Back in Pittsford the next day, Jerald Olmstead rolled into town nearly fifteen hours after he left Sleepyside. He stopped along the way to catch some sleep and polish his acting skills. The black and blue mark left by Beth's date looked ugly, and Olmstead took the opportunity to make it uglier. A few bashes with a rock – just enough to leave bruises but not ruin his looks – would garner sympathy from the folks, both his and hers.

He pretended as if he were trying to sneak back into the house, but of course, he let his mother hear him. "Jerald? Is that you?" she called.

"Yeah, Ma."

"Come and see Dad and me. Tell us all about your visit with Beth. Was she surprised? Did you… oh, Jerry!" Debra Olmstead's questions were cut short by the sight of her son's bruised and swollen face.

"John, look at his face! What happened, honey? Were you in an accident?" Her gentle fingers swiveled his face back and forth as she examined the extent of the damage to her son's beloved visage.

"Get him an ice pack, Debra." As she scurried away, John led his son to the kitchen table. "How did that happen, boy?"

Jerald hung his head, as if in shame. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Debra returned with an ice bag that she handed to her son. "You have to tell us what happened, dear."

"I… I don't want to get anyone in trouble, Ma." Oh, he sounded so pitiful.

"Son, if someone did that to you, they have to pay. My word, that's assault and battery!" John Olmstead was outraged.

"Dad, really. It's nothing."

"Jerald, what happened in Sleepyside? Did you get there? Did you see Beth?" Debra imagined all kinds of horrible things. Maybe her son was attacked by a gang of ruffians!

"Ma, I don't want to get Be… anyone in trouble." Just a little slip, or so it seemed.

"Beth? Was Beth involved in this somehow?" John roared the question out. He wanted answers, and he wanted answers now.

"Okay, okay, Dad." Jerald tried to look as innocent and pitiful as humanly possible. "I got to Sleepyside a bit early in the day. I looked around the town… it seemed nice and quaint. Found the boardinghouse where Beth is staying. I decided to get something to eat at the local diner there." Jerald paused. "Ma, can I have a drink of water, please?"

Debra ran to get her son water and sat next to him when he continued his story. So far, it was all rather innocuous.

"While I was eating at the diner, one of the booths was filled with girls around Beth's age, you know, giggling and laughing. I kind of wondered why Beth wasn't with them until I heard them mention her name. They were talking about how some lowlife scum had taken a liking to Beth. They had gone out one time, and now he took her to New York City for the day! The entire day!"

"Oh, my heavens!" New York City was a den of iniquity to his parents. His mother gasped and his father's brow furrowed.

"I was shocked, but then I could see how an innocent young girl could be preyed upon by a wolf in sheep's clothing. I went back to the boarding house and waited in my car until they got home. They came walking down the block, and he had an arm wrapped around her as if to prevent her from escaping. Then, in full view of the public, he grabbed her and starting kissing her! Not a little peck either, but the type of kiss that should be reserved for a married couple. And he touched her. I didn't think twice, I pulled the guy off her."

"That's my boy," John inserted approvingly.

"I think he had brass knuckles in his pocket because I was on the ground and he was beating on me. Beth was trying to pull him off, and she got bruised. A cop on the beat came walking by, and I was so grateful."

"Did he arrest the thug? How is Beth?" Debra began to wring her hands. Lord, her boy could have been killed.

It never dawned on her that her other boy faced just that fate every single day, over there.

"No, he didn't. The cop and Beth's date knew each other. In fact, the officer took his side! He told Beth to get in the house, and the thug just walked away. I told the cop I was going to make a report at police headquarters, but he just laughed in my face. He said he'd testify under oath I started it. He said he saw the bruises on Beth and he'd say I did it and Beth wouldn't dare say otherwise. He told me to get out of town, or he'd throw me in jail."

"No! Oh, Jerry!" His mother's eyes were full of soft tears. "How horrible for you. And poor Beth!"

"We're going to march right down the street and let the den Breejens get a look at your face. I'm sorry you'll have to repeat the whole story, son. It's best to let them know what kind of a crowd their daughter is falling into. Beth needs to come home now and start her life as your wife. She can get a teaching job in town here."

Jerald smirked behind his parents' backs as they walked the block or so to Irene and Joe's home. It all sounded so plausible. A stranger in a little town, corrupt cops, and a criminal behind it all. The sweet, virtuous maiden who caught the eye of Mr. Bad and was now in his thrall. Damn, it could be a Hollywood movie!

Jerald repeated the whole sordid mess to Beth's parents, not caring one whit that he was frightening her mother and making her father's blood pressure rise to dangerous levels.

"This is unacceptable," Joe thundered. "I knew we shouldn't have let her move all the way down there by herself. Next thing you know she'll be hanging out with the likes of Al Capone or someone similar."

"I thought Mrs. Vanderpoel seemed so nice," Irene lamented, sobbing. "She told me she'd take good care of Beth."

"I say we go down there and get her and bring her back." The redness in Joe's face was lessening. "I need a day or two to make arrangements with work. Irene, I want you to call Mrs. Vanderpoel first thing in the morning and find out what's going on."

John didn't help matters by proclaiming, "I would have never let my daughter move away like that. It's just inviting trouble."

The implied criticism of the den Breejens' parenting skills stung their lacerated feelings. "Well, then I guess it's good you never had a daughter," Irene sniffled.

Jerald saw the danger ahead and steered the conversation back. "My face is aching, and all I want to do is get to bed," he inserted. "I slept in the car on the way home, and it wasn't the most comfortable night I ever had."

"All right, honey, let's get you home," Debra soothed. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Irene, Joe. Maybe you can get a sense of what is going on from Beth's landlady."

"I think they're all in cahoots," Jerald added, stirring the pot a little more. Planting the seeds of doubt that the landlady was some sort of high-class madam… well, he just couldn't resist.

"Yes, we'll talk tomorrow. Thank you for coming over and informing us as to the happenings in Sleepyside, Jerald. I hope your face heals soon." Irene still felt a little irritated with the Olmsteads.

"Yes, tomorrow, when we've all calmed down. We'll figure out what is necessary and we'll act on it."

It never even crossed their minds that Beth's rebellion went far beyond merely moving out.

88888888

Sunday in Sleepyside dawned bright and clear, unlike the storm clouds that were gathering up north. Sam completed his homely chores around the farm, tidied up a little, and decided to make the phone call to Seth Webster. He knew the judge was an early riser, and once that was complete, he needed to walk over to Ten Acres to speak to the Fraynes.

Seth answered on the first ring, and Sam had to grin. Like a boy scout, the judge was always prepared. "Hello, Judge Webster, it's me, Sam Belden."

"Hello, Sam. It's a fine Sunday, isn't it? What can I do for you?" No beating around the bush with him.

"I need a special license to get married on Monday, and I was wondering if you could officiate, too."

"A special license, huh?" Webster raised his brows on the other side of the line but did not question Sam further. It was Webster's experience that silence begat explanation. Sometimes, too much explanation.

"Yes. My fiancée and I need to marry after work on Monday. Well, not need to in the way you might think need to." Sam flushed on the other side of the line. "She's a schoolteacher at the high school."

"Let me ask you one question in the stead of your parents, Sam. Do you love the girl?"

"Yes. People might think it's crazy or it's too soon. But I know, Judge. I just know." Sam did know, deep in his heart, in his very soul. Beth was the one.

"All right. Bring her over to the courthouse after school's out. I'll have all the paperwork. Make sure she brings her birth certificate. And Sam?"

"Yes, Judge?"

"Congratulations. I'm sure your parents would be proud." Like father, like son, Webster thought with some degree of amusement as the call terminated. Lucas Belden knew from the time he met Mariah Stuyvesant at a family church social that she was the one. Seth leaned back in his chair in remembrance of his best friend – and they were all of eight years old at the time – staring at the pretty little half-Indian, half-Dutch five-year-old girl and announcing, "I'm going to marry her."

And he did. "Well, Luke, I hope you and Mariah up there are looking down at your boy. He's a fine man and will make a fine husband." A schoolteacher, huh? Seth wondered if she was that pretty little blonde newcomer he kept hearing about in town.

88888888

Sam walked over to the Fraynes' next door. He often marveled that his family's farmhouse was the beginning of a chain of three houses in this rural area, two of which were mansions. The Beldens, the Fraynes, and the Spencers. He stopped and looked for a moment, and that odd feeling of prescience settled in. Somehow, someway, these three dwellings were linked. Sam couldn't figure out why or how, but he just knew it.

A rustling sound caught his attention, and he glanced down to see a copperhead slithering in the bushes. He'd need to warn James and Nell again. The snakes seemed to congregate around the summerhouse, and James should trap them and release them into the wild. Most people would have killed them, but they ate varmints and were good for the forest. Sam just didn't like it when they came after his chickens, but then again, the foxes did, too, and every once in a while, a catamount would make its presence known.

James and Nell were sitting on the porch, enjoying one of the last summery days before fall set in. James was drinking a cup of coffee and reading, while Nell was looking off into the distance and noticed his approach. "Sam! Come on over and sit for a while. Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm good, Nell, thanks. Hello, James. How are you both?"

