Martha Page 6

  Edna Petunia heard Andrew sigh. “I don’t care about the money. I just hope we’re a good match for one another. I don’t know her very well.”

  “Speak for yourself, son. If I were you, I’d have married her already. Good family, the Sibleys.” A few moments later, Edna Petunia heard the barn doors slam shut. She peered down from the loft into the stables. The men were gone.

  It was time to get to work.

  Edna Petunia knocked on the door to the main house. Penny opened it and gave Edna Petunia a big hug. “What are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you!”

  “Oh, you know. A few things here and there,” Edna Petunia said mysteriously.

  Penny sighed. She wondered what Edna Petunia was up to and hoped it wouldn’t cause too much trouble. “Come on in.”

  Edna Petunia helped Penny prepare breakfast and ate biscuits and jam at the table with her grandsons and the orphans.

  “Fine lot of bastards you have,” Edna Petunia said approvingly.

  “Thank you, Edna Petunia,” Penny said. She had grown used to Edna Petunia’s choice of words over the years.

  After they had finished eating, they went to the cabin where Robby was staying. When they arrived, Martha was fluffing the pillows behind Robby’s head.

  “He’s just waking up,” Martha explained. She cried out when she noticed Edna Petunia. “Edna Petunia! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Just stopping by to see you. If you don’t mind, may I have a word?” Edna Petunia asked Martha.

  Martha looked at Penny. “If it’s okay with Penny.”

  “Of course.” Penny waved a hand. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Martha and Edna Petunia exited the small cabin, and Martha led Edna Petunia back to her own cabin. As they entered, Edna Petunia admired how neat and tidy Martha kept her quarters.

  Edna Petunia put her hands on her hips. “We need to have a talk.”

  Martha immediately felt nervous. “About what?”

  “I hear a nice, good young man has been talking about his intentions to marry you, and you refused to have any of it. Is that true?” Edna Petunia charged.

  Martha looked at her feet. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Edna Petunia’s expression softened. “There are no right or wrong answers, Martha. Say what’s in your heart. It’s just me.”

  Martha nodded. “I . . . sometimes it’s hard for me to say what I feel.”

  “I understand. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I presume this had something to do with what happened to you before you ended up in that orphanage in New York. Am I right?” Edna Petunia asked gently.

  Martha nodded again.

  “You know, you can tell me anything, Martha,” Edna Petunia reminded.

  “I know that, Edna Petunia, and I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. Sometimes I just think . . . it’s too late. There’s no hope for me to lead a normal life. I’m damaged goods,” Martha confessed.

  “Oh, honey.” Edna Petunia held out her arms, and Martha walked closer and allowed Edna Petunia to wrap her in a hug. It was one of the few times Edna Petunia could recall Martha letting her get close. “That’s simply not true. You’re a good person, and you deserve to live a good life.”

  “But Edna Petunia, what happened to Robby is entirely my fault!” Martha said, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Edna Petunia sat down on the bed and patted a spot next to her. “Come, tell me about it. I’m certain that’s not true.”

  Martha took a deep breath and explained all the details from the day of the accident. “Do you see? If I had been paying better attention, Robby wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” she concluded.

  Edna Petunia shook her head. “Martha Sanders, that thinking is just plain backwards! I won’t have one of my bastards going around blaming herself for something that was a simple accident. You’re no more responsible for that accident than you are for ending up in an orphanage. It’s just a fact of life. And it sounds like little Robby is on the mend.”

  Martha sighed. “I don’t know. It made me question whether or not I could ever have children one day if I can’t even take care of other people’s children.”

  “I will not sit here and listen to such talk, Martha!” Edna Petunia scolded. “You’re a wonderful young woman. Penny and Tom have even told me how lucky they feel to have you here. Now, when are you going to start seeing yourself the same way they do?”

  Martha tried to understand what Edna Petunia was saying, but it was difficult to accept. She still felt like something was wrong with her.

  “Now,” Edna Petunia continued, “tell me what’s going on with Andrew Ford.”

