Emily: Army Mail Order Bride

by Mercy Levy

  “I’m ready to go now, Candy. I can’t be here anymore. I’m nothing to him, and we broke the rules enough so I could see him. I don’t want… I don’t want anyone in trouble because of me.” When Candy didn’t move to unlock the wheels of the chair, Meredith looked up over her shoulder. “It’s time to go, Candy. I don’t have the right to be here. He doesn’t belong to me.” She sniffled and batted her nose with the mess of tissue in her shaking hand, but her sister only stared past her at the figure on the bed.

  “Are you sure?” A husky, almost inaudible voice asked from the bed. Jonathan coughed, and gagged on the tube in his nose. “I can’t… breathe. Please… Don’t go.” He tried to lift his hands from the bed and Meredith lifted herself out of the chair onto her hands and held him down on the bed so he couldn’t harm himself struggling, while Candy scrambled for the nurse.

  In seconds, the room was milling with activity, and Meredith was wheeled out to watch through the window as the doctors and nurses made him comfortable and checked his pain and vitals. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, it seemed that Jonathan was doing too well to be interesting to the doctors anymore, and the room was left to the patient and the nurses. As Meredith and Candy looked on, he weakly gestured toward them through the window.

  His nurse wheeled Meredith into the room after Candy hugged her goodbye and promised to be back to drive her home later. She sat in the wheelchair quietly watching the snowflakes outside cling to the glass like a frozen doodle.

  “Okay, I’m paying attention. I got what I wanted, what do I have to give back?” She whispered as she ran her thumb over Jonathan’s knuckles as he lay watching her.

  “Was I your Christmas wish, Red?” He managed to ask, though is voice was full of gravel from disuse.

  “Christmas, Valentine’s, Easter…” She rolled her eyes at him. “Labor Day, Thanksgiving… Oh, by the way, we’re engaged now. It was the only way to see you...” Her voice trailed off and tears shone brightly in her eyes. She squeezed his hand gently, avoiding the tubes that still connected him to fluids and machines.

  “No wonder I’m still here,” he teased in his rough, weak half whisper. “How could Santa ignore the wish of a good girl like you?” Meredith scoffed. “The best girl.” She looked at him and he smiled and squeezed her hand back. “I should know. You’re my Christmas wish, too.”

  The on-duty nurse paused outside the door with her hand on the handle. Inside, she could have sworn the bruised and broken man and woman sitting side by side were glowing, as though a light had been shined on them from outside the window. She watched the woman lean down and gently kiss the man on the lips. She checked her clipboard and smiled to herself.

  There were other patients she could see. It wouldn’t hurt to give the two just a few more minutes alone. She grabbed the patient’s chart so no one else would try to go in, and started toward the next patient’s room. As she walked, she hummed to herself.

  “You’re here, where you should be,

  snow is falling as the carolers sing…

  You’re all I need,

  underneath the tree…”

  THE END

  A Husband for Charity

  Chapter 1 – The Angry Businessman

  “If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times! Make sure everything is swept before you leave for the night!” Mr. Nettle shouted as his daughter, Charity, grabbed a broom and feverishly swept the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Father, I thought I’d gotten over here, but I guess I must have overlooked it in my haste.” She quickly swept the mud off the floor, doing her best to stay out of her father’s way.

  Charity pushed the dried mud out the door and onto the porch, then onto the stairs. Her father’s voice rang from inside the shop.

  “Make sure you get it off the steps! I don’t want anyone thinking this is a dump!”

  Charity assured him that she would, though she was certain no one would mind the mud on the steps of the building.

  It was late January, and warm for this time of year. More often than not, Vermont was cold and snowy, much like it had been through the holidays. This year had been warmer however, and the melting snow caused the streets to become sloppy with mud.

  Charity pushed the last of the dirt off the edge of the porch, then waited a few minutes before heading back indoors. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy helping around the shop, but her father could easily afford to hire someone to do his cleaning for him.

  Things had been hard for her and her father since her mother died, and Charity hated the fact her father had turned to alcohol to find comfort in his grief. Though it had been over a year since her passing, his drinking grew ever worse by the day, as did his temper.

  Charity feared for both her father’s health and his business. Together the two of them ran a small law firm, and though her father wasn’t truly a lawyer, the advice he gave was sound, and the people in town were willing to pay him for it. His fees were certainly less than that of an actual lawyer.

  Yet in spite of his business success and his great wealth as a result, Mr. Nettle was an angry man who often squandered his day’s wages at the local saloon. Charity was often left to clean up the shop by herself, and would walk home in the cold and dark alone.

  Her father had started coming home drunk every night, and he would shout at Charity until she didn’t know where to look. Some nights he brought a friend along with him, and together the two of them would drink and shout at each other all night long.

  Charity would often lie awake and listen to these arguments, and be so tired the next day she could hardly manage to tend to the shop properly. This would, of course, lead to more problems with her father, creating a cycle Charity would do anything to break.

