“I’ll pray for both of us, then.”
Cole’s shoulder stiffened, but he made no move to join Mercy at the foot of the sole bed in the room. Mercy went down on her knees and started a prayer for the grieving family, the orphanage, and Cole.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding,” she began, falling back on the Proverbs she had memorized as a child. “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” She sneaked a glance at Cole, but he remained unresponsive. “Give me the patience and the courage to face the days,” she said. “I know it’s difficult, but I want to stay by his side. He’s my husband, and he’s a good man. Please grant us the courage to continue serving Your name.”
That night, the room felt colder than the wind outside.
* * *
The afternoon sun cast shadows on the plains as Mercy trudged along the familiar dusty roads of Angel Creek ready to go home with her shopping. The people’s disposition upon their return was nearly as cold as the oncoming winter. Mercy tried not to mind it, lost in her thoughts of her recent misunderstanding with Cole until Claire Shepard stopped short in front of her.
“Claire, are you all right?”
The woman looked the worse for wear; her hair, usually tied in a neat bun, was now loose around her face.
Claire gave her a small smile, and touched Mercy’s hand. “It’s Clarke Haynes’ little boy. He caught pneumonia a few days ago, and, well, Nathan’s at their house to anoint him, but he forgot some stuff.” She held up the small basket she carried.
Mercy gasped. If Pastor Shepard was already anointing him, then it meant that the child was already lost to them.
“Here, let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine, Mercy.”
“Let me go with you, then. I’d like to offer my support to the family.”
Claire linked her arm with Mercy, and their shared warmth battled the cold. “Won’t Cole be looking for you, though?”
Mercy shook her head. “He’s back at the workshop and won’t be back till dinner time.”
They got to the Haynes’ house in a few minutes, and a young girl, around fifteen or so, let them in. Her eyes were red and swollen. “They’re upstairs,” she whispered as if the house itself was already a graveyard.
They went up the stairs, where a door to a dimly lit room was opened. Through it they saw Pastor Shepard hunched over a small, still figure on the bed. Claire stepped inside and the pastor took the basket. He turned to the man and woman beside him.
Mercy walked inside and stifled a gasp. The child lay on his back, eyes closed, and chest unmoving. She crossed herself.
The woman to Pastor Shepard’s side let out a loud sob, and she fell to her knees. Her husband tried to get her to stand up with Claire’s help. When the mother was finally back on her feet, she clutched Pastor Shepard’s arms.
“How will we bury him?” She asked. “We have no money for the funeral.”
The man rubbed her back, “Maybe we can borrow money somewhere.”
“It’s winter season, Clarke,” Mrs. Haynes sobbed. “Everybody’s saving for the cold.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mercy suddenly found herself saying. They all looked at her, and she gulped. “I – I’m Mercy Elk- Beckett.” She still got the name wrong sometimes. “I’m sure my husband, Cole –” her cheeks reddened in the candlelight “—would gladly build your boy a casket for free.”
The woman blew into a scarf and turned to her husband, who looked at Mercy with doubt. She chewed on her cracked lips and turned back to Mercy. “He – he would do that?”
“Of course.”
“The Lord will provide,” Pastor Shepard said, clasping the man’s arm. “I don’t know any other undertaker who will do this for free. Cole Beckett is a man with a big heart.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, swallowing Mercy in a large hug. “Thank you.”
Chapter 6
The smell of salty sweet venison greeted Cole the moment he stepped foot inside the house. He smiled. Mercy had set the table as soon as he got inside.
“Smells good,” he said, smiling back at her.
She blushed and took a seat beside him. “How was your day?”
“Tiring, but worthwhile. I didn’t get a lot of commissions today, but I was able to sell a cabinet I had worked on last week.”
“Was that the one you painted white?”
Cole nodded, and closed his eyes at the scent of the meal in front of him. “This smells absolutely heavenly.” He took a spoonful and placed his hand over Mercy’s. “If I had known this was for dinner, I would’ve raced home an hour ago!”
