To Have and To Hold by Ruth Ann Nordin Page A

y. It makes no sense I’d go through al that trouble to only turn around and come
    back.”
    “And you were sensible enough to understand that back then.” He kissed her cheek. “See why
    I had to marry you?” Standing up, he held his hand out to her. “The train’s due any minute
    now. Are you ready?”
    She took his hand and paused. “You made a joke,” she slowly recal ed. “When I told you I
    wasn’t as thin as other women, you said something about that being good because it meant the
    wind wouldn’t blow me away from your land.”
    He nodded. “That’s right. You laughed. You can always tel a marriage wil be good if the
    woman can laugh at your jokes.” After she stood up, he slipped her arm around his and led her
    toward the platform. “You have a wonderful laugh.”
    “I can’t get married alone,” she said, recal ing another glimpse from the past. “We were about
    to get married, and it’s what I told you.”
    With a wide smile, he asked, “Do you remember anything else?”
    Yes, she did, but this went back to the pil ow she sewed for him on their wedding night, and in
    her mind, she caught images of being in bed with him and how gentle he’d been with her. She
    cleared her throat, sure her cheeks were a wild shade of pink. “I do, but I don’t wish to say it
    in a public setting.”
    Looking intrigued, he whispered into her ear, “Then I’l have to let you show me when we’re
    alone.”
    She giggled again. “You’re most definitely a horrible man, Mr. Larson.”
    “That only depends on the situation. I assure you I can be good when I need to be.” He
    wiggled his eyebrows.
    “I don’t know. It seems to me you’re a wicked man al the time.”
    They reached the platform and he gave her a hurt look. “Oh, come on, Mary. I am good most
    of the time.”
    “I suppose,” she began and playful y added in a low voice, “but that’s only during the day.”
    A train whistle blew, directing their attention to the train as it pul ed into the station. She had
    enjoyed the temporary reprieve from her anxiety over seeing her family. She was sure she had
    nothing to worry about. She grew up with them, after al . They were bound to be nice people
    and would welcome her and Dave with open arms. They were probably just as nice as his
    family.
    But no matter how much she kept tel ing herself these things, she couldn’t shake off her
    apprehension. She reasoned it was because she didn’t remember them. At least, she hoped
    that was why. The train came to a stop and she tightened her hold on Dave’s arm.
    He gave her a reassuring smile. “You won’t get lost in the crowd. I promise.”
    Though he misunderstood her tension, she returned his smile. “I’m glad you’re coming with
    me.”
    “I haven’t met your family yet, and now is probably the only time I’l get the chance.”
    “It was nice of your family to help us buy the tickets.”
    “Yes, it was.” As the doors opened and the people filed onto the platform, he stepped closer to
    her. “I think this wil be a good trip.”
    She hoped he was right. Taking a deep breath, she waited until they were cal ed to board and
    went on the train with him.

    ***
    When they arrived at the smal train station in Maine, Mary and Dave stepped onto the
    platform. She scanned the area, wondering if anything there would spur a memory of her life
    here, but nothing came to mind.
    Dave pul ed out the brass tags for their luggage and waited as a young man placed their carpet
    bags on the platform before he gave the man the tags and picked up the bags. He returned to
    her and smiled. “What do you think? Is any of this familiar?”
    She shook her head. “No. Are we in the right town?”
    “Yes. You told me you’re from here.”
    “Did I tel you anything else about my past?”
    “Not much. You’re the youngest of five sisters and six brothers. Your sister Grace is one of
    your dearest friends. Of course, now you say that about Sal y, Jenny, and