by Vivi Holt
Eve stood and walked over with a warm smile. “Yes?”
“Ready to go?” asked Holly, smoothing her skirts.
Eve frowned and glanced back over her shoulder at James, who’d swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat watching them with a furrowed brow.
“James can come too, if you like,” added Holly. It might do the boy good to get some fresh air once in a while.
Eve’s eyebrows arched skyward. “Oh no, he couldn’t do that. It might upset his lungs.”
“If you’re sure …”
“Yes, it’s really out of the question. But I’m ready. I suppose I can leave him …” Another backward glance. “Do you mind if I go down to the church with Aunt Holly for a few minutes?” she asked James.
Holly wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t dare – she knew how sensitive Eve would be about it, and she didn’t wish to upset her sister. But sometimes she wanted to shake her by the shoulders and perhaps rattle loose some common sense. Ever since their parents died, when Holly and Eve were only thirteen and nine respectively, Holly had taken care of her younger sister. Even now as adults, she sometimes felt she should give her sister advice – a feeling she resisted as best she could.
“No, you go ahead, Mother. I might try to take a turn in the garden while you’re gone.” James stood, lifted his hands over his head to stretch – and fell into another coughing fit. At eight years old, he understood just how to manipulate his mother, who treated him as though the Earth revolved around him. But otherwise he was a sweet boy and rarely took advantage of his mother that way. Most of the time, he did his best not to cause any inconvenience.
Despite her reservations about his parents’ treatment of him, Holly truly did love her nephew. And he adored her children as well. He seemed to be in a better mood with them there, even though their raucous behavior only highlighted how his life was different from the average boy’s.
“Oh dear.” Eve rushed to his side and patted his back, helping him sit back down on the thick mattress. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, my darling – your cough seems a little worse than before. We won’t be gone long. And Cecilia is in the kitchen baking bread, if you need anyone.”
Tripp, Sarah, Heather, Edward and Eleanor all arrived at the door to James’ room at once, amidst laughter, stamping of feet and general rowdy merriment. “Coming, James?” asked Tripp, bounding into his cousin’s room without a second thought.
“I don’t know …”
“Oh, come on – it’ll be fun.” Tripp launched himself onto the bed.
James looked up at his mother with a frown. “Can I, Mother?” Heather and Edward were fighting over a toy wooden soldier, so she couldn’t hear what Eve said, but a few moments later James emerged with Eve and Tripp behind him. “I’m coming too!” he declared with pride.
Holly’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Well, that’s wonderful. Let’s go then, shall we?” She glanced at Eve, her sister’s face looking even more pinched and pale than normal.
Even with a simmering tension between the two sisters over all the things that hadn’t yet been spoken and the uncertain future that lay ahead, the walk to the church was pleasant. An early fall chill was in the air and James coughed a few times, but still seemed to enjoy himself. The leaves had begun to turn orange and yellow, and birds twittered and chirped and dived between their branches overhead. The children laughed and chattered, and for a few minutes Holly could forget about their plight until they reached the tall stone church they attended every Sunday. They were here to pray.
Ever since Rodney told Eve her sister had to leave, Holly had hoped and prayed he’d change his mind. Surely he wouldn’t toss his sister-in-law and her five children out on the street to make their own way in the world? He couldn’t be so cold-hearted. And sure enough, he’d given them more time than he’d originally intended. His ultimatum had been a week ago, and he hadn’t made them leave yet. But according to Eve, neither had he changed his mind.
Eve was just as upset over the situation as Holly, and seemed to grow more nervous with each passing day. As they walked arm in arm up the church stairs, Holly could almost feel her trembling through her sleeves. “We’ll pray Rodney will change his mind, or that God will provide us some other situation. I just know we’ll find a way out of this.” Holly smiled at her sister, but really she was trying to convince herself as much as Eve.
Eve nodded and forced a frail smile. “Yes, something will work out, I know.” She patted her sister’s arm and sighed.
The children were playing a noisy game of hide-and-seek around the front and side of the building, between the columns, staircases, trees and gravestones. James watched from atop a gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs. Holly spun to reprimand the troublemakers. “Children,” she hissed, “please be quiet. We’re going inside to pray. No playing, no shouting. You must sit quietly and speak only to God. Do you understand?”
They all lined up quietly behind her, nodding in agreement, and Holly sighed in relief. She and Eve walked into the church, the children following meekly behind.
They knelt and prayed for half an hour, during which both of the women wept, pleaded with God and admonished any child who raised their voice above a whisper. Only after they stood and made their way outside did the children resume playing, shouting with relief at their freedom.
Eve sobbed beside Holly, whose innards felt numb and heavy. “What will you do?” she asked, pressing her hands to her chest.
“I really don’t know.” Holly’s voice sounded empty and dull to her own ears. Just outside the churchyard, beneath a large oak, was a park bench. She sat there, moving a newspaper to one side.
Eve sat beside her and took Holly’s gloved hand in hers. “I’m so sorry, Holly my dear.” She wiped away a tear.
“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s, really. I suppose we couldn’t expect Rodney would put up with me and five rambunctious children in his otherwise quiet home forever.”
