It was a pale, cloudy day, but that didn't take away from the ecstatic mood Charlotte had been in for the last few days. All the windows in the cabin were open, chilly autumn air billowing in, mixing with the warm scents of baked yams, roasting turkey, gravy, and other delicacies.
She tended to the large wood stove, listening to the sizzling of food in the iron pans as she cooked. Her uncle busied himself by sweeping dust from the floor outside the wide-open door. It seemed like it was the first time in her life that she wasn't tired at all. Nothing bothered her. She didn't think about her father, she didn't think about money, she didn't think about any pain in her heart.
She just thought about Nels Oleson joining them for Thanksgiving dinner.
"Uncle, don't forget to sweep the corners," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled. "Don't know why you're so concerned about the cabin lookin' tidy. You never concerned yourself with it before."
"Well, we so rarely have guests," she said. She kept checking on the apple pie in the oven, making sure it was golden brown before she took it out to rest.
"It's a fine thing that you invited Nels to join us," said Samuel, sweeping a cloud of dust out the door. "Otherwise, I figure he'd be sittin' alone. Though I imagine you're tired of seein' him by now since you just about see him every day at the mercantile."
She laughed, mixing a big pot full of beef stew and another pot loaded with mashed potatoes. Everything she made was from her mother's old recipes. She had memorized them all a long time ago. She used to experiment with cookbooks but found that nothing was better than her mother's way of cooking.
She was glad that the cooking kept her occupied because otherwise, she believed she would have been positively jittery. Ever since her attempt at playing Etude No. 6 for Mr. Oleson, her deep affection for him had grown even deeper. So deep that she didn't even think of the pointlessness of her feelings.
For once, she just enjoyed the feeling, the pure euphoria she would experience when she was near him, when she thought of him. It just seemed that the more she got to know him, the more reasons she had to love him. As long as she could keep her feelings hidden, she could enjoy them in isolation. They were harmless when they were just in her mind.
She could manage with the small, innocent tokens of affection Nels occasionally gave her: a touch of the shoulder, a kiss on the forehead.... The kiss he gave her just a few days ago revitalized her in a way she never thought possible. She thought about it every other moment.
The pressure of his lips against her skin, his warm hands holding her face, muttering, I'm proud of you.
She wanted to play the Etude for him again. That song struck her with such mortification, but for Nels Oleson, just for him... she wanted to try it again. He believed in her even when she was unsure. She felt if only she could play that song, she could show him who she used to be. The better version of herself, before she was lost in chaos.
"Do you see him yet?" she asked, glancing at her uncle who stood just outside the door with his hands on his hips.
"Not yet," he replied, turning back inside. "Refreshin' day today. Glad I got the day off. Haven't had a wink of rest in a while."
She was glad to be back in the cabin with her uncle. It was comforting to have him around, but ever since he fell ill, she worried more about him. It was only a slight, distant worry, but the incident showed her that even her uncle, who she always assumed was the closest thing to invincible, was only mortal. The idea of anything bad happening to him was a terrifying thought.
She was just about finished with dinner and hoped everything would be ready by the time Mr. Oleson arrived. She set the table with meager tin plates which embarrassed her somewhat. She knew Nels was accustomed to proper dinnerware, as was she, but this was all she and her uncle could manage.
She added a dish of minced meat pies to the table, as well as a big bowl of buttery mashed potatoes and green beans.
"You're awful excitable just for Thanksgivin', Charlie," said Samuel, leaning against the wall beside her.
"Uncle, please," she said, trying not to burn anything. "I'm trying to concentrate."
"You need a hand?"
She laughed warmly. "If I let you cook then we'll certainly be left with something burned."
"You know me a mite too well, Charlie," he smiled. He faltered when he heard clattering outside. He went and peered out the door and called back to her, "He's a'comin'. I'll go greet him."
Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. As her uncle went outside, she hurriedly plated some more food and took off her apron before rushing to the mirror in her room to check herself. She adjusted the high collar of her white blouse and curled her wispy bangs with a finger. She pinched her cheeks to give herself some semblance of color.
I shouldn't bother, she told herself. Nels doesn't see me that way.
Yet, she still wanted to look nice. She hurried back into the main room and took everything off the stove. All that was left was the turkey in the oven.
She turned abruptly when she heard the footsteps of her uncle and Nels Oleson clamor over the wood floor. Mr. Oleson was dressed warmly in a brown coat with a green scarf tucked into the collar. "Hello, Mr. Oleson," she said. She almost said his first name, but she didn't want her uncle to hear her say it, as he might find it strange.
"Hello," Nels said, smiling once he saw her. He put something wrapped in a cloth on the table. "I brought some cranberry pie."
"Why, Nels," said Samuel. "We'll be drownin' in sweets by the end of this supper; Charlie already made an apple pie and a lemon cake."
