Dennis wasn’t sure of what he was hearing. What did Thomas mean?
“I want to accept this merger, but I also want to forge a bond between us. That, though we are miles apart, we will be like family to one another. I hereby ask that, as our first order of business together, we establish a yearly retreat at one of our houses. We’ll all convene and there will be talk of business, but the purpose behind it will be friendship. Do you all accept?”
Dennis was shocked. Belle had told Thomas, something he would have forbidden her to do, and yet the result was even better than he could have expected.
There was a chorus of “ayes” then all eyes turned to him. With his gaze focused on Belle, he said, “We accept.”
***
Belle crept down the stairs toward the kitchen. It had been hours since their meal, the one where she’d hardly eaten anything because her nerves had stolen her hunger, and she was extremely hungry. Rounding the corner, she stopped short seeing Dennis sitting at the kitchen table.
“I thought you might come down,” he said. His gaze drilled into hers but there didn’t appear to be anger there. Was he mad at her still?
“I—I didn’t eat much at dinner.”
He held out a hunk of bread and cheese. “Want some?” Her stomach growled in response and the corner of his mouth quirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
She joined him at the table, taking some of the bread and cheese and chewing thoughtfully.
After a time, he said, “Belle, I need to apologize.”
“I didn’t mean to share your secret,” she blurted out before he could stop her. “I just wanted to tell him how hardworking you are. Then Dora joined the conversation and…it just came out. I’m sorry.”
“No,” he rested his hand over hers and squeezed, causing her to meet his gaze. “You did the right thing. I’ve been in the wrong this whole time. I was so focused on work and just…shortsighted. Can you forgive my arrogance?”
“Of course,” the words were out of her mouth before she had chance to really think about them, but she knew they were the truth. She would forgive him time and time again, because sometime over this week and their extended time together, she had come to care for him—beastly arrogance and all. She smiled at her thoughts.
“And…” she watched him hesitate, searching for the words, “And I know that it will take time, but I want us to have a good marriage. A loving one.” His eyes met hers, diving into the depths there, and he leaned forward as his hand came to rest against her cheek.
She reached up and rested her hand on top of his then, not knowing what else to say—if there even was anything—she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
He was shocked by her bold actions but didn’t pull back. The kiss was short but it sealed their promises to one another.
Theirs would be a love that grew and was shaped by time. Though it would take effort from them both, Belle knew their bond would be stronger for it. What had started with a week of playacting as husband and wife had now turned into the real thing.
THE END.
Widowed and Pregnant
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter One: Shameful Debris
Virginia, 1844
Sarah Dickerson straightened her black bonnet, pulled on her black wrist length gloves, and tried desperately not to appear as if she might fall over in a stiff wind. She was trapped between needing to exude quiet confidence and falling apart. She didn’t want anyone to offer her assistance, or condolences. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone, to whisper behind their hands and to forget, for five minutes, that she was now a widow. Twenty-three years old and a widow. Even knowing the truth of it didn’t help. She just couldn’t get the two concepts to mesh, despite how life had forced them to.
A month ago, which now seemed like an eternity, she and her husband, Ben, had been elated to discover they were pregnant. She’d been wanting a baby for a while and to learn that they were finally expecting was a blessing. Now her heart squeezed in her chest, just to remind her that Ben, who would have loved their child something fierce, would never know what it was to hold that new life in his hands, to cuddle their sweet baby.
Turning, Sarah walked away from the spot where Ben Dickerson’s body now lay. She prayed silently that he rested in peace, as everyone was want to say. As for her, she knew rest, the kind that rejuvenates the soul, would likely never be found for her again. As if going through the first trimester of pregnancy wasn’t enough, she somehow had to grieve for her husband, the man who’d been her best friend. Tears welled in her eyes as memories flooded her mind.
Sarah and Ben had met during a summer harvest festival when their families attended the same events together. There’d been an instant chemistry between them and before long, Ben had asked her father’s permission to court Sarah. The next year they’d married, just after her nineteenth birthday. They’d both wanted to start a family, but after the first year together, when no pregnancy occurred, she’d become despondent. Ben had done everything in his power to help her see that they’d have a baby when they were meant to. Tears fell harder when Sarah remembered how bitter she’d been toward him. He’d only wanted her happiness and she’d made it seem as if only a baby would help. She’d had the whole world in that man and she’d taken him for granted.
“Please forgive me,” Sarah whispered as she walked toward the path that would lead her home. She’d walked to the funeral for Ben. It’d done little to clear her head as she’d hoped, but maybe the walk back would help.
For Sarah the next few days dragged as she barely mustered up enough energy to crawl out of bed to feed herself. If the nausea from her pregnancy wasn’t enough, trying to settle her stomach sort of topped off the existence of her days. When Ben’s sister stopped by, Sarah couldn’t even bring herself to apologize for the state of her home, nor for her appearance.
“I brought you some coffee,” Stacey said, handing a cup to her.
“Thank you,” she said, not adding a smile as she would have in the past. She knew she looked as if death had swarmed over and frankly she didn’t care.