"Can't complain. The war is good for the stock market. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"I have a favor to ask." Sam didn't sit in the white rocker next to the couple. Nerves were starting to get the better of him.

"A favor? Do you need us to mind the farm for a couple days?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm, uh, I'm getting married tomorrow afternoon in Seth Webster's office. Would you stand up for me, James? And I'd love for you to come, too, Nell."

"Married? I didn't even know you were courting anyone, Sam. Congratulations! I'd be happy to be your best man." James stood to shake Sam's hand while Nell fluttered around, going up on tiptoe to kiss Sam's cheek.

"Do we know her, Sam?" Nell wondered if it was that Betty from the bank. She was cute, and workplace romances were commonplace now that more women were working toward the war effort.

"No, she's new to town. Came from a little town upstate to teach at the Junior-Senior High School." Sam waited for the criticism that did not come.

"Oh, a teacher! A noble profession," James opined. "My older brother, Theo, is a professor at New York University. One of the youngest ever hired."

Sam leaned on the porch railing, relaxed and happy. "Beth loves her job. She didn't finish college but is permitted to teach under a special certificate. I'm hoping that she decides to go on with her education and finishes. I want to get my degree, too, but it must be part-time."

Nell patted his hand. "You just go right ahead, Sam. James and I both agree in the future a college degree will be most valuable." If they ever had children, Nell would make sure that they had to chance to attend the college of their choice.

"Thanks, thank you. I have a lot to accomplish, so I'll see you at the courthouse, say at four? Oh, by the way, I saw several copperheads on the way here. Be careful in the preserve, especially you, Nell." She was petite and delicate-looking, like a porcelain doll.

"I'll make sure I get the gardener to clear away the brush. Thanks, Sam. See you tomorrow." James Frayne made a mental note to talk to the gardener. It was so difficult to get good help nowadays.

88888888

"Butterfield 8-3490." Mrs. Vanderpoel answered the phone.

"Alida, I have a long-distance call for you." Mae Ryan, the switchboard operator for Bell Telephone, announced. "It's from the den Breejens upstate."

"You can put them through." Oh, lord, it's beginning.

"This is Mrs. Vanderpoel."

"Mrs. Vanderpoel, this is Joseph den Breejen. Is Beth available?" The tight voice of Beth's father crackled over the line. He decided to take the lead on this. Sometimes Irene was just too soft.

"I'm sorry, Mr. den Breejen, Beth went to church. She informed me that after church she has some plans and not to expect her back until tonight at curfew." Mrs. V crossed her fingers at the little white lie.

"Do you know who she is with?" Joe ground out.

"No, I don't keep tabs on my boarders' personal lives. They are all grown women, and they are all aware of the rules of the house."

"I have some information that Beth is falling in with an unsavory crowd," Joe began, but Mrs. V wasn't going to let him speak.

"Now, how is that possible?" she mused out loud. "Beth is all the way down here. I'm sure that folks are not traveling to your neck of the woods to gossip about your daughter."

"No, but…"

"I will leave a note for Beth that you called." Mrs. V hung up and giggled. It wasn't that the den Breejens were bad people, just misguided and misinformed.

88888888

Beth hadn't left the house at all. She was upstairs, carefully repacking all her worldly goods for the second time in a couple of months. Was she crazy doing this, marrying a man she barely knew? Was she using him to get away from her overprotective and overbearing parents? To escape from a man she didn't want?

It wouldn't be fair to Sam if those were her primary motives.

She sat on the single bed in her room. Tonight would be the last night she slept in it. Tomorrow, she would marry Sam and share a bed with him, and all the delights of married life. Her mother hurried through an explanation of the birds and the bees, embarrassed and unable to look Beth in the face. She got the gist of it from her mother and gleaned other information from the romance books she was addicted to…and True Detective magazine, with its lurid tales of busty, loose women with questionable morals.

Beth felt the tingle in her core, the one that blossomed into an ache whenever Sam was around. The aches that demanded his kiss, his touch. No, she would have no problem succumbing to marital duties, but was that just the intense physical attraction between them?

She tried to think of Sam, happy with another woman. A little pop of jealousy tightened her gut. She was meant to be Beth Belden. From the first moment she looked into Sam's handsome face in the bank, she knew.

A knock at the door interrupted her musings. "Come in."

Mrs. Vanderpoel entered with two boxes. She set them on the bed next to Beth. "Your father called this morning."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Jerald ran to his parents and mine as soon as he hit town, I'm sure. What did Dad say?"

"He wanted to speak with you, but I told him you weren't here. He also began to bluster about an unsavory crowd with whom you are becoming involved. I told him I did not meddle in my boarders' personal lives and explained you would call back when you had a chance. Tomorrow or so." Mrs. V waved an airy hand.

Beth looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry for getting you involved in my family issues," she said softly.

"Honey, it's nothing compared to some of the people I've dealt with over the years. Now, aren't you going to ask me what's in the boxes?"

Beth smiled and bit. "Okay. What's in the boxes?"

Mrs. V picked up the larger one and set it on Beth's lap. "Open it."

Beth removed the lid and folded back the layers of tissue paper with gentle fingers. "Oh, it's a dress!"

"It was my wedding dress," Mrs. V explained. "I was saving it to pass along to my daughter or my son's daughter, but that is not to be." A smidge of sadness was reflected in her eyes.

Beth removed it from the box with shaking hands. It was beautiful, a dropped-waist 1920's style flapper wedding dress with a scooped neck, cap sleeves, and a gorgeous overlay of the most delicate lace, obviously from France. A white cloche hat completed the ensemble. "It's beautiful, Mrs. Vanderpoel."

"It's not quite today's style," Mrs. V explained and shrugged. "However, I thought I would offer it to you for your big day. I was quite a bit thinner then, and I think it should fit you nicely."

"Oh, I can't accept this," Beth demurred, but oh, how she wanted to! Her hands stroked the soft material.

"Nonsense! You'll put it to good use. Otherwise, it will just molder away in the attic. Maybe someday you'll have a little girl to pass it down to," she smiled as she patted Beth's hand. "Please say yes."

Beth bit her lip, then grinned. "Of course, I will! Let me try it on now. Will you help me?"

Mrs. V nodded and shortly after that, Beth, and she gazed into the mirror at Beth's reflection. The dress fit her as if made for her, the scalloped lace hem ending just above her ankles. Beth's curls escaped from under the close-fitting hat, framing her beautiful, glowing face.

"It's gorgeous, Mrs. Vanderpoel! How can I thank you?" Tears swam into Beth's eyes. Maybe this was a hastily-planned wedding, but with the help of this kindhearted woman, it was turning into a celebration.

"You can marry Sam Belden and have lots of healthy, gorgeous children who will pay me a visit from time to time and call me Oma," she responded brusquely. Her own eyes were tear-filled as she let go of another dream, but replaced it with a new one. "Open the other one."

When Beth opened the first box, she thought there might be a matching veil, but the cloche hat packed carefully in with the dress dispelled that idea.

Inside was a stunning peignoir set. It was fashioned out of soft, delicate lawn cotton. The gown was embroidered at the sweetheart neckline with lace that was repeated under the bustline. The matching robe was long sleeved with the same lace repeating at the shoulder blades. The material was nearly transparent, making Beth blush hotly.

"For your wedding night," Mrs. V whispered as if the walls had ears. "My cousin in the Netherlands sent it to me as a wedding gift for my daughter-in-law, but by the time it got here, they were married several months, and it was a little too small for her."

Beth slipped her hand into the sleeve and blushed again. It was semi-sheer, and her cheeks heated even more at the thought of wearing this gorgeous nightwear just for Sam. "It's beautiful, Mrs. V, Thank you."

"Not as lovely as you are going to look tomorrow, schatje." Mrs. V rarely spoke Dutch anymore… too much like German in these suspicious times. Yes, it was the right thing to do, she told herself fiercely as the young woman threw herself into her arms, crying with happiness and relief.

88888888

"Did you speak with Beth, Joe?" The paper was folded next to his chair, and she poured him a cup of coffee cut with chicory. It was a nasty and bitter brew, and Irene sipped tea herself as she bustled about making breakfast for them.

"No, her landlady said Beth went to church and was going to be out all day afterward. When I tried to question her about the company Beth was keeping, she terminated the conversation."

"She hung up on you?"

"No, no. However, she said she made it a point not to interfere in her boarders' personal lives if they follow the house rules. She was going to leave a note for Beth that I called." Joe huffed out his frustration.

"I just can't believe that Beth would fall in with a bad crowd, Joe. It's not like her." Irene slid the two plates on the table. A few pieces of bacon, an egg, and bread she made herself. She'd eat, but she wasn't hungry.

"You saw Jerald's face last night, Irene."

"And I also heard Debra and John criticize how we raised Beth." Irene was still put out about the comments. "How do we know Jerald wasn't in a bar fight or something?"

"He's a good boy, Irene, He just needs to grow up a little. Marriage and kids will do that." Joe unfolded the paper and began to read of the Allies' victories.