"Well, you can never have enough sweets," Charlotte chimed in. She couldn't tell if she was nervous or just excited. She was perhaps most pleased that her uncle was friends with Mr. Oleson, as the two men meant very much to her, and the thought of them disliking each other was frightful to her.
"Whatever you're cooking smells delicious," said Nels, taking off his coat and hanging it near the door. He came over beside her at the stove and peered into the many pots and pans resting off the heat, still steaming.
"It's a little bit of everything," she replied. "But go on and sit down, Mr. Oleson. Everything's just about ready."
Her uncle helped her take the turkey out of the oven as it was too heavy for her to carry. It had a perfectly golden brown skin, seasoned with parsley and thyme. "My uncle was lucky enough to hunt down this turkey in the forest yesterday," she told Nels as she sliced into the bird and served slabs of succulent white meat.
"Don't know if lucky's the right word," said Samuel with a smile as he sat down. "More like pure determination. Didn't plan on leaving that forest without a nice big bird."
"I went out looking for some ducks myself," said Nels. "But I ended up coming back empty-handed."
She sat at their small square table with her uncle to her left and Nels to her right. Once all the food was served, their plates looked divine. Hot slices of turkey rested beside cranberry sauce and stuffing, minced meat pies, and mounds of mashed potatoes with gravy. As soon as she started eating, she knew that all her cooking had been successful as it tasted almost exactly how her mother used to make.
Yet, she closely watched Nels Oleson to see what he thought. "This is wonderful," he said after a moment. "My compliments to the chef. I don't think I could have done better myself."
"I'm glad you like it," said Charlotte, smiling brightly. A compliment from him seemed to be worth more than anything in the world. "It's all from my mother's old recipes."
"And the gravy has such a savory flavor. There's something about it I can't put my finger on. What did you put in it?"
"I always put in a splash of red wine."
He smiled at her, intrigued. "That must be it. I never thought to try that before. I always used the basics, just good stock and butter, some parsley."
"You two sound like a couple of chefs," Samuel chuckled, enjoying large bites of stewed beef.
"Oh, Mr. Oleson's a very good cook, uncle," Charlotte explained.
Samuel seemed to find that amusing. "Then you've got a skill I could never master, Nels. Anytime I get near a stove, somethin' gets set on fire."
They ate and chatted for quite a while about business at the mercantile, about the changing of the seasons, about the food. Charlotte ate slowly, perhaps a little distracted. It was hard for her to take her eyes off of Nels Oleson, and she hung onto his every word.
She liked the way he moved his head when he talked, how he raised his eyebrows, how the veins on the back of his hands showed in the lamplight when he rested them on the table. She liked seeing him in her home, comfortable and content. It made her realize how much she wished he could be a bigger part of her life.
How I wish he wasn't married, she thought, gazing at him while he talked with her uncle. How I wish I was older, or he was younger... but he's perfect right now. Right now, when I can never have him.
"Charlie?"
Charlotte jumped at her uncle's voice. She hadn't heard him the first time, and he only managed to get her attention when he tapped her hand. "Head in the clouds, girl?" said Samuel. "Come on, let's get these dirty dishes out of the way. I'll give you a hand."
They cleared the table except for the desserts which mostly consisted of different types of pie. She glanced out the window and noted that the sky was already getting dark. She hadn't realized how much time had already passed.
She wished so badly the evening would never end. It was all so simple, but it delighted her. She loved how Nels always included her in the conversation, no matter what they were talking about, and how he often glanced at her when he spoke. He was better at maintaining eye contact than most men, she found. It made her feel that he truly listened to whatever she said, even if it was just a few words. That sort of simple attention made her feel electric.
It was only when somehow got on the subject of Nels's wife that Charlotte's gleeful mood dampened a little. "I got a call from Harriet just yesterday," Nels told Samuel. "Which surprised me, since she's been ignoring me for a long while."
"Why do you think she did it?" Samuel asked, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.
Nels sighed. He looked immediately older and more exhausted once he started talking about Harriet. "I don't know. I hoped she was calling to say she was coming back, but that wasn't the case. She chatted mainly about how the children were doing, and it sounded like they were doing fine. Maybe more than fine; Harriet always spoils them when they go out east. She mentioned that she might send them for a visit, but I don't know how reliable of a statement that was."
"She'd send the kids but not herself?" Samuel asked, curious.
Nels shrugged. "Harriet's hard to figure out sometimes. I tried to talk some sense into her, but it wasn't any use. I have a mind to go east to her myself, but I have a feeling that it wouldn't do much."
"I'm sure she'll come around sooner than later. You two have been together a long time, haven't you? This is just a passing quarrel."
"Well, Samuel, I wish I could be as sure as you are."
Charlotte could see how depressed the subject made him, and it saddened her. She had no idea why his wife decided to leave town, but her absence seemed to upset Nels just as much as her presence. She didn't want the evening to become too downtrodden, so she stood up and said, "How about some music?"