Mercy laughed. “I know you’ve been working hard, and I wanted to repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me,” Cole began, eating his meal. “I’m your husband. We’re one family now.”
In a few minutes, they had finished their meal in between small talk. Cole stretched out his arms, while Mercy took the dishes to the sink. He glanced at her small frame, and felt a surge of pride looking at his wife.
Mercy had to leave her town and everyone she knew to meet and marry him. On top of that, she had to put up with the people in Angel Creek. She was married to a strange undertaker, not exactly a young woman’s dream husband.
But she had stood by him, tried to make friends, and continued to be thankful and faithful. He didn’t know what he did to deserve her. His eyes subconsciously sought out the cross hanging over their doorway. He recalled their misunderstanding at the funeral, and felt guilt at his angry words.
“Um, Cole?” Mercy wiped her hands on her apron and sat beside him. “I met Claire Shepard this afternoon. Pastor Shepard had been called to the Haynes’ household. Their little boy, Carl…”
Cole straightened up. “What is it?”
“He succumbed to pneumonia.”
Cole shook his head and rubbed his face, thinking about the other burial they had just visited in the next town. “Another child? I should give them my condolences tomorrow.”
“I also offered them something.”
Cole doubted her pastries, however delicious they were, would’ve alleviated their grief, but he kept that thought to himself.
“I told them you would help with the funeral for free.”
“That was very kind of you – wait, what?”
Mercy took his hands in her smaller ones. “They didn’t have any money, and Pastor Shepard said that no other undertaker would offer a similar service.”
“So you volunteered me?” He took his hand from her and stood up abruptly. “Winter’s upon us, Mercy! How on earth can we buy our food if I don’t get payment for work?”
Mercy clasped her hands together, and looked up at him with wide eyes. Cole reigned in his anger. He clenched his fists at his side and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t work for free.”
Mercy stood. “But they need our help.” She reaches tentatively towards his shoulder. “Surely, we can give them this. You can still make cabinets, toys…”
“There’s no problem in making them,” Cole spat and shrugged her hand off. “It’s that no one buys! How do you think I got the money to pay for your fare or for the orphanage? All our savings are gone. I haven’t made my fortune in the mines, Mercy! And if we don’t have money, what’ll we eat?”
“But the Lord will provide –“
“If that were true, then no one on earth would die of hunger. And you’d have married a richer man.”
And it was like the dam had broken. A tear rolled down her right cheek. Mercy hastily wiped it away. She gave a small smile and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t – I didn’t stay with you for your money. I was just –” her face crumpled, and she went up the stairs, but paused. She took out a small pouch from within her skirt and placed it on the table.
Cole looked at her, confused.
“Some of the money you gave me from before our wedding. I thought we could use it
for something more important.” She climbed the stairs briskly and went to her room. Cole looked at the pouch, and closed his gaping mouth. He groaned, wanting to kick himself in the shins. “I’m sorry,” he began, and walked up to her closed door. “Mercy, I didn’t mean – those things I said…”
But the door remained closed. There was muffled crying inside. He placed a hand on the door and whispered, “I’m sorry,” he lingered for a moment and then went to his room.
* * *
Cole hefted the hammer and pounded the piece of wood so hard his hand shook on impact. He dropped the hammer on the table and took a deep breath. He hadn’t talked to Mercy this morning. Heck, he was afraid to try. He didn’t even know what to say!
Like a yellow-bellied goon, Cole Beckett had fled to the workshop as soon as the sun rose. Her tear-stained face had rendered him speechless and guilty. Even now, he couldn’t face her.
He took the hammer again, and was about to raise it when there came a knock on the workshop door. Cole turned around.
“Clarke,” he greeted the older man.
Clarke Haynes took off his hat and pressed it to his chest. “Howdy, Cole. Nice mornin’.”