Eve frowned, staring at the ground, then picked up the newspaper.
Holly watched the children chase each other, throw piles of leaves and frolic in the small park beside the church. What would they do? Where would they go? How would she feed so many hungry mouths? Her heart ached.
“Look at this.” Eve’s voice broke through her melancholy. She shoved the newspaper toward Holly.
Holly took it with a frown. “What?”
“Look!” insisted Eve, pointing at an advertisement near the bottom of the classified page.
Holly lifted it higher and read:
WANTED: BRIDE
Successful landowner in Wichita, Kan., in need of wife. Must be sturdy, of childbearing age & good temperament. Apply by mail: Kurt Sawyer, Wichita, Kan. c/o Wichita Western Mill.
Holly’s eyes narrowed. A mail-order bride? Was that really something she should consider? Who knew what this man Kurt Sawyer might be like? “You think I should do this?” she asked, eyebrows arched.
Eve grinned. “Why not? It’s perfect. You need a husband and you’re not likely to find one around here. He doesn’t say anything about previous children, so maybe he’s not particular. And he’s a successful landowner, so he’d be able to support you all. It’s worth writing to him at the very least. If you don’t like what he has to say, you don’t have to follow through with it. What other options do you have?”
Holly had to admit her sister had a point. She hadn’t been able to come up with a single thing that would help in her current predicament. She’d thought she’d probably end up working at some textile mill, though she’d never be able to support her entire family on what she’d make there.
Her heart chilled at the thought of writing to a man she’d never met about the prospect of marrying him. Maybe he’d be a kind, hard-working man who’d be happy to have a new family. Maybe he wouldn’t. But she’d have to take a risk if she and the children were to survive. She tore the advertisement out of the newspaper and put it in her pocket. “All right, Eve, I�
�ll write him and see what he has to say. Who knows, maybe this is God’s way of answering our prayers.”
Eve threw her arms around Holly and held her tight. “Oh Holly, I hope so.”
A tear rolled down Holly’s cheek, and she pressed her face against her sister’s shoulder. Maybe this Kurt Sawyer was just what her family needed. She knew she’d never love again – to wish for that was like hoping to hold the moon in her hands. But even without love, a marriage could work, she was sure. And in that moment she didn’t know what else to do.
3
All the way home from church, Eve prattled excitedly about the prospect of Holly finding a husband via the classified ads. Holly remained silent, but the more she thought about it, the more her spirits rose.
When they reached the house, the children scattered around the garden to play while Holly bustled inside. She hung her coat and hat on pegs by the back door and wiped her boots on the mat, went upstairs and sat at the little desk in the corner nook of her room to pen a letter.
With a blank sheet of paper and a nib pen in hand, she sat ramrod-straight and stared out the window, watching the children in the garden below. What should she say to this man she’d never met? Perhaps simply introduce herself and express her interest – that would be easy enough. Likely they’d correspond for some time before they made a decision. She could always tell him about the children in a subsequent letter. And with a prospect on the horizon, surely Rodney would allow them to remain until things were finalized.
She put pen to paper:
Dear Mr. Sawyer:
My name is Holly Bristol. I’m a widow, living in New York City with my sister Eve and her husband and son. I saw your advertisement for a bride in the New York Gazette and am writing to express interest in knowing more about you and your life in Wichita.
I must admit, I haven’t been so far west, having never traveled farther than the mountains of western Virginia where I was raised. However, I am open to living elsewhere for a suitable situation. I am sturdy enough and accustomed to hard work and the running of a household.
There are a good many Sawyers in the New York area. Are you acquainted with them at all?
I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Holly Bristol
Holly folded the letter, put it in an envelope and addressed it in her smooth, sloping handwriting, then sealed it shut. Describing oneself in a few brief paragraphs was more difficult than she’d thought. How does one sum up one’s life, one’s very self, in so few words?
On her way out the door, she stuck her head into the parlor and found Eve doing needlepoint before the fire, James sat beside her putting a puzzle together on the coffee table. “I’m just going to mail this letter – I’ll be back shortly. Do you mind watching the children?” she asked.
Eve smiled, and Holly caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman her sister had once been. Carrying a child had worn her out, and she no longer wore the blush of youth that had drawn beaus to her side from near and far. “That’s fine, my dear.”
Holly nodded and hurried to fetch her hat and coat. She’d rather mail the letter now, lest she lose her nerve. It was best she didn’t think too much about it. She had a habit of talking herself out of things if she dwelled on them too long.
Three weeks later …
Holly heard Rodney grumbling through the bedroom walls. Her room was only a few doors down from Rodney and Eve’s, and his deep baritone carried. She couldn’t hear what he said, but she could guess.
He’d caught Tripp smoking his pipe outdoors when he returned home early from work. He’d boxed Tripp’s ears, then yelled at them all for a good hour before supper. Holly and the children chose to eat in her room to stay out of his way, and after supper she’d put them to bed. That seemed to mollify Rodney, but she still avoided him on the way back to her room from the children’s.