Irene didn't have much of an appetite. What if Beth really was getting into the wrong sort of crowd in Sleepyside? A young girl, on her own with the first taste of freedom? Then again, she knew her daughter or thought she did. Beth wouldn't jump into a relationship with a scoundrel. My word, Beth confided in her many times that she wanted to eventually marry and have a family.

Irene didn't want to admit the next words out of Beth's mouth were but not with Jerald. He was such a good match, though. As Joe said, he had a bit of growing up to do. Deb and John were constantly bailing him out of trouble, but as Deb explained, he was just full of boyish high spirits.

But with the Olmsteads' criticism of the way they raised Beth, well, Debra Olmstead might have been Irene's best friend since the cows came home, but blood was blood. And their son wasn't exactly the poster boy for good old American values, either.

Still, it was hard to let go of a dream they had ever since they were playing hopscotch, one that their spouses were glad to buy into. The uniting of the two families. It was almost like one of those royal marriages.

88888888

"I've invited Sam to dinner tonight, Beth," Mrs. Vanderpoel announced. "He's going to bring Annika, my daughter-in-law. I thought, if you're done packing, he might bring the bulk of your things back to Crabapple Farm with him. That way, you'll only have a few things to move tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mrs. V." Beth touched her arm. "I'm sorry you lost your son in the war."

Mrs. Vanderpoel patted her hand. "Thank you. It's been difficult. Annika was a wonderful wife, and she felt the loss of him deeply. She vowed to never marry again. I'm hoping she might change her mind in the future, but they had a special sort of bond."

"May I help?"

"Certainly, you may. Now let's get going and prepare a feast!"

Sam was surprised but pleased when the elder Mrs. Vanderpoel called him to invite him to dine. It stood in the place of the groom's family's traditional wedding eve get together of the families. She also confided that Beth's father had called, referring to him as an unsavory crowd. Sam grinned at that. Gleeps, him unsavory. It almost boggled the mind.

He wondered what kind of stories Jerald spun. Wild ones, to be sure and ones that painted Jerald himself as an innocent. Well, Samuel Peter Belden had dealt with much tougher characters than a guy with a glass jaw and aggrieved parents.

He knocked on the door of Annika Vanderpoel's pretty little house. "It's me, Ann, Sam."

Annika Vanderpoel opened the door and smiled. She was rather tall and just a little plump. "Hi, Sam. Come on in. I'll just be a minute. I was baking Speculaas." She led the way to the kitchen, redolent with sweet spice.

"Dutch windmill cookies! I love them. Thanks, Ann."

"You're welcome, Sam. I was glad to have reason to make them, other than my own greedy love for them." Her eyes twinkled at her neighbor. "So, marriage? Sam Belden? The most eligible bachelor in Sleepyside?"

She packaged the cookies in a brown bag, and they walked out.

Sam snorted loudly. "I'm only the most eligible bachelor because everyone else was drafted." He realized what he said. "Sorry, Annika."

She settled beside him in the car and touched his hand. "No worries, Sam. People all over the world are living under similar circumstances. Eric loved this country and wanted to serve." Sometimes she got angry with him. He could have gotten a deferment. But, no, he had to volunteer.

"How did you meet her?"

"In the bank, of course."

Dinner was a hilarious affair. Beth resolutely put all thoughts of her parents aside and enjoyed the moment. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him when they exchanged special smiles. Sam's heart thumped up against his chest, his whole being constricting at the sight of her in a pair of slacks and a soft, short-sleeved blouse in blue.

His favorite color, especially on her.

When it was time to leave, Annika hugged and kissed her mother-in-law. "I'll be by during the week. Come out for dinner next weekend, Mama." She turned to the happy couple. "Sam, I'll see you in the car."

Sam took Beth's hand, and they walked to the front door. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after school," he said.

"No, I'll meet you at the courthouse, Sam. I have a couple of things to do."

He searched her face, wondering, but was sidetracked by her shining blue eyes. "You really are beautiful, Beth. Inside and out."

A rosy blush suffused her face. "And you would give Clark Gable a run for his money," she countered.

Long, gentle fingers cupped her chin. "Until tomorrow." He kissed her then, a ripe kiss full of desire and dare she think it? Love.

"Tomorrow, Sam." Her voice was soft and breathy, and she watched him get into his car, fingers at her lips.

88888888

She filched the cheap wedding ring a long time ago at a five-and-dime store. It came in handy at times when she was still trying to break into show business.

It took two days of hitchhiking to get back upstate to Albany. Two long days that left her disheveled and worn out. Thank God the last people that gave her a ride near her home were an old couple. The time before that, she had to pay for her ride by orally servicing the trucker. It was disgusting.

She slipped on the ring, straightened her clothes, and repeated her story. She married a man in New York City on a whim. He promised to take care of her. She later found out he was already married. When she confronted him, they had an argument, and he manhandled her, kicking her out with just the small suitcase she now carried. His name wasn't important since she never had it to begin with.

Yeah, her folks would buy it. It would explain her bruises and why she wasn't arriving in a limo, draped in ermine and diamonds.

She knocked on the door of the small frame house she couldn't wait to escape a lifetime ago. She pushed open the door. "Mom? Dad? I'm home."

Patty Jones braced herself for the reunion.

88888888

Jerald Olmstead was raging at his parents. "Why aren't we rushing down to Sleepyside to bring Beth back? What's everyone waiting for?" His damn face hurt from the bruises. The girl that was promised to him was slipping through his fingers.

They, his parents and hers, made a vow. Beth was his. His and his alone. He slammed a hand into the wall, making the picture jump.

Debra tried to mollify him, just as she did when he was an infant and screamed with anger when she didn't feed him fast enough or change his diaper as soon as it was soiled. "Jerry, honey, it's not like we can go down there and kidnap her. She's twenty-one and a legal adult. We're not her parents."

"Yes, well, her parents don't seem to be doing much of anything," he sneered.

"Jerald, Joe has to arrange time off with his job. He can't just up and go." John tried to reason with his son. He was exhausting at times.

"Why not? It's a family emergency."

"Honey, I don't think that Joe and Irene are going to want us to go with them. It's a family matter. I'm sure they'll make Beth come back with them."

"They couldn't even prevent her from going, Mother. You said she's twenty-one. How are they going to make her come back?"

"I don't know, Jerry. I'll tell you what. I'll give Irene a call Monday afternoon and see if they spoke to Beth. It will take at least that much time for Joe to notify his employer that he needs a day or two off."

Jerald slammed out of the kitchen in disgust and the next sound his parents heard was the explosive closing of his bedroom door.

"Whatever happens, I hope Joe and Irene bring Beth back," John sighed. They really needed to get Jerry out of the house. Maybe then they'd have some peace and quiet, and Jerry would be Beth's problem.

John saw nothing at all wrong with that.

88888888

When Sam arrived at Crabapple Farm, he realized it would be his last day coming home to an empty house. Beth would be there, and sooner or later, he hoped their children would come along. Not too soon, because he wanted to finish his degree and he thought Beth might want to, also. The war would eventually end with a victory by the Allies, or so he hoped, and all those women and men either in the workplace or armed services would come flooding back. College degrees would give their little family a fighting chance besides providing role models for their future children.

He began lugging in her suitcases and boxes. There really wasn't much, and he suspected she left a lot of her things upstate. He placed her boxes of books next to the built-in shelves in the small office downstairs. The suitcases containing her clothes were deposited in the closet, and he hung her dresses up on the side he deemed hers. It looked… complete, somehow. Like a piece of the puzzle that had been missing was finally snapped into place.

Yeah. He waited a lifetime for the woman who would bear his name.

88888888

The next morning, Beth was up and out of the house earlier than usual. It was her wedding day. Maybe not the way most girls dreamed of it – a long white dress, big party, and delicious cake, swaying to big band sounds. Nonetheless, she was excited and oh, so happy. And a little scared. After all, she'd be sharing a bed with a man who was almost a stranger. Sharing her body.

That thought gave her a certain little thrill that warmed her up from the inside out. When she knocked on Mr. Pender's office door, she took a deep breath when he bade her to enter.

"Miss den Breejen. Good morning. You're here bright and early. How may I assist you?" The principal of the school was a courtly, rather elderly man who was called out of retirement due to the war.

"Good morning, Mr. Pender. May I have a moment of your time?"

"Surely, my dear. Please sit." He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, folded his hands, and waited.

"Mr. Pender, I need to inform you that I, uh, I will be getting married later this afternoon. I will return to work normally tomorrow. My fiancé and I have deferred taking a honeymoon for now." Beth twisted her hands in her lap.

"Why, congratulations, Miss den Breejen. I wasn't aware you were engaged. Who is the lucky man?"

"Samuel Belden. He works at the Sleepyside Savings and Loan bank."

"Sam! Of course, I know him! He was a student of mine. A fine man, Miss den Breejen. A fine man."

"I think so, too, sir." A smile lit her lovely face, and she glowed from within. Any thoughts that Pender was harboring about the hastiness of the marriage dissipated when he saw her face.

A love match.

"I will announce it to my students and the rest of the staff tomorrow," Beth explained. "When I go from being Miss den Breejen to Mrs. Belden." Just saying it out loud made it so real.

"Are you planning on continuing your teaching career?" It was a subtle way of finding out if she was with child.