  Fresh tears streamed down Martha’s face. Edna Petunia couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Martha act so emotionally. She must really care for the fellow!

  “Well,” Martha started out shakily. “I have a hard time speaking in his presence, it turns out. He took me aside a few days ago and told me he wanted to court me. But I . . .”

  “What did you say?” Edna Petunia yelped.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Martha confessed tearily. “I couldn’t talk. I clammed up, and he left the conversation thinking I wanted nothing to do with him. And now it seems he’s going to propose to Mary Sibley. There’s no hope. Andrew is a lost cause.” Martha looked down at the floor, ashamed of what she had done.

  Edna Petunia sighed. “Oh, Martha. When will you start seeing yourself the way we see you?”

  “What do you mean?” Martha asked through her tears. The last time she had cried this much, she had been a small child.

  “You are acting like you don’t think you should have a man like Andrew Ford—like you ruined things between the two of you because you don’t deserve to be happy,” Edna Petunia explained. “I don’t know why you think so poorly of yourself, Martha. Your father and I love you very much and only want what’s best for you. You’re a wonderful young woman, and any man would be ridiculously lucky to marry you. Never, ever forget that.”

  Martha sat, too shocked to respond. She was used to Edna Petunia laughing and flirting with Cletus, scolding and spoiling her grandchildren, or making spirited comments at town gatherings. Cletus and Edna Petunia didn’t believe in giving their girls too many compliments. They had raised them to be modest young women. But now, Edna Petunia was saying so many nice things about Martha—things that couldn’t possibly be true.

  Edna Petunia caught Martha staring at her. “Now, don’t let it go to your head!”

  Martha laughed. That was more like the Edna Petunia she knew and loved.

  “Now, I don’t know what happened to you before I met you. But all I know is that you’re just as good as that Myrtle Sibbles or whatever her name is,” Edna Petunia declared.

  “Mary Sibley,” Martha said softly, feeling sad all over again. “I know Andrew’s going to end up with her.”

  Edna Petunia stood up abruptly. “Don’t be so sure of that.” She exited the cabin, and Martha went to the door and watched as she mounted her horse and rode off into the distance. Martha shook her head in disbelief. Edna Petunia was acting strangely, even for Edna Petunia.

  Martha walked over to the small basin in her cabin and washed her face. She took a deep breath. No matter what her personal feelings were, there was work to be done. She would get through this challenge just as she had with difficult situations in the past. She set off for the main house to complete a few tasks before preparing lunch. It was a beautiful day, and she was determined to make the most of it.

  Chapter 8

  Andrew Ford fidgeted with his tie. He felt silly going through such formalities, but he knew it was necessary to demonstrate that he had serious intentions to court Mary Sibley.

  Before he took off for the Sibley property, he went to the stable to tell Tom where he was going. When he walked into the barn, Tom whistled sharply.

  “Well, don’t you clean up nicely!” Tom grinned.

  Andrew shook his head. He ha
d known this was a bad idea. “I just came to tell you I’m leaving now, but I’ll be back later tonight, in case you need anything.” Though Andrew usually only worked during daylight hours, Tom had grown to trust him over the past few months. Occasionally, Tom would show up at Andrew’s cabin and ask him to lend a hand toward a special project. Tom loved to shower Penny with gifts and other surprises, and he was equally devoted to his children. Andrew wanted Tom to know where he’d be in case he came looking for him.

  “Thank you, Andrew. I appreciate it. And I wish you the best,” Tom said, adopting a more serious tone. He shook Andrew’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Andrew replied. He walked out of the stables and found Lucky, his favorite horse. Once he was astride Lucky, they set off for the Sibley house. Because the Sibleys lived on the opposite side of Nowhere, Andrew had quite a ride ahead of him.

  As they moved along at a brisk pace, Andrew noticed an elderly woman screaming and waving her arms. He slowed Lucky and stopped a few yards away from the woman. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  Up close, Andrew realized the woman was Edna Petunia Sanders, Martha’s mother. “Are you all right?”

  Edna Petunia shouted. “No, I’m not! My husband is ill. You must come with me, quick!”

