Josephine March Bhaer trailed her fingertips across the words engraved in the cold marble, her silky lashes fluttering softly against her cold, wet cheeks. Beloved Husband and Father. The words were few, and though she could have thought of a great many words to described her dear Fritz, each word held so much truth and meaning.

Fritz.

It was still so hard to believe that only two years had passed since his death. It seemed like so much longer - like eternity. But she had the children. They kept her on her toes with their constant antics but she loved every minute of it, and she loved them like they were her own.

And there was Nick…he had done so much for her.

Still, she would always have that small place in her heart reserved for Fritz - her beloved husband. Others would surely come into her life, but she would always remember him and the wonderful years they had shared together. Her dear Fritz; she would always love and respect him.

"Ready ta go, Jo?" Nick Riley asked, his quiet words breaking through her thoughts. He tightened his jaw slightly, silently berating himself for intruding upon her privacy.

Jo glanced up, brushing a gloved hand across her cheek. With a slight nod of her head, she said, "Yes, I'm ready." She stood up and straightened the long, thick folds of her skirt, casting a lingering gaze at her deceased husband's grave before joining Nick.

When Jo stepped up beside him, Nick noticed the sadness in her eyes; the grief in her becoming features. He felt so guilty. She asked for so little with all that she gave, and he had denied her of the one thing she cherished most, all because of a confounded thunderstorm.

"I-I'm sorry, Jo." Nick's voice was low, full of sincerity. Refusing to meet her gaze, he held out his hand like a gentleman, ready to offer his assistance.

Jo accepted, and stepped up into the wagon. "It's all right, Nick," she said softly, her quivering lips curving into a small smile. She had no idea of the extent of the guilt he was struggling with, though she hoped her words would quell whatever he was feeling.

Climbing up, and sitting beside her, Nick tipped his head ever-so-slightly in acknowledgment. He gathered the reins, and after flicking Marty across the rump, clucked the gelding on his way. Marty gave a snort of protest, but broke into a jerky trot nonetheless.

As the wagon slowly rumbled down the lane, Jo glanced back over her shoulder. Fritz's gravestone faded into the distance, leaving an unexplained emptiness. A single tear rolled down her cheek before she turned around, folding her hands in her lap.

Nick's heart wrenched, but he said nothing; offered no indication of his feelings. It was not right to proclaim his undying love when she was still - clearly - grieving deeply over the death of her husband. He shifted in his seat, his shoulders slouching forward in the typical, carefree way that most "drivers" did.

"Ya alright, Jo?" He couldn't help but ask the question.

Jo glanced up; her chocolate eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, j-just fine," she assured him distractedly, letting her gaze linger on him no longer than necessary. "Thank you." She caught the inside of her bottom lip, suddenly growing uncomfortable. Nick Riley wasn't stupid - he would surely see right through her. He simply knew her too well.

"Wanna talk 'bout it?" he ventured to ask, his eyes never straying from the road.

He'd seen right through her façade, just as she predicted. Jo swallowed, and failed to answer right away, leaving Nick wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries. But then, much to his surprise and relief, she laughed softly; the frown of troubled confusion disappearing.

Jo smiled, and dipped her head, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of rose. "I was just-just thinking about Fritz..."

"Oh."

Nick focused intently on the road, pressing Marty a little faster.

If Jo noticed Nick's sudden interest in the landscaped, she gave no indication. "...About Fritz, and when Nat first came to Plumfield. He'd been here for less than a week when Fritz and I discovered his great struggle with telling lies." She grinned softly.

"Nat Blake? Tellin' lies?" Nick's brows raised with incredulity. Nat telling lies? He never would have guessed it.

"Yes." Jo nodded her head, trying not to chuckle at the look of utter disbelief on Nick's face. "They were never very serious ones. In fact, to some, his little fibs would have been considered "little white lies", but as we all know, a lie is a lie. "

It was Nick's turn to nod. That was true. A lie was a lie, no matter how big or small. "So, what d'ya do 'bout it?"

