Holidays with the Weavers Page 8

  “We had lessons, years ago.”

  “You have? Is there someone in town who teaches?”

  “Actually, Tom Turner taught us a thing or two back when he lived here.”

  “But I’m better off asking the Weavers?” Olivia giggled.

  “Please do. Heaven knows there are more stories than there is time to tell them.”

  Olivia laughed as her eyes once again found George – staring right at her! Their gazes locked and her heart skipped a beat. Oh dear, she had to remember what Ma told her and not let her heart have its way. The last thing she needed was to pine after a man who wouldn’t be around while trying to regain her memory. She quickly looked away.

  “I don’t blame you for staring at him,” Charlotte commented.

  “What?” Olivia said as her head snapped around.

  “Mr. Johnson. He’s handsome and easy to talk to. Too bad he’s leaving.”

  Olivia sighed and hung her head. “Yes, it is.” She looked at George again, who smiled and waved. “He is adorable, isn’t he?”

  “He certainly is. Maybe he’ll stay on a few more days?” Charlotte winked, turned and left.

  Just as well – she couldn’t see the look of confusion on Olivia’s face. She rubbed her temples. Whenever she tried to think hard about something, her head felt horrible.

  “Olivia!” George said as he rushed to her side. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you well?”

  Olivia let her hands fall to her sides and looked into the concerned eyes of the most wonderful man. “Nothing, George,” she said, not caring that she’d used his Christian name. She’d used it several times this evening already – what was one more?

  He drew closer and took her hand. “Are you sure?”

  She looked at their hands and a shiver went up her spine. How was she going to make it through the next few days? “I’m fine, really. Please, go enjoy yourself. Maybe you ought to ask one of the other ladies to dance?”

  “I’d much rather dance with you.”

  Olivia glanced around the room, saw Ma watching them and stiffened. “I think perhaps I should sit down for a while.”

  “Of course.” He began to steer her to the wall, where chairs had been lined up for the fainter of heart. “Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?” he asked once she was settled.

  “No thank you – if I have anything more to drink or eat I’ll bust. Please just let me sit here a moment.”

  “Certainly.” He stood, hands behind his back like a soldier at parade rest.

  She smiled. “Are you guarding me?”

  “Someone has to. Otherwise one of the other gentlemen might whisk you away.” He winked.

  She laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.” She heard a hint of bitterness in her voice – now why would that be?

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” He surveyed the room. “Should I escort you to the hotel?”

  “Hotel? No, I don’t need to leave.”

  “I could find one of the Weavers, in case you need to go back and lie down …”

  “Mr. Johnson, I …” Olivia stopped and stared at him. He looked so concerned, so tender, something in her felt like it wanted to die. As if she couldn’t believe he could look at her that way. She swallowed hard. “I’m fine,” she said weakly. But she knew she wasn’t.

  * * *

  “Warren?” Bernice nodded to his right.

  “Yes, what is it?” Warren turned, saw George with Olivia and smiled. “George is certainly having a good time.”

  Bernice linked her arm with his. “It looks to me like your cousin is having more than just a good time. He seems quite smitten.”

  He shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? Look at him – I haven’t seen him smile this much since Victoria died.”

  “Was he deeply in love with her?”

  “As much as one can be. They were a good match, and he took her death hard. But it’s been years.”

  “Looks like he’s ready for another wife,” Bernice commented as she watched the couple.

  “You’re right.” He patted her hand and peered over the crowd, looking for his grandfather. “I wonder where he’s got to?”

  “Grandpa?” She looked too. “Oh, there he is talking to Mrs. Ferguson and her niece Ottilie.”

  “Ottilie’s in town? Why, I haven’t seen them all evening.”

  “From the looks of it, they just got here. But we were dancing, remember? How would we have noticed?”

  “You’re right. Well, I’ll go check on Grandpa. Care to accompany me?”

  She smiled and off they went. As soon as they joined Grandpa and his little group, the old man laughed and smiled at them. “About time you got here!”