"Oh, yes! I want to finish up my schooling. I don't have many more credits to take."

"Good. Good. You're a wonderful teacher, Miss den Breejen. Wonderful. I've heard nothing but good things about you and your students love you."

"Thank you, Mr. Pender. Thanks." Beth rose to leave, relieved that it went well. The first hurdle, cleared.

888888888

Mrs. Vanderpoel was just hanging up the telephone as Beth was heading back to her classroom. Joe den Breejen called again, and again she put him off, this time with the absolute truth. "Beth went to school early," she advised the irate man at the other end of the long-distance call.

Joe den Breejen exploded. "Are you sure you're not covering for her?" he demanded.

Mrs. Vanderpoel's spine stiffened, and spots of color bloomed in her cheeks. "Mr. den Breejen, as I explained, Beth told me she was headed to school early, and I have no reason to doubt her. She had her lesson plans with her and papers she graded."

"Well, you tell her to call me as soon as possible. Reverse the charges."

"Will do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have several errands to accomplish." Not the least of which was to bake one of her famous Dutch Boterkoeks or butter cakes. She would surprise the happy couple when they came back to pick up the rest of Beth's things. Champagne, too. All brides deserved a bit of the bubbly on their wedding day.

88888888

Joe den Breejen banged his hands on the kitchen table in frustration, startling his wife. It wasn't often he lost his temper, but when he did, oh boy. "That woman is keeping something from us."

Irene flinched and asked who, although she was aware to whom he was referring. "Beth's landlady," he growled, pulling on his jacket. He gulped a cup of coffee but left his breakfast untouched. "I'm going to ask Earl at the office if it's all right to take a day or two to go down to Sleepyside and see what's going on with Beth."

"Okay, dear." Irene paused at the door, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I do not want the Olmsteads coming down with us. Any of them," she announced firmly. She was a good wife, an obedient wife, but there were a time and place to take a stand.

And this, she figured, was it.

Joe raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Irene," he began.

"Joe, I will not tolerate any of the Olmsteads traveling with us to see our daughter. It's none of their business. I don't need Debra or John questioning how we are handling this situation. Jerald… Jerald can be a loose cannon at times. And," she triumphantly added. "And he told us he was run out of town by the supposedly corrupt cop. He shouldn't go back there, at least not with us."

"You have a point," Joe conceded. "Well, pack an overnight bag, and I'll let you know when I get home if I was successful in getting time off."

Irene closed the door after him and leaned against it, already dreading the new several days and the conversation she was going to have with her best friend. A part of her, a tiny spark within her, also worried about Jerald Olmstead. Maybe Beth was right to leave home.

Maybe Beth was a lot smarter than Irene previously thought. Maybe she's smarter than her father and me.

88888888

Sam brought a change of clothing to the bank; nothing unusual about that. There were times he had to meet with investors and others to give presentations, attend dinners, and the usual glad-handing the officers of the bank performed as a normal part of their duties.

His cheerful, bright mood caught the attention of some of the staff, though. Not that Sam was sad or a martinet. He was a serious sort of guy, though, and to see him laughing and joking was quite unusual. They attributed it to the rumors floating around town that Sam Belden and the new, young English teacher at the high school were romantically involved.

They were right.

For the first time in his working life, Sam began to watch the clock as it slowly ticked toward the time he would make his way over to the courthouse and claim Beth as his.

88888888

Later that afternoon, prodded by her son, Debra Olmstead made the short walk to Irene den Breejen's place. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary; the two girlhood friends often visited during the week while their husbands were at work.

Debra pushed open the back door. "Yoo-hoo! Irene, it's me!" She walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a cup. Irene always had hot water for tea.

"Be right down." Up in the bedroom, Irene was packing a small bag for their trip to Sleepyside. She plopped on the bed next to the suitcase and sighed.

She did not relish the conversation she would be having with Debra. At least Jerald wasn't there to add his whiny voice to his mother's. Irene placed a hand over her lips. Now, where did that come from?

She trudged downstairs and pasted a happy-to-see-you smile on her face, although she was anything but. "Hi, Deb." Irene poured herself a tea and joined Debra at the kitchen table.

Debra was not going to beat around the bush by beginning this conversation by observing the niceties. "Did you or Joe have a chance to find out what's going on with Beth?"

"No, we haven't spoken to her yet. She was out with friends on Sunday, and this morning she left for school a little early."

"It sounds to me like she's either avoiding you or that landlady is involved in nefarious deeds." Debra raised her brows, and Irene felt like smacking the smug smile off of her face.

"No, Beth leads a busy life with lots of friends she made down there." Not like your son Jerry who can't keep a friend if his life depended on it.

"But are they the right type of friends? For all we know, her landlady could… could be running a prostitution ring!"

Irene set her cup down with exquisite care because she was just liable to smash it right down into the pretty, matching saucer. "No, she's not," Irene ground out. "Joe and I checked her references. Mrs. Vanderpoel is highly regarded in the community. Her boarders are like Beth… young teachers or young women working in the factories."

"That's what you think," Debra sniffed.

Irene bit her lip to restrain the torrent of harsh words that would come spilling out if she didn't. She breathed in, deeply. "Joe and I will be taking a trip to Sleepyside and checking for ourselves."

"Oh, did Joe get an okay from his boss? I can call John and let him know the date."

"Debra, I know you and John mean well. Joe and I discussed this, and we prefer to make the trip ourselves. After all, this is a family matter."

Irene's decision stung Debra. "I thought I was family, Irene."

"Deb, you know Joe, and I love both you and John." Jerald's name was conspicuously absent. "We just feel it would be better for us, as her parents, to investigate what's happening and convince her to come back home if needed. She might close up if you and John are there, feel ganged up on."

"As Jerald said to John and me yesterday, you couldn't prevent her from leaving. How are you going to persuade her to return?" Oh, Lord. Jerald was going to have a conniption at home.

"Leave that to us. Besides, as I pointed out to Joe, Jerald was run out of town by a supposedly corrupt police officer. If he goes back, he risks jail time."

"I'm sure we could speak to the chief of police and bring the threat to his attention."

"Debra, we live in a small town. Sleepyside is even smaller. You know how the locals close ranks against outsiders. We're all liable to get thrown in jail, especially if Jerald, um, gets obstreperous."

Debra Olmstead might secretly be tired of her favorite son's histrionics and temper tantrums, but no one else had the right to criticize him. Especially a woman who let her young daughter move hundreds of miles away into a den of iniquity. "I'm sure Jerald is no such thing. His manners are impeccable."

Irene finally had enough. "No, they are not, Debra, and you know it. Right before Beth moved, she complained that Jerald was getting fresh with her, and she did not appreciate it."

"I'm sure Jerald did no such thing."

"Are you implying that Beth was not truthful?" Irene's eyes widened, and her temper flared.

Debra shrugged her shoulders. "She's in the company of scoundrels. It speaks to her character."

"That remains to be seen. After all, we only have Jerald's word on that."

"Are you implying Jerald is lying? You saw his face, Irene!"

"It wouldn't be the first time he was hurt in a bar fight, Debra. You know how John feels about that. Jerald wouldn't want to come home and admit he went out drinking. Maybe he made up the whole thing to so as not to disappoint you and John." Again remained unspoken, but hung between the two women.

Debra stood, nearly vibrating with anger. "How dare you, Irene? My child gets hurt trying to defend the probably non-existent virtue of your daughter, and you accuse him of making the whole thing up?"

Irene jumped up and went to the back door, holding it open. "I'd like you to leave now, Debra," she ground out.

"Fine." Debra stalked out of the door. "You'll see, Irene. You'll see what kind of a woman your daughter has become." She walked into the yard a few feet. "I'll be awaiting your apology."

Irene slammed the door. "Then you'll be waiting until hell freezes over." She brought her hands to her mouth, stunned she would ever utter that word. And then she began to giggle.

Jeepers, it was freeing. Maybe she should cuss more often!

88888888

It was four o'clock, and Judge Webster, James, and Nell Frayne and the groom were awaiting the entrance of the bride and her attendant. Sam phoned Nell and asked her to pick a bouquet of daisies at Crabapple Farm. Nell was thrilled to contribute, and added a satiny white ribbon around the stems, making it suitably bride-like. She was waiting in the hallway to give it to Beth.

There was a flurry at the end of the hall, and Mrs. Vanderpoel and Beth appeared. Nell caught her breath at the picture Beth made. A gorgeous dress, a bit dated, but lovely nonetheless. A cloche hat with golden curls peeking out and framing a glowing, beautiful face.

"Hello, Mrs. Vanderpoel. You must be Beth. I'm Nell Frayne, I live next door to Crabapple Farm. Sam wanted me to bring you these." She handed the flowers to Beth.

"Oh! How lovely!" Beth brought the flowers to her face. "Thank you, Nell. Is Sam inside?" Her greatest concern was that he might have suddenly come to his senses.

"Yes, he is," Nell grinned. "And most impatient. Shall we put him out of his misery?"

Beth nodded and blushed. Mrs. Vanderpoel and Nell entered the chambers first as if they were bridesmaids at a formal wedding. They moved out of the way, and Beth was framed in the doorway.

