Free Johanna's Bridegroom by Emma Miller Page B

midwife with Ruth on her last checkup and heard the heartbeats herself. “There’s no reason to be afraid. Enjoy your last days of peace and quiet. With twins, you and Eli won’t get a full night’s sleep for at least two years.”
    Ruth laughed. “If I ever complain, remind me that I prayed for this.” For a few moments, they sat in silence, listening to a Carolina wren scolding a jay that approached too close to the wren’s nest under the porch eaves. They watched the sunshine sparkle on the dewdrops that lingered on the hollyhocks, savoring the quiet companionship of sisters who were best friends.
    And then Ruth broke the comfortable solitude by saying, “Dorcas came by yesterday afternoon. She told me that Roland asked you to marry him and you turned him down flat.”
    Johanna nearly choked on her mouthful of coffee. “What?” she sputtered. “Who told her that?” Their cousin Dorcas could be a bit of a gossip.
    The expression in Ruth’s nutmeg-brown eyes grew serious. “Is it true? Did you turn him down?”
    Anger flared in Johanna’s chest. How could Roland betray her by spreading such gossip? By telling an outright untruth? “No,” she said. “That’s not the way it happened. I asked Roland to marry me, and he refused.”
    “Verhuddelt.” Ruth shook her head. “I thought it was lecherich —ridiculous—but you know Dorcas. I thought it was best to ask you to your face. By now Aunt Martha has probably spread the rumor over half the county.”
    “And all the way up to Lancaster. By next week, they’ll be talking about it in Oregon.” Johanna felt sick. What could make Roland say such a thing? Was he so ashamed of his reaction to her proposal that he had to make it seem as if everything was her fault? “If Roland’s that low to spread such gossip, maybe it’s better that he did refuse me.”
    “I’ve hurt you,” Ruth said. “I didn’t mean to. But I thought it best you hear it from family, rather than at church or at the market. And I won’t ask you what happened. You can tell me when you’re ready. If you want to tell me at all.”
    Johanna wasn’t up for retelling the whole story, at least not right now. “Did Dorcas say where her mother heard it?”
    “I think she said it came from Roland and Charley’s sister Mary, but...” Ruth looked heavenward. “Dorcas never gets anything right. It could have been Rebecca or Miriam or even Anna. Roland is close to Charley. They confide in each other, and Charley can’t keep anything from Miriam.” She chuckled. “He’s mad for her. You’d think they were still courting, rather than an old married couple.”
    “Aunt Ruth?” Katy peered through the open door to the porch. “Why can’t the bussli open its eyes?”
    “The light is too bright for such a young kitten. All in God’s time, precious. Have you decided which one you want?”
    “The black one with the white mittens. I’m going to call her Mittens.”
    Ruth laughed. “Mittens is a good name, but it isn’t a girl. The black bussli is a boy.”
    Johanna stood up, grateful that Katy had interrupted their conversation. She didn’t want to think about Roland or the stupid rumor that he’d started. She wanted to clean something. She wanted to scrub floors and wash windows, anything requiring physical effort...anything to stop the hurt gathering in the hollow place inside her. “Time I got to work,” she said lightly. “Shall I start on this porch? I think the floor needs a good scrubbing.”
    * * *
    Two hours, three floors and nine windows later, Johanna’s temper flared just as hot. She knew she should just let it go, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
    “Would you watch Katy for me?” she asked Ruth. “I’m going over to Roland’s and straighten this out with him.”
    “Now?” Ruth asked. “Of course. You know I love having Katy anytime.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I’d want to be Roland Byler just now.”
    “I’m not going to argue with him. I