Mail Order Husband

by Mills, DiAnn

  “Now I understand how Samson felt,” he said. “Next you will want to know where I confine my strength.”

  She stroked his cheek with her fingertips. Intoxicating.

  “I’m a farmer, not a lazy city man,” he mumbled. “I’m going to call you Delilah.”

  She combed her fingers through his hair; soon her touch faded into memory.

  ❧

  Lena woke with a start. She’d fallen asleep! She’d planned for Gabe to rest before finishing the day’s work. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw him in the distance struggling with the mule. Why, he’d gotten so much done. How long had she slept? From the sun’s position in the sky, she must have napped for over an hour.

  “Gabe Hunters, you tricked me!”

  He heard her call and took a moment to wave. She wanted to shout at him, but the incident suddenly struck her as funny. Looking about, she saw he’d gathered up the remains of their meal and packed it nicely into the basket. Only the quilt beneath her needed to be folded and placed with the other items.

  “Gabe Hunters, you never cease to surprise me,” she whispered. Beneath her fair-haired husband’s smile and gentle ways rested more courage and grit than any man around. He’s a warrior, she thought. The best there is.

  Humming a nondescript tune, she walked back to the house. The boys should be home from school by now and seeking out mischief if she guessed correctly. Perhaps her strong-willed husband would accept Caleb’s help.

  As darkness covered the farm and stars dotted the sky, Gabe came trudging in for supper with Caleb and Simon behind him. Although they’d washed at the well and their cheeks glistened from the scrubbing, the lines in their faces and their hunched backs betrayed their exhaustion.

  “I have beef stew,” she said brightly, “and a dried chokeberry pie with fresh cream.”

  “I’m starved,” Simon moaned, dropping into a chair.

  “I don’t know why,” Caleb said with a glare. “All afternoon you and Turnip chased rabbits, while Pa and I took turns at the plow.”

  “You didn’t work that much,” Simon replied. “I saw Pa do more rows than you.”

  Mercy, let’s not argue. Gabe is tired enough without settling the boys.

  Gabe ruffled Caleb’s hair. “You both worked equally hard, and you spent a good part of the day in school. Caleb, you were a great help in the fields, and Simon, thank you for completing the evening chores without assistance.”

  “Why don’t we eat so you men can get to bed,” Lena said, filling their plates with the hot stew and a slab of buttered cornbread.

  “It smells delicious,” Gabe said. He chewed slowly as though every motion took all of his strength. “Do you boys mind if I postpone our reading of The Last of the Mohicans until tomorrow night?”

  Caleb sighed. “I’m too tired to listen.”

  Simon agreed.

  Shortly thereafter, the two boys went to bed with promises to say their prayers before drifting off to sleep. “School is just too hard for me,” Simon said.

  Lena captured Gabe’s gaze and smiled. Their youngest son was not about to admit the afternoon’s venture had worn him out. She watched the two boys disappear into their small room.

  Gabe slumped into a chair, and she immediately stepped behind him, massaging the shoulder muscles she knew were tight and sore. He winced. “And so what has made you so tired?” she whispered.

  He pulled her around and down onto his lap, offering a light kiss. “All the good food I ate today. Plowing is fairly simple.”

  She shook her head. “I suppose the pain I detect is a bee sting?” she asked with a tilt of her head and a smile she could not hide.

  “Not exactly.” Gabe tossed her a most pathetic look, reminding her of a little boy seeking sympathy.

  “Is that the way you peered at your mother when you needed something?” Lena asked, pretending to be stern.

  Immediately, Gabe stiffened. What have I done? She knew he never spoke of his mother, except to discourage a conversation.

  “Maybe I should go to bed.”

  Lena despised her foolishness. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about your mother.”

  He gently lifted her from his lap. “It’s all right. My mother behaved rather uniquely with her maternal instincts.”

  “She really hurt you,” Lena stated, wanting to touch him but slightly fearful. The regret and anger in his face had only occurred once before—when he’d dealt with Dagget Shafer the night Mary nearly died.