"Well," Jo started thoughtfully, "Fritz often broached the subject with him, but it never seemed to much good." Then, she gently threw her head back, laughing. "Then again, there was one evening in particular…it broke the habit easily - at least for a few months..."

Fritz Bhaer folded his hand in a steeple under his chin, watching the fragile looking ten-year-old before him with fatherly concern.

"We can never be too careful; watch your eyes, you tongue, your hands. It is easy to look, act and tell untruths, even when we don't mean to," he warned Nat gently, his eyes still holding the love and warmth felt for the boy.

"I know, sir and I don't mean to do it," Nat said quietly, his eyes traveling to the ground as a faint blush colored his pale cheeks. "But it's so much easier to get along if you ain't fussy about being exactly true. I started tellin' them because I was afraid of father and Nicolo - and now I tell them sometimes 'cause the other boys will laugh at me. I know it's bad sir, but sometimes…" he let out a small sigh of childish distress, "I forget."

Nat's earnestness with the truth tugged at Fritz's heart. The boy was shy, yes, but he had a true desire to do the right thing.

"When I was a little boy, I used to tell lies, just as you do. What fibs they were! My old grandmother finally cured me of it - how, do you think?" Fritz looked up at Nat, who was listening attentively to his every word.

"How, sir?"

"My parents talked, cried and punished - but I still forgot as you do. Then my dear old grandmother said, 'I shall help you remember, and put a check on this unruly part,' and with that, she drew out my tongue and snipped the end with her scissors until the blood started coming."

Nat's eyes went wide. Mr. Bhaer wouldn't do that to him...would he?

"That was terrible, you may believe," Fritz started again, catching the terrified look on the young man's face, "but it did me much good because it was sore for days. Every word came so slowly that I had much time to think before speaking. After that I was more careful, and got on better, for I greatly feared old grandmother's big scissors."

Unfortunately, that did little to ease Nat's fears. His eyes remained wide and his features still held the stricken look.

"Yet, my dear old grandmother was most kind to me in all things," Fritz informed him, trying to assure his student that she wasn't a brutal woman.

"She was?" The words were no louder than a hoarse whisper of disbelief.

"She was. When she lay dying far away in Nuremberg, she prayed that little Fritz might love God dearly and tell the truth." Fritz raised his graying brows, wondering what Nat's final response would be.

"Well sir, I-I don't have any grandmothers..." he hesitated, wondering whether or not he should continue, "but...but if you think it will cure me, I'll let you snip my tongue," he finished heroically, trying to hide his grimace. He hated pain, but wished greatly to stop telling fibs.

Fritz shook his head, smiling, rather proud of Nat's display of courageousness.

"I think I have a better way. I tried it once before, and it turned out quite well. See now, when you tell a fib, I shall not punish you - but you shall punish me."

"Punish you?" Nat asked, startled at the very idea.

"You shall ferule me in the good old-fashioned way, the way I seldom do myself. But it may make you remember better to give me pain rather than to feel it yourself."

"Strike you, sir? Oh, I couldn't!" Nat cried out in despair.

"Then mind that tripping tongue of yours." Fritz chuckled softly, but then returned to seriousness. "I have no wish to be hurt, but I would gladly bear much pain to cure this chief temptation of yours." *

"Nat quit lyin' after Mr. Fritz said he'd take the punishment?" Nick glanced over his shoulder at Jo, thoroughly intrigued with the kind, but now deceased man's way of doing things.

"Well," Jo touched her bottom lip thoughtfully, "It made a strong impression on Nat, and as Fritz predicted, the love of him was more useful for Nat rather than fear for himself. Every once in awhile though, despite his much effort, poor Nat forgot to watch his tongue, and Fritz would carry out his proclamation."

Nick's traveled back to the road, and he nodded his head. "Soun's like a mighty fine idea ta me."

"He thought of some things that I never would have thought of myself," she commented softly, her voice holding undeniable admiration for her former husband. "The children loved him dearly…" Jo's tone grew soft, her eyes misting with new tears.

