Emily: Army Mail Order Bride

by Mercy Levy

Mrs. McClure sat down to the right of Joshua. A delicate black woman in her early sixties walked into the dining room. “Your husband,” she said an irritated tone, “still won’t come out of the barn. I done told that man the milk cow is going to live for a hundred years but he won’t listen to me.” I learned that Mrs. Jones never referred to Joshua’s Pa by name when she was upset with him.

  Mrs. McClure sighed. “I know, Elma,” she said and shook her head. “My husband is stubborn and hardheaded. Please, sit down and eat.”

  Mrs. Jones wiped her hands on a wipe covering a pretty green dress, sat down next to me, smiled, and bowed her head. “Let’s say grace. Joshua, you’re the only man at the table so you pray, son.”

  Joshua bowed his head and gave humble thanks to God for the delicious foods covering the table. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” Maureen whispered and raised her head. She looked at me with curious eyes. “Where is Papa?” she asked.

  I sighed. “Papa is outside waiting for me to take him home,” I confessed. “He saw…Joshua kiss me, and now he is upset.”

  “You kissed Eva?” Maureen asked in an excited voice. Joshua blushed.

  Mrs. McClure calmly picked up a white bowl holding mashed potatoes and scooped some into Joshua’s plate. “Maureen, we must not be nosy,” she said and cast me a loving smile. “However, I would like to state that I am very anxious for grandchildren.”

  I felt my cheeks turn red. Mrs. Jones chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed child,” she told me and patted my knee, “marriage between a man and woman is as natural as breathing in God’s good air. My own husband, rest his soul, and I were married for forty years before God called him home. We had some good years. Yes sir, we sure did.”

  “Mr. Jones was a good man,” Maureen added. “I can still smell the tobacco he smoked in that old pipe he carried around.”

  “I can still remember him teaching me how to handle a horse,” Joshua stated in a proud voice. “Tucker Jones was one of the best me there was.”

  “Bless you, children,” Mrs. Jones smiled and nearly started to cry.

  “Now, no tears tonight,” Mrs. McClure told Mrs. Jones and handed her the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Tonight is a night to be happy.” Mrs. McClure turned and looked at Joshua. “What are your plans, son?” she asked.

  “Yeah, when’s the wedding?” Maureen pressed in an anxious voice. “I want a sister.”

  “Wedding?” Joshua exclaimed and cast me a desperate look. “Ma, I ain’t ready to get married yet. I still have to get some land, build a house, start a ranch of my own. I got lots of work to do before I can get married.”

  “Oh, pishposh,” Mrs. McClure fussed, “you know full well, Matthew Joshua McClure, that your father and I are leaving you and your sister this ranch and everything that goes along with it, including this house. And you know full we own over two hundred acres of land that is yours for the picking. So don’t you dare sit there in your seat and throw your pitiful excuses at me, because if you try, I’ll take my best broom to you. Is that clear?”

  Joshua rubbed the back of his neck. “Ma, a man has to make a way for himself and his new bride. I can’t depend on you and Pa to put food on the table.”

  I watched Mrs. McClure’s face turn as red as an apple. She threw out her right hand, grabbed Joshua by his ear, and pinched it. Joshua cried out in pain. “Food on the table?” she asked. Maureen giggled. “Do you not work hard for your Pa and me from sun up to sun down? Do you not manage all the hired hands for us? Do you not see to the payroll? Do you not buy our horses and sell our cattle for good prices?”

  “Ma…my ear…”

  “Hush,” Mrs. McClure said and looked at me. “Eva is a lovely young woman who I want as my daughter. But I will not let her marry a man who doesn’t have the sense of a garden snail.” Mrs. McClure let go of Joshua’s ear. Joshua leaned up and began rubbing his ear. “How dare you say your Pa and I put food on the table when you earn every bite!”

  “Ma, I was just—”

  “Hush,” Mrs. McClure snapped and tipped me a wink. “The land up on the north pasture beside the stream will make a beautiful spot for a new home. The grass is green and the trees are tall and provide lovely shade. That’s where you will build my daughter’s new home. She will be close to Mr. Fontana and close to me. And you, young man, will be close enough to come to work on time each day.”

  Mrs. Jones patted my knee again and scooped mashed potatoes onto my plate.