Sam's heart slammed right up against his ribs. She stood there, young and beautiful; her cheeks were delicately flushed, and a tentative smile played with the corners of her lips. Her fingers clutched the homemade bouquet against her lovely dress. His Beth looked every inch the radiant bride.

Beth's bright blue gaze took in every little detail of the man standing, waiting for her. How handsome he looked in his black suit, hair neatly combed and a look of awe shining out of his eyes. It took a moment for her to realize that the awe was directed at her, and any nervousness she had fled. It was right. This was right.

She walked slowly toward him, although a part of her just wanted to run and marry him before he changed his mind. When she got within a foot, he reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. It just bounced right back into place. "You are beautiful, Beth."

"And you are movie-star handsome."

Seth Webster smiled at their words. Yup, this was going to last. "Hello, Miss den Breejen. I'm Seth Webster, an old friend of Sam's family."

"Oh, but not too old," Beth teased. "I'm happy to meet you. Please call me Beth."

"We have some paperwork to be completed after the ceremony," he advised, charmed.

"Sweetheart, this is James Frayne. James, Beth."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Beth. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Thank you, James."

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Webster advised.

"I have rings for us. My parents'. I hope you don't mind," Sam whispered.

"No, not at all, Sam." They both turned their attention to the Judge.

The ceremony wasn't long, but it was sweet and personal. Even though they weren't marrying in a church, Judge Webster made sure that both knew the vows they were taking were blessed by a benevolent God.

Sam's fingers shook as he slid the ring on her finger, the one his mother wore. It fit as if it was made for Beth, and maybe it was.

Beth said her vows in a clear, strong voice, slipping the thin gold band over his warm, long finger. How thoughtful of him to have rings at the ready; it was especially meaningful since the rings belonged to his parents.

It only seemed as if a minute or two passed when Judge Webster pronounced them man and wife and advised Sam to kiss his bride. Giving her a hot look, Sam swept her up in his arms and kissed her breathless.

"Let's get the papers done, and everyone is invited back to my house for Boterkoek and Champagne," Mrs. V announced after the usual round of congratulations.

"I'm not one to pass up your cake," Webster laughed. "It's a lovely afternoon."

When they got to the house, Mrs. V had much more than cake and Champagne. By that time, the four other women who lived at the house were home. Mrs. V set out a feast, with a roast she had been hoarding, green beans from the garden, and scalloped potatoes that were as light and dreamy as air. The formal dining room was decorated with hand-made signs, and Beth was passed from person to person as they hugged and exclaimed over the surprise nuptials.

James and Nell were the first to leave. "We'll give the Judge a ride back to the Courthouse," James said. "Thanks, Mrs. Vanderpoel. The food was delicious and the company charming."

"You're very welcome."

The other boarders helped to clean up and drifted back to their rooms. Beth and Sam went to her room, and he carried down the rest of her belongings and placed them in the trunk of the car.

"Thank you, Mrs. V, thank you for making our wedding day memorable." Beth hugged the older lady.

"Now, you just remember what I said, Beth." Tears swam in her faded blue eyes. It was always so hard to say goodbye.

Sam said his goodbyes, accompanied by a ferocious hug. Once they were alone in his car, he turned to her, a quizzical expression on his dear face. "What did Mrs. V mean when she asked you to remember your promise?"

Beth blushed again. "She made me promise to bring our children back here and let them call her Oma."

"That promise won't be too difficult to keep," Sam grinned at her. He started the car, and they were off to Crabapple Farm. They were quiet in the car, each thinking of the night to come.

Lights in the farmhouse were softly lit, and Beth couldn't help but think the delightful rambling house was embracing her.

"Welcome home, Beth."

"It's lovely, Sam. I can't wait to see the inside!" They gathered her few remaining possessions and climbed up onto the wrap-around porch. Sam set his burdens down. "One moment, Mrs. Belden."

He swept her up into his arms, opened the door and stepped over the threshold with her, held tightly to his chest.

88888888

Earlier that afternoon, Debra went storming into her house. She was furious at her best friend, furious at Beth, just plain angry with the world. And there was Jerald, waiting for her. She became angry with him for causing a rift between her and Irene, up until the second she saw his battered face.

Her poor baby!

"How did it go, Ma?" Jerald was sure he'd be packing a bag tonight.

Debra's headache intensified. "Sit down, Jerry. I'll tell you the whole story."

Jerald picked up immediately on the tone of his mother's voice. Something happened. He sat down, legs pumping up and down in anticipation. "So?" he prodded when she didn't launch into her story immediately.

"We're not accompanying them. Joe and Irene haven't been able to speak to Beth since you came home, and they decided to make a special trip to Sleepyside. Joe is making arrangements with his boss for time off today. Irene disinvited us."

His voice was low and deadly. "What do you mean, Aunt Irene disinvited us?"

"Just that, Jerry. She went on and on about how it was a family matter like we're not family. Then she accused you of getting in a bar fight and making up the story about the corrupt cop."

Jerald's face darkened with rage, and Debra felt the stirrings of fear within her. Jerald, when he was good, could be very good. When he was bad, he wasn't just horrid. He was frightening.

"And what did you say to her, Mother?" His voice was icy calm.

"Of course, I defended you, Jerry! I told her you wouldn't make up a story like that! She also accused you of… of getting fresh with Beth. I know you, honey. You've always treated Beth with the utmost respect. Irene and I got into an argument over everything, and she asked me to leave. I did."

Jerald exploded out of the chair, knocking it backward onto the floor. "You've ruined everything, you stupid cow! I want you to march right back to Aunt Irene's house and wrangle an invitation."

Debra twisted her hands together in her lap. "Jerald, she said they decided to go alone before I even got there. I can't force her to invite us." Debra paused. "Besides, Jerald, they kicked you out of town. If the place is as corrupt as you say, there's a good possibility of you ending up in jail."

"You've ruined everything, Mother. Everything. Once the den Breejens get to Sleepyside, there will be no chance at all I can marry Beth. And it's all your fault." He was screaming the words, his face a blotchy red and his hands curled into fists.

"Jerald, calm down. The neighbors will hear! What do you mean, when Irene and Joe get to Sleepyside everything will be ruined?"

"You'll see, Mother. You'll see. I'm going out." Jerald grabbed her purse and took her wallet, removing the money within. "I don't know when I'll be back. Don't wait up."

A few minutes later she heard the door slam. She bowed her head and cried for lost dreams and hopes, for the loss of friendship, and the little piece of her that wondered if she gave birth to a monster.

88888888

Sam was showing Beth around the house. It was warm and welcoming but lacked a woman's touch. The kitchen was large and airy, with a table and six chairs. "My dad made this because, well, at one time they thought they might have a large family. It wasn't to be, though."

"It's lovely, Sam." She ran her hand over the tabletop. "The whole house is beautiful."

"Thanks. Over the years there were additions put on, but they always made sure to keep the integrity of the house."

"Well, a good house has a stretchy heart. And a stretchy heart means there are stretchy walls. This house definitely has a stretchy heart."

Sam was stunned. "That's what my mother used to say, Beth. A stretchy heart and stretchy walls to welcome all." It was a sign, he was sure, that he made a good choice. "How about if I carry the rest of your things upstairs? I hung the dresses up in the closet and made room in the dresser. You can decide where you'd like all your things to go."

"That sounds fine, Sam. Oh, you can just place these two boxes in the office. My school things."

"All right, sweetheart. How about if I unpack them and make room in the desk? It will give you time to get situated upstairs."

"Sounds like a plan!"

He helped her carry up the remainder of her belongings, stopping again to carry her over the threshold of the bedroom door. It was a room fraught with the simmering desire that was building under the surface of them both.

Beth took off the wedding dress and hung it up, touching the delicate lace with a reverent hand. She would make sure she stored it properly so that maybe her future daughter or daughter-in-law might wear it. She walked around the bedroom in her slip and made short work of unpacking. The last item left on the bed was the box with the peignoir set. Dare she?

She sat on the bed, blushing at what she knew was going to occur there that night. She and Sam would consummate their union.

And she was not at all frightened. In fact, she bounced a little on the mattress and grinned. Time to head to the bathroom and make that peignoir work for her!

Sam bounded up the stairs after he was finished, only to find an empty bedroom. "Beth?" he called, almost expecting to discover the day had been a fevered dream.

"Sam." She opened the door from the bathroom. The light lit her from behind, almost as if she were an angel. His jaw dropped at first sight of her.

She had on lingerie, sexy lingerie. The robe and nightgown were some white gauzy material that barely hid her body, providing a tantalizing glimpse of the female form they covered. She was more beautiful than any of those pinups that were floating around. Prettier than Rita Hayworth or Ava Gardner or even Betty Grable. Her curls flowed around her face like a golden aura.

"You're beautiful," Sam breathed.

She smiled at him and crossed the room. Her scent was intoxicating to him. "And you're overdressed." Her bold words sent a jolt through his system.

"So are you, for what I have in mind." His lips met hers as he pulled her close, her nearly nude form warm and soft against his hard body.

"Make love to me, Sam," she begged.

