“It’s good to see you again, Lilly. Please don’t make this worse than it has to be. I’ve been gone a very long time,” he said gently, thinking it was a massive understatement. “There’s no reason in the world you shouldn’t be dating…courting again. If everything I’ve heard is true,” he continued, giving Missy a raised eyebrow glance, “Mead will make you a wonderful husband.”
“Thank you for being so understanding,” Lilly said softly, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. Reaching back, she took Mead’s hand and pulled him forward. “We never intended… I mean neither of us planned…”
“Shh, it’s all right, Mead,” he continued, shaking his brother’s hand. “Congratulations, you’re a lucky man.”
“I think so,” Mead said as he slipped his arm around Lilly. “I’m just glad there are no hard feelings, Morgan. A marriage shouldn’t start out causing a rift in the family. I just want you to know I’ll step down if you and Lilly want to…”
“No,” both Lilly and Morgan yelled at the same time before everyone started laughing.
Mead smiled and kissed the top of Lilly’s head. “So, I guess we’ll be getting married?” he asked, tipping her chin up.
“I guess,” Lilly sighed, “although that wasn’t the most romantic proposal, Mead.”
Mead put his hands under her arms and plucked her from the floor, kissing her right on the lips. “You’ll get plenty of romance once that ring is on your finger,” he promised, setting her down and swatting her bottom.
Lilly yelped, blushing furiously, but she didn’t retaliate or bitch. She just rubbed her backside and slipped her other arm through Mead’s. No one else seemed to think anything of it and again, Morgan was surprised. Apparently, the men in his family were in charge, and that looked pretty appealing from where he was standing.
“All right,” his mother said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s eat and then we have a wedding to plan. Finally, all my family is back together,” she said smiling as she took Morgan’s arm and let him lead her to the table. “Well, except for Pa, but that can’t be helped.” She sighed and took her seat. “Morgan, you sit at the head of the table,” she insisted. “You’re the head of this family now. It’s what Pa would have wanted.”
Morgan took the seat, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle over his shoulders. He looked at his mother, so welcoming and warm when he appeared after such a long time, longer than she knew. The tears of joy on her wrinkled face as she’d hurried down the front steps after spotting him from a distance had soothed an ache in him he hadn’t been aware existed.
“Matthew, say the blessing,” Emma Whittaker ordered her youngest son. “It’s you have the most need of prayer,” she continued, trying to hide her grin when Matt’s mouth dropped open.
“But, Ma,” he complained, “you know I ain’t much for religion.”
Morgan folded his hands and looked at his youngest brother much the same way he would one of his team had they questioned an order. It seemed like years since he’d been inclined to give a damn about anything, but suddenly this was important.
Matthew bowed his head and thanked the Lord for the bounty before them, Morgan’s safe return, and the upcoming union of Mead and Lilly.
Dinner was wonderful, the table laden with food. Morgan ate the ham, sweet potatoes, and green beans slowly, savoring every bite. The warm cornbread with sweet, creamy butter and honey had him swallowing a moan of pure appreciation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything that didn’t come out of a cardboard box or a paper wrapper. Who knew food would taste so good without all the preservatives and artificial flavor enhancers, and he made a mental note to think about going organic when he went back. If he went back.
The conversation around the table flowed freely and Morgan tried to assimilate as much information as he could. Who was courting who, who was new in town, and who’d had enough and was heading further west. According to the research he’d done, his family appeared to be one of the lucky ones. The house was sturdy and made of wood with weathered clapboard siding. The farm itself was prosperous, and they expected to make a decent profit come harvest time. That he didn’t know a lick about farming didn’t concern him. He could ride a horse, was a hell of a shot with the pistol he wore, and he was intelligent. He’d learn what he needed to and he’d learn quickly.
As Lilly and Missy rose to clear the table, Emma dished up apple pie, giving each piece an ample dollop of whipping cream. Passing the plates around the table, she smiled at her son.
“I must have had a premonition,” she said, misty eyed. “Something just told me to make your favorite today, Morgan.
“Thank goodness for intuition,” he replied, grinning as he took his plate from Matthew’s hand and dug in. He tried not to wolf it down, but it was nearly impossible. The taste and texture were incredible, unlike anything he’d ever had before. His own mother, God rest her soul, never baked a thing in her life as far as he knew. Store bought goodies were what he’d been raised on, unless he was lucky enough to be invited to dinner at a buddy’s house. Wiping his mouth, he sat back and patted his stomach, full to the brim.
“I guess you haven’t had a decent meal in a while,” Missy observed with a teasing grin.
“You could say that,” Morgan agreed, “A very long while. In fact, I don’t recall the last time I had such a meal,” he continued, unable to suppress a yawn.
“Son, why don’t you go up to your room and rest awhile,” his mother suggested. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey. I’ve kept it just as you left it,” she said, looking down.
Morgan recalled his mother remembering all the times she’d gone in his brother’s room and prayed for his safe return. He suspected Emma Whittaker was much the same.
“Thanks, Ma, I think I will,” he replied with another yawn. Rounding the table, he kissed the top of her head, patting her shoulder. The pain and loss she’d suffered were clearly etched on her face, yet underneath he sensed strength far greater than his own. She hadn’t curled up in a ball and withdrawn from the world but had faced her grief and carried on. He, on the other hand, had become a shameful, self-indulgent wimp, throwing the biggest pity party in history. He vowed to do better, this time around.
There were only three bedrooms upstairs and by the process of elimination he found Morgan’s room, his room for the time being. Matthew’s room was at the top of the stairs and enough of a mess that had he been under Morgan’s command, he would have drawn latrine duty. Emma’s room was neat as a pin, the white lace curtains blowing in a gentle breeze from the open window. His room was neat also. A metal bedstead covered with a hand sewn quilt, a dresser complete with bowl and pitcher, and a single chair at a small writing desk. A razor strop hung on the wall next to a slightly cloudy mirror. On the dresser there was a hairbrush, straight razor, and a shaving cup and brush. A duster hung on a hook next to the door, with a pair of worn down boots under it. In the dresser were several neatly folded shirts, some trousers and long johns, as well as thick, hand knitted socks. The books on the desk showed a wide range of interest. There were books on farming, animal husbandry, and law. Above the bed was a gun rack holding both a shotgun and a rifle. Apparently, the original Morgan was a man who knew his way around firearms.
Unbuckling his gun belt, he hung it on the bedpost and sat, pulling off his boots. Padding to the window, he opened it, letting the breeze sweep in. Sinking down onto the bed, which oddly enough felt familiar, thoughts of the day filled his head. It had proven to be interesting so far, and it was quite a while before he was able to fall asleep.
“So, what do you think?” Mead asked his mother as they all sat around the table.
“I don’t know,” she replied, stirring her coffee. “He’s the same, yet different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I think what surprises me the most is how calmly he took the news about you and Lilly. At the very least I expected resentment and he didn’t show a lick of that.”
“I know,” Lilly sighed, slipping her arm through Mead’s. “I’ve been so worried about his reaction. I did have feelings for Morgan, but they were nothing like what I feel for Mead,” she said, blushing and resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m so thankful he took it well. I’d never want to come between brothers.”
