Brides of Grasshopper Creek

by Faith-Ann Smith

  “Thanks, Mr. Brown!”

  “Thanks a lot, mister!”

  “You’re the best, Lewis!”

  A joyful chorus of happy voices, wherever he went, always accompanied by smiling faces. It was music to his ears; so why did he feel so lonely when the singing stopped?

  Lewis pulled up to his first home delivery stop: the Whitman family on Maple Street. Mrs. Whitman worked part time as a nurse and had very little time to go shopping, especially with two children under five years old; her sixteen-year-old son worked part time at the foundry with her husband Gary. Most of the families Lewis delivered to were in a similar boat; he made all of these deliveries at no profit for himself, sometimes even at a loss. Lizzie Whiteman grinned as she opened the door, accepting the sack of food from him as one of her toddlers zipped around the living room, stark naked.

  “Thanks so much, Lewis! Here—” she shoved a few worn bills into his hand, looking frazzled. “That’s for next week, too. Gary got a raise, and a new position!”

  Lewis’ smile was genuine. “Congratulations! It’s about time. Did David get a raise, too? He’s been working there for a year, hasn’t he?”

  Another one of her toddlers waddled into view, fixating on Lewis with her huge green eyes as her mother nodded and picked her up from the floor. “Since he was fifteen, thank God; he wasn’t doing well going to school. Now he’s happier than ever. Even gets along with me and watches the babies no problem—can you believe it?”

  Lewis almost couldn’t, but the happiness in Lizzie’s eyes was so pure that he had to believe it. “I sure am happy about that, Lizzie.”

  She cradled her toddler closer to her chest, and the little girl picked at the red fabric of Lizzie’s dress with her chubby fingers. “Thanks, Lewis. Say, weren’t you talking last week about—”

  An ear-splitting screech cut off the rest of her speech, and Lewis stepped back as Lizzie spun around in alarm. “Victor!”

  The door slammed as she hurried toward him, and Lewis blinked as the sounds of Lizzie consoling him floated through the door. I’m glad I don’t have that job, he thought as he headed back to his carriage. But something in him stirred as he thought it, and he knew it wasn’t true; again, it was an unnamable feeling; one he couldn’t readily explain. He pondered over that morning’s events as he made his next deliveries, and was so distracted when he got to Roy’s General Store on the other side of town that he nearly forgot to get his payment and had to drive back when he was already halfway home.

  By the time he started up the wide dirt road toward his farmhouse, his mind was spinning from trying to settle on the problem. Then his gray eyes fell on Ernest and the answer seemed so obvious, he was embarrassed that it took him so long.

  Ernest, all long legs and elbows, raced up to the side of the carriage just as Lewis was climbing out. He towered over him at 6’4”, a full eight inches taller than the muscular farmer. “Robert’s definitely coming in today, the train had no delays.”

  Lewis’ heart started to race; here it was, the chance to talk about what had been on his mind all day. “So, Beth Anne is on her way, too. It’s really happening.”

  Ernest clapped one huge hand on Lewis’ shoulder hard enough to make his knees buckle. “It’s really happening! How do you feel?”

  “Excited,” Lewis said automatically, because it was easier than the truth. The truth was far more complicated; how could he tell his farmhand that he was terrified, exhilarated, and joyful enough to burst all at once? Not only had Lewis never been married, he’d never been in love—how did he know he could make it work? He was a master at manipulating soil and encouraging the weakest seeds to sprout into the tallest stalks and strongest vines, but what if he could never take root in someone’s heart?

  Beth Anne Perkins seemed like she was taken with him, but he’d heard of brides falling out of love before their trains had arrived—or even outright lying about their intentions and making off in the middle of the night with all of their husband’s gold and silver. But it was hard to be suspicious when he thought of her; he couldn’t be anything but enamored with her for long. She was a twenty-four-year-old who worked in her mother’s flower shop, and sought adventure wherever she could find it—trying her hand at sailing, going on solo hikes in the woods in New Jersey to find and sketch mountain lions and bears, even serving as a nurse for three months to “become more compassionate toward humankind.” Her father had left her a great deal of money, but she wanted to use it to give back.

