“I didn’t want your pity.” He spat the word. “I could only be that person you describe because I had you sparring with me, you running alongside me, you matching me barb for barb, word for word, wit for wit. I thought I had lost it when this happened. I didn’t feel like a man at all.”
“You thought me a foolish enough girl that your feet matter to me beyond not wanting you to be hurt? Did you think your feet matter to me more than your mind? Your heart? Well then I guess you never knew me very well, Private Simon.”
He grabbed her arms. “No, it was not you I did not know, Nurse Cora. It was myself. Until you reminded me, until you’ve begun to show me again.”
“If that is so…then may I bathe your feet?” she whispered.
The fight left his face and he dropped into the chair again. “Yes. Yes, you may.”
They were quiet as she prepared the water and set to work. After she had finished cleaning and massaging his injuries, she let his feet to soak. “But why, Simon, why did you send me away after? Father had trained me. You doubted my ability to care for you adequately?” She still felt the pain of rejection these four years later.
He crossed his arms over his chest, but said nothing.
“Why, Private Simon? I want to understand.”
“We weren’t equals anymore. We weren’t the same. You felt sorry for me. You felt pity for me. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want you to feel such retched emotions for me. I couldn’t bear that all you would see me as was a cripple.”
Pity? She thought back, tried to remember. Had she? She dropped her hands in her lap. She had not. What had she felt? Fear, a great wide yawning fear like an ocean without a shore that he would die, and that she wouldn’t know how to walk the earth without him. She jumped to her feet. Was that true? Had she felt like that?
“Cora, what’s wrong?” He reached for her, but she stepped away.
“I never felt pity for you.” She whispered. “Never.” She began to gather her things. “I saw far too many truly pitiful things during the war to feel badly for you over your feet.” She hardened her jaw. “And you, Private Simon have pitied yourself far better than I, or anyone else could have done. If you didn’t, you would still be a writer.”
“I should have known better than to confide in you—“
“No, you should have known me better than to send me away out of fear over my pity. You should never have sent me away.” She knew her voice was too loud. She knew she was too emotional. Her father would tell her to check her emotions.
She did not want to. She wanted to let them rage and she wanted them to rage at Simon, all the hurt and humiliation and pain she’d felt and smothered, buried under the next patient and the next. Only Simon had never been a patient to her.
She left the room without another word. There was a thud against the door after she closed it, and she could not help but smile as she imagined Simon throwing something in his anger at her. How her feelings could run so quickly from anger to humor for him was beyond her. Surely Hannah would be able to explain it to her.
Chapter 9
Cora stood at the large picture window downstairs in the lobby watching the children play next to the street, chasing each other. Her mind was muddled and she felt physically drained from sparring with Simon first thing in the morning. They had eaten breakfast and lunch separately which had made her miss him. And missing him had made her angry at herself for caring.
“Cora.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to turn around.
“Cora. We need to talk. We can’t keep on like this. We’ve always talked.”
She twisted around. “Once, a long time ago, we always talked. But you’ve changed,” she charged.
“And you think you have not?”
Cora felt her mouth open.
“Ah, I see you think not.”
She snapped her mouth shut and turned away, but he grabbed her arm, his grip gentle, and turned her around. “You think I like seeing you like this? Ready to be a “mail order bride” for my brother? The strong, opinionated woman I grew up with, the one who bravely traveled with her father? Saw things that grown men couldn’t stand, grown men would turn away from? This bowing, grateful girl?” he twisted the words until they were an insult.
“What would you have me do?” she whispered. “Papa is not here to make me strong.”
“Your father did not make you strong,” Simon yelled. “He was not there all the time when we were children. You were strong then, simply because you were.” He closed his eyes, breathed out through his nose. “Cora, Nurse Cora, he saw in you what you already had. Strength. Kindness. Intelligence. The strength to use your kindness and intelligence to help others. That is why he taught you. His teaching did not make you strong. “
“No,” she breathed.
“And this, this travesty of which you were--this marrying for security female. Well, I simply don’t recognize you.”
“How dare you?”
“How dare I not? After all we’ve known of each other. And Matthew is my brother. How dare I not?”
“You think your brother does not wed well?”
“I think my brother knows nothing of you. And you of him.” He turned away. “But I think my brother weds very well. He could not do better,” he finished.
Cora’s cheeks warmed and she covered them with her gloved hands. “Then why?”
“I believe you, Cora, can do better.” He walked away then before she could say another word.
She dropped into a chair, exhausted. Was sparring with Simon always so exhausting? Or had the stakes never been so high before? What did it all mean? This churning in her gut? This bleeding of her heart? Simon awakened the emotions that she’d had to shut down during the war. Had to shut down after Papa had died. What was she to do?
Was he right? Had she been strong before Papa had leant her his hand, his ear, his confidence? Had he chosen her to train because he saw that strength Simon spoke of?