"For the rest of my life, Mrs. Belden." He picked her up, and they tumbled onto the bed.

88888888

Joe and Irene den Breejen were motoring their way to Sleepyside. "The boss gave me Tuesday and Wednesday off, Irene. I think we should leave tonight, stop at one of those motor hotels along the way for the night, and continue in the morning. Beth will be at work until three or so. We can stop along the way to eat and then make our way to Mrs. Vanderpoel's. I'm sure she'd let us wait there until Beth gets back."

"I agree, Joe."

Once they were in the car and on their way, Irene turned to Joe. "I had a serious argument with Debra today," she confessed. "I ended up asking her to leave."

"What about?" Joe asked, but thought he knew anyway.

"She had the nerve to come over and begin to criticize us again about how we raised Beth. That she and John should go to Sleepyside with us because we didn't stop her from going, how were we going to bring her home? When I had the audacity to say something about Jerald, she jumped down my throat."

"What did you say about him?"

"I implied that he could have gotten in a bar fight and just didn't want to tell John. You know how many scrapes John got him out of already. She had the nerve to say Mrs. Vanderpoel was running a prostitution ring."

"What?" Joe swerved the car, then recovered. "What? Is she having a breakdown or something? I thoroughly vetted Mrs. Vanderpoel before I let Beth down there."

"Well, not thoroughly enough, according to Irene and Jerald. She accused Beth of… of not being virtuous. When I told her Beth complained to me that Jerald was fresh with her, well! You would think I accused him of being a murderer."

Joe's lips compressed into a grim line. "All this because we're taking care of a family matter?"

"She complained that she was family, and Joe, they are, but this is something we have to do ourselves. I tried to explain that to her, that Beth would feel all of us were ganging up on her. Plus, it's only fair to hear Beth's side. Jerald hasn't been a fount of truth at times."

"He's just being a boy. He'll settle…"

For once, Irene interrupted her husband. "Joe, I'm tired of you, John, and Debra making excuses for his bad behavior. If Jerald won't settle down for his parents, how do you suppose he'll miraculously change for Beth? Do you want to condemn our only daughter to life with that… that scoundrel?"

"Irene…"

"Don't Irene me, Joe. You were never like him. Neither is John. How many schools was Jerald thrown out of? He didn't go to college. He can't keep a job. Our daughter told me he has gotten fresh with her, she doesn't like him, and we didn't listen. That's part of the reason she moved so far away. Do you want her to work the rest to her life supporting his lazy behind? She's not a reform school, Joe. She's our daughter." Irene promptly burst into tears. Hearing herself say it like that, aloud… well, it wasn't nice to listen to.

And it just went to prove that what Debra said was true. They were bad parents.

88888888

Meanwhile, the word was spreading through the quaint little village downstate. Sam Belden married that pretty little English teacher. The one from out of town. Just like that! Party lines were exploding with the news. It was something happy to celebrate among all the grimness of the war.

The alarm went off early the next morning, and Sam slammed his hand down on it. He was so warm, comfortable and… married.

His Beth was stirring against him, her soft, naked form already familiar. Making love to her was every bit as exhilarating as he imagined. She joined in, unashamed and enthusiastic and he thanked God for the blessing he received by meeting her.

"Sam? What time is it?" her sleepy voice inquired. Jeepers, she didn't want to get up.

"It's early, baby. I need to get up and feed the chickens and do a couple of other early morning chores. Why don't you take a shower or bath while I'm puttering around?" He kissed her bare shoulder.

"Sounds wonderful. I'm, ah, a little sore." She blushed rosily as she said it. Sore in the most wonderful way.

Sam leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. "I'll see you in a bit." What he really wanted to do was spend all day in that bed with her, but chores and work waited for them both. He jumped out of bed, and Beth could not help but admire his fine male figure as he pulled on his working-around-the-house clothes.

Her cheeks flushed even more as she watched him leave the bedroom. Jeepers, yesterday she had never even seen a naked man, and today… Well, today she was an experienced, married woman with an appreciation of a sexy male form.

Beth took a quick shower and thanked the Lord for her curly hair. She dressed in what she called her teacher clothes and ambled downstairs. A quick look in the refrigerator and the kitchen revealed the makings for breakfast. The mudroom held a couple of frilly aprons, so she tied one on and began to cook bacon, eggs, toast, and brewed a pot of coffee for her husband.

Sam fed the chickens, collected the eggs and checked the henhouse while he was outside. He had a small, scraggly-looking Victory Garden, and took care of some weeding. The colder crops would be coming in soon.

He stepped back into the house and was immediately assaulted by the delicious odors wafting through the mudroom. A feeling of nostalgia washed over him as he stepped into the kitchen to the sight of Beth wrapped in one of his mother's old aprons, placing two plates on the table.

"It smells wonderful, sweetheart," he remarked to his new bride as he sat.

"I hope it tastes wonderful, and my cooking skills did not erode at Mrs. Vanderpoel's." Beth took the chair next to his and smiled. She was concerned there might be some awkwardness between them after last night. Instead, there was just a comfortable feeling of finally being home.

"Beth, we need to figure out our work hours. I know teachers have a lot of time they work after hours and don't get paid for it. The bank is normally open from nine AM to three PM Monday through Friday. Occasionally, we'll be open later for the more rural customers."

"I'll have mostly the same hours for school. There may be times when I will meet with parents, have a staff meeting after hours, or chaperone a dance or other extra-curricular function. I'll let you know ahead of time."

"Do you know how to drive?"

"I do, although I haven't driven much."

"That simplifies matters. I can always bike home, but I don't want you to do so in the dark when our schedules don't mesh."

Beth bit her bottom lip. "Okay. Sam, my parents have been calling Mrs. Vanderpoel. I'm sure they are on their way down here."

"The guest room is ready," Sam's words were unexpected.

"You're not worried?"

Sam placed his fork on his now empty plate. "Beth, you're my wife now. You're over twenty-one and don't need their permission to do anything." He shrugged. "Either they accept our marriage, or they don't. They can't force you to go back upstate."

"I know, but I hate the fact they might upset you."

"Beth, nothing they can say to me about our marriage will upset me. Now, if they bring up that creep Jerald, that might be another story."

Beth's eyes were shining as she stepped over that scary cliff. "I love you, Sam."

Sam didn't respond at first. He hoped that someday she might say those words to him. He stood, still silent, and Beth wondered if she made a mistake by unburdening her heart.

He pulled her up, his lips on hers. "And I love you. From the first moment, I saw you in the bank." The words were rough and hoarse, said against her lips before he took them in a series of coffee-flavored kisses.

They broke apart, out of breath and wanting. "I, uh, need to shower and change, sweetheart."

"Uh-huh." That was all she could say. Her brain had turned into a goopy mess. A few moments later, she collected the dishes and waited until she couldn't hear the shower running to give them a quick wash and dry. She had heard of dishwashers and wondered if they could ever afford one.

Not long after, they were headed to work, their first time as a married couple.

As soon as Sam Belden entered the bank after dropping Beth at the school, the entire place erupted into cheers. The whole staff was waiting for him, including Mr. Handler, the President. His back was patted, his hand was shaken, and he spent the next several minutes wiping lipstick off his cheeks.

"Thank you, everyone. My Beth is a lovely woman, and I'm lucky to have her."

There were a couple of sighs from one or two of the tellers who had secret hopes Mr. Belden might, someday, ask them on a date. They should have known it was all over at the time that he assisted his future wife with her first banking transaction.

Later in the day, he was called to Mr. Handler's office. "Belden, I want to offer my congratulations again. Take a seat."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"I've been reviewing your file. You are an excellent employee and a fair and balanced loan officer. Now that you've married, you'll have additional responsibilities. Effective immediately, I'm giving you a ten dollar a week raise. If you finish your schooling, there's no reason why you wouldn't be able to climb to even higher positions in the bank."

"Thank you again, sir. I appreciate your faith in me." Sam was floored. He never expected this.

"Just don't let me down."

"I won't." And come hell or high water, he wouldn't.

Back at the high school, Beth was receiving a similar reception from her co-workers. In fact, they arranged a little party in the teachers' lounge, decorated with homemade signs and cupcakes for later. Beth's eyes filled as she thanked her colleagues, not only for the mini-party but for the warm reception she had at the school ever since she came to Sleepyside.

When she entered her classroom, she wrote in her neat penmanship on the blackboard: Mrs. Belden. It was the first time she wrote her name, had the pleasure of looking at it and had a distinct thrill run down her spine at the pleasures associated with it.

Yeah. She was happy.

88888888

Debra Olmstead never slept well when Jerald wasn't home. She always kept one ear and one eye open, waiting for the slamming of the front door. It wasn't the first time he stayed out all night, but it was the first time they argued so bitterly.

She was making breakfast for John and burned his toast, bursting into wracking sobs. John glanced around the kitchen as if he expected a savior to appear from within the fridge. When one was not forthcoming, he sighed, out down the paper, and asked her just what the problem was.

"I had that big argument with Irene and Jerald, and now he hasn't come home!"

"Deb, this isn't the first time he's stayed out all night." John's voice was weary. He just hoped he wouldn't be getting a call at work from some police department to come and bail him out. Again.