  “Why?” Warren asked. “Is something going on?”

  “Good news, that’s what!” Grandpa said. “Ottie here’s going to live with Mrs. Ferguson from now on.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs. Ferguson gushed. She hugged Ottilie. Everyone had met the young blonde beauty at the Johnsons’ barbeque last spring, the same time they’d Lucian Miller’s mail-order bride for the first time.

  Speaking of which … “Where’s Lucian and Billie?” Bernice asked. “I haven’t seen them all evening.”

  “I’m afraid Billie’s not feeling well,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “What with her condition and all.”

  “Oh?” Bernice and Warren said together. “Condition” usually meant “a baby on the way.”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Ferguson commented with a sad shake of her head. “Poor Billie – her ‘morning sickness’ hits her at night.”

  Warren nodded and went back to looking for George and Olivia. He spotted Olivia sitting in a chair against the wall, George hovering over her. “He’s got it bad.”

  “What?” Grandpa followed his gaze, caught sight of the couple and chuckled. “Isn’t it wonderful? And I didn’t have to do any work!”

  Grandpa, what are you talking about?” Warren asked.

  “About them. Albert said they’d get together, but I was supposed to help it along if needed. Looks like they made my job easier.”

  Unable to help it, Warren rolled his eyes. “Albert again.”

  “Yep. Good fella, that Albert,” Grandpa said.

  “Who is Albert?” Mrs. Ferguson asked.

  “A friend of mine,” Grandpa said happily.

  Warren took his arm. “You look hungry – let’s get something to eat.” He began to pull him away before he said anything else.

  Too late. “Oh, look!” Grandpa said with glee. “There he is now!”

  Warren groaned. “Grandpa, there is no Albert!”

  Grandpa wrenched his arm away. “What are you talking about? He’s standing right over there!”

  Warren sighed as his hands went to his hips. “Where?”

  “Over there!” Grandpa pointed.

  Everyone looked. “I don’t see anyone there,” Warren said.

  “How can you not see him?” Grandpa asked. “He’s right there, standing at the end of the second food table. Short man, thinning brown hair, could use a shave …”

  Warren looked heavenward and sighed again. Time to hit the problem head on. “Grandpa, there’s nobody there. Maybe I should take you home.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me!”

  “Except that you’re seeing people who aren’t there.”.

  “I see him,” Ottilie stated calmly.

  Bernice and Warren’s eyes went wide. “You do?” they said at once.

  “Yes, he’s right over there …” She stopped and stood on tiptoe to get a better look. “Well, he was.”

  Everyone looked at the girl like she’d sprouted a third eye – except Grandpa, who stood grinning like a loon. Which Warren was starting to fear he was.

  “Honest!” Ottilie said. “He had on a brown jacket and was …” She swallowed hard and looked at each of them. “Well, it looked like he was holding a chicken.”

  “What?!” Warren slapped his forehead and dragged his hand
down his face. He looked at Ottilie, Grandpa, then Bernice, who could only shrug. “Are you sure about this?” he asked the girl.

  She nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. She was young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and her aunt Mrs. Ferguson could be intense at times. Could the girl just have a case of nerves and only thought she saw the mysterious Albert?

  Warren took his grandfather’s arm again and began to lead him off. “You might not be hungry but I am. I need to get something in my stomach before I start seeing things.”

  Grandpa ignored his remark, and smiled and winked at Ottilie as his grandson pulled him away. Ottilie smiled back, looked at the spot where she’d seen the funny little man – and there he was again! He waved at her with his free hand – sure enough, he was carrying a chicken – make that a rooster, under his other arm – then began to peruse the platters of food on the table. “Warren?” she called, but he didn’t hear her.

  Ottilie blinked a few times, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things and looked at the spot again. But now Albert was gone.

  Nine

  Olivia woke up, stretched and stared at the ceiling of her hotel room. It was nice having a room to herself. Rufi had to share a room with those of her siblings old enough to attend last night’s dance. The younger ones and all their cousins were at home with Benjamin and Charity. She wondered what it would be like to have a large family like the Weavers. For all she knew she did. But she didn’t want to speculate on what was or wasn’t – she wanted to keep her new memories alive.