  Shrugging, he chewed at his lip. “I’m a grown man with a fine family. I determined a long time ago to rise above my circumstances. Revisiting the past is pointless.” He stood and grasped her arms. She could feel him trembling. “Lena, I don’t want to speak of my mother ever again. She’s buried, and everything about her is best forgotten.”

  “I’d be glad to listen. It might help how you feel.”

  “No!”

  eighteen

  Lena woke the following morning to discover Gabe had already left for the fields. She’d slept soundly, not her normal manner of doing things, but she’d had a difficult time falling asleep the night before. She’d cried before coming to bed, and not once had Gabe apologized or attempted to hold her when she crawled in beside him. This morning she was furious.

  When she finally climbed out of bed, she discovered Caleb and Simon were outside doing their morning chores before school, and she hadn’t prepared their breakfast or lunch buckets. Even with time pressing against her, the memory of Gabe’s final words last night seared her heart.

  Slapping together cornbread and molasses sandwiches, Lena roughly wrapped the lunches in a cloth and tossed it into the boys’ buckets. She turned her attention to the boys’ breakfast. Anger raced through her veins as she heated the skillet for fried cornmeal and eggs. Look at all I’ve done for him, and this is how he treats me! Where would he be if I hadn’t married him and taught him about farming?

  Without warning, Lena felt her stomach roll. Now, look what Gabe’s done—made me sick with his rudeness.

  Who has made you ill?

  The gentle whisper penetrated her soul. She’d allowed her temper to upset her, the evil poison she’d sworn to overcome. Gabe had nothing to do with her churning stomach. Pulling the skillet from the fire, she dashed outside to rid her body of whatever had revolted in her stomach. Sick and feeling the pain of remorse, Lena realized she couldn’t go on with the rage inside her.

  After the boys left for school, Lena picked up the Bible. Oh, how she needed the Lord this day. Every part of her wanted to crumble in memory of her horrible temper. She remembered her thoughts the day when Mary hovered between life and death and how Dagget’s ugly temperament had nearly killed the child. Am I any different? Would I lose Gabe and the boys if they knew the horrible things I was thinking?

  Praise God, Gabe and her sons had been outside and not witnessed her tantrum. The One who really counted, the One she’d given her life to had heard every thought and seen every deed. Lena rubbed her arms; the guilt of her sin made her feel dirty. She thought she could resolve her temper without bothering God. One more time she’d failed. How long before she destroyed the affections of her family with her selfishness?

  Opening the Bible, she leafed through page after page, reading the notes and underlined passages. Some Scripture she had marked, others came from Gabe or James. Remembrances of all the nights by the fire listening to her husband read and pray settled upon her as though she’d crawled up into God’s lap.

  Choking back her tears, Lena continued turning the pages of the Bible, allowing His Word to soothe her troubled spirit. The book of Romans graced her fingers; the first verse of chapter eight she had memorized as a girl: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”

  But I am walking after the flesh by not turning over my anger to the Lord. My rebellion is displeasing to the One who has given me life.

&
nbsp; Catching her breath, Lena shivered. How could she expect to please God on her own? She must give Him her struggles at this very moment.

  Heavenly Father, You have blessed me far more than I could ever imagine. I’m sorry for not giving You my problem with anger. In the whole six months Gabe and I have been married, not once has he ever raised his voice or initiated an argument. It’s always been me. Take this burden from me, I pray, for without You, I will only sin more and more. Amen.

  Closing the Bible and laying it on the table, she proceeded to tidy up from breakfast. Peace lifted her spirit. No longer did she feel sick or angry, but instead, she prayed about the problems plaguing Gabe with his mother. The woman must have hurt him deeply for him not to want her mentioned. Poor Gabe. Such a good, sweet man. He’d given her, Caleb, and Simon his devotion without asking for anything in return.