"But he was so angry, John! You weren't here. He accused me of eliminating any chances he had to marry Beth."

"You know how he exaggerates, Debra."

She threw a dark glance to her spouse. In his own way, he was as dismissive as Jerald. "There's something different this time, John."

He shrugged and went back to his paper.

Their errant offspring was neither in jail nor headed down to Sleepyside. He awoke in a cheap room in the seedy side of Rochester, not remembering where he was for a second. He turned around, and the lifeless body of the woman he picked up was staring at the ceiling.

He didn't jump, scream, or wonder what happened. He got dressed, took all her money, and slipped out the back way. A while later, he had his thumb out, headed west.

A trail of dead, curly-haired blondes would follow him from state to state.

88888888

Joseph and Irene den Breejen arrived in Sleepyside around eleven AM. They were hungry and tired from the drive, and Irene was just about at her breaking point. "We ate at Wimpy's last time we were here, Irene. Let's grab some lunch and head on over to Mrs. Vanderpoel's."

The diner was rather quiet at that time, so they were served without undue waiting, An hour later, they were ringing the doorbell at the neat boarding house.

Mrs., Vanderpoel did not seem at all surprised to see them. "Mr. and Mrs. den Breejen! Won't you come in?"

Irene stammered, "I'm sorry to surprise you like this, Mrs. Vanderpoel." How could this lovely woman be involved in anything even remotely criminal?

"It's quite all right. Have you eaten lunch?"

"We stopped at Wimpy's before coming here," Joe responded as she led them to her private parlor. "We didn't want to put you out any more than was necessary."

"Have a seat." Mrs. V gestured to the couch. "You know Beth is working. How can I help you?"

"We received a disheartening report from one of Beth's oldest friends," Irene began. They had decided earlier that Irene would lead the discussion, as Joe had been shut down by the landlady.

"I'm sure you did."

"Then you are admitting something is going on with Beth?" Joe jumped right in, his tone accusatory.

"Tell me what you think happened," Mrs. V invited. Oh, this should be good!

"We have friends back home, a lovely couple who have two sons. One is in the armed forces and the other…" Irene's voice trailed off. "The other one is Jerald Olmstead. He and Beth have been friends ever since they were in diapers. Both families were hoping for a marriage between them."

"And what did Beth want?" There, out loud, was the question Irene was asking herself since yesterday.

"Beth doesn't know what she wants," Joe interrupted. Women. Talk, talk, talk, and never get to the meat of the matter.

Mrs. Vanderpoel said nothing as Irene subtly elbowed her spouse. "Jerald made a special trip to Sleepyside a couple of days ago," Irene continued. "He came back with tales that Beth is dating a ne'er do well who manhandled her. Jerald said when he tried to intervene and enlist the aid of a police officer, the officer allowed the man to severely beat Jerald. His face was black and blue all over. Then the officer sent Beth and the man into your house, and he threatened Jerald with jail time if he didn't leave town immediately." God, it sounded so melodramatic in the retelling.

Almost as if it were a yarn some enterprising author typed out.

"We haven't been able to get in touch with Beth since then, and we're concerned for our daughter."

"I think this Jerald of yours left a few details out of the story," Mrs. V. said dryly.

Irene shot a glance to Joe. "What do you mean?"

"Beth has been seeing a lovely young man, Samuel Belden. He's a responsible, levelheaded man, works at Sleepyside Savings and Loan in town as a loan officer. He owns his own house, free and clear. His parents died early, one right after the other, and he had to grow up fast."

"That's not how Jerald…"

Mrs. V interrupted the man. "He couldn't know. He never bothered to speak to Sam or Beth. He grabbed Beth, hard, leaving marks on her skin. Sam stepped in to protect her. Jerald, as you call him, called her vile names and was going to take a swing at her until Sam intervened. I heard the commotion and called the police. Jerald tried to lie and state Sam started it. Jerald took offense at that, called her, and please excuse my bad language, a lying bitch and lunged at her. Sam laid him out on the sidewalk with one punch."

"Oh, he did a heck of a lot of damage with one punch," Joe sneered.

"It was just one punch. I saw it myself. Officer Molinson advised Sam and Beth to go into the house with me, and they did."

"Well, then, the cop must have beaten Jerald," Joe replied. It wasn't unheard of, but why would Jerald lie about it?

"You can go to the police station and ask for Officer Derek Molinson. He can tell you what happened next. All I know is he had a few words with Jerald and Jerald took off. Officer Molinson did not strike that horrible young man."

"Mrs. Vanderpoel, would it be all right if we waited for Beth? I'd really like to speak to her about all of this." Irene twisted her hands together. If everything Mrs. Vanderpoel was stating was true, then they owed Beth an apology.

Mrs. Vanderpoel waited for a beat and then dropped her bombshell. "Beth doesn't reside here any longer. She married Sam Belden yesterday in a civil ceremony and moved to Crabapple Farm."

88888888

Sam was parked out front of the high school, waiting for his Beth. He smiled and tipped his hat to some of the giggling teenage girls who thought their exclamations of, "There he is!" and "That's Miss den… Mrs. Belden's husband!" were whispers.

Beth was following them, a beaming smile on her face. He looked so sexy, leaning against his car with a grin creasing his handsome face. "Hello, gorgeous." He greeted her with a conservative peck on the cheek.

"Hello, yourself, handsome. How was your day?"

"Any lipstick on my collar is the result of being passed around at work like a basket of warm bread," he joked.

"Ah, the native drum beat even reached those hallowed halls." She laughed up at him as he assisted her into the car.

"Yes, it was quite a day!"

Neither of them noticed the dark car following them onto the road leading to out of town to Crabapple Farm.

88888888

Earlier that day, after Mrs. Vanderpoel made her stunning announcement, Irene whitened to the point of nearly passing out as Joe roared his displeasure. "What? And you didn't think to call us beforehand?"

Mrs. V merely raised her brows. "Beth is a fully-grown woman, and I am not in the habit of interfering in my boarders' decisions. Nor would I contact you unless she asked me to do so."

"Joe!" Irene chastised her husband. "Married? I don't understand. She can't have known this Sam very long at all."

"Sometimes, you just know from a first glance."

"Life isn't a fairytale, Mrs. Vanderpoel. This isn't Cinderella where Prince Charming takes one look at my daughter and falls for her. It doesn't happen in real life." Joe was sure of it.

"Life is what you make of it, Mr. den Breejen. Everyone needs a little magic in their lives, just as everyone needs to believe in fairytales. I think if you believe hard enough, wish hard enough, work hard enough, and believe in the magic of everyday life, those dreams and wishes do come true."

"Was it… was it a nice ceremony?" Irene's voice broke a little. Her only child, married, and she didn't even attend.

"It was lovely. She wore my gown and headpiece… I donated them to her so she wouldn't have to use her normal dresses. I know Judge Webster's secretary took pictures. I'm sure they'll send you copies when they're developed."

"And this Sam… he's a good man? Truly?"

"He is the best. He's kind, smart, and capable. When my husband passed, Sam was the one who helped me with the renovations to the house so I could take in paying boarders. He made sure I wasn't getting cheated and even arranged a small loan with the bank."

They spent a few more hours with the genteel landlady before heading on over to the bank. They wanted to get a look at this paragon of virtue; however, they were stymied in their effort. Sam Belden wasn't at his desk.

"I think we should head over to police headquarters," Joe proclaimed. "Talk to this officer. Who knows who is telling the truth here."

For once, the unhappy couple had some luck. Officer Molinson was in and would be more than willing to answer any questions. They were led into the detectives' interrogation room, the only place where they could have a private conversation.

"Hello, I'm Derek Molinson. How may I help you?" The young officer extended his hand, and both Joe and Irene shook it. He looked far too nice to have beaten anyone, let alone a big man like Jerald.

Joe took the lead. "I understand there was a conflict in front of Mrs. Vanderpoel's boarding house a few days ago."

Molinson frowned and sat facing the couple. "May I ask what your interest is in this?"

"We're Beth's parents. Joe and Irene den Breejen. The man who was beaten was the son of a friend of ours."

"Beaten? I hardly think one punch can be defined as a beating."

"Officer Molinson, I saw Jerald with my own eyes. His face was completely black and blue as well as his shoulders."

Molinson sighed. "Jerald, as you call him, was manhandling your daughter. I saw the marks on her myself. Sam Belden was defending her. When she showed me the marks Olmstead caused on her, he called her a bad name and lunged at her, his arm raised. Sam laid him out with one, and only one, punch. After that, I advised them to go into Mrs. Vanderpoel's. He not only threatened me, but he also stated he would go to the chief and make a report about how I allowed Sam to assault him. I advised him that it would be in his best interests to leave town immediately, as I saw the marks he left on Beth's skin."

"How do you know this Sam didn't leave them there?" Joe challenged.

"Because your daughter told me Olmstead did it." Molinson was silent for a minute. Should he reveal what he told Olmstead? What he saw? He looked at the two distraught people sitting in front of him. Being a cop, he was quick to size up folks, criminal or otherwise. The man was a bit of a martinet, but the woman was genuinely concerned about her daughter… who just married Sam Belden.

