Never a Bride

by Denise Hunter

  When they arrived in the churchyard, Luke went to talk to the pianist about the songs he’d chosen, and Jane seated herself beside Elizabeth, not wanting to leave her alone. Soon, her family arrived, and Jane greeted each of them. She’d missed her family these past two weeks and was glad she would be spending the day with them.

  Sara and Nathan McClain arrived with their newborn and were instantly swarmed by women and children alike. Elizabeth wanted to join the throng, but Jane thought it best to wait until after the service since they’d already seen the baby.

  Everyone found a seat when the pianist began playing, then Luke went forward to lead the singing. His rich, baritone voice carried throughout the small building, blending with the tones of soprano and bass.

  They were well into the second verse when the door to the rear of the building opened, bringing in a warm gust of wind. A young woman entered, and Jane recognized her as the beautiful woman she’d seen at church once before. Rather than slipping into a back pew, she sashayed up to the third row. Jane couldn’t help but notice the young men’s heads turning as she walked by. A twinge of jealousy pricked Jane. How nice it must be to have that effect on people.

  When the singing ended, Luke seated himself on the other side of Elizabeth, and the Reverend Hill stepped forward. He opened with a joke, as he seemed to be in the habit of doing, and the congregation chuckled in response. Once he started his sermon, Jane let her mind wander.

  She thought about Sara and her little baby and smiled along with everyone else when the newborn emitted a tiny squeak. Next, her attention shifted to the young lady in the third row. I wonder who she is, Jane thought. Her flaxen hair was pulled up into a loose knot, and the ends dangled in contrived ringlets past her shoulders. She was beautiful, there was no doubt of that, but she was a different kind of beautiful than her sisters. Cassy and Katy were intrinsic beauties, like their mother. Their blond good looks were natural—flawless skin, silky hair, and striking eyes. This young woman had nice attributes, but they were enhanced by artificial means. It was obvious she wore color on her face, and Jane was sure the last time she’d seen the woman, her hair had been straight as a pin.

  Jane wondered which look men preferred. She supposed that depended upon the man. Certainly Caleb must have preferred her sister’s natural beauty, but her earlier observations confirmed the fact that other men appreciated this woman’s efforts.

  By the end of the service, Jane was weary of sitting and glad to stand and stretch her legs. Luke and Elizabeth said their good-byes and made their way toward the back of the church as Jane stooped to retrieve her handbag. When she stood, she noticed the young woman withdrawing from a group of men and was startled to see the newcomer moving toward her. The woman stepped daintily around other people on her way, her eyes fixed upon Jane.

  As she neared, Jane noted the exquisite detail of her dress. It was ivory, as was Jane’s, but that’s where the similarities ended. The woman’s fitted bodice called attention to her curvy figure, and the daring neckline stopped just short of indecent. The full skirts swished with her every step, jostling the ruffles at the hem. Her petite frame made her seem doll-like and, as she approached, Jane slumped in an effort to hide her gangliness.

  “Good day.” The woman offered a limp hand and a cool smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Jane extended her own hand and returned the woman’s smile. “Hello, I’m Jane.”

  “Mara Lawton. My family owns the carriage works business at the edge of town.” Mara withdrew her hand and tilted her chin a bit higher. Jane had the feeling she was about to say something else, but just then Katy approached. “Mama wants to know if you’ll be coming for dinner, Jane.”

  Jane turned her attention to her sister. “Oh. . .yes, I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Katy offered Mara a smile, and Mara offered a distracted one of her own.

  Mara’s mouth had dropped open, and her eyes held a hint of disbelief as they shifted from Jane to Katy, then back to Jane again. There was something in that look that made her wary.

  “Why, I can’t believe. . . You can’t be. . .”

  Jane bit her lip, her gaze darting around the room in search of an escape. Heat curdled her stomach, and her heart’s tempo accelerated.

  “Why, you’re not one of the Coopers’, are you?” Mara exclaimed, her skepticism changing into something heartless, cruel.

  “Yes, I am.” Jane forced the words and, to her relief, they came out sounding confident. Her mouth had grown dry in contrast to her sweaty palms, which she dried by smoothing down the folds in her skirt.

  Mara’s mouth curled up in a simulated smile, and she placed a manicured hand to her chest in surprise. “I can hardly believe it! You don’t resemble them at all.”

  Jane cringed and wished desperately Mara would lower her voice. Several people were looking their way, including Luke, and her humiliation multiplied a hundredfold. She desperately scanned the room for her family and realized, to her dismay, they were nowhere to be seen.

