by Zina Abbott
Michael hoped Annie was right. At the moment, he could not envision that happening. He had lost his heart to Annie Flanagan. Although Kate was a lovely woman, as he stood at the front of the church waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle and join him, he considered her a poor substitute for the woman he yearned for heart and soul.
Although he almost regretted ever applying for the vacant company house, Michael knew the man and woman sitting behind him were happy to see this marriage take place. Royce Bainbridge honestly believed that married miners were settled and contented miners. Their satisfaction with their personal and home life would translate into productive labor for the mines. As for Mrs. Millard, the woman considered every marriage she helped arrange as a feather in her cap—another medal of success on her victory wall.
Movement at the door prompted Michael to look toward the back. His bride stood by the back pew. She wore a heavy veil of aged white Irish lace which completely hid her face. Not even her dark hair showed through the rich, thick crochetwork. He had no idea how she and Annie had bought or had found the time to make the cream-colored silk dress a few shades lighter than the veil. Even Michael, who did not pay close attention to women’s fashions, recognized the stylishness of the gown with its ruching, tucks, buttons and bustle. Its nipped waist even helped Kate appear slimmer than normal. While her one hand held a white handkerchief edged in lace, the other rested on the arm of Bennett Nighy as he walked her down the aisle.
Michael faced forward once more. He inhaled deeply and slowly allowed his breath to escape. The priest would soon perform the ceremony with the Biblical readings and exchange of vows. Michael reached his hand inside his coat pocket to reassure himself it still contained the ring he bought. This was it. For better or worse, within the next hour, he would become a married man. He must learn to love his wife and hide away in the deepest corners of his heart the love and yearning he felt for her sister.
As Kate took her place beside him, Michael could not bring himself to look at her. He felt a jolt of surprise when, after releasing Kate, instead of Mr. Nighy sitting in the front pew next to his wife, he helped her stand next to him.
Mr. Bainbridge also stood and stepped over next to Michael.
Michael realized they, as Protestants, assumed the positions of witnesses as if this were at the Community Church at the other end of the street.
Where is Annie? Why isn’t she standing as a witness for her sister’s wedding?
Michael leaned forward and stared at Mrs. Nighy as, totally contrary to tradition, she handed Fr. O’Nalley a slip of paper.
The priest read it. With a surprised expression, he turned to Mrs. Nighy. “Are ye sure of this?”
Michael fought back an expression of disapproval as Delphinia Nighy regally lifted her head and straightened to her full height.
“Yes. Exactly as it is written on the paper.”
Michael next turned his attention to the priest who widened his eyes and then shrugged. When Fr. O’Nalley finished the Bible readings and began the vows, mentally and emotionally, Michael distanced himself from what was being said. He knew he must go through with this marriage no matter how resistant he felt. Then he heard the words that caught his attention.
“Do you, Anne Ciara Fiona Flanagan…”
His mouth open in shock, Michael turned to the woman beside him. “Anne Ciara Fiona? Annie, is that you?”
“Would you be objecting if it was, Michael O’Hare?”
Michael knew his face split into a foolish grin as Annie lifted her veil quickly enough for him to glimpse her smile and the laughter in her eye. “No, I certainly do not.” His heart surging with excitement, he faced the priest. Michael cringed upon hearing the strident voice of Lizett Millard behind him shout.
“I object! You are supposed to marry Katherine Flanagan, not her sister. I insist this marriage start over, this time with the right bride.”
Shaking his head, Michael turned to the woman. “No, Mrs. Millard, I’ll marry Annie Flanagan. She’s the right bride for me.” He clamped his lips tight to keep from laughing as the woman continued to sputter her objection.
“But…but, I matched you with Kate, not Annie. According to my graphology…”
The imperious voice of Delly Nighy echoed through the building. “You are interrupting a solemn ceremony, Mrs. Millard. I suggest you assume your seat so the priest can get on with it.”
“Annie can’t read or write, Lizett.”
Upon hearing the voice, Michael, along with everyone else in the congregation, turned to the back of the building.
Dressed in a dark blue wool gown trimmed in white lace, Kate Flanagan walked down the aisle. She turned to face Lizett. “How could you have been using your graphology to be matching her? Your graphology only can be working proper when everyone exchanging letters knows how to write.”
Michael smiled as Kate stopped next to Annie and wrapped her arm around the back of her sister’s waist. He realized Kate had been the one to release him from his commitment and insist Annie marry him instead.
“Your method’s working fine, Lizett. With Annie not knowing how to write, who better than her sister, almost as close to her as twins, to be writing the letters, helping you match her to a husband perfect for her? With Annie giving me your name and address and knowing you’d probably be matching me with one of the men up here, she was quick accepting work with Mrs. Nighy, now wasn’t she? It’s a grand thing, you finding a wife for Mr. O’Hare with me standing in for my sister.”
Michael rolled his eyes as Lizett continued to sputter.
“But…but, graphology doesn’t work that way. There can’t be substitutes.”
