“You are not happy.” She finally worked up the nerve to state it plainly, gently demanding that the issue come to light.
He was silent. “If you are not content, Jackson, let us discuss it now. Look at how well we've been getting on. Do you think I would want you to be unhappy?”
He was silent for another moment, but then, “You should not have come here,” Jackson's husky voice sounded pained. “Look at you, Olivia. You're barely older than a child. And look at your hands...they were certainly not made for the hard work that is perpetually required here. You are the epitome of femininity; you should be on the arm of a socialite in a parlor in Boston, not working in the soil or as a servant in San Francisco.”
Olivia didn't know how to respond. Was this the way he would end their engagement? On the day of their wedding, trying to convince her it was she who did not want to be there.
“Intelligent, adventurous...that is what my ad said. These were not things that should have caught the attention of a young lady; I expected you to be...older...plainer...a companion to work alongside, not one who would distract me to wit's end. You've seen my brothers' wives. Elizabeth is the most comely of them all, and she pales in comparison to you, Olivia. You are beautiful, intelligent, kind...all things that should not be wasted here.”
“But, I want to be here...with you,” she replied softly. “Remember my letters? I wanted adventure all along Jackson, and I was not foolish enough to think it would come easily. At first, it was only the adventure that occupied my thoughts, swayed my decision. But then I read your letters and I traveled to San Francisco. And now I fear it is not only the adventure that I want,” she paused, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to continue. “I want you, as a partner, as a companion, a fellow adventurer, and in ways I cannot confess.” Olivia blushed lightly, remembering all of the times she'd gazed at his broad muscular chest, his full lips, his strong hands...
Shaking her head to clear it, she thought of the satchel stilled tucked away neatly in her suitcase, and it gave her an idea. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his hands.
“Please stay right here,” she beseeched him, and then turned, darting up the stairs to her room above and returning with the satchel a moment later.
She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts and then held out the bag. “I am not here because I have to be, Jackson.” It felt odd to use his name so easily, but she liked the way it felt on her tongue.
“I could have stayed in New England if that was my wish. Even when I arrived here, I could have changed my mind and headed home, or gone out on my own, but I have liked it here so much...I have liked being here with you so much, that I completely forgot that this even existed.”
She motioned for him to take the satchel, but when he didn't reach for it immediately, she placed it in his hands, opening the strings that held it closed herself and pulling up handfuls of the money contained within.
“You see? There is nothing holding me here but you. I could have kept this hidden from you, saved it to make my escape if I was unhappy. But I am happy. There are thirty thousand dollars in this satchel. It is for you... for us... for your brothers... for Elizabeth... Caroline. You have made a life here, and I want to be a part of this adventure with you,” Olivia finished emphatically.
Jackson was speechless for a moment, and she desperately wished she could read his thoughts, decipher the emotions in his eyes. She wondered if he was angry, upset that she had hidden such a large sum from him.
“You could have lived a life of luxury, but instead you would rather live here with me?”
He spoke so quietly it was difficult to read the emotion in his tone, and his question sounded more like a statement to Olivia. She nodded anyway. She didn't know what to think, but in the next moment as his lips pressed hard against hers, all thoughts fled her mind. The satchel dropped to the floor as his hands wrapped around her waist, and suddenly her world felt right.
“Ahem,” a voice interrupted from behind. Jackson was first to pull away as every part of Olivia was absorbed in the feel of his lips against hers. She blushed once his lips left hers, realizing a crowd had assembled in the hallway behind them.
“I believe you are supposed to save that part for after the ceremony,” Elizabeth spoke, smiling devilishly from a few stairs above them. “But these King men are hard to resist, aren't they?”
Jackson looked down at Olivia then, a question in his eyes. She nodded, and he smiled before turning to address the crowd. “Then should we not get this wedding underway lest my eager bride compromise my virtue just moments before the vows are spoken?” he teased.
As the group made their way into the parlor, Jackson stopped, staring out the window. “You did it...you actually did it! It’s snowing on Christmas just as you had longed for!” he exclaimed quietly. Puzzled, Olivia turned to follow his gaze. Snow; softly falling from the sky, slowly blanketing the barren front yard. “You brought snow with you from New England, as you said you would,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her lips gently.
“Ahem,” Elizabeth sounded from just behind them.
“Right. Virtue. I suggest we hurry then,” Olivia teased, her lips brushing against Jackson's as she spoke.
THE END
Abigail’s Christmas Gift
Charity Phillips
Abigail’s Christmas Gift
New York City – 1870
Abigail Copeland is a nurse in New York City who dreams of adventure and romance in a far away place. Her mother believes that all she really needs is a husband. So, when Abigail begins corresponding with a handsome young man from the West who is looking for a bride, it appears that both of their desires will be fulfilled.