  Andrew noticed that Edna Petunia also had a horse with her. Edna Petunia jumped onto the horse—Andrew was impressed at how spry she was—and took off at a furious pace. Andrew raced after her.

  Andrew assumed she was headed for the Sanders’ home, which he had heard of but had never visited. Tom had told him that Edna Petunia, Cletus, and their unmarried daughters lived in a spacious, lovely house on the outskirts of Nowhere. As they pulled up in front of the house, Andrew saw that Tom had been right.

  Edna Petunia hopped off her horse and tied him to a post, then gestured for Andrew to do the same.

  “Where is your husband, ma’am?” Andrew asked.

  “In the house,” Edna Petunia replied, shuffling toward the front door. Andrew began to sprint. He knocked loudly on the door, hoping someone was inside to open it. As he waited, he had second thoughts about his choice to follow Edna Petunia. He wasn’t a doctor and wouldn’t be able to treat Cletus if he had any injuries. Instead of riding here without asking for any details, he should have set off to find the town doctor.

  To his surprise, a young woman—one of the Sanders sisters, but he couldn’t remember which one—threw the door open and greeted him with a smile. “Oh, hi, Andrew! Welcome!”

  Andrew looked back at Edna Petunia in confusion. “Where’s Cletus?”

  “I’m in here!” a deep, booming voice called from inside the house.

  Edna Petunia entered the house and motioned for Andrew to follow. Andrew walked cautiously into the house, expecting to find Cletus sprawled out on the floor and in pain. Edna Petunia led him into a parlor, where two other girls were reading on a sofa. In an armchair across from them sat Cletus Sanders, leisurely flipping through the pages of a thick book.

  Andrew stared at Edna Petunia. “Pardon me, ma’am, but you said your husband was ill. He doesn’t seem very ill to me.”

  Edna Petunia looked sheepish. She went to her husband and placed her hand on his forehead. “Oh, would you look at that? It seems Cletus has made a full recovery. What are the chances?”

  Cletus set down his book. “Andrew Ford, good to see you. Didn’t think I’d run into you here! Will you join us for dinner?”

  Andrew’s mind was still spinning. “What’s going on here?”

  One of the girls on the sofa giggled.

  “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Andrew, I hope you didn’t have anywhere to be this evening,” Edna Petunia said. “I really thought Cletus needed help. But now that you’re here, why don’t you join us for dinner?”

  Andrew realized that there was no way he’d be able to get to the Sibley house at the time Gerald and Veronica were expecting him. Even if he left now, he’d be late. Gerald would be furious. “I don’t think I can stay.”

  “I won’t allow it!” Cletus protested. “Please, son, stay. It will be nice to have another man’s presence in the house. As you can tell, I’m outnumbered here. At least the ratio is a little better than it was when all fifteen girls lived with us.”

  Andrew chuckled. “I can imagine, sir.”

  “So you’ll stay?” one of the Sanders daughters asked.

  Andrew sighed. He had been unsure about Mary Sibley from the start. Maybe running into Edna Petunia had been a sign. He would explain to Gerald Sibley later what had happened and hope the man would forgive him. He shrugged. “Why not?”

  The girl jumped up from the couch. “I’ll set the table!”

  A few minutes later, Edna Petunia, Cletus, their daughters, and Andrew sat at the table. Edna Petunia set down a basket of fried chicken

  “We’re so glad to see you outside of church. It’s nice to meet all the newcomers to Nowhere, since we used to be newcomers ourselves,” one of the daughters said brightly.

  “Which of you is which again?” Andrew asked, embarrassed.

  “I’m Katie,” the cheerful girl replied. “This is Hattie and this is Theresa. You can tell us apart by remembering that I love to sing, that Hattie is very sweet, and that Theresa loves to read.”

  Andrew laughed. “I’ll do my best to remember that.”

  “Speaking of telling us apart, we hear that you’ve gotten to know at least one of our sisters very well,” Theresa spoke up.

  “Hm?” Cletus asked.

  Andrew blushed. “I have been trying to get to know Martha better. It’s not easy.”

