Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  She stared at him in wide-eyed horror, then bent to pick up the offending note from where it lay in the puddled water. “It can’t really say that!” She scanned the card quickly.

  It did.

  This can’t be happening! It has to be a mistake! She held the card in one trembling hand, and looked up into her husband’s eyes. The warmth of his caramel-flecked brown eyes had leached away, leaving cold darkness in its place.

  “Surely you can’t believe that—?” But she saw in his eyes he did believe it. “Jake, please believe me, I have no idea who sent this, or why. I promise you.” She reached out to lay a hand on his chest, to touch him, to make him feel the warmth of her love, so that he would see she was not capable of such treachery.

  Instead, he pushed her hand away. “I am tired of the broken promises of women. I should have known when you hid the truth about your pregnancy from me what kind of a liar you are. But no, I trusted, as I always do. I let my feelings guide me—but no more. That was a mistake. We are a mistake.” He turned and stalked down the flagstone path.

  “No! Wait! Please come back. Please listen! Jake!”

  He opened the gate, then stopped and spun around. “I have no desire to hear another word from you. I think it’s best if we just call things off.”

  He slammed the gate closed behind him, jumped into the wagon, and slapped the reins.

  She called out to him again, but he ignored her, and a moment later, the rumbling wagon was gone.

  Lilly fell to her knees, sobbing—the long thorns of the roses biting into her skin through her crinolines, the pungent odor of crushed blossoms in her nose.

  ***

  After what seemed like hours, Lilly finally wiped the tears from her eyes, stood up, and began cleaning up the mess on the porch. She didn’t know what else to do. Should I leave? He said he wanted to call things off. Does that mean he expects me to be gone when he comes home?

  Lilly shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. He only said he thinks we should call things off. Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe he’ll calm down by the time he gets home, and we can talk—just like we did when he found out I was expecting.

  She thought that maybe if she made his favorite meal, and scrubbed the house, and did up her hair, and wore her favorite dress and the perfume he loved so much…maybe, just maybe, he’d listen to her.

  The rest of the day was spent scrubbing until her back ached, doing laundry, fixing his favorite meal, baking a cobbler, cookies, and a pie. She didn’t know how she’d done so much work in such a short time—it must have been sheer fear driving her on.

  She sat, rigid, with her hands clasped together on the table, waiting for him to come home for supper. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t drink. It had taken the last of her strength just to hold her arms up long enough to use the new curling tongs he had bought as a present for her the week before. She’d spent an hour curling and arranging her hair in a way she thought he would find pleasing. Now, all she could do was wait.

  He didn’t come.

  The shadows lengthened as the summer sun disappeared behind the buildings and Mount Helena. The courtyard garden took on a fearsome gloom as it was bathed in shadow. She watched through the kitchen window from her place at the table as the lower branches of the cheery fruit trees became gnarled and twisted fingers raking at the sky, backlit by twilight.

  It was then that the question first struck her; who would send a bouquet of flowers to a married woman?

  Someone who is jealous? Someone who wanted Jake for her own? Someone who wanted Lilly for his own?

  And then she knew…

  Theodore Bennett.

  ***

  Wednesday, July 23, 1890

  Jake was already aching when he eyed the bench at the end of a very long day. He could barely move, he’d worked so hard—working off the angry tension that filled him, hoping he could forget himself in his work.

  He couldn’t.

  And the hard bench wouldn’t let him get a wink of sleep on a good night, much less on the worst night of his life. But he didn’t want to go home either.

  Home? Ha! More like hell. That apartment had seen more heartbreak for Jake than he cared to think about. The scene of the crime.

  Or, make that crimes. Plural.

  Did that mean he, the innocent one, should suffer a cold, uncomfortable night on a hard bench? That didn’t seem right. He thought about staying at a hotel for the night, to figure things out, then confront Lilly in the morning. But the last thing he wanted was someone recognizing him going in or out of the hotel, or the clerk noticing the tears that burned his eyes, begging to be released, but which he held back at great cost.

  As for ‘figuring things out’, there’s nothing to figure out. She’s a wanton, sorry excuse for a woman, just like Sadie was. He didn’t know if she’d ever really been attacked or not, but for sure she had deceived him, and now she was fooling around with some other man…a man she was in love with, it seemed. Could her lover have followed her out to Montana?

  The ache spread through his chest, making it hard to breathe. He’d been such a fool! One thing was for sure—he knew what he needed to do next. Lilly had to go. He’d put her on a train, back to her parents’ house in Massachusetts. It stung that he’d have to incur more expense because of her, but the money would be well worth it. Then he’d finally get rid of the apartment, and just rent a simple room at a boarding house. Less to take care of, and less expense.

  And he would swear off women, for life. They just weren’t worth the trouble.

  He laughed then, in the silence of the empty smithy. He probably wouldn’t need to buy her a train ticket. She probably would just move into her lover’s home, or whatever hotel room he was staying in. And this time, Jake wouldn’t have the comfort of knowing that his chances of running into his wife and her lover would be slim, as they’d been with Sadie. No, Lilly would likely be living right in Helena proper, flaunting her transgressions for all to see, and making him the laughingstock of the town. To lose a wife to another man, not once, but twice? It hit him in his gut, like a sucker punch.