  With a new resolve to live every moment of her life totally for her Father, Lena determined to never confront Gabe with any questions about his past. Let him come to her if he desired to talk. Until then, she’d pray for peace in his soul.

  At noon she carried a basket of cornbread, newly churned butter, apple butter, boiled eggs, and a slab of ham along with a jug of buttermilk and another one of water to the fields. Gabe must be starved by now. They’d fared well during the winter with plenty of food—although they’d all gotten tired of cornmeal and molasses. With spring here, she could gather fresh greens, elderberries, and chokeberries. Later on in the summer, fresh vegetables would add variety to their diets. And as always, everything would be dried for the next winter.

  ❧

  During the morning, Gabe had plowed with a vengeance, completing more rows than he thought possible. Dagget said the corn should be planted by the twentieth of May to insure its being knee-high by July fourth. At this rate, he’d be done with time to spare.

  All the while he deliberated on the way he’d spoken to Lena the previous night. She meant nothing by her innocent remark, and he’d lashed out at her unfairly. If he admitted the truth, Lena should be told about his mother. The woman who had given him birth might have gone to her grave, but the wounds still drew blood. Not a day went by that he didn’t ponder over something she’d said or done. This pattern of action made him think he hadn’t truly forgiven her.

  Lena had allowed God to work through her. She said and did the right things to instill self-confidence in everything he did. Every day he looked forward to what God had planned for him and his family. Lena loved him, and he loved her. The doubts he’d experienced in the beginning about her fidelity grew less and less as he viewed her true spirit. She trusted him, and he needed to trust her.

  Gabe chuckled despite his grievous thoughts. His Lena had a temper. Feisty, that one. She’d warned him repeatedly about her outbursts, but he hadn’t seen much of them. He enjoyed her free spirit. I bet she’s boiling over this morning. The thought saddened him. Any repercussion from last night clearly was his fault.

  He must apologize, but in doing so he had to reveal the truth of his past. Can I tell a portion of my life without revealing the entire story? The answer came as softly as the breeze cooling his tired face. Truth didn’t mean dissecting what he comfortably could and could not state.

  Gabe stretched his neck and stared at the sun straight up in the sky. Glancing toward the house, he saw Lena edging toward him, carrying a basket. Bless her. He didn’t deserve her bringing him food. An urgency knocked at his heart.

  Lord, I’m afraid I haven’t given You the past—not completely. I realize now if I had allowed You to share my pain, I would have been able to tell Lena about Mother. Take the bitterness from me and use my past to Your glory.

  Shifting the reins around his shoulders and giving Turnip a pat, he proceeded to plow the row that brought him closer to his wife. Suddenly, the burden didn’t seem so heavy.

  Lena and Gabe met at the end of the row—she with her basket of food and he wearing an apology on his lips. Halting the mule, he dropped the leather pieces to his side and approached her. She wore a timid smile, a quivering smile. He felt lower than the dirt he plowed to submission beneath his feet.

  “Lena,” he said, “I apologize for the way I spoke to you last night, and in my self-pity, I neglected to tell you good night or kiss you properly.”

  She nibbled at her lip. “Would you like to kiss me now?”

  “I smell of sweat and the mule.”

  “That’s a farmer’s smell.” Lena offered a half smile. “I love my farmer.” She set the basket onto the ground and reached out for him.

  Gabe enveloped her in his arms, and she clung to him as though they’d been apart for days. He bent to claim her lips, tenderly at first, then more fervently than their first night to-gether. At last, he drew himself back. “I never meant to hurt you. You are the sunshine to me each morning and the vivid colors of sunset each night.”

  “I wish I could state things as wonderfully as you,” she whispered. “You make me feel special—pretty and pleasing.”

  “And you are; you always will be.”

  Her shoulders fell, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry for all the wicked things I thought about you,” she whispered. “And the things I threw.”

  He could not disguise his smile. “What did you throw?”

  She swallowed hard. “A ham bone, but I picked it up and brought it for Turnip.”

  Gabe roared with laughter.