Michael had heard enough. “I know about last week’s wedding. You accepted a substitute then.” Michael glanced over to Royce Bainbridge who, wearing a pained expression, rubbed his forehead.
“I’m still having second thoughts about that situation.”
Not to be deterred by his boss’s concerns, Michael persisted. “There’ll be no second thoughts about this situation. I intend to marry Annie Flanagan.” He turned back to Fr. O’Nalley and nodded. He hoped the priest understood his desire to continue the ceremony.
“Now we’ve settled who’ll be marrying Mr. O’Hare, I’ll be proceeding with the vows.”
Relieved everyone settled down when the priest continued, Michael focused with renewed intent on the promises he entered into with Annie, the woman he loved, and the woman he intended to keep close by his side as they built a future together. His heart swelled with joy when the ceremony ended. He and Annie were one—husband and wife.
As Michael led Annie Flanagan O’Hare to the back of the building, before leaving, he sought out his new sister-in-law. He wrapped his arms around her—their first hug—and whispered in her ear. “I do love you, Kate, but as a brother. I can’t thank you enough for releasing me so I was free to marry your sister.” He felt his heart warm at Kate’s response.
“I can be using another brother, mine still being back east. It wouldn’t have been right, us marrying, not when you and Annie were already owning each other’s hearts.”
Michael gazed intently into her eyes, seeking assurance. “You’ll be all right, Kate? I know this leaves you hanging.”
“It’s best this way, now isn’t it? I’ll be working for Mrs. Nighy, only herself insists I start calling her Delly. I’ll be sending money to my family until we can be finding a way for them to be joining us. Get along with your new wife now, Michael. The Nighys are planning to host a wedding dinner at the River Valley Inn. You and Annie being the guests of honor, they’ll be expecting you. I’ll be taking Ma’s veil back to my room and putting it away, waiting for the next Flanagan sister to marry, then I’ll be joining you.”
~o0o~
Holding the folded lace wedding veil in her arms, Kate watched Michael assist her sister into the two-bench carriage Mr. Nighy had rented to take him, Delly, and the new married couple to the inn, and, later, the newlyweds to thei
r new home.
Kate did intend to join them shortly. However, as she started walking back to the boarding house and to the room which would now be hers alone, she appreciated having a few minutes to herself to think about the new direction her life had taken. Delly already told her she looked forward to her continuing the cooking lessons Annie started, plus she could try out new recipes for herself and her husband. She might still be scrubbing pans, but that would be a small part of her job, not the primary task she faced each day.
Her steps slowed as she approached the corner across from the Community Church for the Protestants in town. Their Christmas service must have concluded earlier, for she saw no one about.
Kate’s thoughts drifted to Mr. McAllister, her letter-writing rescuer who liked to read and cook. He declined attending her wedding because he made other plans. Had his plans including attending the Christmas service in the little church in front of her? If so, it was just as well. She had ended up not being the one to marry. She knew she owed him a debt of gratitude for explaining the legal and social obligations of engagements which gave her the courage to see that Michael married the right Flanagan sister.
Kate resumed walking and turned the corner, leaving behind the view of the church. A couple of blocks ahead of her the bridge leading Annie’s new house—one she suspected Annie would enjoy living in far more than Kate ever would have—peeked through the wintery mist.
This had turned out to be a glorious and joy-filled Christmas for Kate. She had witnessed her sister marry the man she loved. She looked forward to a job where she had been given control of the kitchen. She would earn enough in wages to help the rest of her family. She lived in a beautiful mountain town away from the poverty and lack of opportunity found in the Irish sector of lower east Manhattan.
Both she and Annie looked forward to a bright future.
~o0o0o~
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Thank you for reading
Two Sisters and the Christmas Groom
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If you enjoyed reading Two Sisters and the Christmas Groom, you may also enjoy Nathan’s Nurse, Book 19. The other bride who arrived with Kate was named Dahlia Greenleaf. Here is the start of her story in Nathan’s Nurse:
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Chapter 1
~o0o~
North of Kansas City, Kansas – August, 1881
D ahlia dried the last dish from breakfast she had washed and placed it back on the shelf. She glanced over at her sister-in-law, Jenny, who, head supported by one palm, used her other hand to stir what was left of her morning wheat mush. Dahlia kept her face expressionless as she reflected—not for the first time—Jenny certainly knew how to play up her bouts of morning sickness.
Dahlia shook out the dishtowel and draped it over the hook above the dry sink. “Jenny, I’m going out in the garden to see what’s ready for bottling today. Do you want me to leave this wash and rinse water for you to clean up your dishes when you’re finished?”
“No, go ahead and toss it. I’ll take care of these later.”
Two-year-old Sarah, still in her nightclothes and soggy diaper, rubbed her eyes as she wandered into the kitchen. “Eat, Mama.”
“Before you go, Dahlia, would you mind changing Sarah’s bottom, then fixing her breakfast? The way I feel, I’m afraid if I move too much, everything I ate will come right back up. Plus, the smell of her diaper alone is enough to make me retch.”
