by Amber Miller
Mustering her courage, Raelene met Doc at the door and placed her trembling hand on his as he escorted her toward the town green. Those gathered blurred into a sea of unrecognizable faces. Briefly, she glimpsed Mr. Harvey from the town hall. But for the assembly’s stipulation that she marry by today, she surely would not have accepted Cedric’s proposal. The path she walked felt like it was bringing her one step closer to the executioner’s block. And Cedric, dear Cedric, held the ax. As good as he was, perhaps she could grow to love him. After all, she hadn’t loved Gustaf in the beginning.
Soft, haunting strains of a flute floated on the air as Doc led her down the aisle and placed her hand on Cedric’s waiting arm. Her husband-to-be had selected a frock that would make the most fashionable men of London jealous. Yes, he cut a fine figure, and some women might consider him handsome. Yet somewhere along the way, Raelene had grown partial to wide shoulders clad in homespun and bronzed, sinewy arms bared to the elements.
When she turned to face her soon-to-be husband, she caught a glimpse of Gustaf. Leaning against a tree off to the side, his face partially concealed in the shadows, his focus was trained on her. All the determination in the world couldn’t break the invisible bond that held their gazes captive. Even as she stood with the man she was about to marry, her heart bridged the distance to connect with that of another man. Heat warmed her cheeks in shame.
God, I’m trying to do the right thing, but I can’t do it alone. Where are You? Maybe this was God’s will. Maybe Gustaf wasn’t the man she was supposed to marry. But God’s will or nay, she couldn’t dictate to her heart whom to love.
“If anyone here can show just cause as to why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him make his proclamation known now or hitherto forever hold his peace.”
The pastor’s words doused Raelene’s scrambled thoughts as effectively as water on a fire. She focused once more on the man standing opposite her and waited for what seemed an eternity for the ceremony to continue. Braving a glance at Cedric, she was surprised to see sadness in his eyes. Her heart hitched. Was he having second thoughts, as well? He closed his eyes, seemingly gathering strength or patience—she couldn’t tell which—and cleared his throat.
“I’m—” He broke off.
What was he doing?
“I’m afraid that I must speak out against this sacrament.”
The groom’s protest sent waves of murmurs and whispers of shock among those in attendance. Raelene’s lips parted in surprise. Tenderly holding her gloved hands in his, Cedric continued, his words only for her.
“My dear Miss Strattford, I cannot allow these proceedings to continue. It would be an injustice to the holiness of marriage and a travesty to force you to endure such a circumstance when your heart clearly belongs to someone else.”
He knew? “But, Mr. Milton, I—”
Cedric released one of her hands and placed his fingers over her lips. “Do not attempt to dissuade me, my dear. I have been at the farm these past few weeks and have observed your attentions. They lie distinctly in your overseer’s favor. While I regard you in high esteem, it is not my desire to force you into a life of unhappiness.” Cedric shifted his gaze to the side briefly, implying that he knew of Gustaf’s whereabouts. “I do not know why this gentleman has not made his feelings for you known,” he said, returning his eyes to Raelene’s, “but I must release you from your promise to me.” He winced, as if it pained him to give her this freedom. “You are no longer bound by your word to marry me.”
Raelene wavered between the elation of her freedom and dismay at the suffering that Cedric tried to hide behind a benevolent smile. She knew what he was feeling. He was a true gentleman. She didn’t deserve him, but she did owe him her gratitude.
Pushing up on the balls of her feet, Raelene placed a chaste kiss on Cedric’s cheek. When she pulled back, a look of surprise crossed his face.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You will make some lucky young woman very happy.”
A wistful smile turned up the corners of Cedric’s mouth. He gallantly bowed and stepped back. When he did, Raelene had a full view of Gustaf, standing as still and expressionless as a statue.
Heavenly Father, now what?
❧
Feet glued to the ground, Gustaf could hardly believe his ears. The groom objected to the marriage proceeding? Piece by piece, Gustaf’s heart had started to break as the minutes passed and Raelene drew closer to pledging her life to another man. But now she stood facing him, no longer bound to Cedric Milton. As their gazes connected, neither one of them moved, but within his chest, Gustaf’s heart pounded.
Doc’s wife, Susanna, approached Raelene from behind and gave her a not-so-subtle nudge in his direction. Raelene jerked as though pulled from a daze. Ever so slowly, she moved in his direction. That freed his own legs from the mire of his shock. He walked toward her, meeting her halfway.
Standing in front of the woman he loved more than life itself, Gustaf couldn’t talk. A mixture of apprehension, uncertainty, and a glimmer of hope crossed Raelene’s face. She was no doubt waiting for him to make the first move, to set her doubts and fears aside. Gustaf looked over Raelene’s shoulder at Cedric, who nodded encouragement. Gustaf knew this man was different from the others, as godly as he was noble.