  That thought alone almost made him stay at the smithy—but the idea of being found in the morning, again, by Edgar was a worse hit to his pride than facing his cheating wife. He didn’t relish the thought of an argument after such a long day, but he’d make it short and simple. He’d tell her how it was, then he’d spend the night on the settee. The next day she’d be on a train, or in her lover’s bed, and he would be free. Let the lover pay to raise his own bastard.

  When he pulled the wagon into the alley, it was dark. It must have been after ten, but the lights were still blazing all throughout the apartment, he saw. She was waiting up for him.

  Let her wait, he thought, angrily.

  He took his time putting up Charley and Paca. When he went inside, he saw she’d cleaned up the mess on the porch. Inside, his stomach was tempted by the tantalizing aromas of a combination of delicious things, not all of which he could define. There was…a beef roast…peach cobbler…and something else sweet, plus a mélange of what seemed to be a vegetable dish.

  He ignored his stomach, which had gone empty all day. He didn’t want to let her think he could be bought with baked goods. Lilly wasn’t in the kitchen—though he could see the two plates set out for them both to eat. The kitchen had an empty quality to it…she had cleaned up, with everything put away in its place, even neater than normal.

  Going into the parlor, he saw the same thing—a spotless room, in perfect order. He didn’t hear a sound in the house, but for the ticking of the clock on top of the bookshelf. His heart sunk—had she gone? Had she left, just like Sadie?

  It didn’t occur to him how ridiculous it was to feel disappointment, given that he had been about to send her packing, anyway. He couldn’t help but feel dismay, and greater heartbreak, knowing that another wife had abandoned him for a new lover.

  He pushed on, into the bedroom, expecting the top of the dresser to be
empty of all Lilly’s things.

  The bedroom was dark, but to his surprise he thought he still saw, in the light from the parlor, items laying atop the dresser.

  That was when he heard the chambering of a round into a shotgun.

  Chapter 21

  Lilly lay on the bed, fully dressed, ready for anything. Her body was sore and exhausted from the day of heavy cleaning, and her stomach was sour and empty. She desperately wanted to undress and fall asleep and forget the day’s events, but she knew she couldn’t.

  Her life could depend on it.

  She had wanted to run for help, but what could she say? That she thought she was being stalked by the man who took advantage of her…but she wasn’t sure? And in the growing darkness, going out into the alley would just make her a very easy target.

  No, better to wait it out, and hope that Jake didn’t stay at the smithy again.

  She laid there for what seemed like hours, when finally, she heard a sound.

  Jake? Her eyes flew open. How long have I been out? She must have fallen asleep. Then she heard it again. Footsteps. Not Jake’s usual footsteps, or the clomping of an angry husband, but slow, deliberate footsteps.

  A dark figure appeared at the door, backlit by the light in the parlor.

  He’s here! He found me!

  Her heart raced. She had left the bedroom dark, thinking that she’d have the advantage if an intruder got in—but her eyes were bleary with sleep, and all she could discern was the shape of a man. He waited in the doorway, watching her…

  Then she remembered the shotgun, cradled at her side. She lifted it and pushed forward the lever action, startled at how loud the snap and snick sounded in the small, silent room.

  “Lilly?”

  Fear exploded in her chest as her finger tensed on the trigger—but stopped just in time.

  “Jake?” Relief washed over her.

  “Lilly, don’t! We can work this out—just put the gun down…”

  “What?” She looked down at the Winchester and realized she still had it aimed at his chest. “Oh!” She laid it down gently beside her on the bed, then reached over to light the lamp beside her.

  Jake looked at the shotgun lying on the bed. “You were going to shoot me. With my own gun.”

  “No!” Lilly shook her head emphatically. “I thought…I thought you were...”

  “Who? Your lover? Did he fall out of your favor even quicker than I did?” The words were meant to bite, but his voice broke on the last two words.

  “I thought you were Theodore Bennett,” she whispered, drawing up her legs to her chest and hugging her arms around them.

  The pain and bitterness on his face melted away, leaving confusion. “What? Has he been here—?”

  She shook her head. “Not since you’ve left. But it must have been him. Who else would send me flowers? Who else would want to break up our marriage?”

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the door frame. “Is this supposed to be your way of tricking me into believing your innocence?”

  “I am guilty of many things, Jake, but of what that note implied? I am innocent. It has to be Theodore. He must have discovered that I’d come out here. It didn’t even hit me until I was sitting, waiting for you to come home for supper. It was the first time today that I let my mind rest—and then it finally occurred to me; the only one to benefit from our marriage breaking up is Theodore. But by then it was almost dark, and I was afraid he might be out there, lurking, waiting to catch me alone. I was too afraid to go for help.”

  “You thought you were being stalked by the man that committed outrage upon you, and you thought the best idea was to hole up someplace nice and quiet, where he could have all night to do what he wanted with you?” he snapped. “What if he’d come? What if I hadn’t come home?”