“I also brought you a newspaper. I know you liked to read them,” Stacey said, her own brown eyes tortured with grief. It was when she sat the paper down, came over to sit by her and wrapped her in a hug that Sarah fell apart. That simple understanding opened the floodgates and Sarah’s body heaved as the sobs tore from her soul. Gut wrenching sobs that were full of mourning for a man she’d loved with her entire being. Forty-five minutes later, Sarah was able to compose herself enough to enjoy the coffee Stacey had brought.
“I still can’t believe it,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying. “I expect him to be here and every time I turn around, he isn’t.”
“Me too,” Stacey said, a sad smile creasing her lips. She busied herself in the kitchen before she turned around. “I’m going to leave the coffee. I want you to enjoy it. Then curl up in bed, crawl under the covers, and read the newspaper. Maybe something marvelous happened that will perk up my day. I’ll come back and check on you later tonight.”
“Thank you Stacey, for everything.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
Sarah did as Stacey had said. She’d enjoyed her first cup of coffee and then crawled into bed with her second cup, taking the newspaper with her. She read about Florida joining the United States as the twenty-seventh state and of course, the growing tension in Texas as President Tyler sought to annex Texas into the Union. Obviously there were those in the country that didn’t want to lose their power to the idea of statehood.
Flipping the page, Sarah read through the editor’s notes and responses before she landed on an open letter that seemed quite amusing. It read:
February 1844
To All Eligible Women on the Eastern Coast,
My name is Bernd Blindow and I am just move to Texas from my native Germany. I find myself nearly overwhelmed by the rough terrain of this beautiful country.
It is, however, a bit of a surprise to me that there are not more women in Texas. Being so new here, I find myself terribly lonely and in a bind that I can’t seem to fix.
I would love to converse with women who would at least consider journeying here on the basis of friendship and the hopes that this may become something more. I am already awaiting replies.
Thoughtfully,
Bernd
Sarah put the paper down and sighed. It was already growing cold outside as frost began to cover the edges of her windows. She crawled from her bed to turn the heat up in her apartment, grabbed herself another cup of coffee, and then snuggled back under the covers; shivering slightly from the chill in the air. Finally, after another round of body racking sobs, Sarah fell asleep to the energy sucking silence.
The next few mornings blurred into each other as Sarah’s mind sank into the fog of depression. Shen needed human contact, but the idea of reaching out to friends and family, without Ben, was exhausting. Somewhere in the back on her mind she recalled the stranger who’d written an open letter, looking for a friend. She needed a friend, desperately. Could she be a friend in turn, especially when she’d just lost her best friend?
Deciding that writing Mr. Blindow couldn’t hurt, Sarah sat down at her kitchen table and penned a letter to the man.
February 1844
Dear Mr. Blindow,
My name is Sarah Dickerson. I just recently lost my husband to consumption and this after recently finding out that I’m expecting our first child. I have no idea if I can be the friend you’re looking for, but I am desperate to escape the home and town where we lived. The memories are too raw and painful for me to feel comfortable even leaving my home.
I know that this probably isn’t the response you’re looking for, but I’m a firm believer in honesty and being completely upfront. My hope is that I can feel normal again, before my baby comes. I’d like to like that we can build a friendship in the meantime and see where things go from there. All I ask is that if you decide to reply, that you’d agree to give my child your name. I can’t bear the thought of him going through life without a father. There’s no coming back from that sort of shame.
Desperate in Virginia,
Sarah Elaine Dickerson
***
Bernd Blindow pulled the leather straps over his shoulder, clicked his tongue at the oxen and tried to hold the plow steady as the plow dug into the soil. He’d stepped foot in Texas for the first time ever, nearly two months ago and still he felt undone by the terrain. He’d managed three passes of the same field that day and it still didn’t look right for planting. Then there was the injured fence to deal with. He needed all new gates, which were on order. He’d also put in an order for new fencing, which would barely get him up and running. He had to finish all of that before he could purchase the fifteen head of cattle he wanted to start with. The delay also had him wasting precious time figuring out which horses he wanted to breed. He’d seen about ten different breeds and none of them showcased the qualities he’d been looking for. He was half tempted to try his hand at creating a new breed, one that had the characteristics of both a work horse and a show champion. None of that even began to touch the housework that seemed to multiply exponentially every day. Just thinking about it made him tired.
He hoped that today’s mail run would prove beneficial to his circumstances. After breakfast, Bern rode his personal horse, Jocko, to town and tied him loosely to a hitch outside the post office. He was pleasantly surprised by the amount of mail he had collected since placing the advertisement a month prior. There must have been at least a hundred letters to read through. The task both exhilarated and worried him. How would he choose between the women? What qualifications, besides being good at domestic work, was he looking for? He obviously wanted someone who was honest and had some integrity and self-respect. He wanted someone who could hold an intelligent conversation. A woman who could joke around and would enjoy his company no matter what they were doing.