  “No, please,” she said, her eyes misting. “You don’t understand. That bone is what brought about my prayer giving God my horrible temper.” She stared up at him. “I did it, Gabe. I surrendered my anger to the Lord.”

  Once more pulling her close, he realized he had not been the only one to confess sin this day. “His ears must be filled with the Hunters from Nebraska. The Lord and I had a talk of our own.”

  She waited patiently, a look of curiosity and love glowing from the luminous green pools of her eyes.

  He lifted the basket. “Let’s eat, and I will tell you all about it.”

  The food tasted wonderful, and the talk between them was light and flirtatious. Gabe knew he masked the serious conversation about to evolve, but the Lord promised to be his strength.

  “Are you ready to hear a story?” he asked, wiping a spot of apple butter from Lena’s lip.

  “I always like a good story.”

  “This one has a remarkable ending.”

  “I’m ready, Gabe, for whatever you want to tell me.”

  He nodded and lifted his gaze to the heavens for a quick prayer before he began with the story only his heavenly Father knew. “My mother never knew my father. She worked at a brothel in Philadelphia. . .an exquisite woman whose parents were from Norway. I remember she had hair the color of the sun and eyes the fairest of blue, but her disposition didn’t match.” He paused, and Lena reached over to take his hand.

  “Mother gave me the last name of Hunters, although I have no idea where she found it. I was an inconvenience and an irritation to her. . .well, her business transactions. At an early age, she left me alone while she worked. She drank to drown her own pain, which only made her even more disagreeable. She took her disappointments with life out on me, and so did many of the gentlemen she brought home. I quickly became their whipping boy. The tongue-lashings and beatings were unbearable until I learned to believe I deserved them for whatever reason they gave me.” Gabe covered the hand touching his. “I know you’ve seen the scars on my back, and I thank you for not mentioning them before.”

  Huge tears rolled down her cheeks, and he hastily added, “Don’t cry. This has a happy ending, remember?” With a deep breath he continued. “As I grew older, I became absorbed with learning. School was the perfect diversion for the abuse at home. However, when the other students discovered where I lived and what my mother did, I became the brunt of their ridicule. So I buried myself even deeper into my books. I grew infatuated with words. Their meanings gave me power, and that’s when I started using them to fight back. No one else
might have comprehended their meanings, but I did. It gave me an opportunity to consider myself better than the ones who shunned me.

  “About the time I turned sixteen, Mother purchased the brothel and became the madam of the largest establishment of its type in Philadelphia. She enlisted me to work there, do her books, and keep her records straight. Also at the same age, I received a Bible from a well-meaning group of ladies from a nearby church who aspired to reform everyone living within the confines of the brothel. The women didn’t want the book, so I began reading it.” He paused, and she said nothing, as if knowing he would continue.

  “Shortly thereafter, I started attending church. No one knew or cared, for they were all sleeping off the escapades from the night before.

  “When I turned twenty, Mother developed a cough. The doctors couldn’t find a cure. Her only temporary relief came from medication that she began to rely on as much as the alcohol. Remember when Dagget asked about giving little Mary paregoric, and I told him about the woman who became addicted to laudanum? That was Mother. By the time I reached thirty, she had to be nursed day and night.”

  “And you took care of her?” Lena asked.

  “Yes. She depended solely on me. I resented it at first, but the Lord kept dealing with me until I forgave her—at least I thought I did. But the bitterness stayed with me.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s why becoming a husband and father meant so much to me. I had to make up for what had been done to me.”

  Lena nodded, the tears glistening on her face. He brushed them aside. “I understand, Gabe. I really do. You are a wonderful father.”

  “But a true miracle happened right here on this farm—the blessings of love. You have no idea of the joy that filled my soul the first time Caleb and Simon called me Pa. I would have died a happy man right then. But your love has been the finest treasure of all. God gave me all these gifts, but I could not release my resentment until this morning.” He reached up to touch her cheek. “And my story has such a beautiful ending. I have the richest of blessings at my fingertips.”