“Do not just stand there gawking, man,” Cedric said. “Say something to the lady.”
Gustaf met Raelene’s eyes once again. He wanted to speak, but how could he with a love-swollen heart in his throat?
“I love you.” He mouthed the words stuck on his tongue, staring hopelessly at her brimming eyes.
Standing before him was everything his heart desired. He could have Raelene as his wife, work her farm, expand the cottage into a resplendent home fit for a queen, and raise a family to carry on his name. All he had to do was say what he felt.
He swallowed and tried to say the words again.
Nothing.
The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Raelene’s mouth, giving Gustaf the strength and encouragement he needed. Father in heaven, please let me get this right and not bumble through like an idiot.
“Miss Strattford—”
“Mr. Hanssen—”
“I love you,” they said together.
A becoming blush crept into Raelene’s cheeks, and an overwhelming sense of relief released his heart from its constriction. How easy that had been. Why hadn’t he done it sooner?
His ears rang with the cheers of celebration from their friends and family gathered on the green. He’d almost forgotten about anyone else present, and she obviously had, too. Ever the demure lady, she fluttered her fan in front of her face, as though to hide her embarrassment.
With his large hand over hers, Gustaf stilled the rapid motion of her fan, staring over it and into her wide eyes.
“It appears as if we have a unique circumstance.” The pastor spoke from what seemed like a world away. He cleared his throat. “Shall we amend the present festivities to be a celebration of your upcoming union, instead?”
Gustaf glanced at the pastor, then back at Raelene. “We have much to discuss, no?”
One lone tear slipped from Raelene’s eye and began its descent on her cheek. Gustaf reached out and caught the tear, earning a warm smile from his beloved in return. She attempted to speak, but no words came forth. After several tries, she merely nodded.
The pastor clapped his hands together. “I see you are both in accord.” He turned to address those gathered and raised his voice. “Let the merriment resume as we embrace the occasion of love discovered and anticipate the joyous union to come in a week’s time.”
He glanced across the crowd at Mr. Harvey, who gave an approving nod; the assembly would overlook the week’s delay, and Raelene would keep her family’s farm.
Although every part of him
wanted to steal Raelene away and have her all to himself, Gustaf tucked her close to his side as they joined everyone in the celebration. Before they reached the tables, he leaned down and whispered in Raelene’s ear. “Just seven days hence, we will be husband and wife. Never again shall we part.”
Raelene nestled closer to his side, her silence saying so much more than words ever could.
Epilogue
Raelene leaned back against Gustaf, his arms wrapped around her and their hands interlaced at her waist. The waning sun cast a warm glow over the gently sloping landscape of the farm, and stillness settled around them. As they stared out at the land that tomorrow would become theirs, a strong sense of peace washed over her.
“What thoughts dance in your head right now?” The vibrations of Gustaf’s deep voice rumbled against her back.
“It is hard to believe that tomorrow is the day we wed. It feels like forever that we’ve waited for the day to arrive.”
“Yes, but it is finally here. The days we have spent together talking about the future have been among the best I can remember. Everything we have done these past few months has brought us here.”
His speech had improved remarkably. Raelene still had to catch herself each time she expected him to stumble over his words or use the stilted sounds that had endeared him to her. But being with her no longer made him uncomfortable.
“Den er fint så pass du del den hår time med jag.”
It is good that you share this time with me.
As if in tune with her thoughts, he lapsed back into his native tongue. A thrill passed through her, and her mother’s voice sounded in her head.
“Jag vill älska du för alltid.”
Forever will I love you.
“Ja, and the same for me also.” Gustaf leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “A promise for tomorrow and for what is to come.”
With the last rays of sunlight falling below the horizon, Raelene watched Gustaf disappear over the hill toward his farm. Tomorrow they would pledge their hearts and their lives before friends and family. The path they had each traveled alone would be complete. From now on, they would walk the road together, side by side, as God intended. With her thoughts on that, Raelene wondered if she’d ever get to sleep.
❧
As he had one week ago, Doc Schuyler extended his arm. Raelene placed her hand atop his. What a difference a week made. Where there had been hesitation, eagerness now hastened her steps. Gustaf had watched last week, knowing she wasn’t happy. Now everything was different. Before he knew it, she stood facing him, the love in her eyes taking away his breath. How would he ever get through this?
God, please give me strength.
He reached for her hand and clasped it in his. Swallowing several times, he managed to find some semblance of his voice.
