With barely enough time to brace herself, Mary froze as Doc’s housekeeper, Wanda Mae, a tall, wiry, bespectacled woman of about seventy, with a pleasant face and straight, steel-gray hair pulled back into a bun, stuck her head around the doorway.
“Oh, hey,” the woman greeted, stepping fully into view as she finished securing the ties of her full, white apron.
“Mary, I thought Doc was home when I saw his surrey out front,” she laughed, though it came out as an odd snort. “Hello, Pauline,” she added with a nod to the other girl.
Then, her eyes homed in on Dwight and she hesitated before her mouth dropped open and she let out a soft gasp. “Why…you’re Mary’s husband, ain’t you!” she blurted. “Dwight, ain’t it? I remember seeing you at Pauline’s wedding a few weeks back. I’m Wanda Mae Smith—I live next door,” she aimed a thumb in that direction. “I keep house, cook, do laundry, and such, for the doc.”
Suppressing a grin, Mary watched the housekeeper place her hands on her hips and give Dwight a thorough inspection from the top of his head down to his boots as she went on, “It’s about time you got here young man. I was just tellin’ somebody the other day that it just don’t seem natural, a husband leavin’ his wife in another town, then comin’ for his sister’s wedding, but leaving his wife here to work while he’s off gallivantin’ around in another state! Just don’t seem like any married folks I know. And I wouldn’t a’ stood for my Johnnie leaving me somewhere while he tramped around scot-free, no sir—God rest his soul,” she shut her eyes and stuck a hand up in the air before continuing to speak her mind. “So—did you come to take Mary back with you to…where is it ya’ll are from? Louisville?”
By the time the woman finished, Mary’s heart was pounding in her ears and her palms were damp with nerves. She’d already had several conversations with the woman, and had found out quickly that she was not only sharp as a tack, she didn’t seem to miss any details, no matter how small. Plus, she spoke her mind without hesitation. Doc had cautioned Mary to step carefully around the older woman, because if Wanda Mae smelled something not quite right, she would call her on it—and then more than likely, the whole town would know the details by sundown.
Now, Mary turned her head and imploringly sent Dwight a silent plea for help. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that she was handing the question off to him and she pressed a hand against her chest as he drew in a deep breath and launched right into action.
Rising from the chair, he confidently approached Wanda and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Smith. Yes, I’m Mary’s husband and Pauline’s brother, Dwight Christiansen. To answer your question—no, we’re not going to Louisville. I’m moving here, at least for a while. Doc has kindly invited me…my wife and I…to be his guests until we can make plans for the future. The uh…the baby took us a bit by surprise,” he added with a dimpled grin for Wanda’s benefit, no doubt. Oh, he was a charmer, all right.
Mary couldn’t help but stare at his profile, fascinated, while he swept the somewhat cantankerous older woman effortlessly into the palm of his hand. It was plain for the girls to see that the no-nonsense, opinionated housekeeper seemingly melted like butter on a hot stove. Staring up through her wire-rim spectacles into Dwight’s handsome, smiling face, she actually smiled back at him—shyly!
“Is that right?” she asked, then after a few heartbeats of swimming in his honey brown eyes, which were no doubt twinkling as he patiently allowed her perusal, she seemed to come to herself and chuckled a bit. “Surprise, huh? Don’t young people nowadays know how babies are made?” she added as she gave his arm a playful nudge with her elbow. Mary felt her face flush scarlet as she heard Dwight release a low chuckle.
Then, collecting herself, the housekeeper smacked her hands together and rubbed them decisively. “Well, alrighty then. I put a pot of vegetable beef soup on to simmer earlier and I came over to check on it. Doc loves my vegetable soup, and my cornbread, don’t you know.” She placed a hand on her hip with sass. “And why not? I make the best in town, even if I do say so myself—although that yay-hoo, Bernard Huber, thinks his is better than mine. Humph!” She added with an exaggerated wink.
As she turned to go back to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “Nice to meet you, young man. I’m sure your wife’s been countin’ the days ‘til your arrival.”
Then, she was gone and the trio in the parlor literally fell back into their respective seats.
With a soft whistle, Pauline said, “That went well. But DJ…did you mean that? About moving here? What about your job?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Mary looked on in concern as Dwight moved closer, took his sister’s hand, and gave her a self-deprecating grin. “Richard got tired of the melodrama. Said it was worse than being stuck in the front row of a Shakespearian play—with bad actors. In a word, I got axed,” he added, punctuating the statement with a swift movement of his hand slicing across his throat.
Then, he met Mary’s eyes and his were quite serious. He let go of his sister’s hand and reached to gently grasp hers. “However, I intend to get some sort of job here, Mary. And…just so you know—I fully intend to support my wife.”
Her eyes rounded and her mouth fell slack as they stared at one another. That was the furthest thing from what she might have expected him to say. He was going to support her? What did