  <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

  Papa did come back inside, drunk as a skunk. Mr. McClure was with him. Together they staggered into the dining room smelling of whiskey. Papa plopped down beside me and Mrs. Jones clumsy sat down at the head of the table and removed a gray hat from his head, revealing a thin gray, sweaty, hair. His face was hard and tough, but his eyes were kind. “You’re drunk,” Mrs. McClure fussed. “How dare you?”

  “I’m not drunk,” Mr. Jones said and hiccupped. “I’ve been drinking water from the water bucket.”

  “Oh no,” Joshua moaned, “Old Sam must have spiked the water again.”

  Maureen began laughing. “Old Sam strikes again.”

  Papa pointed a finger in my face. “You…” he tried to speak but his speech was so slurry that I could barely understand him, “you…he…I…talked…” Papa pointed at Mr. Jones, “we…talk at him, Eva…”

  Mr. Jones picked up a fork and looked down at his empty dinner plate. “Looks good, dear,” he said and hiccupped again.

  Mrs. McClure rolled her eyes. “There isn’t any food on your plate, you old poop.”

  I couldn’t help but to smile. But my smile was quickly destroyed when Mr. Jones raised his head and threw his eyes at Joshua. “Young man,” he said and tried to clear his throat, “I have decided to pay Mr. Fontana’s fare back to Italy. He will be leaving with his daughter in one week.”

  “What?” Mrs. McClure cried out.

  “The land…it is dry…no gold,” Papa explained and nearly passed out. He jerked his head forward just before his eyes closed. “I will…take Eva back to the old country…yes…and sell the land back to you.”

  “No,” Maureen exclaimed, “my brother wants to marry Eva.”

  “Nonsense,” Papa said and then laughed in a silly voice, “my Eva must marry…grapes…I mean…man who loves grapes…I mean…wine…” Papa couldn’t form his words properly and laughed even harder. I wasn’t amused. Tears began rushing from my eyes. I stood up from the table and ran outside into the beautiful night. Mrs. McClure followed after me.

  “How can he do this?” I cried and threw myself into Mrs. McClure’s arms.

  Mrs. McClure gently wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She stood silent for a very long time and then looked into my face and smiled. “Okay, we’ll play along,” she told me.

  “I do not understand?” I asked and wiped at my warm tears.

  Joshua stepped out onto the front porch. Mrs. McClure called him over. “We all know there isn’t any gold on the land your uncle left, Mr. Fontana,” Mrs. McClure whispered. “But, what if we make Mr. Fontana believe there is gold on the land, after he sells it back to me, of course.”

  “Ma?” Joshua asked.

  Mrs. McClure placed my trembling hand into Joshua’s hand. “This young woman is to be your wife and my daughter. I’m going to see to that.” Mrs. McClure spotted Maureen and Mrs. Jones appear on the front porch. She waved them over. “This is the plan,” she whispered and cleverly created a plan that would force Papa into staying on the land I now called home.

  Chapter 3

  Golden Hearts

  Papa woke up with a terrible headache and an upset stomach. He caught me wearing my brown work dress in the kitchen, making coffee and eggs. “Hello, Papa,” I said in a cold voice. “Your coffee and eggs will be ready in a few minutes.”

  Papa waved a hand at me, rubbed the back of his aching head, made a painful face, and sat down at the kitchen table. The kitchen was lovely, dressed with pretty flowers and s
oft colored linens and curtains that smelled of fresh sunshine. The front door to the house was open, allowing in a fresh, warm early morning breeze that danced around the curtains. “Do not speak so loud,” Papa pleaded.

  “Loud?” I asked and slammed a brown coffee cup down onto the table, “you are forcing me to leave with you back to Italy!”

  “Please, Eva,” Papa begged, “do not raise your voice…and yes, we are leaving for Italy. It is a wise choice. There is no gold on this land…and…I must take you away before you marry a man who is not of your kind.”

  “My kind?” I asked and rolled my eyes. Papa nodded his head. “Well, Papa,” I stated in a firm voice, “I love Joshua McClure and want to marry him. But, I am a reasonable woman who loves her Papa, too…no matter how hardheaded he can be sometimes. So I sold our land back to Mrs. McClure last night before we left her home.”

  “You did?” Papa asked confused.

  “I did,” I told Papa and picked up a blue coffee kettle off the wood burning stove in the kitchen. I poured Papa some coffee. “Mrs. McClure was very anxious to buy the land back. She gave me a very fair price too. But,” I told Papa after planting a powerful seed into his mind, “that does not mean I will leave Joshua. Joshua has decided to leave his family and travel to Italy with me. We will marry under the stars of Italy.”

