by Dalia Wright
Annie pulled her hand back from her father and looked over at her mother who had tears pouring from her eyes and was shaking her head in disbelief. Several emotions lent aid to Annie’s response, but the most dominant of those was anger. Annie’s anger reached to McShaw, to the Sheriff, to the Mayor, and even down to the swayback horse she remembered.
“I,” Annie said with a tremble in her voice, “I don’t know what to say, father. I would never have you and mother put out like that. There has to be something we can do, someone we can call. Don’t we have a lawyer or something in this town?”
Annie’s father looked up with a grimace on his face. He stood up and walked around to sit next to her at the table. He put his large hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek gently. His eyes looked tired and weary, and Annie could tell he was just as upset as she was about this situation.
“I have tried everything,” Annie’s father said with disappointment. “It seems that the town rulers are all part of this, and there is nowhere for us to go except to make our way to another town and start over. We have done this before Annie, and we can do it again; I would never let you and your mother go hungry.”
Annie sat for a moment, studying her father’s face and looking for an answer to this horrible situation. She had her stubborn thoughts and wants, but she couldn’t be that selfish as to let them affect everyone around her. This was her grandfather’s land, and she wasn’t going to watch as some fat businessman came in and turned it into another one of his possessions.
“It is very clear,” Annie said, clearing her throat and standing. “What must be done, must be done. I will go to town first thing in the morning and accept Mr. McShaw’s offer. You will keep your land, and I will play wife to this disgusting man until his heart is too clogged from fat to go on. Then I will move back here, and that will be that.”
Annie’s mother burst into tears and laid her head in her arms on the table. Annie refused a reply from her father and took a deep breath, gathering her coat and boots in her hands so that she could take an evening horseback ride and clear her mind. She kissed her father’s cheek as she walked out of the door and down to the stables.
Annie’s hands were shaking the entire way to the back stall where her brilliant, black stallion, Shadow, was waiting for her. She mounted her horse and took off towards the country behind her house, driving as fast as she could while tears streamed from her eyes and her wild hair flew all around her. She may have just sealed her fate when it came to love, but no man would ever take her wild spirit.
Chapter Three: A Signature and a Dress
Annie had ridden her horse all night, not stopping until the sun had reached the edge of the horizon. When she rode back toward the farm, she could see several horses outside of the farmhouse, one being that dirty swayback mare that McShaw rode regularly. Annie’s heart sank, and she started to feel nauseous at the thought of a wedding night with that man. She took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind; besides, she had to honor her mother and father, and if marrying McShaw would keep the farm, then she would do it.
Annie brought her horse to the stable-boy that worked a few days a week for the family, and brushed the dust off of the front of her dress. She didn’t feel the need to get all dolled up; at least McShaw would know what he was getting himself into. Annie rounded the corner and found McShaw’s helper standing on the front porch, hands in his pockets, kicking the dust off the wood.
“Well,” Annie said with dismay. “Seems you are everywhere these days.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said nervously, sticking his hand forward. “My name is Brighton; I am from Peachtree, two towns over. Mr. McShaw pays me to follow him around and do odd tasks, I guess.”
Annie ignored Brighton’s dirty, outstretched hand but noticed how blue his eyes were in the morning light. His innocent smile sent a shiver down her spine, and she took a deep breath in trying to gather herself. Annie shoved past Brighton, noticing a smile run across his face, and opened the front door hastily, almost running directly into the back of the Sheriff.
“Ahh, there you are, dear,” the Sheriff chirped. “Come, your father tells us you have agreed to the arrangement of marriage, and we just need your signature.”
“Wait,” Annie said, feeling overwhelmed. “I have some things I would like to request first. My family gets to keep their farm as agreed, I get to continue to work on my family’s farm whenever I please, and I would be awarded a library in our marital home, whatever books I want to read.”
Mr. McShaw chuckled and stuck his hands in his pockets looking down at the floor. Annie glanced at her father who was stifling a grin and looking down at the paperwork on the table. McShaw took a few steps forward and stood close enough that his musky smell intruded into Annie’s nose, and his rough hand grasped hers. Annie held still, knowing that pulling away would just create animosity, but she held firm, and her stature was that of a warrior.
“You are quite the woman,” McShaw said with a grin on his face. “Shall I add your library in the contract or can we agree that you have my word?”
Annie wanted to run, to bolt out of the door and keep running as fast as she could, but the look of sadness on her mother’s face kept her feet firmly planted. Annie squinted slightly at her future husband, still holding her breath and trying not to pass out from his repugnant odor. She slowly pulled her hand back and stuck it in the pockets of her dress.
“I guess,” Annie muttered. “Your word will have to do. No need taking up even more time drawing up new papers.”
“Well, then,” McShaw said, joyously. “Then it is settled! We will have a beautiful day of marriage, food, drinks, and music the day after tomorrow at my home over the hill.”
Annie made her way to her father’s side where he showed her where to sign. Annie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and scribbled her name on the line. As soon as her name appeared in ink, the Sheriff took the pen from her and stuck it in the breast pocket of his vest. He rolled up the paper, slung it under his arm, tipped his hat at Annie, and walked towards the door.