  She was also enchanted with the idea of the west coast—its geography, its mining industry, and its melting pot of people, all “mingling and milling around the crucible of old history and new beginnings.” Lewis read her letters over and over after she sent them, until the paper was worn from being folded and unfolded again; he fell in the love with the way she spoke before he realized he was in love with her.

  Ernest jogged back to his place in the field to finish his work. He would be leaving in a week, heading to Oregon with Roberta to live in a house his family left him. Lewis wished him the best, but Ernest was his fastest and friendliest worker, and he would miss him sorely. Beth Anne said she was happy to help out, but he didn’t want to make her think she was just a replacement—she seemed as taken with him as he was with her, and he wanted to spend time with her more than anything.

  He pulled out his pocket watch as he moved through his house: 10:30 AM. Beth Anne’s train would be here by now, and the carriage he sent to retrieve her might already be on its way. He pulled his cap from his head again and raked his hand through his black hair, watching his workers move through the crops as the sun climbed higher in the crisp blue sky. A few waved when they saw him, but he knew none of them would have more than a few words for him if he wandered over to talk. Everyone was so busy with their own lives—every person he interacted with was surrounded by the warm glow of a wonderful living tapestry composed of all the threads and connections they’d ever made, and he felt like he didn’t have anything of the sort to show for his thirty-five years on Earth. What good was a few acres of land and a field of roses if there was no one to come home to and help him weave his own living, loving quilt?

  Lewis smiled to himself. He was lucky Beth Anne was as quixotic as he was; some women were as unmoved by romance as snapping turtles. When he was younger, it helped him gain his first kiss from a crush, but no one so far had kindled a flame in him like Beth Anne had. It made him nervous, but more than anything, he was ready to feel like the couples he saw holding hands in the theater or on the street—warm and safe in their shared blanket of bliss.

  “Mr. Brown!”

  The raspy call of a carriage driver shocked him out of his reverie. Lewis sprinted from his kitchen and threw open the door to find a liver-spotted man lugging leather trunks from the rear of his carriage. Lewis hurried down his flower lined walkway, his heart beating hard enough to imprint itself on his ribcage. A woman wearing a brilliant blue high-waisted dress was standing with her back to him, fixing the clip on the ebony hair that sat in a sleek knot at the top of her head. Then she turned, and Lewis felt every cell in his body stand at attention as his eyes took in her sparkling sapphire eyes, the glossy curls framing her heart-shaped face, her long neck, and her soft lips. She smiled, and her eyes shone like jewels as she picked up her skirts and hurried toward him. Lewis was so struck by her beauty that he was rooted to the spot, unable to even speak until she came to stop in front of him.

  “Mr. Brown?” she said breathlessly. “I’m Beth. Beth Anne Perkins. How do you do?”

  He shook his head like a dog coming in from the rain. He took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips briefly, prompting a rosy blush to spread across Beth’s cheekbones.

  “My,” she said, and pressed a hand to her collarbone.

  “What a pleasure it is to finally lay my eyes on you,” Lewis said as she withdrew her hand, looking somewhat startled. “Was your journey alright?”

  The driver finished moving her
luggage to the walkway, and Lewis fished some bills out of his pocket to hand over.

  “Wonderful,” she answered, “though I’m quite parched.”

  Lewis stooped to grip the handle of her trunks, unable to take his eyes from hers. “Then let’s get you a glass of water.”

  He felt a broad grin spread across his face as he turned and led Beth up the stairs and into their new home. I think I just found a better pick-me-up than Maxine, for sure.

  Chapter 2

  They settled around his dining room table, a plate of sliced strawberries and fresh table cream between them. He cut up a lemon for their water, and they sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, making heated eye-contact over their glasses. Beth broke the silence first, giggling when their hands brushed while reaching for the same strawberry.