She understood his anger – she was angry with Tripp herself. Even at ten years old, he knew better. But he’d lost his father not so long ago, and his behavior had suffered ever since. At bedtime, in bed with his covers pulled up to his chin, he looked so young that her frown had melted away. She’d stroked his hair from his face as he apologized, tearfully explaining that the smoke reminded him of Pa. Her heart broke at his words, and she’d cried into her pillow the rest of the evening.
A tap on the door made her sit up straight in bed. She hurried to the looking glass and wiped her reddened eyes, but it was no use – her face was blotchy and her eyes puffy and swollen. Whoever was at the door would see she’d been weeping. She smoothed her hair back, composed her features and pulled the door open.
It was Cecilia the cook. “Miss Holly, this came for ye earlier. I thought ye might like to have it.” She put a letter in Holly’s hand.
Holly glanced down at it in surprise. Who would be writing to her? “Thank you, Cecelia.”
Cecelia patted her arm, a look of compassion on her lined face. “He’ll stew fer a bit, but everythin’ll look better in the mornin’, Mrs. Bristol. Mark me words.” She smiled, showing the gap between her bottom teeth where she’d lost one.
Holly swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Yes. Thank you again.”
Cecelia waddled off, her ample hips swaying, and Holly watched her leave before pulling the door shut. She raised the letter to the light of the lantern she’d lit beside the bed, but didn’t recognize the handwriting. Finally she turned it over. It was from Kurt Sawyer of Wichita, Kansas.
Her hand shook as she slit the letter open with a fingernail. She sat on the bed and smoothed her skirts before pulling the single sheet of paper out of the envelope. Something smaller fell out onto her lap. She picked it up –a train ticket from New York to Wichita!
Her eyes widened. Had he already made up his mind about her, even knowing nothing about her save her short note? She moved closer to the lantern and read:
Dear Mrs. Bristol:
I was glad to receive your letter. I am the son of William and Gladys Sawyer of Mount Vernon, New York – perhaps you know them?
My brother Angus and I moved to Wichita to start a new life of limitless opportunity. We are both doing well in our endeavors. Angus is married with a family. I hope you will consent to join me shortly and begin our own family together. I have prayed for a wife, and hope you will be as happy with matrimony as I’m sure I will be.
I have enclosed a train ticket for you, and hope you will use it as soon as possible. I am anxious to meet you. Send word of when you will arrive and I will meet you at the station.
Yours sincerely,
Kurt Sawyer
She folded the letter and set it on the bedside table. What now? He’d written nothing about his business, his home or himself. She knew no more about him than she had before, other than that he was related to the Sawyers of Mount Vernon. She vaguely recalled an elderly couple called William and Gladys from her volunteer days at the New York Society for Improving the Conditions of the Poor – they’d struck her as being good people, but she didn’t recall ever having met any of their children.
She frowned and lay back on the bed. How could he make up his mind about her so swiftly, so determinedly? She wasn’t sure she could do the same, though what other option did she have?
Then another thought struck: he’d only sent one ticket. And she needed six!
“The letter is well written – he’s obviously an educated man. And we know his family, or at least know of them.” Eve folded the picnic rug over her arm and straightened the wrinkles in the fabric with gloved fingers.
Holly nodded. Still, it felt as though she would be traveling to the middle of nowhere to meet a man she knew nothing about. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind one ear. “Though it isn’t much.” She sighed and leaned over to brush leaves from the hem of her skirt.
The children were investigating a nearby ant’s nest, long sticks in hand with which to safely poke the colony. The ants, hidden beneath the ground in preparation for the co
ming winter, hurried out of their hole in confusion, rushing in every direction. Holly watched from a distance, her brow furrowed. “Children, be careful, please.”
“We could arrange to meet with his parents, see what they have to say and get to know them before you make your decision.”
Holly picked up the picnic basket from the leaf-covered ground by her feet. “That’s a good idea. But he seems to want me to come as quickly as possible, so we’d have to do it soon.”
“I’ll ask Rodney if we can use the buggy tomorrow and we’ll pay them a call.” Eve smiled and her nose crinkled. Holly loved it when her sister’s nose crinkled that way – it reminded her of their childhood. Eve had been a bright spot in the darkness of those hungry, savage days.
She grinned at Eve and looped her free arm through hers, swinging the picnic basket in her other hand. “He only sent one ticket, though …”
“I’ll buy the children’s tickets with my own money. Don’t fret about it.” Eve smiled and squeezed Holly’s arm.
“Thank you, my dear sister. You know, I have a good feeling about this. It’s all going to work out.”
“Yes, it will.” Then Eve’s smile faded. “Though if it does, we won’t see each other … for a long time. Perhaps forever.” Her gaze dropped to the ground, her chin trembling.
Holly’s heart plummeted. She’d considered that, but had pushed the thought aside. It didn’t do to dwell on future hardships, especially considering that there were plenty of present ones. “We’ll just have to make sure we see each other again. I’m sure Rodney won’t mind you visiting. I can’t speak for my future husband, given I know nothing about him, but the chances of us paying a call to New York seem higher since his parents live here, don’t you think?”