And Simon, blessed, damnable Simon. What was she to do about him? She knew him right. Knew that marrying his brother was as soulfully wrong as she could possibly be. She did not know him. Did not love him. And more than anything else, she wanted to marry for love.
She caught a glimpse of Simon crossing the street, his limp pronounced. But she could never marry for love when she was quite certain she loved Simon with all the heart she had to give. But did she have the courage to tell Simon the truth? She bowed her head to ask God for strength when she remembered Simon’s words. “You’ve always been strong.”
She had been, hadn’t she? Maybe it was time to prove it, but first, she needed to talk with Elizabeth.
Chapter 10
After talking with Elizabeth, Cora hurried to the post office. She had an important telegram to send.
She had just finished when she met Simon at the door. She drew back in surprise, not expecting to face him so soon. But she remembered her strength and squared her shoulders. “Simon, could I talk with you?” Her voice didn’t sound strong. It sounded insecure and scared.
Simon glanced toward the line inside the Post Office, then back at her. “Yes, I suppose.”
Still angry with her. She sighed as they sat down on one of the benches out front.
He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable.
“I can’t marry Matthew.”
Simon sat up then, his eyes sharp on her face. “Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to him. I don’t love him, and I don’t believe I ever can. Because…” She closed her eyes and lowered her head. Strength.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Simon stood up before she could say another word. “There’s no line now. I need to go,” he said. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
He walked away. Disappointment pressed into Cora’s chest. Had he known what she was going to say? Had he known and been repulsed? Of course he had; she had been so obvious. He couldn’t get away fast enou
gh. Her heart breaking, she hurried back to the hotel.
Chapter 11
In her room, she gasped air into her lungs. What had she done? Sent a telegram to Matthew refusing his proposal. Then to Simon, revealed her undying love. She was so foolish!
How could she ever face him again? Now she was truly alone. In St. Louis, far from home, like the unfortunate Mary. She had enough money to see her home, but what then? Return to her brother. No! She could never do that.
But did she want to leave St. Louis? She could perhaps ask for a job at the hospital. Her time spent nursing at her father’s side during the war might count as sufficient experience.
Someone knocked on her door. Cora jumped. Elizabeth?
She pulled open the door. Once again, Simon stood on the other side, this time breathing heavy, his forehead creased in irritation.
“Whatever is the matter? Did you run the entire way?” she asked.
“Yes, yes I did. I ran the entire way because you were supposed to wait for me.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you wait, Nurse Cora?”
Cora dropped her gaze to his shoes, to the carpeted floor, to the hem of her dress, to anything, anything but his inquisitive blue eyes. Then his fingers were touching her chin—gently—pulling it up so that her eyes met his again.
“Why, Cora?”
She wanted to sink into the floor, her embarrassment was so great. She pulled away from his hand and turned her back on him. “Because you don’t love me. Because I confessed my feelings and you don’t return them.” She whipped back around. “You knew what I was trying to say, but you rushed away as quickly as you could to mail a letter.”
“I never said that. I wasn’t mailing a letter.” He waved the piece of paper. “I was checking for a telegram.” He moved closer until very little space separated them.
“A telegram?”
“Yes, a telegram. I’ve been waiting for it since our arrival in St. Louis. I sent one to my brother last week during one of our train stops.”
She shook her head. What did a telegram have to do with anything? Hannah? She clutched at his arms. “Hannah? Mama O’Leary, they’re okay?”
He smiled. “Oh they are well. Very well and very happy I’m guessing.” He held out the telegram. When she didn’t take it, he nodded encouragingly. “Read it.”
She opened the paper: Cora STOP was STOP always STOP meant STOP for STOP you STOP
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Simon smiled and took her hands, leading her to the sofa where they sat down. “I followed you hear because I couldn’t let you marry my brother unless I was certain you loved him more than you could love me. At her gasp, he smiled. “But the longer I spent with you, the more I knew even if you did love him, I was determined to have you for myself. I sent Matthew a telegram asking him to relinquish you.” He waved the telegram. “This was his reply. Apparently, Mama set this up, hoping we would find our way to each other.”
“I cannot possibly live without you. I must fight and laugh with you all the days of my life. You must put me out of my misery and marry me.”
Cora began to cry.
“No, no, Cora, you may not cry. Not my strong and splendid Nurse Cora.” He swiped the wetness from her face, kissed one cheek and then the other.
“Tell me yes now,” he whispered fiercely,” So I can kiss your beautiful mouth.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
And then she had to wait as shock and happiness battled across his face. He breathed a sigh just before his warm mouth touched hers.
Epilogue
Cora and Simon settled into the stage coach that would carry them most of the way to the Colorado territory. A piece of land awaited them, one adjoining Matthew’s ranch. The next year would be a busy one as Simon divided his time between building their home and editing the local newspaper.