  She felt so giddy, not even her memory loss could dampen her spirits today. She’d had the most wonderful evening, and couldn’t wait to see George again today. She knew she should be taking Ma’s advice, perhaps even avoiding him, but what could it hurt? The Johnsons were spending Christmas with the Weavers anyway – what were a few extra minutes with the man?

  She got up, dressed and did what she could with her hair. Had she come from money? She didn’t seem very adept at hair styling – maybe she had been rich enough to have a lady’s maid. Wouldn’t that be something?

  Outside in the hall she ran into Rufi. “Good morning,” she told the girl. How did you sleep?”

  Rufi rolled her eyes. “I would have slept better if Alonzo hadn’t put Arturo’s scarf at the end of my bed.”

  Olivia was confused. “His … scarf?”

  Rufi turned and glared at her hotel door down the hall. “The boys slept on the floor, we girls slept in the bed. The scarf is very itchy. Alfonzo stuck it under the blankets.”

  “Oh.” Olivia saw where this was going. “Who screamed?”

  “Lucia, of course.” But Rufi turned an interesting shade of red.

  “And you didn’t?”

  Rufi sighed. “Maybe a little. Enough to have those ragazzi laughing half the night.”

  Olivia giggled. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I didn’t hear a thing. Perhaps no one else did either.”

  “I hope not, because Bella will be upset with me if those boys woke anyone up.”

  Olivia had an odd feeling. Had something Rufi said triggered a lost memory? If so, why didn’t she know what it was? How annoying …

  “Is something the matter?” Rufi asked.

  “No, nothing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I just had a funny feeling, that’s all.”

  “Maybe you are remembering?”

  Olivia shook her head. “Well, it’s gone now, whatever it was. Are the others already downstairs?”

  “They have either gone to breakfast at Hank’s or they are with Auntie Betsy and Uncle Lancaster.” Rufi, like Bella, spoke English more formally than any of the Weavers, a product of learning it as a second language.

  “I’m the last up again?” Olivia said in dismay.

  “You must have been used to sleeping in late. Perhaps you are a woman of leisure?”

  Olivia laughed. “Perhaps.” She looked at her hands. “My hands are smooth enough. I hope this doesn’t puzzle me all day.” And who knew how many days to come.

  Rufi looked mischievous. “I think you will have your mind on other things. Will you see Mr. Johnson today?”

  Olivia noticed the girl’s blush and smiled as her own cheeks heated. “I believe so. He’ll be seeing Doc Brown later and so will I. Perhaps we’ll run into each other?”

  Rufi smiled. “Perhaps. I watched you two last night. You look good together.”

  Olivia’s blush deepened. “I like Mr. Johnson. He’s very … nice.”

  “Nice?” Rufi laughed. “Just nice?”

  Olivia crossed her arms. “All right, he’s very nice.”

  Rufi nodded with an exaggerated wink. “Looks like someone is going to have a merry Christmas.” She turned to leave.

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “Rufi! Don’t say such things!”

  Rufi laughed and continued down the hall. “Are you coming?”

  Olivia harrumphed, then giggled. She was in a good mood and wanted it to last. This was the first morning since her accident that she’d woken without a headache, without confusion. She returned to her room, grabbed the coat Ma had loaned her for the journey, then joined Rufi downstairs. They went out the door and straight to Hank’s Restaurant. Bella, Calvin and most of the others would be there. Ma, Harlan, Arlan and Samijo would eat with Aunt Betsy and her family as there wasn’t room for the rest of them there.

  In the restaurant Hank, a middle-aged man whose hair was rapidly graying at the temples, ran to and fro taking orders. The Weavers took up three tables and the rest were also full. Thankfully a woman Olivia recognized from the night before marched in, took one look at the crowd and offered to help.

  “Oh thank goodness, Nellie!” Hank said in exasperation. “Of course you can help – I’ll even pay you!”

