squeezed Maddy’s hand. “We’ll change the subject.”

Maddy was grateful. “Tell me what you know about Jeb McKenna.”

“Jeb,” Lindsay repeated slowly. “You like him?”

“I don’t know him.” She could see that Lindsay was already reading something into her curiosity. It was her own fault for asking, but the strong, silent types had always intrigued her.

“You’ve met him and I haven’t,” Lindsay reminded her.

“True.”

“Calla’s mentioned her uncle quite a few times and I know about him, but I’m afraid I can’t be any help.” She met Maddy’s eyes. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”

Maddy hesitated, not sure how to answer. Yes, she was attracted; in fact, Jeb fascinated her. She suspected that behind his gruff exterior lay a kind, gentle man, one she’d like to know.

“I guess I am interested,” she admitted after a lengthy pause.

“Oh, Maddy…” Lindsay sighed. “I’m afraid Jeb McKenna will only break your heart.”

Sunday evenings were traditionally the slowest of the week for Buffalo Bob. Most folks tended to stay home. He’d thought about closing the restaurant on Sundays, but hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if it wasn’t for cooking and serving up a beer or two. Besides, he had to keep busy or he’d start thinking about Merrily again.

She’d left, gone five weeks already. He’d never understood what made her come and go the way she did. Things would be just fine for a while and then suddenly, without explanation, she’d disappear.

Usually she didn’t even bother to write him a note. Other times she’d leave something on the pillow. Something he knew she treasured. He guessed it was her way of telling him she’d be back.