The other girls avoided looking directly at me. I could see them glancing at me from the corners of their eyes as they quickly dressed. I was moving far, far away, but they were all staying here. Most likely none of us would ever see each other again.
“Oh Theresa,” my friend Sarah said as she ran to my bed and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her tightly and tried not to cry. “I’m going to miss you so much.” Her eyes were wet with tears and I could feel my own tears forming.
“Don’t cry,” I said. “This is a good thing.”
She nodded and opened her mouth to say more, but before she could speak, the heavy footsteps of Mother Superior approached. The room immediately went silent as we stood up straight and faced the doorway. We were all wearing matching high-collar black dresses that just skirted the floor. Our hair was all set in a style of intertwined ringlets that kept it off our necks and face.
It occurred to me, just then, that starting tomorrow I could dress however I wanted. I could wear brightly colored dresses and let my hair down. I could easily imagine myself in gowns decorated with lace that would float about my feet like waves. Such frippery would never be permitted at the orphanage. The thought hit me so hard the world spun for a moment and I lost my breath. Again I was reminded that from this moment forward, every part of my life would be different.
“Today, we say goodbye to our Sister, Theresa,” the Mother Superior said. She had a round, but stern face, with sparkling blue eyes. Her wimple covered her entire head, but I knew underneath the dark cloth she had a head of bright blond hair. She met my eyes and my heart jumped. She was the closest thing to a mother I would ever have. I had been born and raised in this orphanage. The Mother Superior had held me as a baby and taught me to walk. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage not seeing her every day.
“She is to be married to a good man of our faith who lives in the Colorado Territories. His wife has passed and he needs a mother for his daughter and a partner to guide him through his mortal life. We know that Theresa will make all of us proud. We trust that she will be a good and loving wife and will keep her faith. Now everyone say goodbye to Teresa and then go downstairs to breakfast. Do not dally.”
They came up to me one by one. Agatha, Maria, and Elizabeth all said goodbye quietly and then filed downstairs. What did they think of me, I wondered? I was being sent away to be a bride to a man I had never met. He lived far out west. He was said to be a well-off rancher with over sixty head of cattle and horses he bred.
I was told he was kind and gentle. I was shown a sketch of his face. Mr. Forth was lean with a full head of dark hair, a square jaw, and hard dark eyes. His wife had died over a year ago. He had spoken to his priest of his want of a young and hardworking wife of faith. The priest had put out a word to all of the sisters, and I had been chosen.
I should have felt honored and blessed. I should have fallen to my knees and thanked the Lord. The truth was, I only felt afraid. When the Mother Superior had pulled me into her office to break the news to me, I felt numb. All the feeling drained from my arms and my legs and I felt myself nodding along, unsure of what I was agreeing to.
I would have to travel for thousands of miles over dangerous territory. I would be married to a stranger. What if he was cruel, or mean? What if he was not faithful to me? What if he was not faithful to God? These questions had plagued me since I had first accepted his offer of marriage.
I could not bring myself to speak my fears out loud. I was afraid that if I complained, Father Michael would rescind the offer and another girl would get to go in my place. It had been agreed upon that my temperament was not built for a life of service. I was not welcome to become a Sister at the convent. My only other option would have been a maid or nanny for one of the families in town. Being Mrs. Forth was a gamble and all I could do was hope that it would be better than being a servant.
“Let us hope a husband can tame you,” the Father said as he looked down at me the day I received the offer. I lowered my head and nodded. It was true. I was prone to the sin of wrath. When Sister Magdalene had gone to wrap my knuckles with her ruler I had grabbed her wrist so hard she had to go to the doctor who splinted her arm and wrapped up in a tight cloth.
It had not mattered to anyone that Sister Magdalene was going to hit me for no reason at all.
No matter what I did with Sister Magdalene, it was always wrong and required punishment. It was always all my fault. That day I had been struggling with a cold for over a week. My head ached and my lungs burned. I had tried as hard as I could to struggle without complaint. That day I could not stop myself and I coughed quietly into my hand during the reading of Corinthians.
Sister Madeline claimed it an insult to the Lord to cough during a reading.
I should have taken my punishment silently. I should have used the pain to bring me closer to God. A good sister was supposed to be meek and mild. I had failed. I was a disappointment to myself, the Sisters, the Father and God. I had completed over one hundred Hail Mary’s and fasted for seven days. Still, I felt tainted with sin.
Sara was the last girl to wish me good and safe travels. She hugged me for a long time. Her arms held me tight as we swayed back and forth together. We had been like sisters. Sarah had come to the orphanage when she was eight years old. Her mother and father had died when their carriage tipped and fell over a cliff. She had no other family. I was the one who greeted her when she came to the orphanage. I showed her our ways and helped her with her schoolwork and her reading. I could not remember going a day without seeing her.
“I’ll write, I promise,” I whispered, hugging her back.
“Don’t forget. Don’t become so wrapped up in your new husband and family that you forget all about me.”
“That’s enough, Sarah,” Mother Superior said, clearing her throat gently.
Sarah nodded and pulled herself away from me and I smiled as I watched her go. She turned down the hallway and I heard her footstep on the stairs. I hoped my new husband would let me write letters and would pay to have them sent.