An' so do you, he silently added, feeling a small wave of melancholia falling over his features.

"As they love you, Nick."

Her sincere comment took Nick by surprise. His gloved hands involuntarily tightened around the leather reins, his heart tugging with emotion at the few, simple words. As they love you, Nick. The children loved him? Dearly? He swallowed, overwhelmed by the unexpected burning at the back of his eyes.

"Awe, how ken they not?" Nick teased finally in good nature, unable to respond seriously. He didn't know what to say; her statement knocked him off a little more than he would ever have imagined.

"You big Casanova," Jo said, laughing as she gently elbowed him in the side. "What is with you men?" She rolled her brown eyes heavenward in mock annoyance.

vNick chuckled, despite his struggle to hold a wide grin in check any longer. "This shower'll be might nice fer the kids' gardens," he said after a few moments of boisterous laughter, hearing a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Jo clapped a hand to her mouth; another fit of giggles settling in. "Oh, Nick, you should have seen the look on Rob's face."

"Huh?" He made no effort to try and hide his bewilderment. Women.

"The look on Rob's face," she repeated, "the one when Fritz told the children they were little gardens."

"He tol' the kids they were li'l gardens?" Nick raised a dark brow.

"Little gardens."

"Whatever, Jo. Whatever ya say." Nick rolled his eyes in a "yeah, sure" way, suppressing a snicker. He was accustomed to Jo Bhaer's peculiar ideas by now - he had been around her enough.

Paying no heed to his taunting, Jo started to explain. "It was Sunday evening. Demi and Daisy were over for the weekend, and we had all just settled in the parlor, preparing to have our 'Sunday evening talk'…"

Having taken a longer walk earlier in the evening, rest now thoroughly agreed with everyone. Little Rob cuddled up in Jo's easy chair beside her - Emil, Nat, Stuffy and Tommy were on the floor, with Jack, Meyer and Billy sharing the long sofa across from Fritz. Daisy sat close to Fritz's side, while Demi occupied down near his knee.

Every one was tired and worn out, no doubt, but each boy kept his wits awake, knowing they would be called on at least once during the time to share their 'views' on the story.

"Are you goin' to tell us a story, Papa?" Rob asked, blinking his eyes sleepily.

"I might," Fritz smiled, deciding to leave them in a small amount of suspense.

"Please do!" boys from around the room begged, clapping their hands together.

A hearty laugh escaped Fritz's lips and he beckoned for them to quiet down. He had every intention of telling one, and assured them so.

"Once upon a time," he began, in the dear old-fashioned way; "there was a great and wise gardener who had the largest garden ever seen. A lovely and wonderful place it was, for he watched over it with the greatest skill and care, and raised all manner of excellent and useful things."

Small 'ohs' and 'awes' filled the room, each child's face bright with intrigue and attentiveness, already caught up in the story just shy of being started.

"But," Fritz continued, rather gravelly, "despite his good care, weeds would still grow in his fine garden; often the ground was bad and the good seeds sown in it would not spring up-"

"The poor ol' gard'ner," Rob interjected, his blue eyes filled with childish sympathy for the man he didn't know.

Jo raised her eyes and smiled at her husband, brushing back Rob's bangs to place a kiss on the small forehead.

"Sweet little Rob," she murmured softly.

After things had quieted down again, Fritz continued. "He had many under gardeners to help him. Some did their duty and earned the rich wages he gave them; but others neglected their parts, and let them run to waste, which displeased him much."

"They didn't do their work?" Nat asked, wide-eyed with evident disbelief.

Fritz nodded his head. "That's right, my boy. They didn't do their work. We must always be careful, and responsible to do the things we are told. But the old gardener was very patient, and for thousands and thousands of years he worked and waited for his great harvest."

"He must've been pretty old," Demi commented, squinting his face slightly. "Do people even live that long?"

"Hush Demi," Daisy insisted, "it's just a fairy story."