As they left St. Louis, Simon grasped Cora’s hands and smiled down at her. “You asked me once why I didn’t report on the war. Remember, it was that first night on the train?”
She nodded, trying to concentrate on his words instead of his hands holding hers.
“I had planned on reporting it,” he admitted quietly. “But I came downstairs one evening before supper and heard you talking with Hannah.”
“Always an eavesdropper,” she teased.
He smiled. ‘You said to her, ‘It’s the responsibility of every human being to fight for the rights of the wronged Negro.’ Right then and there, I knew I could not merely report on the war.”
“Simon! I never meant you. Reporting would have been fighting, too. The power of the pen is every bit as strong as the gun.” She frowned and shook her head at him.” You foolish, foolish man.”
Simon ducked his head. “Well I couldn’t let my favorite girl best me, could I? You were headed into the battlefields alongside your father. I felt driven to do my part.”
At the mention of her father, Cora’s eyes watered. “I would have followed him anywhere,” she whispered.
Simon squeezed her hands. His eyes were sad. “I never told you how sorry I was that Dr. Hammond died. He was a good man.”
She nodded, her throat too thick with tears to speak. Her father would be happy with her decisions of late. She smiled. “I’ll follow you anywhere, too, Mr. O’Leary.”
“You have some catching up to do, since I’ve already proven I’ll definitely follow you anywhere, Mrs. O’Leary.”
THE END.
Widow Finds Love
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter 1 – An Ad in the Paper
The school bell rang loudly, releasing the children from their afternoon class. They came pouring out of the schoolhouse, pushing each other and laughing. There was a rush by the door as they all clamored past, each headed to their homes.
Jessie looked out the window, then shook her head as she turned back to the dough she was kneading.
It’s just habit. Soon enough you will stop checking for him.
This was the time of day John always came home. At least, it was the time of day he always had come home… before the accident. Jessie tried not to think of the void she felt ever since her husband had passed. But no matter what she did, there didn’t seem to be anything that could cheer her up.
Except for you, Little One.
She placed her flour covered hand on her apron over her stomach. Jessie was pregnant with her first child, which was the only thing that kept her sane in her grief. All she could think about day and night was John, and how awful it was she lost him.
There had been a fire. It had been silly, really. Some boys were playing with matches in the neighbor’s barn, and when the straw lit up, they panicked. Sure, John had gone in after them, but they were the ones that made it out, and he wasn’t.
Jessie had wrestled with her grief, spending days at a time feeling like she had nothing in this world, until she discovered she was pregnant.
John would have been so happy. So proud… but you will make me proud, won’t you?
Although Jessie spent most of her days as busy as she could be, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. She wanted this child to be happy, and the thought of raising a baby all on her own in this world terrified her. She had a lot of friends in this little Missouri town, but there wasn’t anyone here that could be a father to her child.
They had all known John. They had known how much she loved him, and how he had loved her. They were always together from the time he let the children out of school to when he had to return to teach class the next day.
No man in town would dare to ask me out… let alone marry me. They wouldn’t feel right about it, and neither would I. But what am I going to do? I can’t do this alone. You need a father, and I need to provide that for you.
Jessie formed the loaves and put them in their pans, then covered them with a damp towel to rise. She sat down in her chair with a sigh, and daydreamed as she looked out the window. There had to be
a way to find a man to marry. A good man that would love both her and her child.
But the town she lived in was small, and the marriage potential was as slim as the chance of seeing a giraffe walking down the street.
If only I met a man off the stage coach like Lizbeth had. Or suppose the son of one of the old shopkeepers moved back here like Betty Sue’s husband did. If only my life was as easy as Mary Jo’s!
It was hard for Jessie to not feel jealous over her friends. She would often run into them as she was out in the town, usually with their husbands. They hadn’t done anything to acquire their husbands. Their husbands had all been practically gift wrapped for them.
Jessie scoffed as she saw at that moment Mary Jo and her husband walk by her window, hand in hand and chatting away.
A tear formed in her eye which she angrily brushed away. Then she suddenly sat up.
Wait a minute! Mary Jo’s husband! She met him through an ad in the paper! Look at them, she looked out the window as the two of them disappeared around the corner, happy as can be. Those two are the happiest couple I know, and they met through one of those mail order bride ads.
I could do that…
Without waiting to give it any more thought, Jessie hurriedly tied her bonnet on and threw a shawl over her shoulders. She was getting tired of wearing black, but she didn’t feel right putting on any of her cheerful colors. Not yet anyway.
She quickly closed the door behind her, and headed to the post office as quickly as she could.
Chapter 2 – Letters
Jessie Stokes bent eagerly over the piece of paper on the table. She held in her trembling hand a pen freshly dipped in ink, and next to the letter sat the ad she had clipped out of the paper.
[2016] A Bride's Journey Page 11