“Annie,” McShaw said with harshness in his voice, “my tailor will be visiting to fit you for your gown. No need to worry your mother over such things. As is customary, I will leave you to the planning with my staff and will see you promptly at four the day after tomorrow. You have made a wise decision, and I am sure you will be pleased.”
This no longer felt like a marriage agreement, but more a business arrangement and Annie sighed at the thought of meeting that man at the altar in just two days. The door slammed behind him, and Annie fell into the chair by the window, her face buried in her hands. She only stayed that way momentarily so as not to upset her mother, and then stood up and readied herself for a bath. There would be a lot of planning to do and sitting around moping and crying wouldn’t do her any good.
Annie’s mother sat next to her in the iron tub she had filled with hot water from the fire. The sponge felt good on Annie’s skin, and the warm water calmed her nerves a bit. She took her mother’s hand as it swept through Annie’s hair and looked her in the eyes.
“Mother,” Annie cooed. “Everything will be okay. I will have all the books I would want, I get to be here every day with you and father, and you get to keep the farm. I am okay with it. I need you to pull yourself together and be strong for me.”
Annie’s mother wiped water from Annie’s cheek and set the sponge down in the tub. She stood up with a giant robe and motioned for Annie to step out onto the velvet rug that Annie’s father had given her mother for her birthday last year. Annie wrapped herself in the robe and wrung her hair out into the tub.
“It seems we have raised a wise, young lady,” Annie’s mother spoke calmly. “You will make an excellent wife and mother, Annie. I am sorry you didn’t get to pick your husband but don’t ever forget that love can blossom in the strangest places.”
Annie scoffed at the thought of ever feeling love for that large pig of a man she would
be meeting at the altar in just two days. How could she ever possibly love a disgusting person like McShaw? Annie sighed and put her undercoat on while her mother fetched the tailor who had arrived a few minutes before and was waiting downstairs with Annie’s father.
A tall, thin, older woman walked in with a conservative neck-high dress, hair pinned on top of her head, and a look of pity on her face. Annie could tell this woman felt sorry for her, and that made Annie feel a little better about spending the next few hours with her. She helped Annie up onto the wooden block that was placed in front of three large mirrors and walked around her, studying every curve.
“You are quite a beautiful young lady,” the seamstress said with a smile. “I have just the thing for you!”
The seamstress left the room and walked out to the carriage that had brought her here from a town over. Annie watched through the window as she pulled one singular dress from the mounds hanging inside the carriage, smiled, and walked back towards the farm house. Annie sighed, thinking about how uncomfortable she would be and how she was not looking forward to tomorrow at all. She had to pick all the details for the wedding and had meeting after meeting first thing in the morning.
“Here we are,” the seamstress said, pulling a flowing white dress from a black cloth covering. “You will look beautiful in this.”
Annie stepped into the gown and turned to hold onto the bed post as the seamstress tightened every strap in the back. With every pull and tug, a little bit of Annie’s bravery began to fade until she felt as if she was holding on by a thread. She stepped back up on the wooden box and the seamstress buttoned every button up the front until the dress covered her up to her chin with white satin and lace. As the designer walked around her, pinning and notating for alterations, Annie stared at herself in the long mirror, tears flowing down her cheeks.
The designer, noticing Annie’s reaction, worked quickly and got her out of the dress and back into her comfortable one. Annie sat and brushed her hair as the seamstress and her mother whispered in the hallway. The tailor nodded and winked at Annie’s mom but Annie was too focused on making herself presentable for the florist who was waiting for her downstairs. She didn’t want to approach every vendor with tears and sorrow; in fact, she needed to see the best in this to survive.
The florist was kind, and Annie picked white orchids, a flower she had always detested, to cover the reception. She was being methodical and felt that, even if no one else noticed, she was making a statement of anger towards this union. Annie’s mother looked confused at Annie’s choice, but realizing what she was doing brought a smirk to her face. The florist was excited to be working for the wedding. Apparently, it was the talk of the town, and everyone would be there, yet another factor to make Annie even more uncomfortable with the upcoming events.
After the florist left, it was dinner time and Annie sat quietly at the table as her mother served them. Not much was said during the meal, and Annie was happy for that; she had done all the talking she could do for one day. She finished her dinner, did the dishes, and went upstairs to try to get some sleep; she felt exhausted in her heart, but her nerves kept her restless. Tomorrow would bring more choices for the upcoming nuptials and Annie would have her final gown fitting. She just wanted it all to go away; it was like a nightmare.
After several hours of tossing and turning, Annie fell asleep without any dreams to accompany her slumber. This was probably good since every time she closed her eyes, she could see McShaw’s face in her mind. Her sleep was restful, and she opened her eyes to the rooster’s crow the next morning. Her eyes were puffy from the crying the day before but she sat up on the bed and stretched, a renewed sense of temperament and a readiness to face what life had laid out for her surging through her heart.
The day seemed to race by, and Annie had never had so many people vying for her time and attention; it was exhausting. She finished the last of the choices for the next day’s events, and before she knew it, she was sitting down at the dinner table with her parents getting ready to eat her last dinner as a single woman. Annie pushed the thought from her mind and ate the duck her mother had carefully prepared, knowing it was Annie’s favorite.