As soon as she saw the enthusiasm on the two men's faces, she took to the piano. It took her a moment to determine what song to play, and found it irresistible to play anything but Chopin's Fantaisie Impromptu. It was among the fastest and most complex songs she knew, and she played it because...
I want him to admire me. I want him... to look at me.
The way Fantaisie Impromptu sounded was like pure love trapped in a fever dream. Racing, exquisite, up and down, up and down, powerful and passionate and heavy. And then light as a bird flying away. Then, slow as a sigh, and calm. A lull into a false sense of security, like a sunrise, a sunset.
It was only when she played songs like this she felt confident. She felt that she was entirely herself. She felt Nels Oleson's eyes on her and felt even more powerful. She sensed the heat in her cheeks that formed at his gaze and from the passion of her fingers moving so intensely across the keys. She couldn't see his face, but she knew that he was as impressed with her skills as he had been before, if not more.
And then the music raced again, faster than before. Frenzied, perfect, echoing, eternal, stuffed with love. Her whole body swayed with the tune as her fingers moved faster and faster, reaching almost a point of sublime insanity. The deep notes she struck at the low end of the keyboard reverberated within her bones.
And finally, the song trailed off like a nostalgic memory. When she turned back to her viewers, she could tell from their expressions that she had made a good impression. Samuel, of course, was used to her playing, and smiled with pride. Yet Nels was still growing accustomed to it, and gazed at her as if she was a wonderous dream.
It made Charlotte wonder what he was thinking.
In the evening, after Nels Oleson left, Charlotte sat in a chair at the dining table with her eyes closed, her hands resting on her stomach, smiling. All was quiet now, except for the sound of the wind against the thin windows of the cabin. Her uncle stood looking out one of those windows, out into the dark of the prairie, a cigarette clamped between his lips.
Charlotte hadn't felt so pleased with herself in a while. The whole evening had been perfect. The food, her music, her conversations with Mr. Oleson. For once in her life, nothing went wrong. She felt all she had to do now was go to bed and have some pleasant dreams to conclude the day.
"Charlie?" Samuel said, turning from the window.
"Yes, uncle?" she said, opening her eyes, remaining reclined in the chair.
"Be careful."
Slowly, she sat up, her brows knit in confusion. "What do you mean?"
His expression sagged, unusually dower, though his eyes gleamed with a certain thoughtfulness. "You know I love you like my own daughter. Always did my best to help you. Over the years, I've worried about you many a time, about your health, about your happiness. But I... I think I'm more worried about you than I've ever been before."
"Why? I felt so well today, uncle. You saw all I did. Even now, I'm hardly tired. Why would you be worried?"
Samuel huffed out a long trail of smoke, extinguishing his cigarette on the edge of the table. "'Cause the way you look at Nels Oleson is a dangerous thing."
Her whole body froze over and her heart sank into her stomach. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He sat down in the chair across from her. "Charlie, I ain't here to scold you. I'm just sayin' that I know a look like that when I see one, and with the way things are, trouble's easy to find. He's a married man with children."
"I know that," she said, standing suddenly. "Mr. Oleson's a fine friend of mine. We enjoy each other's company. That's all, uncle."
The look in Samuel's eyes was bittersweet. "Girl, you ain't the only reason why I'm worried. Nels got the same look."
Charlotte met her uncle's eyes, bewildered.
Impossible, she thought. It's impossible.
But despite her rational thinking, her insides burst with elation followed by immense fear. "I don't believe it," she said sternly. "Mr. Oleson's a respectable man, and—"
"And you're a respectable woman, I know. Charlie, I ain't attackin' you here. But in my youth, I got into many a complicated situation that started a lot like yours now. You don't got the strength for those kinds of struggles. I don't want you hurt because you got yourself into a doomed circumstance. Same with Nels. As a friend of mine, I don't want to see his life get any more complicated."
Charlotte's emotions spun like a roulette wheel and she didn't know what to say, what to think, what to feel. Samuel reached out and grabbed her hand for comfort. "Come on, Charlie. Think about it. That man's as old as your Pa. There are plenty of young men your age that'll be good for you."
Samuel might have had an idea of her feelings towards Nels Oleson, but he didn't understand why. He didn't understand how Nels was the only person who wasn't family that stuck by her when she was sick. He saw the worst of her condition and wasn't frightened away as all her other friends and companions were. He helped her. He had compassion. He had never grown cross with her for things that she couldn't help.
And he believed in what she was capable of. Not even her own father had offered her that.
But her uncle had a point that her situation was doomed. Nels Oleson was married and that was that. Though the thought of Nels possibly feeling similarly about her as she felt about him excited her to no end, she had to push that from her mind. She couldn't entertain it, because if she did, she felt that she might fall to pieces.
He's everything I've ever wanted in a man, she reflected miserably. Everything I never even knew I wanted.
It all made her want to die. With a deep sigh, she said, "Uncle, I'm very tired. I think it's best now if I retire to bed."