Chapter 22: Proposal

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"Caroline," Seth said as she gathered up the soup plates from their supper, "Got a minute? Need to talk to you." He looked very serious, and he felt very nervous. He licked his dry lips and attempted to slow his breathing. He could feel his heart thumping. And he almost lost his nerve.

The young woman nodded and furrowed her brow at her brother-in-law. Winter was finally easing its frigid grip; the maples were showing some dark red buds, and a lot more migrating birds were out in the barnyard trying to steal chicken feed. Caroline finished her work in the kitchen, took off her apron and came back to the dinner table. She stood by Seth's chair, and he took her hand and pulled her down to sit facing him. His palm was clammy. She raised her chin and let him hold her hand briefly before folding both in her lap.

"I been thinking," he said after he cleared his throat a time or two.

"You don't want to do too much of that," Caroline said with a grin.

Seth's smile flickered briefly. "About us." He hoped he did look as ill at ease as he felt.

"Us, you and me, that what you mean?" She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. "I been thinking that maybe you ought to marry me." He paused briefly and glanced up at her face and went quickly onward, "And then we could go set up our own housekeeping somewhere, maybe even right here. I suppose." He held both her hands trapped in his.

Caroline blinked several times and swallowed. Within her, something opened, a space she had forgotten about. It was as if she felt a breeze.

"Well?" he asked, looking rather anxious and feeling peculiar, oddly disturbed, as if he might tip over and fall on his face. He withdrew his hands from hers and cracked his knuckles. She folded her empty hands back onto her lap.

"Well," she said, not showing the turmoil she felt, "this is kind of sudden, Seth. I don't know what to say." How do I get out of this, she thought, not wanting to hurt his feelings. How did he come up with this idea? "My goodness!" she said. If it's pity, I'll whack him, she thought, and put that idea aside.

"Sudden," Seth said rather loudly, standing quickly beside his chair, nearly tipping it over. "Sudden?"

Caroline flinched and then put a finger to her lips and shushed him, waving her other hand toward the kitchen.

"Shoot, girl, we've known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper. Nothing sudden about it." Seth stomped all the way across the room, turned on his heel and strode back, hands clamped behind him. The dishes on the hutch shelves rattled.

"No, I mean, well, you are asking me to marry you? That's what you're doing. Right?"

"Of course," he said, a bit annoyed, "what do you think I'm saying? An' I didn't mean to call you a girl either so don' look at me like that."

"And you're talking about maybe leaving here, leaving your mother and this farm?" Caroline cocked her head slightly and looked at him closely, something she had not done for a while. He needed a shave, both a haircut and a shave in fact, and his collar was frayed. His finger nails were dirty, his shoes a disgrace. She wondered how long it had been since she really looked at him. He was older, and he appeared to be worried. Sweat dotted his forehead.

He nodded, very serious. "Maybe. Why not? We don't have to stay here."

"After all the work you've put in, the apple orchard, the new chicken coops, the roof work you did on this old house." Aware that her words were tumbling out, Caroline tried to calm herself with a deep breath. She gulped and gnawed her lips, twisting her hands together.

"I didn't think you'd want to live here." He turned away from her again and then spun about and put his hands on the back of his chair. His knuckles turned white.

Caroline clamped her mouth shut and then leaned on her fist, looking down at the table, avoiding Seth's eyes. She traced around a dark knot in the wood's grain with her finger tip. "Have you told your mother?" she asked without looking at him. Her inner self had calmed. She felt very rational, very grown up, much older than Seth, matronly in fact. I'm a widow; he's still a boy, a bachelor, a flibbertigibbet. She smiled to herself for that word choice.

Seth shook his head and sat down beside her.

"No," Caroline said, looking into his eyes, hoping not to hurt him. "I don't think so, not now at least. I thank you for asking, and I will think about it, honestly I will, but I don't believe so." She shook her head.

"Why not? Your children like me. I like them. Why not? Don't they need a father?" Seth asked, feeling a large lump in his throat, fearing he might weep or yell at any minute, wondering if he had done or said something wrong or just picked a bad day. He knew women had bad days. "Why not?"

"I'm not sure; that's why. Because I am simply not sure. Not sure about anything."

"Neither am I, but I think it's a good idea. Shoot, I'm almost twenty-five. I ought to be married."

"What's wrong with all those girls you've been seeing; the Clagett girl's sure pretty enough and that Nancy Beall's nice and has all those acres and acres. What was that tall girl's name, Sue Simmons, oh, and that Margy? Yes, Margy, you sure were chasing after her."

"I know," Seth said with a grin, plunking himself down in the chair again. "And she was chasing me, too. But I don't feel about any of them what I feel about you. They're fun, but daw'gone it, I love you." He stopped and inhaled.

"Well, now you've done it," Caroline said with a broad smile. She turned to face him and held both his hands tightly, surprised at the pleasure she felt.

Seth looked puzzled.

"You said love, didn't you? I heard you." She smiled, feeling exultant. "Don't you deny it."

He nodded, and she leaned forward and kissed his mouth, still holding his hands as she did. She felt the prickles of his beard. Then she stood and hurried up the stairs where Daniel was howling and Patricia and Johnny were arguing over a book he had been reading to her.

Seth's mother came from her kitchen and took the chair where Caroline had been sitting.

"You asked her?" his mother said, drying her reddened hands, knotting her apron between them.

Seth nodded, thoroughly confused. "How did you know?"

"I've known for a year, Seth, my goodness," she said. "More than a year. Blind man could see it, the way you were moping about, always watching her, her and her children too."

"I didn't even know myself, Ma."

"It'll work out," she said. "I've talked to your Aunt Hope a time or two. She's got a room for me, had it ready for some time. Says I can bring my own bed if I want to, my rocking chair, too, kitchen things."

"You wouldn't have to leave, mother," Seth said quickly. "There's lots of room."

"Can't be two masters in one house," Seth's mother said with a kind look. She tousled his hair. "You'll understand some day."

"Explain, please," he said. He had not felt so confused since his uncle's store had been burned by Rebel cavalrymen.

"That's my kitchen," said Mrs. Williams, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I let Caroline and Annie use it now and then, just so they'll learn some, but it's mine, my private domain. Things are where I put them, where I want them. Those are my pots and pans, my iron stove, my china bowls, my wooden spoons, even my salt and my garlic cloves."

Seth nodded, recalling something in the Bible about wives and mothers.