“Miss Strattford, I am not good with words. You know this. But I want to do this right.” Gustaf removed his hat from his head, placing it over his heart. The action served to strengthen his resolve. Raising his voice for all to hear, he continued. “Our road has been long. We have had many bumps. But I want to make it smooth again and be by your side when the road is rough. We walk together. My love will carry you when you grow weary, and I will take care of you. This I promise.”
Joy shone bright through a shimmer of tears in Raelene’s eyes. She squeezed his hand. “Mr. Hanssen,” she began in a whisper, then gained volume. “Despite my every foolish attempt to avoid it, my love for you crept in and filled my heart to a more bountiful abundance than I have ever known. It was your example, sir, that helped me lay aside my hurt and pain and take hold of the peace that our heavenly Father offers. Even when I was at my worst, your quiet faith spoke to me. It is the desire of my heart to share that faith. . .to walk with you through every storm and build a life together that honors God and our love. This I promise.”
Gustaf replaced his hat and reached out toward Raelene’s smooth brow, running his fingers across it and caressing her cheek. She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes.
“Let us continue.” The pastor’s voice interrupted their private moment. A giggle escaped from behind Raelene’s lace-gloved hand. With an equally nervous chuckle, Gustaf nodded his consent in concert with hers.
“Very well, then.” The man of God looked directly at Gustaf. “If you would loosen Miss Strattford’s hair, we will proceed.”
As was custom, Gustaf pulled Raelene’s combs free. Her curls tumbled down her back, their ends brushing against her waist. With gentleness, he unraveled the braided portions and ran his fingers through her soft tresses, spreading the shroud of golden sunshine across her shoulders. All the while, Raelene held his gaze with her own, her eyes darkening with her love for him.
“Now for the ring,” the pastor prompted, once they had exchanged their formal vows.
Gustaf stilled. He had no ring. He had forgotten to ask—
“Right here,” Fraya Hanssen spoke up. His mother removed the ring from her right hand—his grandmother’s ring—and handed it to him. “Mormor would be proud,” she told him.
With a grateful smile, Gustaf took the ring. “Even if I was not so prepared, the Lord was, no?” he whispered softly as he slid the engraved gold band onto Raelene’s left ring finger.
“And now”—the pastor cleared his throat and raised his voice so everyone gathered could hear—“by the authority granted to me by the New Castle Assembly, and inasmuch as Gustaf Hanssen and Raelene Krystina Strattford have pledged their troth to each other, I pronounce that they be man and wife together. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.”
The gathering heartily echoed his “amen,” signaling their enthusiastic support.
After they recited the Lord’s Prayer together, the reverend concluded the ceremony by saying, “And now, good Gustaf, you may kiss thy wife.”
Wife. Gustaf cupped Raelene’s face in his hands. He didn’t think it was possible, but the joy of this moment made her even more beautiful. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed. The softness of her mouth melted against his, as though their lips were meant for this. He shifted his arms to her back, pulling her closer, wishing this moment could last forever. Time seemed to stand still before he pulled away to observe the charming blush and recently kissed lips of his new bride.
Another round of cheers erupted. In a crush, the colonists circled in to offer their congratulations. Amidst the chaos, Gustaf and Raelene greeted everyone in turn before making their way toward the bounty of food set out for the celebration.
While everyone vied for a seat at the long rows of tables, Gustaf spirited his bride behind a copse of trees.
After another gentle kiss, he pulled Raelene close and tucked her head against his chest. “You make my heart happy,” he murmured against her hair.
“As you do mine,” she echoed. Pulling only far enough away to look into his face, she continued. “We have our love, our land, and God by our side. Every promise we have made has been fulfilled, and the promises made today will hold firm throughout eternity.”
She was right, Gustaf realized. God had used the promises that brought them together against their will to bind them together forever. For as long as he lived, Gustaf would give thanks to God for letting a lady and a farmer find happiness, just like He promised.
About the Author
Amber Miller is a freelance Web designer and author whose articles and short stories have appeared in local, national, and international publications. Her writing career began as a columnist for her high school and college newspapers. Her first publication in a book appeared in the form of nine contributions (as a single!) to 101 Ways to Romance Your Marriage by Debra White Smith. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Historical Romance Writers. Some of her hobbies include traveling, music, movies, and interact
ing with other writers. At age three, she learned to read and hasn’t put down books since. Recently married, she lives with her husband and fellow writer, Stuart, in beautiful Colorado Springs. Visit her Web site at www.ambermiller.com to learn more or to contact her.
A Note from the Author
While the visit of Jonathan Edwards to Pennsylvania in this story is fictional, words attributed to him are taken from Sermon XII, “Safety, Fullness, and Sweet Refreshment to be found in Christ,” from Seventeen Occasional Sermons.
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Amber Miller
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