“He’s rented. The wagon too. Never had much need for one of my own but figured we had a little way to go to get to Crow Creek.”
Melody nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. I walk everywhere myself.”
He glanced over at her, seeming to size her up. “You’re a fine figure of a woman, if I can say as much.”
“Well, you just did, so I suppose I’ll have to be amenable to it.” She worried her words were too harsh. “Thank you for the compliment.”
He gave a slight smile. “I have to say that your pa’s way of hooking you up with a husband is rather strange. I never figured to find a bride this way, but now that I’ve joined in, it seems just as conventional as any other plan.”
He sounded so happy about the prospect that Melody couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d changed her mind. They rode out from town and headed for a popular gathering spot along Crow Creek. Mr. Oberling rambled about the weather and the town, but Melody paid little attention. From time to time, she nodded or said just enough to let him know she was sort of listening.
“I like that you’re a quiet woman. Most women seem to think they’ve got to be sayin’ something all the time. Like they can’t stand to just enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Melody started to respond but instead just nodded. If he liked quiet, she was more than happy to give it to him.
When they finally reached the place, Melody didn’t wait for Mr. Oberling to help her down. She went to the back of the wagon as he came around. He gave her an approving nod, as if pleased she was capable of taking care of herself.
“I’d be happy to carry something.”
He handed her the blanket. “Appreciate that. I can manage the rest.”
She saw other people enjoying the day but knew she wouldn’t be among their number. She couldn’t enjoy the day, not when there were so many unanswered questions about Da.
He took up a large basket from the back of the wagon and motioned to a place. “That looks like a nice spot.”
She looked to where he was glancing. It was situated near a stand of pines, and not far away were several families. It offered privacy, but not too much.
“It looks quite nice.”
They made their way to the spot, and Melody spread the blanket. Once that was done, Mr. Oberling put the basket down and then offered Melody his hand to help her sit. Once they were both comfortable, Mr. Oberling started bringingthe food out of the basket. He offered Melody a plate, then took up a towel-wrapped bundle.
“I hope you like ham-and-cheese sandwiches.”
“I do.” She accepted one from him and put it on her plate.
A carriage arrived with two sets of couples. It kicked up a bit of dust, causing Melody to shield her sandwich. Mr. Oberling gave it little attention and instead reached into the basket. He took out a covered bowl. When he removed the cloth, Melody was surprised to find what looked to be very thinly sliced fried potatoes.
“My cousin’s wife made these. She worked back east in Saratoga Springs for a man named Crum. He made these chips as a snack for people to eat while they waited for their meal. But I like them just as much as part of my meal. Try one.” He extended the bowl toward her.
Melody picked one out and tasted it. It was crunchy and salty. She liked it very much. “It’s like when I accidentally fry the potatoes too long.”
“We’ve grown to eat them all the time. Can’t get enough of them myself.” He took up several and popped them into his mouth and began crunching away.
He put other things out on the blanket, then drew out a couple of jars of liquid. “This is lemonade. I got a taste for it during the war, and now we make it and sell it at the store. Sells well. Just citric acid, sugar, and a little lemon oil. Not too much of the oil, though. It can be too strong otherwise. I’m hoping maybe once the railroad goes all the way through that we’ll be able to get real lemons in.”
“I remember having fresh lemonade when we lived back east,” Melody said, looking rather apprehensively at the jar being offered her. “Only had it a couple of times. Lemons were scarce and expensive.”
“To be sure. We drank this on the battlefield when we could get the ingredients. Chemists keep the oil and citric acid. Give it a try.”
Melody opened the jar and tasted it. It wasn’t half bad. She smiled and gave Mr. Oberling a nod. “It’s tart. I like it.”
“For some reason, it’s good to quench the thirst for a long time.” He opened his own jar and had a long drink.
He looked at Melody. “I suppose you’d like to know more about me. I hail from Albany, New York. Lived there until after the war. I was a sergeant with the Third New York Infantry. Got injured too. Not bad, took some shrapnel to my side and back. Lost my brother Hal.”
Just then, a small dog came up to their blanket. He was pale brown with short hair. It was obvious he hadn’t been eating a lot, as his ribs were clearly visible. Melody thought to offer him a piece of her sandwich, but Mr. Oberling would have none of that.
“Get out of here, cur. Go on now.” He waved his arms, and the dog scurried away. He looked back at Melody and shook his head. “Someone ought to shoot that mangy beast.”