Samuel Merriweather recently became a widower, and his little son Tommy is suffering from an illness. It is feared that the child will not be able to survive, so when Samuel discovers that Abigail is a nurse as well as a lovely bride-to-be, he sends for her at once. As soon as the two tiny families are together, it is clear that all they needed was each other.
From the hustle and bustle of New York to the comforting home life in Coos Bay, Oregon, Abigail Copeland realizes that love and adventure can be hers.
Chapter 1
Abigail Copeland’s life in New York City was beginning to stagnate. She enjoyed her life as a nurse, helping to care for the wounded and sick that came into the hospital’s doors. She was a nurturing mother figure, though she had no husband or family of her own. The influx of people coming into the city from other countries brought along all sorts of things, including extra patients for her to care for. They told her stories of their homelands and all of the things that they had been glad to leave behind. These immigrants brought something else with them, too: they awoke in Abigail a desire to explore new territories and experience more of what life had to offer her.
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” her mother Helen told her. “This town is as good a town as any to make a living and raise a family. What you need is to find a good man who will take care of you.”
Abigail’s mother was ever the traditionalist. She wanted to see her pretty daughter married off to the first well-to-do man who offered. It was not for lack of trying that Abigail did not have a husband or a beau by now. The men who were around her were largely already married or in some way undesirable. Marrying someone who was never going to be around for her seemed no better than not marrying at all. She had a sneaking suspicion that her mother wanted her to marry one of the patients at the hospital. Abigail did not want to marry someone who was sick and might possibly die. She wanted to marry someone strong and different from the New York men she was so used to.
When the weather turned colder and Abigail and Helen were huddled close to their fireplace for warmth, the newspaper became rather inviting. Abigail opened it up to the page of advertisements for brides and female companions. She curiously read over several of the letters. The one that stood out to her the most was from a gentleman named Samuel Merriweather who lived
in Coos Bay, Oregon. One of the first things that drew her to him was how young he was.
“Gentleman widower, 33 years of age, 6 feet tall and handsome hoping to find a kind young woman who will love and care for him as well as his child.”
Abigail appreciated the man’s emphasis on kindness. So many of the other ads demanded photographs. Mr. Merriweather’s advertisement included a small portrait of him. He was surely handsome, with long, dark hair and a haunting expression. He was dressed differently from any man she had ever seen, with a floppy hat and suspenders in place of the fancy suits and cravats she was used to seeing the eligible men wear in New York. It made her sad that someone so young was already a widower.
Her mother was nodding off, enjoying the heat of the fire, and Abigail took the opportunity to write a quick letter in response to this Samuel Merriweather.
Dear Mr. Merriweather,
I was captivated by your advertisement and thought that I must write to you promptly. My name is Abigail Copeland and I am a single maid, working as a nurse in New York City. I am twenty-five years old and I live alone with my mother, who is a widow. My father passed away in the War.
I have often dreamt of what the West must be like. I envision rolling hills and sunshine and cows. The only western experience I have at this point comes from stories I have heard from some of my patients, though I do not know if they are truthful or not. Is it really as wonderful as it seems?
I have enclosed a few photographs of myself so that you may trust that I am as I have described.
I would love it ever so much if I could join you out West this Christmas and help to bring joy back to the lives of you and your son again.
Please write back to me. I hope to hear more from you and would much appreciate the chance to get to know you better.
Sincerely,
Miss Abigail Copeland
Once her letter was completed and tucked carefully away into an envelope, Abigail added two or three photographs to serve as evidence that she really was as she said. In one of the photographs, she was wearing her nurse’s uniform, tending to the needs of a sickly young man. She had slightly curly, dark red tresses that she kept long though usually tied back while she was working. Her blue eyes were vaguely cat-like and her skin was like cream. She hoped that Mr. Merriweather would find her looks appealing and would write back to her in confidence.
Helen awoke from her napping to find Abigail in the process of closing up the envelope. She looked from Abigail to the open newspaper page and smiled knowingly at her. “Are you heeding my advice?” she asked happily. “Are you finally seeking a husband?”
Abigail pouted slightly. She did not like how vulgar that sounded. She was not writing to Mr. Merriweather merely to marry herself off. She was writing to him because she cared enough to know more about him, in the hopes of creating a friendship. “I am seeking to help someone,” she said.
Her mother continued to smile. “If he is rich, why should he need help?”
Abigail sighed. Her mother was a good person; she just clung to the old-fashioned opinion that wealth was all it took to make someone prosperous. Abigail, conversely, believed that love, passion and adventure were important in order to achieve true happiness.