Cole nodded. “What brings you here?”
“Just wanted to say thanks for… for my boy’s casket.” Clarke looked over his shoulder. His wife, a mousy woman, stepped inside the shop, carrying a basket filled with long bread, some radish, and other greens and reds.
“We don’t have money,” the woman, Emma, placed the basket on the work table. “But with the winter coming and you offering your services for free…”
Cole looked from them to the basket.
“There are some eggs, root crops, and some fruit for Mercy,” Emma said, standing beside her husband. “It’s not much, but we didn’t know how to repay you –“
“Oh, this is enough,” Cole said, patting the basket. “This is – it’s more than enough. Thank you.”
Emma smiled and said, “We were so worried that we wouldn’t be able to give Carl a good burial.” She touched the edges of her shawl and sniffed. “But Mercy said you’d do it for free.”
“So, thank you, Cole,” Clarke said, shaking Cole’s hand. “You don’t know how much this means to us.”
Emma crossed herself. “Seek and you shall find.” She smiled and dabbed her eyes with her shawl. “The Lord will always provide.”
“Indeed,” Cole muttered. He fervently hoped that the Lord would provide him the best way to make it up to Mercy.
“You have a kind heart,” Emma said. “And Mercy is a very gentle and generous young woman.”
Clarke put on his hat, but not before tipping it to Cole and saying, “Well, we best get outta your way now.”
The couple left and Cole suddenly found himself itching to get back to the house, to face his wife.
Chapter 7
Mercy looked at the window outside, watching the sun’s steady decline. The cold wind had picked up, shaking the house a bit. She went back to the letters on her bed.
How she missed the orphanage, its hallways always filled with noise and life. She took the letters and bundled them together, going through what she had read.
How’re you, Mercy? The kids miss you…
Amy had the flu yesterday, but she’s a strong kid. She’ll pull through.
Elliot was just given a new coat by a couple who want to adopt him!
The money you sent will help feed the children through the winter.
Have faith, child. Never lose faith in the Lord.
She knew marriage was no easy task, but she hadn’t realized how difficult it was to live with someone away from everything she knew, away from people she had known for so long. Now, with Cole whiling away at the workshop, she had no one else to talk to. How on earth did other brides like her deal with their new lives in an unfamiliar land?
Mercy stuffed the letters back in their envelopes and put them in a drawer. The sky had darkened. She rushed downstairs to make dinner, thinking about how to broach last night’s subject with Cole. She should’ve asked him first, but she couldn’t take back the word she gave to the poor family.
She let the soup boil before putting in the vegetables.
“I’m back,” Cole called.
Mercy smiled at him, but kept her gaze low. “Welcome home.”
Cole sniffed the air. “Wow that smells delicious.” He took a seat at the table, and Mercy shuffled back to the kitchen to retrieve their dinner.
Mercy ladled a soup in a bowl, and was about to place it in front of Cole, when he reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.
His dark gray eyes roved over her face. Immediately, she felt warmth all over her face down to her neck, and to her chest. Strangely, though, her stomach clenched, and –
“Ow!”
The bowl of hot soup crashed to the floor. Cole was up on his feet and beside her in a second. “Are you all right?”
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, sorry, I was just being clumsy. I forgot how hot it was.”
Cole met her eyes and they both laughed softly. He looked at the mess on the floor, and the broken pieces of the bowl.
Instantly, he and Mercy dropped down to retrieve the pieces. Their heads meet instead.
“Ow,” they both muttered.
“Oh no,” Mercy said, “I’ve infected you now.”
Cole burst into laughter and placed a hand on Mercy’s cheek. “Yes, you’ve infected me and this house with cheer.”
Mercy blushed. Cole took her hand and they both stood slowly, only to have their moment disturbed by shouting outside.
“What’s that?” Mercy gasped.
“Stay here,” Cole said. He rushed outside.