  Papa stared at me in shock. “No,” he said and shook his head.

  “It is a free world,” I told Papa and poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Papa. I smiled. “Joshua and I are determined to be married. If you want me to marry an Italian man Joshua will travel to Italy and learn to be an Italian man.” I broadened my smile. “Mrs. McClure is very anxious to have this land back and Joshua is very anxious to leave for Italy with us.”

  Papa rubbed the back of his aching head again. I could tell his mind was confused and troubled. “Why would that woman be anxious to have this dry land back?” he asked me.

  “I’m sure Mrs. McClure has her reasons,” I continued to smile and cleverly changed the subject. “Now, Papa, you be nice to Joshua when we arrive in Italy. Joshua is going to learn to be an Italian just to please you.”

  “You cannot learn to be Italian, Eva,” Papa fussed. “Oh, that boy is going to put me into an early grave. Does he expect to learn how to make wine when he does not even understand the brilliance of a single grape?” Papa sighed. “Oh, my head, Eva.”

  “A man called ‘Old Sam’ seems to have put whiskey in the water bucket you and Mrs. Jones was drinking from,” I explained and giggled to myself. I didn’t giggle at Papa being drunk. I giggled at the expression that was consuming Papa’s poor face. “Papa, we must eat and begin packing. Mrs. McClure will be by later to inspect the land.”

  “She will?” Papa asked and rubbed the back of his head again. And then, as if someone suddenly threw cold water onto his face, Papa’s expression became sober and furious. He shot to his feet and threw his right hand up into the air. “Of course she will,” he shouted, “because that woman knows where the gold is. Oh, she played her hand so cleverly…”

  “Papa, stop being silly and sit down. There is no gold on this land,” I said and patted the table with my left hand. “Sit down, Papa. I’ll make some eggs.”

  “Forget the eggs,” Papa shouted. “Eva, where are my work clothes and shovel. I must start searching for the gold before that devious woman steals it.”

  “Papa,” I said and patted the table again, “this is no longer our land. I sold our land to Mr. McClure last night after dinner, after you demanded I return to Italy with you. And isn’t Mr. McClure a very nice man for paying our fare?”

  “Yes, he is,” Papa shouted again, “oh, so nice is that man…so quickly to get rid of us! Where is my shovel, Eva?”

  Joshua knocked on the outside side of the house and politely stuck his head through the front door. “Good morning. May I come in?” he asked.

  “You!” Papa yelled and pointed his finger at Joshua and backed up to the wooden stove and burned his back side. He yelled out in pain and jumped forward. “You!” he yelled at Joshua again, “you…you…”

  Mrs. McClure stood her head through the front door. “Good morning,” she sang out in a cheerful voice, “we just came by to see how your packing was coming along?” Mrs. McClure patted Joshua on the shoulder and stepped into the house wearing a dark brown work dress. She patted some dirt off the dress. “I’ve been out looking at the land. I’m a bit dirty, I’m afraid,” she smiled.

  “A bit dirty,” Papa said with wide eyes and pointed a shaky finger at Mrs. McClure. “You…stole my gold!” he shouted.

  “Why, Mr. Fontana, whatever do you mean?” Mrs. McClure asked, pretending to be insulted. “I have never stolen anything in my life.”

  Joshua stepped into the house. “Eva,” he told me, “my suitcase is packed. I’m ready to leave for Italy and learn to make wine.” Joshua looked at Papa. “Mr. Fontana, I sure hope the trip we take across the ocean won’t be rough on us.”

  “Wine…trip?” Papa asked and grabbed his head with both of his hands and nearly yanked out his hair. “Wine…trip…gold…” Papa stormed off into his bedroom and slammed the door.

  Mrs. McClure laughed and hurried over to me. “Here,” she whispered and reached into her pocket and pulled out a fake piece of gold about the size of an egg. “Make sure Papa sees this, okay.”

  “Yes, I will,” I smiled happily. Mrs. McClure hugged me with a love that I missed and desperately needed. “I’ll be back around lunch.”

  Joshua walked over to me, smiled into my eyes, gently kissed my lips. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t too. His eyes told me everything my heart needed to know and understand. Mrs. McClure tipped me a wink and hurried Joshua outside just as Papa came bursting out his bedroom. I quickly stuffed the false gold in the pocket of my work dress and sat down. “Where are they?” he demanded.

