“No, I need to feel it. Losing someone you love should hurt. It just hurts so much,” she sobbed.
Kris set aside his hat and took her in his arms. She fit him perfectly, felt so right snug against his chest. He tightened his hold and let her cry, considering what he could say to ease her pain. In the end, he stayed silent. Sometimes, there were simply no words.
Once the storm of tears passed, Maggie let him button her cloak and lead her from the church. Those gathered tipped their hats or offered gentle words of condolence. Several escorted them as far as Matt and Martha’s home before heading to their own. Inside, only those Rebekah knew Maggie would be comfortable around waited for her. And a feast lay spread on the dining table.
“Good heavens.” Maggie’s eyes rounded. “Who’s going to eat all that?”
“We’ll make a start on it,” Franz spoke from beside her. “Then some will go home with each of us, some will stay here, and much will be shared with those who need it.”
The dining room sat across the hall from a spacious parlor. While most filled plates, Maggie roamed the rooms, glancing out windows at the deepening clouds, touching the crystal and china pieces arranged on shelves and small tables. The third time she passed the table without stopping, Rebekah blocked her path.
“You haven’t eaten at all today, Maggie. Please.”
Maggie’s lips thinned and the little hint of temper relieved Kris. A bit of Maggie’s spark was returning. She accepted a plate and chose a sliver of roasted chicken and a single slice of bread. Kris could see that Rebekah wanted to argue, but subsided when Maggie accepted a cup of hot cider from Mary.
“It’s been doctored a little, so sip carefully. It is Matthew’s cure for every situation.”
The fragrance of brandy wafted from the cup as Maggie passed Kris. She joined Martha on the settee and nibbled at the food while conversation flowed around her. Martha offered to get her something more, but Maggie just shook her head. At least she finished the cider, even letting Matt refill the cup once. It wasn’t nourishing, but it might help her relax enough to sleep.
About an hour later, after the table had been cleared and darkness approached beyond the windows, Rebekah stood. “It’s time for us to go home, I think.”
“Let me get the basket I packed for you.” Martha returned with a large hamper covered with a green plaid cloth. “I put in some extra for the three of you.” Martha arched a look at Maggie. “And you will eat, liebschen.”
Maggie smiled slightly. “I’ll try.”
“Gut.” Martha hugged Maggie again. “You come tomorrow and we’ll go visit your papa together.”
Franz took the basket from his sister. “Goodness, Martha.” He hefted the container. “You want to make me like Mr. Humphrey?”
“Nein,” Martha argued. “Rebekah would hate having to let out your suits.”
Everyone joined the teasing, giving Maggie a little emotional space. As she stifled a yawn, Kris draped her heavy cloak over her shoulders, but, to his disappointment, she buttoned it herself this time.
“Thank you all,” Maggie raised her voice and the din of conversations gradually quieted. “You have been more than kind. I can hardly take in that I have friends here already, real friends, and I am grateful for each of you.”
Martha wrapped her in a hug. “We are all glad you have decided to stay with us.” In turn, Matt, Mary and Jericho bid her goodnight. Laying her fingers in the bend of Kris’s elbow, Maggie let him escort her into the cold night.
“You’re staying, then?” He touched the brim of his hat in greeting as a couple of ladies passed.
“For a while, yes. I promised Rebekah, and…”
“And?” he prompted.
“And I don’t have the money to move on yet. I will have to sell the wagon and mules and hope I have enough for passage to Denver by summer.”
“You’ll join your aunt?” Disappointment settled over Kris.
“She’s the only family I have now. She may not even know I’m coming to stay. Papa never said what he wrote to her.”
“I’m sure he told her you needed to be close to her. Your father was very protective. In fact, he dictated a will, of sorts, before he died. He wanted there to be no doubt who was entitled to what he had, precious little though it was. His words,” he hurried to clarify.
Surprisingly, Maggie smiled. “He was always practical. Except about coming west.” Her smile faded. “Why wouldn’t he stay in New York? At least there I knew people. Though none would have cared what happened,” she mused softly. “Not really. Not like the people here who’ve known me only a few days.”
“Perhaps he knew you wouldn’t be among friends there. I know he worried that you would be left alone after he’d gone.”
“And I am,” she admitted.
“Nonsense. You have Franz and Rebekah, Mary and Jericho and their children, Martha, Matt…and me.”