With the amount of work he needed to do on his farm and to even keep up with the house, it took Bernd nearly four days to read through all the letters. He found several that went into a “second read” pile. From there he narrowed them down even further, finally settling on the one that tugged the deepest at his heart. Somewhere on the east coast, a woman named Sarah Dickerson was grieving over the loss of her husband, a love Bernd was sure must have been wonderful. Having just found out she was expecting, Bernd couldn’t imagine the joy and pain she must be feeling. He wondered, hoped that she was happy for her soon to be arriving, baby, despite the love she lost.
His reply was swift as he sent a telegram the very next morning and received a reply by early evening. Sarah Dickerson and the babe she carried, were on their way to Texas. Thrilled, well beyond what he’d expected, Bern slept like a baby for the first time since setting foot in the sought after country of Texas. The next week flew by as Bernd awaited the wagon train that would deliver Sarah to the tiny town of San Antonio. Finally, the morning of March third came and Bernd paced an area in front of the welcoming station where travelers often departed from the wagon train that would move on after a good nights’ sleep and a hot meal.
Bernd scanned face after face, realizing that he would know much about Sarah Dickerson except that she was expecting. After watching several couples, some with children, move past the station and into San Antonio, Bernd saw a black clad woman standing on the platform, looking as if someone had left her destitute. Approaching her slowly, Bern finally spoke up.
“Would you be Mrs. Dickerson?” he asked. Beautiful pale green eyes turned his way and Bern caught his breath. His first thought was that Sarah Dickerson was far too beautiful to be a widow and the second was that he’d never seen such a sorrowful look on anyone’s face before.
“I am. Are you Mr. Blindow?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bernd said, removing his cap. He ran his hand haphazardly through his hair to tame it before he smiled and offered his arm to her. “I hope the trip wasn’t too exhausting. I know traveling by wagon train can be more on the uncomfortable side.”
“The couple I traveled with were very generous. They let me ride inside the wagon with their two children. I slept most of the trip away, a side effect of being pregnant I suppose.”
“How is the babe?”
“As well as can be expected I suppose. I haven’t been to a doctor to confirm the pregnancy yet.”
“Then that’s the first thing we’ll see to, after you’ve had some time to rest. I took the liberty of acquiring you a room at our local inn, if that’s alright with you? I’ve also been assured that there are no men on the floor where your room is. The innkeeper said that he schedules men and women on different floors, unless of course, they’re married.”
“Thank you, so much.”
“You’re very welcome. So, tell me more about Virginia.”
“Right now there is still snow on the ground, although that’s quickly going to change. April showers bring May flowers and all that. Spring is beautiful as green sweeps over the Appalachian Mountains. As in most places, flowers spring up, trees bloom, and birds and insects return from their vacations in the south. I’ll tell you though, there’s nothing like a Virginia sunrise.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Bernd smiled. He helped Sarah up into his buggy and climbed up next to her, clucking to the two horses he’d hitched to the front. “I want you to know upfront that I’m very sorry for your husband’s loss. It’s a shame that he was taken so young.”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes losing some of their luster as he was sure she thought of him. He was ashamed when it pricked his pride. He’d never wanted a woman to think of him so why did Sarah thinking of her husband irritate him? Taking a deep breath, Bernd headed for the inn where he helped Sarah get her things to her room.
“If you’re up to it, I can show you my ranch. If you’d rather rest, I completely understand.”
“I do think a rest would be benefi
cial. Nowadays I’m easily worn down by noon.”
“Say no more,” Bernd smiled. “I’ll come check on you tomorrow morning and we can visit the ranch then, if you’re up to it.”
“Thank you, Bernd. I am beyond grateful to you.”
“Our arrangement is mutually beneficial, Mrs. Dickerson. Get some rest.”
Chapter Two: Time Will Tell
Sarah lay down on her bed and sighed. She was weary all the way down to her bones. Still, sleep would not give her peace as her mind played through the last few weeks. A freak snowstorm had robbed her of the happy life she’d had just a few days before. She’d been ecstatic about the baby and Ben had seemed over the moon happy about their new bundle of joy.
Then he’d gone out on a logging run and it had started to snow. It had snowed hard for nearly two days and by the time they found Ben’s truck, he’d simply frozen to death. The only solace she had was the love note he’d scrawled on a piece of paper that had been found in his hand. She unfolded the now worn paper and reread it for what seemed like the millionth time.
My Dearest Sarah,
The snow has trapped us good up here and you know how much I hate the cold. Some of the guys thought to try and dig out, but it’s been no use. I hope they find us soon as the temperatures at night make the daytime even more frigid. I miss you. I keep imagining what our baby will look like. I wonder often if it will look like me if it’s a boy. Then I think about how beautiful you are and ask God to give us a little girl who’s as beautiful as her mama. Eight months seems so far away, I hope I can wait patiently that long.
It’s been three days since the snowfall trapped us up here. Our food is gone as of this morning and I can no longer feel my toes. I’ve tried to rub them to keep them warm, but it’s been no use, except to steal more of my energy. I don’t mind saying I’m afraid now. Three long days with absolutely no sign of rescue. I wonder if anyone has even alerted the authorities. Would anyone even think that we’d been hit hard this far up the mountain?
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