  “They left,” I told Papa and took a sip of my coffee.

  Papa ran to door just in time to see Joshua and Mrs. McClure crawl up on their horses and ride off. He shook his fist at them and then stormed over the kitchen table, sat down, grabbed his coffee, and chugged it down. “We must buy back this land.”

  “What about Italy?” I asked in a careful voice.

  “We will return to Italy when we find our gold,” Papa assured me.

  “What about Joshua?” I asked.

  “That boy will not step one foot on the precious soil of our old country,” Papa exclaimed.

  “Joshua is determined to follow me back to Italy,” I informed Papa, “and you can’t stop him.” I drew in a deep breath. “Papa, is it really smart to return back to Italy? You still have some very dangerous enemies there.”

  “This I know,” Papa said in a concerned voice. “But what choice is there for us, Eva?”

  “Happiness,” I told Papa. “We can stay in this land and seek God’s mercy and joy. You can watch you daughter marry a good man and raise a beautiful family. You can see with your own eyes sweet children who will call your name out with love and adoration.”

  “No,” Papa said in a stubborn voice, “I will not surrender the old ways to this land.”

  I wanted to become angry with Papa but remembered Mrs. McClure explaining to me that a woman caught more flies with honey rather than vinegar. “Is this land so horrible, Papa?” I asked.

  “I cannot even grow grapes, Eva,” Papa replied in a miserable voice.

  “Because you are trying to grow our grapes on dry land. There is lush, fertile land near the stream, Papa. It seems to me that you are refusing to see the good in this land because you are set on believing Italy is the only land suitable for our hearts.”

  “Is Italy not home?” Papa asked me in a sad voice. “We must live where our hearts belong.”

  “Papa,” I said and put down my coffee cup, “God created His world, the world we live in. His world is home, every single inch of it because God is everywhere and where God is, that is home. Can’t you realize
that? God is in the mountains, the desert, the plains, the valleys, the oceans, the skies…God is part of His creation, Papa, not absent. Why should be disrespect this land and honor another simply because we were not born here? Did not God make this land with the same love He made Italy with?”

  Papa looked down at his coffee. “Eva, you are young—”

  “I am getting older,” I reminded Papa. “And I am hungry for love.” I smiled. “Papa, Joshua loves me and I love him and—”

  “Joshua is not Italian,” Papa hit the table with his right fists. He stood up. “I am going to look for our gold and get our land back. We will return to Italy wealthy. Our wealth will allow me to hire men to protect us from my enemies.”

  I sighed. “Papa, this land belongs to Mrs. McClure,” I reminded him. I stood up and pretended to reach into my pocket and deliberately dropped the piece of fake gold onto the floor.

  “Eh, what is that?” Papa asked and ran over and snatched up the fake gold. He examined the fake gold with wife, curious, eyes. “This is gold, Eva,” he whispered. “Where did you find this?”

  “Mrs. McClure gave it to me as a gift,” I explained.

  Papa’s eyes grew wide. “The gold,” he whispered in a hungry voice. “Eva, the gold…our gold. We must get this land back…we must not let that woman steal our gold.”

  “This land legally belongs to Mrs. McClure, Papa. The legal system that surrounds us would support Mrs. McClure in a court of law. If there is gold on this land, Papa, it no longer belongs to us. And before you begin fussing, remember that it was your idea to sell the land and return back to Italy.”

  Papa stared at me. “But…I was angry and drunk…my mind was not clear,” he claimed. “I saw Joshua kiss you, Eva, and my thoughts turned to rage…and…we are not very rich…that is why Mr. Jones agreed to pay our fare back to Italy.”

  “And what will we do when we arrive in Italy, Papa?” I asked. “We are poor. But do not worry, Joshua will learn to make wine and support us. He is skilled with his gun and will protect us from your enemies too. Perhaps your enemies will not kill us.” I took my right hand and motioned around the kitchen. “On this land, we have food, a home, fresh water, caring friends and good land near the stream to grow grapes. What do we have in Italy? Cruel men who stole our home and nearly killed you when you resisted, Papa.” I sighed. “The damage is done, however. I sold our land and home. We have no choice but to return to Italy, to our own people…our own people who stole our home. We‘ll leave foreigners who protected us and offered us kindness.”