Dahlia squeezed her lips tight to keep from snapping at Jenny.
Don’t judge. You’ve never been pregnant. You don’t know what it’s like.
Still, if it was up to her, Dahlia would have had Sarah already up and fed by now so, once the kitchen was cleaned, it stayed that way until time to start preparing dinner. Instead, Jenny, over her husband’s protests, allowed Sarah to stay up at nights until she fell asleep on her own. In the mornings, Jenny refused to wake the child, claiming she needed a little quiet time to start her day. That meant fixing and cleaning up breakfast took half the morning—most of it left to Dahlia to do. Dahlia could not help but suspect that if Jenny forced Sarah to wake up and eat with the rest of the family and did not put her down for a morning nap in addition to an afternoon nap, within a few days, the little girl would start falling asleep earlier at night.
Then again, Dahlia was not Sarah’s mother—she was only the maiden aunt. Right now, with her father in the ground these past two weeks, and her primary purpose that justified her continued presence in the home become unnecessary with his passing, she had been relegated to the position of servant for her oldest brother’s family. Dahlia already knew from experience, if she said anything to her brother, Elm, he would side with his wife.
“I’ll change her diaper, but feeling queasy or not, you need to get up long enough to fix Sarah’s mush. It is important that I go out in that garden before the sun saps the moisture out of everything that should be harvested. As hot as I think it’s going to be today, I want to get the bottling started before it’s time to help prepare the noon meal.” Dahlia picked up Sarah by grabbing her under each armpit. Holding her away from her clothes, she rushed her niece out of the room before Jenny could offer a whiney protest against dishing up her own daughter’s meal.
With Sarah freshly clothed, Dahlia returned her to the kitchen, seated her on the booster box, and tied her into her chair with a dry dishtowel. Ignoring Jenny’s frown, Dahlia grabbed the bowl of wash water and left the house long enough to dump it in a part of the garden where she would not be working that day. She used the outdoor pump to rinse it out before returning it to its place and taking the bowl of rinse water with her. That bowl she would keep with her for gathering and rinsing the soil off the vegetables she would can that morning.
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Chapter 2
~o0o~
S everal hours later, along with the rinse bowl and a bucket full of vegetables to be preserved or used in that day’s dinner, Dahlia stood and leaned her back against the outside wall. In the waning shadow on the west side of the house, she sensed the faint stirrings of a breeze. It felt good to rest and cool off a few minutes before she returned to the kitchen. She heard the back door slam shut, and sensed, more than saw, her oldest brother walk toward her. She kept her eyes closed until she knew he stood next to her, his back also pressed against the wall. Elm seldom sought her out for any reason, so she knew he planned to discuss something with her.
“Jenny says you’ve been snippy and inconsiderate with her this morning. You know she isn’t feeling well.”
Dahlia opened her eyes and stared across the recently-harvested rows of the garden. “I know, Elm. She’s like she always is in the early stages of pregnancy. But there’s a limit to her treating me like a slave and expecting me to do everything for her. I prepared and served her breakfast like I did for you and the boys. I changed Sarah’s diaper and dressed her for the day. However, I let Jenny know she could feed her own daughter and wash up her own dishes along with Sarah’s, since she didn’t have their breakfast over with when I cleaned the kitchen this morning. I noticed she hasn’t th
rown any new wash water out, so my guess is, she put everything in the dry sink for me to wash with dinner dishes.” Or she might have left everything on the table and walked away.
“You know it’s hard when there are two women in the same kitchen.”
“I know. You do realize, don’t you, it has been my kitchen for twenty-four years? Granted, I was a child much of that time, and it was Rose and Violet who took care of the inside after Mama died until each of them left to get married. When Jenny married you, I would have happily turned the kitchen over to her. Even though I was only sixteen, I figured out right away she wanted control of the house, but not the work involved.” She paused as she glanced over at her brother long enough to see him wince. “What saved me was, while Papa was still alive, this was his house. I’m more than happy to share in the work, Elm—always have been. But when she gets like this, all she wants is a servant to wait on her hand and foot.”
Dahlia steeled herself against the criticism she expected to hear. In her brother’s eyes, his wife could do no wrong, even when she was doing nothing to contribute to the welfare of the family. When Elm responded with a soft, consoling voice, she hiked her eyebrows in surprise.
“I know it’s not easy for you, either, Dahlia. I hope you realize I do appreciate all you did to take care of Papa in his final years. He was mighty disagreeable most of the time, especially the last several months. It was a lot of work, and having you here to see to him saved Jenny from the burden.”
Dahlia appreciated her brother’s words of acknowledgement. Recognition of any sort for the task she had taken on, as expected, had been almost non-existent during the years. The fact that his wife had not needed to care for her husband’s father because she had been persuaded the duty belonged to Dahlia probably loomed largest in Elm’s sense of gratitude.