  After she finished chewing, she took his hand and turned it over on the table. Lewis felt a jolt of crackling energy pass over his skin, and he saw Beth shiver as her eyes passed over the rough skin of his palm; her skin is so soft and smooth, like silk. What must she think of mine?

  “Your hands are so strong,” she said in a hushed voice. “I can see all your hard work in them.”

  His heart beat harder for every moment their hands stayed connected. “Really? Is that a good thing to you?”

  She raised her eyes to his and smiled coyly. “Of course. It shows you’re dedicated. You don’t just pass the buck on to anyone. You’re a man who works shoulder to shoulder with the people he hires, even though he doesn’t have to.”

  Lewis’ eyes widened in surprise. “You can see all that in my hands?”

  Beth grinned. “And your words. And the way you walk, even. Don’t you know? It’s why everyone loves you.”

  Lewis laughed. “I can’t believe you’re really this poetic.”

  “Soul of an artist, and all that,” Beth said wryly.

  He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Your soul is just as beautiful as you are. I can’t believe you’re real; you’re like… a painting.”

  Beth’s cheeks flamed scarlet again. “Who’s the poet now?”

  The back door opened with a crash, startling the two of them badly enough that they pulled their hands away from each other. Ernest stood in the doorway, gazing apologetically at them both.

  “Sorry, Lewis,” he said, and he removed his hat, looking shyly at Beth as he wrung the material between his hands. “Didn’t know the missus was here already. Hello, ma’am.”

  “Hello,” Beth said pleasantly, rising and extending a hand. “Beth Anne Perkins. And you are?”

  Ernest moved forward and gripped her hand lightly, turning nearly as red as the tomatoes in the field behind him. “Ernest Jenkins, ma’am. I’ll be showing you around the fields later on, if that’s okay.”

  “Oh! I’m your replacement!” Beth looked him up and down. “Big shoes to fill.”

  Lewis suppressed his laughter as Ernest blushed deeper; the young man was too stricken to laugh at Beth’s quip. He looked at her with wide eyes and backed away, unable to settle on a proper reaction. “I was just coming to tell you the schoolhouse order is assembled and ready for drop-off, Lewis. That’s all.” His back collided with the door frame, and he spun around and fled through it.

  When the door closed, he and Beth both burst into laughter.

  “Poor boy,” she said after they’d settled down. “He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

  Lewis smiled at her. “I don’t blame him. I’m sure I looked the same a few minutes ago.”

  Beth sat back in her chair and dropped her eyes. “You did look a little lost, I admit. You’re lucky I’m used to people getting flustered around me.”

  “I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.”

  They gazed at each other over the table, grinning like fools. Then Lewis remembered his delivery, and his heart sank a little.

  “I have to take some fruit to the school house,” he said as he stood, and Beth looked slightly crestfallen.

  “But I just got here! Must you rush away now?”

  “None of my farmhands can drive a carriage well enough, they’re all skittish around horses. But I’ll be back soon; in the meantime, maybe you ought to go see if Ernest has calmed down enough to give you a tour? You’ll be mostly doing light work, trimming and the like. You’ll be working with the flowers, too.”

  Beth smiled, but she still looked anxious. “Alright, I’ll see you in a moment.”

  Lewis hesitated for a moment, then took her hand and bent over to kiss it again; he didn’t want to chance anything more familiar, but he also couldn’t stop himself from touching her as much as possible. “You’re in good hands. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  That turned out to be untrue. His delivery took him far longer than usual; first someone’s cart overturned on the road, and he had to go the back way while they tended to an injured horse. Then Betty Wiggins lost track of her payment, and spent an hour questioning all the children and checking their pockets before discovering it in the shoe of Delilah Stanley, her assistant teacher. Lewis had to take an alternate route back as well, because the road block had not been fixed as he drove past the Knight’s Foundry—Isaac Lee, head mason, was even trying to help them get the massive horse and its carriage righted again.