Jo took the liberty to answer that one. "No Demi, people don't live that long." She smiled at the young boy.

"I think it's an arrygory," Demi chimed in.

"What's an arrygory?" Tommy asked.

"Go ahead and tell him, Demi, if you can. And don't use words unless you are quiet sure you know what they mean," Fritz reminded patiently.

"I do know!" Demi exclaimed excitedly, eager to prove his knowledge. "Grandfather told me. A fable is an arrygory; it's a story that means something. My 'Story Without an End' is one, because the child in it means a soul; don't it, Aunty?"

"Yes dear, that's it. Uncle Fritz's story is an allegory, I am quite sure. So listen and we'll soon find out what it means," Jo replied, chuckling at the boys' enthusiasm.

Demi squirmed, settling as soon as Fritz returned to speaking.

"This great gardener gave a dozen or so of little plots to one of his servants, and told him to do his best and see what he could raise. Now this servant was not rich, nor wise, nor very good-"

"Then why'd he give it to him?" Emil interrogated suspiciously.

"The gardener had been very kind to him in many ways, and the servant wanted to help because of it. So the servant gladly took the pots and fell to work. They were all sorts of shapes and sizes, and some where very good soil, while some rather stony, but all of them needed much care. In the soil, the weeds grew fast, and in the poor soil, there were many, many stones."

"What was growing in them besides weeds and stones?" Nat wondered curiously, out loud.

"Flowers," Fritz responded kindly, smiling at his shyest student. "Even the roughest, most neglected little bed had a bit of heart's-ease or a sprig of mignonette in it. One had roses, sweet peas and daisies in it-" he reached over and tapped little Daisy's rosy cheek before telling any farther. She let out a childish giggle, flushing slightly.

"Another had all sorts of curious plants in it, bright pebbles, a vine that went climbing up like Jack's beanstalk, and many good seeds just beginning to sprout. For you see, this bed had been taken fine care of by the wise old man, who had worked in gardens of this sort his whole life."

Jo caught the grave, wistful expression that crossed her husband's face, knowing how much he desired to do his duty with the little garden plots gathered all around.

"As I tell you," Fritz said, eyes traveling around the small audience, "some of these beds were easy to cultivate - that means take care of, Daisy - and others were very difficult. There was one particular sunshiny little bed that might have been full of fruits and vegetables as well as flowers. But it wouldn't take any pains and when the man sowed," he paused, thinking, "we'll say melons, they came out to be nothing because the little bed neglected them so."

Small murmurs filled the room; all eyes fixed intently on the older man sitting on the settee.

"The man was sorry and kept on trying, though every time the crop failed, all the little bed would say was, 'I forgot'."

Everyone laughed loudly, quickly looking at the blushing Tommy sitting in the chair. They all knew how he favored melons, as well as using 'I forgot' as an excuse.

"I knew he meant us!" Demi cried out, clapping his hands together. "You are the man, and we are the little gardens. Aren't we, Uncle Fritz?" His eyes glimmered with excitement as he regarded his dear uncle.

Fritz chuckled softly. "You have guessed it, Demi. Now each of you tell me what crop I shall try and sow in you this spring, so that next autumn I may get a good harvest out of Jo's little boys..."

"Li'l gardens…" Nick rubbed his chin.

"Demi was so excited to have found out the 'arrygory'." Jo smiled, remembering the sweet, enjoyable conversation with clarity.

Wriggling his brows mischievously, he suddenly asked, "Ya got anymore stories?"

"More stories?" Of course! She had thousands of them. Yet, she was startled by his question, almost request, having assumed the poor man was bored to tears by now. "Well, y-yes, I do, but-"

"We got more time 'til we git home," he hinted.

"Are you sure you want to hear another? I'm not boring you?" Jo's voice held a hint of uncertainty. She would not mind sharing another - she would be happy to share another, but she didn't want to, unless Nick really wanted to hear one.