The Mother Superior took my arm and smiled at me as she guided me towards the main stairs that led towards the front of the building.
“You will travel with Father Michael. He will look after you. You will, of course, have your own room for when you have to spend the night. Be careful not to complain too much on the journey. It will be hard on the Father as well."
“What if I do not like him? What if he does not like me?” I whispered as we walked down the stairs. It seemed impossible that I was really doing this. I was really going to leave my home and my life to live with a strange man. I would have to be his wife. I would have to sleep in his bed and perform my “wifely duties” despite still not knowing what that meant.
I had been told never to let a man other than my husband touch any part of my body. Now, I was about to meet my husband and I was terrified of everything I didn’t know. I had heard crude jokes and whispers among the other girls, but there had been nothing substantial enough that I could actually believe it. I knew enough to know that I didn’t know nearly enough.
“All will be well,” the Mother Superior said as she patted my hand. “Your husband had a wife before you. He will be able to guide you through your marriage.”
I nodded numbly. There was no help to be found from any of the Sisters. They would never dare speak of the secret movements between a husband and a wife. I would have to figure it out on my own.
Chapter Two
“Try to stay sweet and be nice to your husband. Learn how he likes his coffee made and what he likes for dinner. Mend his clothes without needing to be asked, bring him a cold drink when he is working on a hot day.” I nodded arriving at the front door. Father Michael stood there with his two large suitcases and my one small bag.
“Write us once you arrive. Our prayers will be with you.”
"Thank you, Mother Superior," I leaned forward and our foreheads touched. I closed my eyes and felt her hands on my sh
oulder. I was a woman now. I would be a wife soon. But at that moment, I still felt like a small child.
What to say of the journey? It was long and hot and boring. Father Michael was an older man and he spent the entire trip with his nose in a book. I quickly learned that reading in a moving carriage made me sick. Instead, I watched land pass outside my small, square window. It was forest, endless forests - filled with tall trees that stretched out on all sides.
Sometimes we would stop on these lonely forest roads to rest the horses and stretch our legs. During these breaks, I would step out of the carriage and see the long road stretching on both sides of me and the forest all around. At those moments, it would hit me how small of a creature I was. The world was vast and strange and help was hard to come by. At moments like these, I crossed myself and was thankful to be in the company of Father Michael and our driver.
After a day of travel, we arrived in the crowded city of Philadelphia. I had never seen anything like it. The buildings were taller than any tree and the streets were filled with carriages and young boys running all over the place and being generally underfoot. We arrived as night was falling. The weather was cold. A man walked along the street lighting the lamps. Occasionally, men and women would hurry through those puddles of light and I wondered who they were and where they were going. The world was so big, there were so many people. I had never before felt so small and unimportant.
The train was like a giant steel dragon. It blew steam and screamed loudly. As I walked with the Father, most men stepped aside and removed their hats. A dark skinned gentleman took my bag and gave me his hand, steadying me as I took the big step into the train.
I had a small compartment all to myself. I was next to Father Michael’s. He had the key to my room and when I went in for the night, I heard him lock the door from the outside. The lock made me feel safe. There had been many strange men on the train platform. Some had not been so polite. Some had gone so far as to leer at me.
I was happy for there to be a barrier between me and them that I had no control over. It was better that my safety was in the hands of others. I was so unused to the outside world. The journey had reminded me just how naive I was.
The train began to move. It was strange at first. But after a while, I stopped hearing the heavy groan of the engine and the rattle of steel. The train set into a smooth rocking rhythm and after saying my prayers. I fell into a fitful sleep.
That night I had a dream that I was on a tall ship far out on the ocean, miles from shore. The sea was rough and choppy and great waves were crashing over the bow. A great cold wave came and splashed over me, sweeping me off my feet. Desperately, I reached for something to hold onto and managed to just grab the railing of the boat. I was dangling off the side, the angry dark sea waiting to devour me below. I clung on as hard as I could, struggling to keep hold, but it was a losing battle. My hands slipped and I was falling and falling until I woke with a gasp.
Our journey by train would take two weeks. We ate and bathed and lived on the train. Some days I played cards with a few older women passengers. But mostly I just sat and watched the landscape pass and wondered what my new life would be like. I held the picture of Mr. Forth in my hands, looking down on it occasionally, trying to discover the man behind those hard eyes.
Though I had been raised in an orphanage run by nuns, I knew something of marriage. I had seen the tearful woman who arrived at the convent late at night seeking shelter. Some women came wearing dark purple bruises while others were hungry after their husband had drank or gambled their wages away. Would that be my future? Would my husband be cruel to me? Would I be lost in the night, crying, hungry and bruised?
After weeks on the road, we finally arrived in the Colorado Territory. I felt tired and dirty, I had not had a proper bath since I had left the orphanage. But my thoughts were not on bathing. I was shaking like a leaf. On the final morning of our journey, my nervous hands could barely run a brush through my hair or button my dress. I couldn't eat or drink anything. My fingers plucked at the loose threads of my skirt as I waited for the train to stop.
