Callie was transformed from the anxious, bitter young woman who had come to call on Saturday, who had said her mind with such disapproval. That was the last time they had seen each other, because Callie hadn’t come to the ice-out party. And this, this was a different Callie altogether.

Then the sun caught the ring on Callie’s finger, and it all came clear.

Martha tried to pin down a single thought that she might put into words. I see you are married, or May I wish you joy, or This is a surprise, or Did you not swear to me just a few days ago that you would never marry, and scold me for my foolishness in considering such a thing? But she could say none of those things for fear of being misunderstood. Or, she admitted to herself, of being understood too well.

Daniel was saying, “We sat out the weather at the Allen place. You were in town?”

Martha would have poked him, had she been close enough. He was being dense.

“We got married, just about exactly a day after you.”

“In Mr. Cady’s parlor,” Callie added. The first words she had said.

Daniel blinked. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was surprised. But I’m happy for both of you. Congratulations. If we had known what you had in mind, we could have traveled together.”

At that Martha had to press her mouth shut, because the idea struck her as outlandish.

Ethan spoke to her directly, “I’d congratulate Daniel but he’s too proud of himself already. So I will wish you joy, Martha.”

How very awkward and silly it all sounded; this was the way people talked to each other in Manhattan salons, not on country lanes.

“You have gone very still,” Callie said to Martha. “I suppose we have shocked you with our news. We did try to find you in Johnstown.”

“Not at all,” Martha said, and she made an effort to put all the warmth and sincerity she could muster into her voice. “I am very happy for you, Callie.”

“The idea wasn’t to make you happy,” Callie said shortly. “It was to make your mother unhappy.”

There was an awkward pause. In the end Martha simply turned her horse’s head and walked away.

“There’s a lot to talk about,” she heard Daniel say behind her. “But this isn’t the place for it. Will you come home with us to see my folks?”

“That would be very nice,” Callie said. “I would like that.”

For the rest of the short trip Martha wondered what she might have said or done different, but there was no help for it. The four of them would arrive at Uphill House together. Her anxiety, already high, soared to the breaking point.

The idea wasn’t to make you happy. It was to make your mother unhappy.

Within five minutes they had left the Johnstown road and were following a deer trail uphill, single file. No chance to talk to Daniel or Ethan or even Callie. If she could voice her opinion, what then? She’d come across as mean-spirited, and maybe that was the right word.

Martha asked herself the hardest question: If it made sense for her to marry Daniel, why shouldn’t Callie marry Ethan? She needed protection and support; she had no money of her own and if Jemima should try to take the orchard from her, it would be much more difficult now. Ethan had put himself between Callie and Jemima, as Daniel had done for her.

Then what was wrong?

The answer came floating up without prodding at all. She doesn’t love him. Then again, it was none of her business who Callie loved or didn’t love. Ethan was no fool, and he had married Callie of his own free will.

When they came out of the woods at the back of the clearing behind the Bonners’ place Martha’s heart leaped into her throat.

Daniel leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Chin up,” he said. “You have nothing to prove, you know. They already love you.”

From the corner of her eye she caught Callie’s expression. Reserved, watchful, and determined. She looked nothing like a bride, which made Martha think of what she herself might look like to the world after two days of Daniel’s attentions. Just then it came to her, as simple and clear as water: Callie’s marriage was truly one of convenience only. They had not shared a bed, and maybe they never would.

A face appeared at the kitchen window followed by a flurry of activity.

“Here they come,” Daniel said.

The kitchen door opened and disgorged the little people, as frisky as calves and bellowing almost as loud. Curiosity stood behind them leaning on her cane.

“Hold it right there!” she shouted. “You run out into that dooryard you’ll be knee-deep in mud, and then you be stuck right there with the rest of the creatures what don’t know no better while we in here visiting with the newlyweds and eating cake.”

The children went back the way they had come, looking disgruntled, so it was Curiosity who greeted them first, with Elizabeth and Nathaniel close behind.

“Now look at you,” Curiosity said, her eyes moving from Martha to Callie and back again. “Here we was expecting one wedding party but it looks to me like we got two brides here. Ethan! Did you go and marry Callie Wilde?”

Ethan had dismounted and he came over to bend down and kiss Curiosity’s cheek. “I did.”

“Two brides, then. Martha, did that man of yours forget you needed a ring?”

Martha was momentarily sorry to have taken off her gloves.

“Never mind!” Curiosity said, waving a hand in the air. “I got the idea Elizabeth already got that sorted. Daniel, where’s my sugar? Martha, Callie, you two come on now, everybody waiting to see you. Ain’t ever day we get two brides at once. In fact I can’t remember that ever happening. Don’t worry about those men of yours, they know the way.”