Love, passion and adventure were things that she did not believe she would be able to find in her native New York. She felt the call to go west and make so much more for herself. Love, passion and adventure…those were the sorts of things that she hoped awaited her in Coos Bay, Oregon.
Chapter 2
One of Abigail’s dear patients that she had been nursing for several weeks died unexpectedly in the night. Though she told herself that she should be used to such things by now, she couldn’t manage to hold the tears back. It was never easy to lose someone. She blamed herself. “I should have been there,” she cried to the doctor who had been tending to him.
“Nonsense,” the kind-hearted man told her. “Miss Copeland, you did your best. No one can expect you to be here at all hours of the day and night.” He gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “Go home and get some rest.”
When she arrived home, weary and heartbroken, her mother handed her an envelope with Coos Bay inscribed on it in neat cursive handwriting. “This should cheer you up,” Helen said, though she had no idea what the response might actually say.
Abigail pulled off her nurse’s cap and set it aside on the table, bringing the letter into her lap and carefully opened the envelope. She marveled a bit at the handwriting, wondering how he had come to write so neatly.
My dear Miss Copeland,
Your kind response to my advertisement has filled my heart with great joy. To know that a woman with such beauty could ever care about me and my plight gives me relief and helps to lift my spirits in my troubled time of need.
As you know from my description, my wife has died. She passed on from Tuberculosis early in this year and left me with a son, 5 years old. He is a wonderful child, smart and polite, but he has become sickly and I do not know how to take care of him on my own.
It is a comfort to me to know that you are a nurse. Perhaps you might do me the honor of joining us in our home and helping me to care for my son. Your mother is welcome to join us as well. I believe that you would find Coos Bay to be a most exciting and lively town. It is surely quite different from New York, but perhaps that would not be a bad thing for you.
What a wonderful Christmas present it would be for us both, to have you here!
I look forward to your response and I hope that it might include a ‘yes’ to my invitation.
All the best,
Mr. Samuel Merriweather
Abigail found herself smiling and blushing at Mr. Merriweather’s letter. She had not expected him to be so welcoming towards both her and her mother. Somehow, he seemed to understand that the hustle and bustle of New York had grown stale to her. And his poor son! Could it be that his son had come down with Tuberculosis as well? She hoped not. Even if she went to them at once, she most likely would not be able to cure him of an illness that was so grave.
“It seems that, no matter where I go, I am to be surrounded by sickness and death,” she sadly confessed to her mother.
Helen shook her head, taking the letter so she could read it over herself. “He wants us there already?” she asked, excitement plainly showing on her face.
Abigail nodded. Though she was excited at the prospect of being invited to journey west, she was a bit saddened by the idea that she was going there to act as nurse for a sick child. Still, the fact that she was needed appealed to her helpful, nurturing personality. She was not simply being called upon to act as an attractive accessory; she was going to be aiding a family that was still mourning the loss of its matriarch. Abigail wondered, dreamily, if she was going to be asked to be the new matriarch of the small Merriweather family. She imagined herself as the head of their household, caring for the sick young Merriweather child while simultaneously bouncing a new baby on her hip. It was certainly not the sort of thing she had aspired to be, but as she aged she could feel the undeniable pull of motherhood.
Mr. Merriweather and his son needed her.
Taking up her pen and paper, she wrote a letter in response.
Dearest Mr. Merriweather,
My mother and I are pleased to accept your invitation to join you at your home in Coos Bay, Oregon. I only hope that we will arrive there in time to make sure that your son receives the proper care that he needs.
I cannot imagine what Christmas must be like there. Here, we have department stores that become decorated overnight as if by elves, and everyone goes around to explore them as if they were not just places of business but wondrous sites to see! Christmas must be much more calm and focused on family out West, is it not? After spending many a holiday in New York, I am more than ready to experience something new in someplace far different. As an outsider, I will do my utmost to make it the most wonderful day for you both.
Fondest regards,
Abigail Cope
land
Waiting for a response was agonizing for her. Every day that went by made her fret that something terrible had happened to the little boy, or that Samuel had changed his mind about the whole thing. She wished that she had been able to grow wings, so that she may arrive in Oregon sooner.
Her boss, Miss Dowdy, the head nurse at the hospital, was sad to hear that Abigail would soon be leaving. “You will be greatly missed,” she said. “But how delightful that you shall be exploring out West. I do hope that you will keep in touch.”
“I will keep in touch,” Abigail promised her. “In fact, I may need your assistance in caring for this sick child. You are one of the greatest practitioners I know.”
She was not sure how much the nurse would be able to assist with caring for the child, but she knew that it was always wise to accept help when it was offered. Until she met the little boy, she was not entirely sure that she would be of much help to him either. Oh, but she hoped so…
Brides of Grasshopper Creek Page 61