  “That was what the shotgun was for,” she whispered, looking away and blinking back tears.

  He said nothing, but his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

  “Please…say something.”

  There was a long pause before he finally spoke.

  “Why would someone leave a note like that? Why wouldn’t he leave a note saying something like you’ll pay, or I’m watching you, or something that makes sense? Why on earth would he believe that you are his beloved?”

  “Jake, after he got me alone that one day at church, I never spoke to him again. But I told my mother—who was good friends with Theodore’s mother—to be very sure to tell Mrs. Bennett that I never wanted to speak to him or see him again. I’m sure my mother sugar-coated it, but Theodore had to have gotten the hint, regardless of how my mother delivered the message.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe she coated it with a little too much sugar.”

  Lilly sighed. “It’s possible. Mother wouldn’t have wanted to upset Mrs. Bennett. And since I’m sure my mother would never have said a word about Theodore forcing himself on me, he probably thought he’d scared me into silence. Even though in reality, it was my own family who forced me to be silent.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that in his twisted mind, he might think that your silence was an indication that you liked what he had done?”

  Her mouth fell open. “How could you even think that—?”

  “I said, what if he thinks it? The man clearly doesn’t have a grip on reality, if he thought he could commit outrage against the daughter of a prominent businessman, and still coerce her into marriage. Does he?”

  “I don’t know. I think…I think there are some men that actually enjoy committing such acts of atrocity upon innocent women. I don’t think it’s about love, or intimacy, or lust, or even obsession. I think it’s about control…domination.”

  “If that’s the case, what would such a man do, if he felt like the target of his domination evaded his control, and escaped his reach?”

  She remained silent. The answer was obvious to both of them—the man would likely seek to regain control. In whatever way possible.

  Jake crossed to the bed, and sat on the edge, but remained facing away from her. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Please, just listen to your heart. Why would I bring a lover to our home—even if I was that type of woman, which I’m not—when I know that you come home almost every day for lunch? What if you came home early, or late? Why would he leave a bouquet right at our doorstep in the middle of the day, when you’re usually home? The only reason for that is if the person wants you to find it. If he’s trying to break us up. And the note said ‘together again’. The only person I could ever have been considered ‘together’ with, before you, is Theodore.”

  “I didn’t think about that. I…I just saw ‘together again’ and assumed it meant that you’d been with the man before. You know…intimately. That maybe you really did have a lover back East. Or found a new one, here.”

  “No. Never.” She scooted closer to him on the bed. “I know you’ve been hurt before. And I understand that your gut reaction might have been to feel hurt and betrayed. But we’ve spent a lot of time together for the last five weeks. We’ve talked about everything—our biggest hurts, our deepest fears, our greatest hopes. I feel like we’ve known each other for years, not weeks.”

  “I felt the same. But I knew Sadie for years. I trusted her. And look what happened.”

  “Jake.” She looked up into his eyes, pointedly. “I’m…not…Sadie.”

  “I know, but—”

  “And it’s not fair that you’re treating me like I am.” She let that sink in for a minute. “For you to keep assuming that I’m like Sadie would be like me assuming that you’re like Theodore.”

  “How could you even say that?!” he snapped, offended.

  “Exactly.” She arched an eyebrow. “So how could you say everything you said to me today? How could you even think it? How could you let an evil man come between you and your wife?”

  Silence followed, as Jake digested what she’d said. “You’re right. I can’t believe I let one stupid note
almost tear my marriage apart.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know why you want to be with me.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Because—with the notable exception of two unflattering occasions—you are an amazing husband, and an honorable man. You work hard, you handle the town gossips with more Christian charity than they’ve ever shown you or me, and you’ve forgiven me for not being fully honest with you, when a lot of men would have thrown me out on the streets. You’re kind, you’re generous, you make me laugh…”

  “Alright, alright, I get the idea,” he chuckled, kissing her back, on the cheek.

  “You don’t want me to go on?”

  “Normally I would, but I feel awful about what I did today, so I don’t think I deserve it. Not today.”

  “I’ll tell you what you deserve,” she winked at him and pulled him closer.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he countered, escaping her embrace, “don’t think I didn’t notice that you look as pale as a ghost. Or that there are two clean plates waiting on the table. You haven’t eaten today, have you?”

  “I…uh…neither did you!”

  “I’m not the one with a baby growing in my belly,” he accused. He swept her up in his arms and carried her out to the kitchen, plopping her down in a chair.

  “I can get it myself—”

  “Don’t you dare get up, or there will be consequences.” His voice was stern, but she saw the corners of his mouth turn up as he said it.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tonight, we eat up, and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll lock the door, and we’ll keep the shotgun by the bed. Tomorrow, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. If Theodore Bennett is in town, he’s going to wish he stayed back East.”

  Chapter 22

  Thursday, July 24, 1890

  “I feel like I should stay home with you.” Jake finished his eggs and popped the last triangle of toast into his mouth in one bite.