"If I didn't want ta hear 'nother one, d'ya really think I woulda been droppin' hints like thet?" Nick gave a teasing, "honestly, woman" look, his lips curving into a smile.

Jo met his gaze; her train of thought slipping as she stared into the blue depths of his eyes. Such beautiful eyes.

"I-I," she stuttered, feeling her cheeks turn crimson. "I-if you insist."

"Hurry up boys," Franz urged gently, pressing the ambling students a little faster. "You know that Uncle Fritz doesn't care for us to be late," he reminded, heading up the back of the well-sized group.

All of the children poured into the barn-turned-school, cheeks flushed with excitement over the composition paper they held, tucked under their arms. They noisily took their seats, quieting once Fritz motioned kindly for them to do so.

"Now that everyone's here, we shall begin. Ladies first, so Nan you may begin," Fritz looked at her, waiting for the girl to stand up. Obediently, she got up and stood by her desk, reading the following preceded by a small giggle:

Fritz nodded his head in agreement, resting his own head atop hers. "No, I don't think he will." *

"She really went ta bed after he visited her?" Nick roared with laughter.

Jo bit her lip in attempt not to smile. "Poor Tommy."

"Poor grandma," he countered ruefully.

"I don't think he ever realized that he was the cause of her taking to bed." She couldn't help but chuckling a little. It was rather funny. Turning pensive, she folded her hands, and pressed them under her chin. There had been so many wonderful times with Fritz. If only he were still alive...

Recovering from his snickers, Nick glanced back at Jo. He frowned slightly with concern upon noticing the distracted - apprehensive? - look that creased her smooth forehead as she stared ahead blankly. He frowned, half with concern and half with anger towards himself. He had done it again - stuck his foot in his mouth.

Thing's were goin' just great 'til I had ta open m' big mouth. Nick tightened his jaw, silently berating himself, wishing he could keep better control - know when and when not to say more. Would he ever learn?

Plumfield finally came into view in the distance.

Nick hastily jumped down to open the gates, more than thankful for the escape from the uncomfortable silence.

The hinge broke...yet again.

Jo, careful to keep her grin and giggles in check, clucked to Marty, and pulled him to a halt once inside so Nick could climb back up. They rode up to the house in silence, no one saying a word until Nick walked around to help Jo down.

"Thank you," she mumbled softly, bewildered by the flustered feelings that roused when his brilliant blue eyes held hers for a lingering moment. Jo dropped her head, catching her bottom lip. This was Nick Riley, her caretaker. Why was she being so silly?

"Uh...yer welcome." Nick quickly dropped his hands from her small waist, stepping aside, giving her room to pass. What had he been thinking? She was still grieving the death of her husband. She had no room for him, not now, not ever. Her heart belonged to Fritz, as it always would. He knew better than to hope.

"We better git a move on it. That storm we've been runnin' from is gonna catch up ta us if we don't hurry it up." Nick smiled faintly, and reached to press his hat a little lower on his head. He made no move to lead her, gently take her elbow as he usually did.

"Nick, I..." Jo faltered, reaching out to touch his arm. She quickly dropped her head, lest her eyes reflect her feelings. Her emotion tripped over each other in their fight, pulling her in both directions. Could she offer her heart again, knowing that she could Nick as easily as she had lost Fritz? Was she willing to take that chance?

Nick stopped, slowly turning to look at her.

"Would…would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?" she asked, almost shyly, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

Coffee? She was asking him to have a cup of coffee with her? He felt a grin tug deliberately at the corners of his mouth. "I'd love ta have coffee with ya," he answered huskily, his eyes meeting hers.

Jo smiled, her heart skipping a beat when he accepted. Those blue eyes…and his smile. She melted every time he looked or grinned at her like that.

Nick extended his arm. "Shall we?"

Slipping her arm into his, Jo lifted her hem with the other.

A calming peace washed over her, leaving a feeling of assurance.

"So'd Tommy ever actually mail that letter ta 'is grandma?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. And it was weeks before we heard back…."