Faith took up a scone and nibbled a tiny bite from the edge before setting it down on a lace-edged napkin, yet another welcome-to-town gift from Altar.
“How is your husband?” Faith asked primly.
“Faith.” Celia gazed at her sister.
“What? I asked after the well-being of your husband. Is that such a terrible thing?” Faith held her teacup to her lips and sipped.
Celia swallowed her irritation. After all, hadn’t she just been questioning her own decision a few nights ago? And perhaps a couple more times since then, such as when Jack hadn’t understood that the animals needed the thin layer of ice that had formed on top of their water broken up. Or when he’d stood dumbfounded in front of the plow, as if he’d never seen a piece of machinery before.
Celia had been patient each time, gently telling him what needed doing. Which he’d accepted, but she could feel him bristle. When they weren’t dealing with the work or discussing the animals, though, the charm he’d shown her in town had come right back on, and she’d found herself laughing along with him and teasing him in return.
“He’s well,” she finally said. “He’s still learning about the farm, but he’s so very kind and enjoys conversation.”
“Are you in love with him?” Faith asked.
Celia nearly choked on her scone. “I’ve only known him a few days. I can hardly say that.”
“I knew that I loved Aaron and he loved me barely a week after he began talking with me and escorting me home after school,” Faith replied.
Celia sat up straighter. “Not everyone can measure themselves against you and Aaron.”
Faith’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and Celia immediately wished she could take her words back.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, laying a hand on her sister’s knee.
Faith set her teacup down and dropped her face into her hands. “It isn’t your fault. I’m sorry I insinuated that you couldn’t come to love your husband. It’s just . . . I . . .” She turned a tearstained face up to Celia. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose one of these men to marry. I don’t wish to marry any of them.”
“Why don’t you opt not to?” Celia said. She set her own teacup down and reached for Faith’s hands. “No one would fault you for choosing to remain unmarried. Everyone knows how much you loved Aaron. And Pastor Collins has his hands full with all of these weddings. He’s far too busy to bother you about marriage. Not to mention that no one else in town can run the telegraph.”
“But it’s selfish,” Faith protested. “I’m not the only woman grieving. Yet everyone else has been able to pull themselves together enough to give careful consideration to her letters. And besides, I can’t keep relying on you to bring me food.”
“You won’t have to forever. You’ll make money from the telegraph and from selling stationary and such.”
Faith shook her head. “I’ll have to. I can’t bear to be the only one who’s selfish enough not to. This town needs men to run.”
“Well, you needn’t choose right away.” Celia squeezed Faith’s hands. “Give it time.”
Faith gave her a watery smile and pulled her hands away. “I’m glad Mr. Wendler is trying to fit in on the farm.”
“He is.” Celia had certainly had her doubts, but he’d been making quite an effort. “I only wish I knew more about him. I know nothing about his family, or what sort of business he was in prior to leaving New York. Or what it was about our advertisement that led him to make such a momentous decision, particularly without sending a letter ahead of his arrival.”
“Have you asked him?”
Celia’s cheeks went warm and she looked down at her lap.
“Celia. You can’t be that shy with your own husband.”
She picked at a thin spot on her blue skirt. This skirt wouldn’t last the winter. She had another one that was serviceable enough, and a prettier dress for church, but she’d need more than one skirt for working at home. “I tried not to be with Ned. But you saw how well that went. I think it made him not like me much at all.”
“Mr. Wendler isn’t Ned. As much as I might have wished you’d chosen someone less . . . smooth . . . even I can see he’s more interested in you than Ned ever was. All that man cared about was his crops and his plow.”
Celia bit back a giggle. Faith had never been so blunt about Ned, but every word of it was true. With Ned, she’d felt lonely, even in his presence. But with Jack, it seemed she’d never feel loneliness again.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. And with that, she made a promise to herself to be more bold. If she could tease Jack without feeling so shy, certainly she could ask him questions about his life.
And maybe she’d find out what drove him to their little town on the edge of the prairie.
Chapter Eleven
Jack urged the gelding to a stop outside the post and telegraph office, where Celia was visiting with Faith. He’d never felt so accomplished in his life, not even when he’d secured financing from the impossible to nail down Callum Sullivan. In only a few hours, he’d not only learned more about the feeding and care of livestock, he’d also made a new friend in Dave McFarland, the owner of the livery, assisted a Mrs. Graham with carrying a saddle, and negotiated a deal on a second horse, which Celia had indicated they’d need not only to pull