“I will make sure to give you all my recipes,” Annie’s mother said kindly. “Though I know Mr. McShaw has his staff of people that do the cleaning and cooking. Maybe I will make it when you come to visit.”
Annie’s mother’s hands began to shake, and she steadied herself next to Annie’s father. Annie watched as her parents found comfort in just being close to each other and her heart sank a bit, knowing she would never attain that in her marriage. She ate slowly so as to give her mother the time with her that she knew she wanted, and then did the dishes. As she stood looking out the front door towards the road, Annie’s father laid a hand on her shoulder.
“You are making a huge sacrifice for our family. If you change your mind, I would never be upset with you. Know we always support ANY decision you make.” Annie’s father patted her and winked as he walked away. This conversation confused Annie, but she shrugged it off and made her way to her room where she would enjoy her last night alone in bed without a fat, slobbering man lying next to her.
The morning would bring a realization for Annie, a change in life that would ultimately move her world in another direction. She knew her days of comfortable dresses, and unpinned hair came to an end as she closed her eyes, and she hugged her pillow for comfort. Annie fell asleep dreaming of freedom, dreaming of running carelessly through a field of flowers, a tall, blue-eyed man trailing behind her. Her dream brought her comfort, and she fell into the fairytale as hard as she could, even if it was all just in her mind.
Chapter 4: Left at the Altar
A warm hand gently moved across Annie’s cheek, and she smiled as she slowly opened her eyes. Annie’s mother sat on the edge of the bed, quietly humming a song she had used to wake Annie since she was a baby. The realization of what day it was sank quickly into Annie’s stomach, and she struggled to keep a smile on her face. Today was the day she gave up her freedoms and became Mrs. McShaw, a thought that brought disgust to everything that Annie was or believed.
“Wake up, sweetie,” Annie’s mother cooed softly. “We have a lot to do, and we must be at the church by three, so come downstairs and have some coffee and some delicious muffins your betrothed had sent over from the bakery.”
Annie snorted in disgust but got out of bed as she watched her mother ignore her reaction and walk out of the room. Annie sat on the edge of the bed hoping that what was going on would just freeze in time as long as she was seated on the edge of her bed, a bed she wouldn’t see again for a long time, if ever. Annie rubbed her hands together trying to calm her nerves and the shaking that was starting to ensue. There was nothing she could do at this point besides face the music and get it over with, so she proudly stood, threw on her favorite farming dress, and walked barefoot down to the kitchen.
Annie’s father wasn’t there since it was his responsibility to tend to the bakers and the decorations for the wedding, so Annie and her mother sat silently eating the gifts McShaw had sent over, as if some baked goods would appease her broken soul. With every bite, Annie’s stomach tightened, knowing she was growing closer and closer to her disappointing future. A knock on the door startled Annie, and her thoughts were thrown into the background as her focus was drawn to the giant white gown being carefully carried through the front door. Annie had tried it on last night but refused to look at it in the mirror; its discomfort level matched her feelings for McShaw.
Annie’s mother cleaned the dishes up as Annie was led into her mother’s room where she would be bathed and prepared for the big event. McShaw had spared no expense and hired a whole set of girls that would be Annie’s servants and hands when she moved into his home that evening. Annie felt weird having these young girls tend to her but in her frightened state, she let them fuss over the details.
When it came to bath time, her modesty got the best of her, and
she shut everyone out of the room and took the last few moments of alone time she could muster. When she was done, she lingered in front of the mirror for a moment, imagining all of this was for a wedding to that blue-eyed boy from her dream. The seamstress’ call from behind the door shook Annie from her daydreams, and she let everyone back into the room.
Two girls tackled her hair, and Annie’s mother looked on in amazement as Annie didn’t say one word about all the pins and clips they were using to put her hair up on top of her head. Another older lady came in and smiled kindly at Annie as she applied a small amount of rouge and stain to her lips, finishing the whole affair by pulling out sparkling diamond earrings and a necklace that brought cooing and awe from everyone.
“What is the point?” Annie said as the lady placed the necklace around her neck. “My dress comes up to my chin; you won’t see the diamonds at all.”
“Well, milady,” the woman whispered as her cheeks blushed. “They are not for the wedding; they are for the wedding night.”
Annie’s fists were clenched, and she began breathing heavy with anxiety as she realized what she had forgotten to take into account this whole time: the wedding night. Just the thought of making love to McShaw sent Annie into a whirlwind of panic, and the woman stepped back and grabbed a fan from the dressing table. She began fanning Annie profusely, signaling the girls to get Annie’s mother.
“Now, now, dear,” the woman said, attempting to reassure Annie. “Every proper young lady gets nervous about the wedding night but don’t worry about a thing; it is a beautiful expression of love.”
Annie stood up at the sound of the word love, knocking several jars off the dressing table and tipping the chair backwards. She walked forward and grasped on to the bedpost in her mother’s room and closed her eyes, her hand grasping her chest. Annie’s mother rushed into the room and over to Annie, putting both of her hands on Annie’s cheeks and raising her head up to face hers.