Mercy wrung her hands, crossed herself, and went after her husband. Down the street, Mrs. Sternham, the proprietor of the town inn, was yelling at a group gathered outside her place.
When Mrs. Sternhan had finished her tirade, she closed her door with a bang. The group trudged down the road. Cole and Mercy looked at each other.
“Why did Mrs. Sternham turn them away?” Mercy asked.
Cole didn’t answer. He took the lantern hanging beside the doorway and waited at their porch. The group went from house to house, but most doors stayed shut, and the ones that opened quickly shut again. When they drew nearer, Mercy saw a middle-aged man carrying a sleeping young boy, and a woman with dark skin and ebony dark hair, holding the hand of a small girl.
They stopped at Mercy and Cole’s house. The man let out a loud cough. The woman took off her shawl and placed it around him. It was then that Mercy realized the woman was Indian. She pleaded with her eyes as her black hair braided in two beside her face swayed back and forth.
“Good evening,” she said in a humble voice. “We’re looking for a place to stay.” She looked back at the man and the children. “My husband is sick, and the children are tired. We will pay you for a room. Even if it’s a barn or…”
“No,” Mercy said, standing beside Cole. At his nod, she stepped towards the woman. “You won’t sleep in a barn. We have room in the house.”
“You can stay with us,” Cole said.
“Oh, thank you,” the woman said.
Cole turned to Mercy. “Mercy, please ready the rooms and some supper for them.”
“Oh no, we have bread –” the Indian woman began.
“It’s all right,” Mercy said while Cole took the man’s shoulder and led him and their children inside. “We have enough for everyone.”
“This is blasphemy, you should know!” someone shouted from across the street.
Mercy looked over the woman’s shoulder. It was their neighbor, Edith Jenkins. She clutched her shawl tightly, her husband looking gaunt and grim beside her in their lantern’s dim light.
“You shouldn’t be taking ‘em in. Her kind’s killed people like us, you know!”
Mercy took a deep breath and ushered the guests inside.
“Don’t you be forgettin�
�� the Marias Massacre!” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Trust Cole Beckett not to learn his lesson.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Mercy said to the Indian woman, closing the door.
She set the table, and had given everyone a piece of their dinner. While their guests ate, Mercy approached Cole, who had fastened their shutters.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said.
Mercy placed a hand on his shoulder and prayed that he wouldn’t be offended. “What did Mrs. Jenkins mean when she said –“
He sighed, but did not back away from the conversation this time.
“It was during the fall of last year.” He turned to her. “There was a family from China who worked in the mines nearby. The father and one of the sons met an accident, but the family had no money for a burial. So I offered to help them for free.”
Mercy’s eyes widened.
“I never lived up to my father and no one let me forget that.” He rolled his sleeves to his elbows and pocketed his hands. “They didn’t like me whistling and humming while embalming the dead. But when I helped the Chinese family, things got even worse. I went from an unprofessional undertaker to ‘traitor’ in their eyes.”
“But you knew you had to help them anyway.”
“Yes. The Lord said,” Cole whispered, “love one another as I have loved you.”
Mercy looked up at him and smiled. She turned at the sound of chairs scratching the wooden floor. “Here, let me take those…”
* * *
Cole had shown the guests upstairs, but when the cold weather had picked up, the man and his wife took Mercy’s room. Their children took the room next to it, leaving Mercy with the room at the end of the hallway. But it was cold and barren with a rickety shutter.
So Mercy found herself inside Cole’s room.
“Darn windows,” Cole muttered. He shut the shutters and turned to Mercy. “We should get to bed early.”
“Let’s pray first,” she reminded him.
“Of course.” He fell down on his knees beside her.
He was acting strange, but Mercy was only half-listening to him. Her own heart was stuck in her throat, and she was suddenly so aware of his presence beside her.
A Mail Order Bride for the Undertaker: Mercy & Cole (Love by Mail 1) Page 4