  By the time he got home, all of his farmhands had rolled up their shirtsleeves and were working hard under the bright mid-day sun. He caught site of Beth standing next to Ernest as he pointed and waved in the direction of various crops; she was wearing a floppy-brimmed white hat now, her blue eyes still visible from a distance. Lewis’ heart skipped a beat in his chest when Beth saw him looking and waved, and he was surprised at how moved he still was by her breathtaking beauty. How had she not been married already? Was he really this lucky?

  He pulled out his pocket watch and groaned; he’d spent so much time on his last delivery, it was already time for another round of home visits. The first day of the week was always the busiest. Lewis was gone another three hours, and by the time he returned, half of his farmhands had finished their work and were sipping ice water in the setting sun.

  Beth was waiting for him when he got back, and he was surprised to find a roast chicken and creamy mashed potatoes on the table, along with a tureen of buttered green beans.

  “My, my,” he said in wonder as he sat down at his place at the table. “You’re not exhausted from all that work? You’re an angel!”

  Beth laughed, and it was amazingly melodic. “You didn’t give me that much to do, Lewis; besides, you hardly have to time to think about dinner. I’m happy to do it.”

  She settled across from him and smiled wide; he felt a rush of affection envelop his heart, and he knew she meant every word. “Thank you, anyway. I didn’t expect this.”

  “Expect this, and more,” she said softly as he took his first bite. “Is it alright?”

  Lewis closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s wonderful, Beth. How can you be so talented?”

  She picked up her fork and blushed lightly. “I’m just trying my best.”

  “Just don’t tire yourself out,” he said warmly. “Are you ready to officially start tomorrow?”

  She nodded, but he saw hesitance in her eyes. “I’m excited. And a little nervous.”

  “You’ll be great,” Lewis said firmly. “You’ll settle right in. And if you don’t, then we’ll find something else for you, no problem.”

  The subject was changed after that, but Lewis saw her nerves clearly all night. As she cleared their plates away and began to wash the dishes, Lewis prepared his second bedroom for her, which she would use until they married. He’d been hoping that she might be a little less traditional—not for any lewd reasons, but simply because he had a feeling he might keep himself up all night dreaming of the way her warmth and softness would feel against his body in the dead of night. Sometimes he woke up reaching for something—anything at all to hold on to and anchor him like the way love held men and women together. He was happy to wait as l
ong as she was comfortable, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

  They said their goodnights—Lewis brushed his lips to her hand again, and she embraced him for a long moment before turning away and closing the door to her room—but Lewis stayed awake for another hour, replaying every second of his day with her in his head. As he sank into sleep, visions of her danced in his head, and when he woke, her name was on his lips.

  Lewis’ morning deliveries were early enough that most of his farmhands hadn’t even arrived yet, and Beth’s door was still closed when he left the house. When he returned for lunch, he found her still in bed, and she was graceful enough to be embarrassed when he knocked on her door.

  “I’m afraid I was up all night,” she said, her blue eyes plagued with guilt. Her soft black hair fell to her elbows in gentle waves, and Lewis longed to plunge his hands into it and see if it was as silky as it looked. She noticed him staring and blushed crimson again—and she was even more beautiful for it.

  “It’s okay,” he said, and he meant it. “It happens. Besides, I have plenty of hands out there. I bet you’re tired from your trip. Why don’t you take the day off, and we can spend some time together?”

  Beth smiled beatifically, and a rush of energy shot through his bloodstream. “Oh, Lewis, I’d like that very much.”

  So, they ate lunch together and talked about her trip and the ins and outs of Sutter Creek. Lewis told her about the theatre in Sacramento that he sometimes visited, and her eyes shone with excitement when he told her he’d take her soon. Beth told him about her last hike, when she’d found a massive black bear and gotten within three feet of him before he scurried away. Then it was time for another round of deliveries, and they parted as tenderly as they had the night before—but this time, Beth laid a sweet kiss on his square jaw that sent longing sizzling through him like wildfire.