Part 12 (1/2)
”The pastor's always welcome, dear.”
”Afternoon, Maddie,” Peter greeted her cheerfully. ”You're looking lovely as ever.” He went right to her bed and sat down on the side, taking her hand in his.
”Go on with you,” Maddie chided. ”I don't imagine for one minute that you came to see me, young man.”
”Young man am I now? I'll be thirty-two this fall, Maddie. That's not exactly young.”
”Tish tosh. You've still got plenty of time to raise a bunch of kids of your own, your know. They would fill up those Sunday school cla.s.ses.” Maddie chuckled at her joke that left Carrie feeling unaccountably sad.
”And who do you think would marry me, Maddie? Besides putting up with me around the house, being a preacher's wife isn't a duty that I've found myself willing to burden a woman with yet. It would take a very special woman.”
”You'll find one, Peter. Maybe you'll find one as good as Carrie would be.”
Carrie felt the heat rise to color her cheeks. ”I... I'll go get us all some lemonade.” She ducked into the kitchen, but she could still hear part of the conversation in the next room.
”I'd consider myself lucky if I found one exactly like Carrie. Very lucky. She'd make a very compa.s.sionate and loving pastor's wife.”
Carrie couldn't hear Maddie's response. Maybe there wasn't one. Heaven knew, she'd said enough already, too much. Carrie made noise getting ice and dropping it into the gla.s.ses so she wouldn't have to listen anymore. She lifted out the pitcher from the refrigerator and filled the gla.s.ses.
”We were married right there in the church,” Maddie was saying when Carrie returned with the tray of drinks. ”We moved into this house right after our honeymoon in Detroit Lakes. Lived here ever since. I love this old house. Carrie does, too. Remember when you used to tell me you were going to raise a family here like I did, Carrie?”
”That was a long time ago when I was a child and not worth bringing up now,” Carrie insisted. Especially not with Peter here listening, she added to herself. ”Here's something cool to drink, Grandma.”
Peter took a gla.s.s from the small tray before she took her own. ”Thanks. I thought I smelled freshly squeezed lemons,” he said before taking several swallows and smiling. ”Mmmm.”
”Carrie makes delicious old-fas.h.i.+oned lemonade from real lemons,” Maddie told him proudly. ”That's the best kind.”
”Not the easiest kind though, Grandma, but I think it tastes the best.”
Peter agreed. ”Maddie was just telling me about this house. It's such a n.o.ble old structure. The really strong ones that are cared for lovingly last through the test of time.” Maddie looked up at Carrie. ”Dear, why don't you show Peter around the house?” She turned to Peter with a smile. ”Would you like to see the rest?”
”That's a great idea. I'd love to see it. You don't mind if we leave you alone for a few minutes?”
”Not at all. John may be here soon to keep me company.”
Carrie frowned and glanced at Peter. He nodded. ”If you need anything, just call out, Grandma,” Carrie said.
Peter and Carrie set their gla.s.ses back on the tray Carrie had placed on the end of the dresser.
”No fair drinking our lemonade while we're gone, now Maddie,” Peter teased.
”Oh, go on!” Maddie smiled easily and waved them away.
Carrie could see no way to get out of taking him on a tour. ”You've already seen most of the house.”
They walked into the living room and Peter went to the fireplace. He looked at the eight-by-ten, framed family portraits lined up on the mantle. He pointed to the one of her grandparents. ”This is her husband, John, she talks about?”
Carrie nodded and he moved on to the next photo. ”Before my folks died, they used to live up by the new consolidated grade school. That's where I was raised, but we came here to Grandma's house every Sunday for dinner after church.”
”Sounds like an ideal childhood. I think this would be a great place to raise kids.”
Carrie sighed as a feeling of sadness washed over her. Not noticing the slump in her shoulders, Peter leaned over to see the faces in the last photo. ”And that's your sister?”
”Yes. Don't her girls look just like her?” Carrie asked proudly. Peter nodded.
They strolled into the foyer and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Peter rubbed his hand over the smooth newel post. ”Do I get to see the rest of upstairs?” Peter asked with a mischievous grin. ”Or didn't you make your bed?”
Carrie responded with a chastising raised eyebrow and she led the way up the stairs. She couldn't stop the smile that managed to sneak onto her face before she turned away from him.
Her hand wouldn't slide along the hand rail as it usually did. She was surprised to discover that the reason was that her palms her damp. Inhaling deeply, she quickened her steps. She wanted to get the tour over quickly.
”I can't get over the carved-wood panels here in the hall and back in the dining room,” Peter remarked, running his fingers over the decorative wood panels covering the wall beside the stairs. ”It gives the house such a warm and wonderful feeling.” His hands slid over the smooth surface of the railing.
”I don't think you can find craftsmans.h.i.+p like that any more.”
”Not that any of us could afford.”
At the top of the stairway, he surveyed the hall and pointed toward the smaller set of stairs going up at the far end. ”Another floor above this one?”
She nodded. ”An attic. It's tall enough to stand up across the middle. Grandma used it for storage. My sister and I used to play up there as kids when it was too cold to go outside which happens a lot in the winter. I used to look out the windows, across town to the fields beyond and wish I could fly away from Sunville with the wind.”
”You've wanted to leave town since you were that young?”
She nodded. ”That's how I got my start at writing. I used to write stories about the adventures of a girl very much like me. She traveled and got to do everything I wanted to do.”
Peter turned away, but Carrie caught a glimpse of a frown as they strolled a few feet down the hall. He looked at doorways. ”Six bedrooms?” he asked. The frown had disappeared.
”Um, there were six, but Grandpa converted one in the middle into two big modern bathrooms. You enter one from the master bedroom and the other from the hall here. The sixth room is a little one off the master bedroom that doesn't have a door to the hall. I think it was supposed to be a nursery,” she finished weakly, wis.h.i.+ng she hadn't mentioned it at all. She took a few steps, hoping the fluttery feeling she felt thinking about the nursery would pa.s.s.
He stepped into each room, including the one Carrie was obviously occupying. ”I see you made your bed,” he teased.
”Whew! Are you lucky,” she jested dramatically as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Peter laughed.
”Grandma made that quilted bedspread.” Carrie noticed her gardening clothes dumped on the chair and quickly ushered him down the hall. ”She made all of these except the one on her own bed.”
Peter had already seen one of the guest bedrooms when he helped move the dresser from there downstairs for Maddie to use along with the rented hospital bed. They went on into the master bedroom.
The tall, elegant four-poster bed dominated the room. The matching dressers of rich polished mahogany shone beautifully. She could smell the lilac-scented talc that Maddie used. She ran her fingers over the handmade quilt that served as the spread on the bed. ”This quilt had been here as long as I can remember. My great-grandmother made this one.”
”It's beautiful, the st.i.tches so tiny and even,” Peter said, examining it from the foot of the bed.
Carrie's lips curled into a sad smile. ”I love this room. Grandma must have hated to give it up to move downstairs.” The swirled post at the foot of the bed felt cool beneath her fingertips. ”The metal bed I rented must be disappointing after sleeping in this beauty.”
Peter walked through the open door into the little adjacent room. ”If not a nursery, this would make a great study. A person could work late while their spouse slept.”
”I suppose you're right,” Carrie replied absently. Her thumb slid along the groove that circled down the bed post. Looking down at the quilt, she thought about what a life here might have been like if her early childhood dreams of raising her own family here had come true.