  “She’s probably the least talkative of any of us,” Hattie remarked.

  “Don’t get discouraged,” Edna Petunia instructed. “Be persistent.”

  Andrew felt strange talking to Martha’s family about her without her there, but it seemed like they understood what he was going through. “I was pretty clear with Martha on what I wanted. I don’t think she’s interested in me,” Andrew confided.

  Edna Petunia shook her head vigorously. “That’s not true, Andrew! Trust me. A mother knows.” She winked at him.

  Andrew looked down at the floor. Edna Petunia seemed like she loved her daughters more than anything in the world, but she sure acted strangely sometimes. “Edna Petunia, I appreciate your advice. I hope you’re right.”

  Later that evening, Andrew woke up to a sharp rapping on his cabin door. He blearily stumbled out of bed and opened it, assuming there was some type of emergency. “What’s wrong?”

  To his surprise, Martha stood on his doorstep, looking frightened.

  “Are you okay?” Andrew asked.

  Martha shivered even though it wasn’t cold outside. “May I speak with you?”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” Andrew pointed out.

  “I’ll leave. We can talk another time,” Martha said hurriedly. She spun around, but Andrew caught her shoulder and turned her around again to face him.

  “Wait just a minute. If whatever you want to talk about was important enough to wake me from my sleep, it’s important enough for us to talk about now,” Andrew reasoned. “Give me one moment.”

  He went back into his cabin and pulled on a dressing robe. He had answered the door in only his night clothes and felt exposed if they were going to speak outside. He pulled on the robe and joined Martha outside. “That’s better. What is it?”

  “I have to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before,” Martha began. She fidgeted. “I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?” Andrew slid his hands into Martha’s, hoping he could provide some strength to help her tell her story.

  Martha looked up at him. “I’m afraid once I tell you, you won’t like me anymore. You’ll think I’m damaged.”

  “Martha, there’s nothing you could do or say to make me not care for you anymore. You can tell me anything,” Andrew said tenderly. He thought for a moment. “Would you feel better if we could make ourselves comfortable?”


  Martha blushed. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Andrew chastised himself for his choice of words. “That’s not what I meant. I thought we could sit at one of the benches near the stable. There’s a light out there, so it won’t be too dark.”

  “Oh, that would be nice,” Martha said, relief washing over her face.

  Andrew led Martha through the property to the benches outside of the barn. They both sat down, and he took her hand in his again, squeezing it so she’d know that he was there for her. “Take your time. I’m just glad that you’re going to tell me about yourself. That’s all I’ve been wanting from you.”

  Martha nodded. She paused for a few moments, then began her story. “I was born to a mother who was younger than I am now. She was an artist and sold crafts in a small roadside stand near her village. One day, she met a man who was older than her. He bought art from her and her friends, and sometimes he would pass by in his wagon and visit with her. Soon, she found she was expecting a baby. He abandoned her because he didn’t want anyone to know that he had taken up with a much younger woman.” Martha took a deep breath.

  Andrew nodded in understanding.

  “After I was born, my mother struggled to find a place we could live. She was young and unmarried. She had to take care of me, so she couldn’t sell the crafts she was used to selling for money. She found another man in her village to live with. But . . . this man was bad.” Martha wiped a tear from her face.

  “Thank you for telling me this,” Andrew whispered, squeezing her hand again.

  “I don’t remember very much, but what I remember is that he would often come into our house drunk, and if she did something he didn’t like or made a noise that was too loud, he would hit her. And sometimes . . . sometimes, he would hit me, too,” Martha confessed.

  Andrew felt a wave of anger rise up inside of him. He wanted to find this man who had hurt Martha and her mother and bring him to justice. He hated to think of anyone hurting her.

  “Eventually, my mother realized that the safest place for me was not with him. She took me to the orphanage. I only know this story because one of the matrons who looked after us, Cassie Hayes, told me everything that my mother told her on the day she dropped me off,” Martha explained. “There’s a lot about my life from that time that I don’t even remember. I’ve blocked a lot of the memories because they were too painful.”