“Steady now,” Father Michael said as he took my hand and guided me down the train’s aisle. I nodded and took a deep breath. We approached the door and bright sunlight greeted my eyes. Looking out onto the crowded platform I saw him. I recognized his face. The drawing had been true to his likeness. His dark coat and hat stood out against the light wood of the train station and I could not tear my eyes away from him. My breath left me, butterflies erupted in my stomach.
Henry Forth, I had thought about nothing but him for weeks and now he was here. He was a real flesh and blood man. A terror I could not name filled me. I stared at him and as if he could sense my gaze, he looked up. Our eyes met. I watched him swallow heavily and he nodded at me and walked towards the train.
I wanted to turn around. I wanted to run away. I wanted the train to pull away from the station. I wasn’t ready and I didn’t know how to be a wife. I didn’t know how to do this. But Father Michael was holding my hand tightly and my feet were moving forward.
Henry extended a dark gloved hand. I raised my own and he took in confidently and helped me down the steep train steps. Once we were all on equal footing, he removed his hat and bowed to me. I clumsily took my skirt and curtsied back.
“Mr. Henry Forth, may I present Miss Theresa Doe.” Doe was not a real last name. I had no real last name. This was the name that had been given when the Sisters had found me.
I extended my hand and he took it in his. We were both wearing gloves. I wished we weren’t. I wanted to feel his rough hands. I could feel his strength through the gloves as he gently squeezed my fingers and then leaned down and brushed his lips over the knuckles. I could not bring myself to look him in the eye. I stared at the dark material of his fine suit, tracing the lines with my eyes. I was wondering what was underneath such fine materials.
“Tonight you will stay with the Sisters and tomorrow you and Mr. Forth will be married.” Father Michael said. I nodded. I felt like a mute. I could not think of a single thing to say. Mr. Forth was watching me and I was worried he was thinking I was a bit of a fool.
I glanced up and when I saw that he was looking at me, I blushed and looked away. I was going to be his wife soon. What would it be like to be alone with him? What would we talk about? What would we do? Would he touch me? Would we sleep in the same bed, wake up next to each other in the morning?
The town of Denver was small and dusty. There was a main street, a general store, a courthouse and a post office. I saw a few dark side streets that no doubt led to saloons and other sinful places. The people out here looked thin and tired. Their eyes were lined and they watched me pass warily.
I could not deny that it was beautiful. Everywhere I turned I saw white-capped mountains spearing the sky. We passed meadows bursting with butterflies and wildflowers. There were clear brooks and creeks heavy with spring rain. Everything looked like a painting. It was almost too beautiful to believe.
I knew it wasn’t all good. There were Indians and bandits that lived out in the wilds. They were known to raid towns and steal cattle. There was no law here, only a lone sheriff and his deputy and their one-room jailhouse.
I was trying to keep fear from clouding my thoughts. I reminded myself that God was always watching. He would protect me. I closed my eyes and repeated my prayers, trusting that everything would be fine.
Chapter Three
Mr. Fields gave the Sisters enough money to buy me a simple white dress for the wedding. It hung from a hook on the wall in my small Spartan bedroom. I made sure to thoroughly wash my hands before touching the pristine garment. I had never seen anything so delicate and lovely. The fabric was soft and gentle and I could not help but bring it up to my cheek and press my face against it. There were no patches in the dress, no rips that had been sewn back up. It had never been worn by another person. It was mine and I would only wear it once. It was almost sinful in its decadence.
I prayed for hours that night. I ignored my aching knees as I prayed for the happiness and health of Mother Superior, Sarah, the other Sisters and the other girls at the orphanage. I prayed that I would be a good wife to my husband and a good mother to his daughter. I prayed that I would be able to keep my temper under control. The hours passed and it got later. I prayed that my husband would be kind and sweet. I prayed that he would treat me well. I prayed for God to forgive me for my selfish thoughts.
I was awake late into the night staring at the ceiling as the same thoughts circled in my head. I imagined a long hallway and at the end of that hallway was a sturdy wooden door. I imagined myself and Mr. Forth walking through that door and closing it behind us. What happened then? What happened after that door was closed? My stomach churned at the thought.
The nuns had taught me about the sin of lust. I had been warned that I was never to touch that place between my legs. It was reserved for my husband only. But what would he do? I had seen crude drawings of what men had that women didn’t, but I couldn’t imagine what that thing would actually do.
I brought my hand up and traced it along my collarbone. I was not immune to sinful thoughts. I had spent years dreaming about the farmer’s son who came to help the nunnery with their cows. He had been a few years older than me, with long blond hair that hung into his eyes. I had imagined kissing him. I imagined his hands running through my hair. I imagined walking hand in hand with him down a long forest path.
This was different. This was no schoolgirl crush. I was eighteen years old and soon I would be a wife and a mother. I looked out the window at the strange but beautiful landscape of my new home. I wanted to run away into those mountains. But I knew better, the life of a homeless woman with no options would end badly, quickly.
I reminded myself that I was putting my faith in God. He had brought me to the convent. He had brought me to this place and this new husband. I had to trust that He would always watch out for me and guide me.
[2016] The Precious Amish Baby Page 6
