A Family Arrangement. Gabrielle Meyer

“I had to send away for the stone, but I was pleased when it arrived.” It had Susanne’s name, birth and death recorded in simple letters. Nothing more. But it must have been expensive.

      A lump gathered in Charlotte’s throat and she put her hands to her lips, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

      Abram turned to her, his shoulders slumped. “I know what you’ve always thought of me, but despite my shortcomings, Susanne somehow found a man to love.” He looked back at the headstone. “I never deserved her, and I told her that often. But she treated me like a king and made me very happy.” He put his hands in the pockets of his tattered work coat. “Maybe Susanne didn’t dream of settling a town before she met me, but she wanted it as much as I did when we came here.”

      Her sister had been just as optimistic as Abram—even if misguided and unrealistic. If Susanne hadn’t been in love, maybe she would have understood the dangers of life with a man like Abram.

      “As her husband, you should have taken better care of her.” Charlotte’s voice caught as she looked at the lone grave. “When she became sick, you should have brought her somewhere with a competent doctor, instead of leaving her here to die.” Father had done the same thing and they had lost Mama.

      “The military doctor came from Fort Ripley and he said there was nothing left to do.”

      “A military doctor? What does he know of female complaints?”

      “I did the best I could—”

      “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” A sob escaped her throat and she turned her face away from Abram, clutching the picket fence for support. “Not when she left Iowa and not when she died.” Her body trembled from the cold and grief.

      He was quiet for several moments and then his coat enveloped her shoulders. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

      Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed as the weight of his compassion weakened her knees. She longed to share her grief—yet years of heartache and disappointment forced her to bear it alone.

      She wiped her tears with her handkerchief and slipped his coat off her shoulders, handing it back. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

      He took the coat and draped it over his arm but didn’t put it on. “Susanne and I wanted to build this town for our sons,” he said softly. “She wanted them here—”

      “But don’t you realize things have changed—”

      He held up his hand to stop her. “I know it seems impossible, but I believe this place will one day be a great city. It’s a legacy Susanne and I wanted for our sons.”

      “You don’t really think you’ll succeed—”

      “I do.”

      She closed her eyes, tired of the unabashed optimism in his gaze—so like the look her father and Thomas used to have.

      He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you stay here to help raise them?”

      She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Here? But I have a business and a home in Iowa City.” She had made a living as a seamstress for eight years, since her father had died.

      “You could be a seamstress here.”

      “I have friends there.” Though not many since she devoted so much time to her work and had resigned herself to being an old maid.

      “You could make new ones here.”

      “There isn’t even a town here.”

      “I’ll have one built soon.”

      “How soon? A year, five years, ten? By then the boys will be grown, if they survive this place.”

      “A year,” he said. “This place will be a real town in one year’s time.”

      She shook her head. “A year?” There was nothing but trees, and hills, and tall, dead grass. “How will you build a town in one year?”

      “More settlers are coming into the territory and speculators are arriving in droves at St. Anthony Falls, which is only a hundred miles southeast of here. If I had one or two investors, we could begin construction on more buildings immediately.”

      “Buildings do not make a town.”

      “What does?”

      “People. Teachers, preachers, doctors—”

      “There are teachers and a preacher at the mission, and the military doctor is at Fort Ripley—”

      “No. Here. To make this place a town.”

      “If I had a teacher, a preacher and a doctor living here, would you consider this a real town?”

      “Not just a teacher, but a school. And not just a preacher, but he must have a church—a separate building from the school. And there must be at least one doctor in town.” She looked at the empty woods. “And then, yes, I would say it is a town—or at least a good start.”

      Abram took a tentative step toward her. “Then this is what I propose. Stay for a year and help me take care of the children. I’m confident I’ll have a teacher, with a school, a preacher, with a church, and at least one doctor by November first of next year. But if I don’t—” He swallowed. “You may take my boys back to Iowa City with my blessing.”

      Charlotte stood speechless.

      He studied her closely. “It’s my only offer. If you refuse, you will have to return to Iowa City alone, immediately.”

      “Why?” She shook her head. “Why are you giving me this option?”

      “Because.” He paused and looked down at his weathered hands. “I know how much you want to be with the boys. And—” he let out a sigh “—I’m sure Susanne would want it, too.”

      “But I can’t stay here for a year.”

      He looked up, a challenge in his eyes. “Why not?”

      “I already told you. My business.”

      “Is there no one to do the work for you—at least for now?”

      Of course there were people who could take over for now—but one year? More important, could she survive in a place like this for one year? Her sister hadn’t, and her mother hadn’t. What made her think she could? Charlotte never took risks. She had learned long ago that nothing good came from taking risks. She was content to stay in Iowa City, unmarried, and be a seamstress for the rest of her life. It was safer that way.

      “Why can’t I take them with me and bring them back if you succeed?”

      “I have no desire for them to leave Minnesota Territory. If you’re worried about a living, I would pay you to keep my house.” He studied her as if gauging whether or not she could do the work. “If you think you could manage.”

      Manage? Hadn’t she been the one to care for Susanne all those years? “Of course I could manage.”

      “Then you’ll stay?”

      Charlotte wrung her hands. “Why a year? Why not six months?”

      “That’s impossible.” He shook his head. “Six months from now is the first of May. I couldn’t build a town over the winter. I need the spring and summer—at least until September first of next year.”

      Charlotte quickly calculated. “Ten months.”

      He rubbed his beard, as if in thought. “If I found the right investors, I think I could do it in ten months.”

      Was she mad to say yes and take a risk? But what choice did she have? She wanted to care for Susanne’s boys. They were all the family she had left. Her house in Iowa City was locked up and her customers could find other seamstresses until her return. There was nothing to stop her but fear.

      She