  “Charity!” The sound of her father’s voice brought Charity back to the moment, and she rushed back inside the shop.

  “I’m sorry, Father, I was trying to get all the mud off the porch. I wanted to make sure everything was to your liking.” Charity tried to calm her father down, but she could see that he had already begun drinking. He had a small flask under his desk, and as she walked in, he was screwing the lid back on and putting it back in place.

  “Never mind the mud that’s already on the steps! How many times have I got to tell you? Tend to what’s inside, and leave the rest to the birds!” Her father shook his head, turning his attention back to the books.

  Charity wondered if he had forgotten that he had just told her to sweep the steps, but decided it wasn’t worth bringing up, so she turned her attention to straightening the books on the shelves. Her father was busy talking to himself, and Charity took the opportunity to clean something without his critical eye watching her.

  Suddenly, the door burst open and one of her father’s friends stumbled into the shop. Charity looked at the man in disgust. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and here he was – drunk and looking for her father.

  “Timothy Farrel! So glad you dropped by! I was just telling Charity here it’s been a slow day, and I think we ought to close the shop early.” Her father rose from his desk, and Charity pretended not to notice any of the interaction.

  “Excellent. I was wondering if. I was wondering if. If you. I was wondering if you,” the man slurred, and Charity rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s head down to the Old Brown Horse. Charity, clean shop and head home. That’s a good girl.” Her father walked from behind his desk and grabbed his friend by the shoulder, directing him back through the door.

  Charity nodded when her father spoke, but now that he was gone, she walked over to the window and watched him and the man stumble toward the saloon. Charity scoffed to herself, then shook her head as she closed her father’s book, straightened up the room, and locked the door behind her.

  Her father was a wealthy man, but if he kept closing the doors of the shop this early to head to the saloon, his wealth was going to disappear.

  But then, my father is a crowd favorite. I�
�m sure one of his rich scoundrel friends would be happy to step in and give him some money.

  Charity thought of all the wealthy men her father spent time with at the saloon every night, and shook her head in disgust.

  Ugh! They’re all the same! Money and scoundrels seem to be made for each other, and I’m tired of being around it. I will never marry a rich man! Never!

  Chapter 2 – What Came in the Mail

  Charity yawned as the sunlight peeked through her curtain, then she rolled over onto her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head. Her father had come home late once again the night before, bringing more than one of his friends with him.

  Though Charity was already in bed with her door closed, she could hear the shouting and conversations they were having. They never had any consideration for the fact that she was trying to sleep. She didn’t’ know how long they had stayed in the house, but it felt like she had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.

  Dragging herself out of bed, she groggily walked out to the kitchen and tied on her apron. It wasn’t long before she had bacon sizzling over the fire, and her father stumbled out of his bedroom. He was still dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing the night before, but they were now wrinkled.

  “Good morning to you, Father,” Charity said cheerfully, but her father didn’t reply. He walked over to the washbasin and splashed water on his face, then grabbed the towel and dried himself off. He then stumbled over to the chair by the kitchen table and sat with a loud thud.

  “Charity! Where is breakfast? You know it’s supposed to be on the table when I sit down!” he snapped.

  Charity apologized, checking the bacon as quickly as she could, then scooping some eggs onto a plate. She poured her father a cup of coffee then finished with the bacon before sitting down at the table next to him.

  “I declare I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You used to be so good at keeping things running smoothly, now I feel like I have to watch you every minute of every day. If I have to tell you when to make breakfast one more time-”

  “It won’t happen again, Father, I promise. I slept in a little later this morning, I guess I didn’t realize what time it was.” Charity gave her father an uncertain smile, and he looked at her with criticism. They ate in silence for a few minutes, then her father rose without finishing his breakfast.

  “I need to get down to the shop. We’re losing money, Charity, and I don’t know why. If we don’t work harder, we’re going to end up poor and homeless.” He grabbed his hat and jammed it onto his head, then turned to his daughter.

  “You clean up quickly now, I need you down there as soon as possible. I have high hopes for people coming in today, and I’m going to need to you keep them straight.” He looked at her with his piercing blue eyes, and Charity nodded.

  She didn’t speak much with her father these days. It seemed to Charity that everything she said was forgotten or put down, and she hated arguing with him. She quickly cleaned the breakfast she had worked hard to make but was hardly touched, then pulled her shawl over her shoulders.

  Charity wished she could tell her father he shouldn’t close the shop early, but she knew there was no way he would listen. He was going to do his business his way, and she was going to listen. He had told her before, and she knew that’s exactly what he would tell her again.

  Charity looked up and down the road for a brief moment, breathing in the warm winter sunshine. She then stepped quickly up the street, hoping to make it to the shop shortly after her father arrived.

  Charity carefully lit the lamp for her father. She knew he was going to be home sometime, but had no idea when. Once again, he had walked over to the saloon in the afternoon, and she was left to close up the shop.

  Now, she quickly lit the lamp so she could go to bed without worrying about him, hoping to close herself in her room before he came home. Suddenly, the door flew open, and Charity jumped as she whirled around.