"You look like nice people," he began in a mild, soothing tone. "I'm sure Olmstead's parents may be nice, too. But nothing can change the fact that he bruised your daughter's skin, called her a wicked name in public. And when we were alone, I notice he stunk of cheap perfume and had lipstick smeared on his shirt and… and other places. Lipstick that could only come from one woman in town who wore that shade. Sleepyside's resident bad girl."

Irene covered her mouth, scrubbing at her cheeks. "You mean Jerald was… was with a prostitute earlier in the day?"

"I mean just that. And whatever happened between them, the woman did a midnight flit and left town. Left most of her belongings in the crappy room, she was renting. I know, because the landlord came in to make a complaint." Molinson nearly laughed in Olyphant's face. He did, however, accompany him to Patty Jones' room, where he verified the woman did abscond without paying her rent.

And that there was a splash of blood on her bed. He couldn't really connect that to Olmstead, but Molinson had a feeling that Patty Jones was hurt, and hurt badly.

Molinson felt sorry for the couple in front of him. They were ashen with shock and grief. "Listen, folks, I know you probably already heard that your daughter married Sam Belden. He's a good man, and he'll stand by her. He'd never think of laying a finger on her, ever. If I were you, I would count my blessings my daughter didn't get involved with Olmstead. She'd end up dead."

88888888

Once at home, Sam and Beth began their chores. Earlier that morning, Beth put a chicken from the freezer out to defrost. "Next year, I'll put up beans and corn," she murmured out loud. She cut up some carrots and potatoes to place around the chicken, covered the roaster and called to Sam. He had changed and was cutting the lawn in the back yard.

"Sam, I'm going out front to pick up the mail." They were deep in conversation when they pulled into the long driveway at the farm and forgot to stop. The two figures in the dark car parked to the side of the house watched her bouncing step as Beth followed the flagstone path to the mailbox. She glanced up, saw the car and paled.

Straightening her shoulders, she inhaled deeply and approached the vehicle. "Mom. Dad," she acknowledged them. She did not ask what they were doing in Sleepyside. She knew.

"Bethie." Irene was struggling with her emotions.

"Bring the car up the driveway, and I'll meet you in the backyard," she said. "Sam is cutting the grass in the orchard."

She turned and headed back into the house. The only sign of agitation was her white knuckles clutching the mail.

Sam looked up when he heard the car, stopped and wiped his brow. It may be September, but it was still plenty warm. Beth came out with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on a tray and set in on the picnic table.

"Sam? My parents are here," she called to him, her voice shaking.

"Let me go in and wash up." A few long strides brought him to her side. "Will you be okay?"

"I think so."

He bent down and brushed a kiss across her lips. "You will be, strong girl."

The door to the mudroom closed behind Sam as her parents approached. They saw that little kiss. Her father knew what that meant in male-speak. She's mine.

"Beth. Oh, Beth!" Irene broke into the tears that shimmered in her eyes. "Married."

Beth ran to her, held her mother. "Mommy, don't cry. It's all good. I promise. You and Daddy sit down and have some lemonade. Sam went into the house to wash up."

Joe grabbed Beth's hand, pulled her into a bear hug as Irene sat. It was then he noticed the still-visible bruises on her arms. "Mind telling me about those?" His voice may have been level, but his insides were torn up.

"I'm sure Jerald told you alllll about it, Daddy."

"He did. Now I want to hear what you have to say."

Beth busied herself pouring glasses of the frosty drink for her parents, her words measured and basically corroborating what Mrs. Vanderpoel and Officer Molinson related.

Sam joined her, silent, letting her speak. He noted the rise of color up her father's neck and the sorrowful expression on her mother's face.

"That's not what Jerald told us," Joe growled and looked up at Sam for the first time.

"I'm afraid Jerald may have lied about a lot of things," Sam offered. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Sam Belden, Beth's husband."

Joe looked at the hand, his daughter, and placed his hand into Sam's. The man had a good grip, firm and rough. A man who worked with his hands as well as with his mind.

Sam turned to Irene, still sniffling. She surprised both Beth and Sam when she jumped up, ran to the other side of the table and embraced him. "Thank you for taking care of my baby," she whispered.

"I'll be proud to take care of her for the rest of our lives," he whispered back. "I love her." Irene nodded and returned to her seat and the refreshing lemonade.

"I know you and Beth have some things to talk about," Sam smiled. "And I need to finish cutting that grass before the sun sets. Our guest room is waiting for you tonight." He gave them a little salute and went back to the mower.

"Did he mean that? About the guest room?" Irene looked at her daughter. Beth looked… happy. Content. Glowing with health.

"Sure, he did, Mom. We spoke about it earlier in the day. We both had a notion you would be down here sooner rather than later. I have a roast chicken in the oven, more than enough for all of us. How long does Daddy have off?"

"I have to be back to work on Thursday, Beth. Are you sure Sam won't mind us spending the night?"

"Of course not, Daddy. Like I said, he was planning on it this morning. Our home has a stretchy heart as well as stretchy walls."

A stretchy heart and stretchy walls. Yeah. That motto would be sorely tested in the future. But because there were love and laughter, the center always held true.

Epilogue

Jerald Olmstead finally met his maker in prison for the murder of a young woman he mistook for a prostitute in Flagstaff, Arizona, several years after fleeing Rochester, New York. His parents were there for his trial, steadfastly maintaining that their boy could not have committed this sickening crime.

David Olmstead, back in one piece from the war, had no problem believing his brother was a murderer. He packed up his stuff and moved to a small town in Maine, eventually becoming a beloved teacher as well as marrying a small-town beauty.

His parents never knew or cared to meet their daughter-in-law or their grandchildren. They kept their heads high in Pittsford. His father took his son's quiet confession to the grave. The last time they spoke before Jerald was executed, his son smirked at him. "Pops, let me tell you. There were way more than one. And they all looked like Beth."

The friendship between the Olmsteads and the den Breejens never resumed. Especially not when Irene and Joe returned from Sleepyside, full of stories about their daughter and her new husband, Sam. Sam this and Sam that!

It should have been Jerald, and the Olmsteads never forgave the den Breejens' defection.

Joe and Irene den Breejen eventually sold their house after the war ended and Joe retired, moving to a small house in Sleepyside to be close to their daughter and son-in-law, and eventually, the three boys that Beth popped out. Rapscallions, all of them, but they brought great joy to the older couple.

Months after Patty Jones returned home, she glanced at the birth certificate. Bertram Jones, father unknown. But, she did know who the father was, that man who hurt her insides so badly, the doctor said she'd never have another child after this.

A year or two later, she found religion and married a member of the small church she joined. She didn't find it well enough to confess to her husband about her former life. Elroy Jones (no relation) bought a small truck farm, and she and her boy became country folk. As far as anyone knew, Jonesy was her and her husband's child. She worried about her boy, though, with his explosive temper and the I want line between his brows.

And Beth and Sam? Well, they finished their degrees within a year. After the war, Beth became pregnant, and Harold, Peter, and Andrew followed in quick succession. Beth retired from school teaching to be a stay-at-home mom. Her boys, all of them, were her pride and joy.

Sam did rise in the ranks at the bank. He might never be president – too many behinds to be kissed and office politics as he explained to his Beth. The bank expanded to several nearby towns, and he was promoted to Chief Loan Officer. It was a responsible and busy position, what with servicemen returning from the war and wanting nothing more than to settle down with their sweethearts.

They may have married in haste, but they never did repent in leisure.

88888888

Trixie Belden Frayne closed the journal she found in the attic of Crabapple Farm. It was in a small, dusty trunk that had gotten wedged behind a dresser that belonged to her uncles. The dresser hadn't been moved in years, maybe since it was brought upstairs. She was seven months along, and she and Jim were looking for the family christening dress when it was discovered.

She brushed a tear from those fabulous blue eyes of hers. "Oh, I never knew all that about my grandparents."

Jim grinned at her and pointed to the other contents of the trunk. "And now I know where you got that detective-ing gene from." The box was filled with True Detective and Ellery Queen magazines, as well as a plethora of dogeared Agatha Christie mysteries.

"Daddy never said a word."

"I would think these stories were your grandma's guilty pleasures. I wonder what ever happened to Patty Jones? You don't think…"

"No, she wanted to be an actress. I suppose she just went back to New York City." Nope. No way.

"I bet your grandma would be so proud of you, baby."

"You know, we're kinda like Sam and Beth," Trixie mused.

"How so?" Jim helped her rise. "Oof!"

"Oof yourself, Ace," she snorted. Her face softened as she watched his emerald eyes. "Sam and Beth. All it took was one look. And they knew."

"They weren't in a dilapidated old mansion," Jim countered, drawing her close.

"But they knew, right from the start."

"Just like we did." Unable to resist her mouth, Jim bent down and brushed his lips against hers. Deciding that little taste did nothing to slake his thirst, he leaned in for more.

Neither one heard the happy sigh that reverberated in the attic.

"C'mon Beth, time to go home." Sam Belden stuck out his hand.

His beloved Beth placed her hand in his as his long, strong fingers curled around hers. "Always, Sam. Always."