A Husband for Margaret(6)

Her mother came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we think it will, but it could mean that better things are at the door.”

Rolling her eyes, Margaret stared back at the ceiling. Like she needed a pep talk right now! What she needed was to go back in time and warn Paul not to ride his stupid horse.

“I know this is hard for you,” her mother continued. She reached out and lightly rubbed Margaret’s arm. “I certainly didn’t expect a widower with four children to come off that train either. It caught us all by surprise.”

There her mother went again—referring to the surprise. Margaret figured by now, her mother had done that a good ten times. Mostly on the way home and now in her bedroom. Well, she might as well add to it. “Yes, it was a surprise.” One huge, gigantic, colossal surprise! She dared a look in her mother’s direction. “Do you think I’m mean for not wanting to marry him?”

“I think you should get to know him before making that decision.”

“What’s there to know? He wants a mother for his kids. Did you see how many there are?”

She chuckled. “Of course, I did. I’m not blind.”

“I’m not heartless, Ma. I feel sorry for him. I can’t imagine trying to take care of four children all by myself. He does need a mother for them.”

She smiled. “He’s been married before so he knows there’s more to a marriage than taking care of children.”

“Oh, I know. There’s having a woman who’ll cook and clean and do his laundry too.”

“Paul would’ve asked you to do the same thing.”

Margaret groaned and threw the pillow over her face. “I don’t want logic right now. I just want to wallow in misery.”

“I know.” She lifted the pillow from her daughter’s face. “And I’ll let you enjoy every second of it for the rest of today. But—” she gave her a pointed look—“I expect you to wake up tomorrow with the notion that you will at least get to know Joseph when you see him. Marriage isn’t all about chores and children. It’s about the sharing of your life with someone else.”

“I knew you wanted grandchildren, but I didn’t realize you wanted a whole lot of them at one time.”

Laughing, she gently placed the pillow back over Margaret’s face. “It’s more than children or grandchildren. It’s about seeing my daughter happy. I think Joseph is a nice man.”

“He’s old.”

“Thirty isn’t old.”

“He’s ten years older than me.” She gasped and sat up. The pillow fell to her lap. “His oldest child is seven. I was thirteen when that kid was born.”

“That means you’re still older and able to provide a stern look of authority over the youngster.”

Grumbling, Margaret laid back in the bed and returned the pillow to her face. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t posted an ad at all. This was a mess. Her mother wouldn’t be happy if she decided not to marry Joseph. But so what? It was Margaret’s life, not her mother’s.

“Give it a good night’s sleep,” her mother advised.

Margaret felt the bed shift, notifying her that her mother stood up.

“Things always look better after a good night’s sleep.”

When her mother left the room, Margaret pulled the pillow off of her face and let out a sigh of despair.

***

The next afternoon, Margaret glanced at the clock above the fireplace and cringed. Joseph was due any minute. She turned her gaze to the window and peered out of it. There was no sign of him yet. She exhaled, relieved.

Her mother entered the parlor. “It’ll be a nice day to go for a walk.”

Margaret turned from the window and asked, “Will you come along?”

Her mother chuckled. “Of course not. You need to get to know him, and that isn’t going to happen unless you two can talk alone.”

Margaret fought the urge to groan and sat down in a chair. She put her face in her hands. She had no idea what she could say to him that might be of any interest. After all, she had no experience with children. What in the world could she possibly have to offer him? Well, except for being a mother to his brood of offspring. She shuddered. Four boys. Not even a girl among them! She knew absolutely nothing about boys—or men for that matter.

“He’s here,” her mother called out.

She didn’t look up right away. Instead, she listened as her mother opened the front door and greeted him. This, she was sure, was going to be a disaster. The only saving grace was that he didn’t plan to bring his children with him. She looked up then, making sure no kids came running into the house. It was just him. Good. At least that would make things less awkward.