  “Charity! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” her father drawled. Charity looked at him inquisitively, then asked, “Why, Father?”

  “Look at this! We’re saved! Our shop is saved!” Her father held out a letter to her, which she tentatively took. Charity wondered what he meant, as they still had plenty of money in the bank, but she soon paled as she read the letter.

  “See there! A proposal! A proposal and a handsome sum! This is what we’ve been waiting for!” her father shouted as he threw his hat into the air, but Charity shook her head.

  The letter was from one of her father’s old friends who had moved to Oregon. Charity didn’t remember the man well, but she did remember that he was much like her father. His son was now old enough to wed, and he asked that Charity might travel out West to marry him.

  “Father, I can’t move to marry a man I don’t even know!” she said desperately, knowing that her father wasn’t going to like her answer.

  At once his smile faded.

  “Yes, you can. You can and you are. I need that money, Charity, and as it stands, you need a husband. It’s the perfect situation, your mother would be proud.” He staggered over to the cupboard, where he pulled out another bottle of whiskey.

  Charity, however, fought to remain calm.

  “No, Father, Mother wouldn’t want me to go! She would think that this is a bad idea! I know she would.” Charity knew that her tone was pleading now, but she could see that her words had no effect on her father.

  “Go to your room, you ungrateful girl,” he slurred, but Charity didn’t move.

  “I said get to your room!” Her father shouted now, and Charity jumped.

  Throwing the letter on the table, she ran to her room, closing the door quickly behind her. Her heart was pounding in her chest so quickly she felt it was going to burst.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, but Charity knew there was nothing she could say. Throwing herself on the bed, she sobbed herself to sleep.

  Chapter 3 – Oregon Territory

  Charity woke the next morning with a heavy feeling in her heart. She looked around the room, grateful that the sun wasn’t yet shining. Pulling herself out of bed, she slowly got dressed, not bothering to do her hair before she walked out the door.

  To her surprise and dismay, her father was asleep in the chair in their living room. He’d clearly never made it to his bed the night before. Charity hoped she would be quiet enough to not wake him as she made breakfast, knowing that it would only anger him.

  She carefully started the eggs, quietly cracking them into the bowl before pouring them into the pan. When she heard a groan from the living room, her heart skipped a beat.

  “Charity! How many times do I need to tell you not to wake me in the morning?” Her father grumbled, and Charity was quick to apologize.

  “I was late with breakfast yesterday, so I wanted to make sure it was ready for you this morning,” she said sweetly, but her father shook his head.

  “This isn’t going to work, Charity. I am able to take care of things so much better on my own, and you have received a proposal. I’m sending a reply today, pack your things.”

  “Father, I really wish you would reconsider-” Charity began, but her father was already angry with her.

  “I said pack your things! I don’t know when you decided it was ok for you to argue with me, but that makes me angry! Your mother knew better than to make me angry, and she had good reason not to do it! Now, unless you want me to start handling you like I used to handle your mother, you’re going to pack your things!” Her father had risen from his chair, and Charity looked at him with wide eyes.

  She had tears in her eyes, and she was scared of her father. His temper was only growing worse, and it was true, he had often mistreated her mother when she had questioned his choices. Charity had often wished she could run away from home when she was a young girl, and things were becoming worse.

  “Ok, ok. I’ll go,” Charity sobbed, and her father shook his head.

  “So ungrateful. I
get you a husband, and here you are, crying your eyes out like a foolish girl. I expect more out of you, Charity.” He sat down at the table with a loud thump as usual, and yelled at her to finish with the breakfast.

  What am I going to do now? I can’t marry a man that treats me like this! I can’t end up like my mother!

  “Look at you now, all grown up. I must say, I didn’t know how I was going to handle your wedding day, and now I don’t have to worry about it!” Her father laughed at his own joke, looking his daughter over.

  They were standing on the train platform, where Charity waited to board. Her father had given her a bit of money, had purchased a new dress for her to travel in, and had purchased her train ticket out West. They now stood side by side on the platform as the train prepared to disembark.

  At long last the conductor shouted for the passengers to board, and Charity turned to her father.

  “Father, I don’t have to go, I really don’t. I can stay here with you, and we can continue to run the shop just like we have been, and-”

  “There you go being ungrateful again! Child, I have raised you, I have cared for you, and I have given you a home long after the time you deserved to live with me. I’ve done my part as your parent, now it’s your turn to do your part as my daughter. Get on that train, and marry that man. That’s all there is to it.” Her father gave her a stern look, and Charity felt her heart sink.

  She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to stay either. Her father was a hard man, and it was clear what his wishes were. She had been bought, and there was no changing his mind now. Charity dried her eyes and with a curt nod, she turned to board the train.

  She paused for a moment at the door, looking back at her father. He had a flask to his lips as he watched her board, but he said nothing. Charity scoffed to herself, then stepped onto the train. The conductor checked her ticket then showed her to her seat before placing the luggage on the shelf above her head.