  “That would be a first,” she quipped and rushed into the kitchen. When she emerged she had an apron on. She went straight to Olivia and Rufi’s table. “All right, what’ll you have?”

  Olivia stared at her in shock. This was Charlotte Quinn’s mother Nellie Davis, the worst gossip in town. Seeing her pitch in to help Hank was like hearing the James Gang had volunteered to join a sheriff’s posse.

  “Well?” Nellie prompted.

  Rufi spoke up. “We will all have the pancakes and eggs.” She motioned around the table at Arturo, Lucia and Alfonzo. “Except Olivia – she can pick what she wants.”

  Nellie did a headcount. “Four orders of pancakes and eggs. And you?”

  Olivia hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu. She shrugged. “I’ll have the same, and some coffee, please.”

  “Actually, that sounds good,” Nellie commented. “I think that’s what I’ll have when I get a break.”

  Rufi smiled. “You really are volunteering, aren’t you, Mrs. Davis?”

  “I don’t mind. To tell you the truth, I kind of miss working here. It was nice to get to visit with people all day. Well, I’d better get this to Hank and go by the other tables. I’ll talk to you later.” They watched Nellie hurry into the kitchen and out again to the next table full of Weavers.

  Olivia’s brow creased. “She used to work here? She doesn’t seem the type.”

  “She is not,” Rufi said. “She had to work here.”

  “Had?”

  “Community service, the judge called it. Nellie did a very bad thing and caused all sorts of trouble for Daniel and Ebba. This happened before my brothers and sisters and I arrived, but trust me, it was not a nice thing she did.”

  Olivia’s mouth formed a perfect O. “I see.” She’d leave it at that. Apparently folks in Nowhere took gossip very seriously. So much so that it was a crime? Or was there more to it?

  After breakfast the family gathered outside Hank’s to figure out when they were leaving town. “Olivia and I will pay Doc Brown a visit, Rufi,” said Ma. “In the meantime, you help get everyone ready to leave.” She turned to Olivia. “You ready?”

  Olivia nodded. She was curious about what Doc Brown
had to say. But she was more curious to see how much she’d get to see George before they left. One would think it would be the other way around, but it wasn’t.

  They reached the doctor’s house and entered the front parlor that served as a reception area. Millie the doctor’s wife greeted them, spoke with Ma a few moments, then guided them to one of the patient rooms down the hall.

  “What a quaint little place,” Olivia commented.

  “Yes, Millie and Doc keep it nice for when they have patients. It’s also their home, you know.” Ma went to the window and peeked out. “Their daughter was married to Clayton Riley years ago.

  “One of the gentlemen I met last night?” Though Olivia had been introduced to so many people, it was a miracle she remembered any of them.

  “Yes.” Ma turned to face her. “Sarah Brown married Clayton, but was killed in an accident on their farm not two years later. That’s when he became sheriff. His brother Spencer took over the farm and ran it with their mother, but it was a little too much for them, so Leona leased part of it to Old Man Johnson.”

  “George’s grandfather,” Olivia stated.

  “Yes. The Johnson’s orchards weren’t doing well for a few years and so that helped them out.”

  “Then Clayton remarried and Spencer became sheriff?” Olivia clarified, taking a seat.

  “Something like that. Now understand, child, I’m not telling you this just to pass the time.”

  Olivia looked up. “Then why?”

  “Because the longer you’re with us the more stories you’ll hear. Clayton’s will be just one of them. And I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  Olivia frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Leona and Spencer ordered a mail-order bride for Clayton and didn’t tell him. It was about this time of year, so I suppose they thought she’d make a nice Christmas present for him. He didn’t want anything to do with Summer, but they ended up falling in love and getting married anyway.” Ma sat next to Olivia and looked her in the eye. “You’re in a fine mood this morning, child, and I can understand why. You had a good time last night and so did Mr. Johnson. But I must tell you again that I don’t think it’s a good idea for you two to get too attached.”