  Escape came in an unlikely form. A handsome young man approached and waited until he drew Mara’s attention. He would have been hard to overlook with his golden good looks and startling blue eyes, but Mara managed to do just that for a long moment. She finally acknowledged his presence by tilting her head coquettishly to meet his eyes and planting a coy smile upon her lips.

  Jane sagged in relief to have the attention diverted. All that was in her urged her to flee, but a lifetime of good etiquette held her motionless. She listened to the husky voice of the young man.

  “You haven’t given me your answer yet, Mara, about the picnic.” For all his manly height and appearance, his voice quivered in hope.

  “Hmm, I suppose I haven’t, have I?” She fluttered her lashes in an obvious display of flirtation and tapped a long fingernail against her cherry lips. “Could I possibly have another day to consider, Joshua? I’m afraid I’ve not had a spare moment to consider your offer.”

  The young man relaxed a bit and allowed a heartened smile. “Sure, that’d be fine. May I escort you home?” he asked, offering her his arm.

  Mara paused just long enough to make Joshua squirm. “I suppose that would be all right.” She delicately linked her arm with his, then turned suddenly as if just remembering Jane’s presence. “Oh. Good day, uh. . .” She arched her brows and left the sentence dangling for Jane to finish.

  “Jane.” She lowered her eyes.

  “Yes, of course,” she said offhandedly as she waltzed away on the arm of the man.

  Jane rummaged through her handbag as if searching for something. Anything to stall for time. She did not want another confrontation with Mara.

  Her hands trembled pitifully, and she was glad there was no one around to witness her anxiety. Everyone was moving toward the door and filing out of the building after shaking hands with the Reverend Hill. Finally, Jane gathered her belongings and joined the end of the line. She moved mechanically, her mind barely registering her encounter with the minister.

  Once out the door, she saw her family waiting in the wagon and proceeded toward them. She thanked them for waiting, but said she’d prefer to walk the short distance to their home. The wagon clattered away, and Jane began walking, her numb mind instructing her limbs to move. She was oblivious to the other people standing around the churchyard. Oblivious to the wind that tugged on her skirts. Slowly the numbness wore away, leaving an aching emptiness within her.

  How could she have thought, even for a moment, that Luke might be interested in her? She gave a harsh laugh. How foolish she had been! He was not attracted to her. No one would ever be attracted to her. If anything, it was pity Luke felt for her. Pity that she was born ugly, with no hope of ever securing a husband. That she’d had the audacity to think Luke might grow to love her made her cringe with bitterness.

  The town’s buildings swam before her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and forbade herself to let a single tear fall. This was her own fault. She’d kn
own all along what her place was. She had let herself forget—had foolishly allowed herself to wallow in her own impossible dreams. Let this be a lesson. The next time Luke shows me kindness, I will remember it’s pity alone.

  She thought of Mara’s cruel words and felt the pit of her stomach go hot all over again. The woman had enjoyed her discomfort, relished it even, and would have probably taken the humiliation further if she hadn’t been interrupted by that poor young man. Was that the sort of woman a man liked? Were men really willing to tolerate a heartless, conniving woman as long as she was pretty to look at?

  The thought disgusted her. Life was so unfair.

  Why should someone like herself have to suffer with a homely appearance, while someone like Mara, with an evil heart, was blessed with the face of an angel. What sense did that make? The question was posed to no one in particular, but her heart silently addressed God.

  Jane walked, unseeing, past the new restaurant. In fact, she was surprised when she came upon the Coopes’ rental house. Knowing she must collect herself, she breathed a deep sigh and tried to relax the taut, frowning muscles of her face. Her mother was incredibly intuitive about her children’s feelings, and Jane didn’t want to talk about her encounter with Mara, nor her own feelings.

  As Jane turned the rusty doorknob and entered the house, the sweet smell of baked ham assaulted her senses.

  “Is that you, Jane?” called her mother from the kitchen.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Can you wash up and give me a hand?”

  Jane strode past her mother and Katy to the kitchen basin and pumped water.

  “It was a thoughtful sermon, wasn’t it?” Her mother stirred the beans and added a pinch of salt.

  Jane gave a noncommittal grunt, leaving Katy to comment on the service in detail. Mostly who was wearing what and who was courting whom. She giggled girlishly as she placed the dishes on the table and told Jane and her mother the joke her friend Nancy had shared that morning. Her mother laughed in response.

  After dinner, the family scattered in different directions. Katy took David to see the spring after which the town was named. They had asked Jane to accompany them, but she was not in the mood for conversation. Her father had gone into the parlor to read and, judging by the odorous puffs of thick haze rising above his head, to smoke his pipe. Jane intended to retreat to her room and perhaps draw a bit once she finished washing the dinner dishes.

  Her mother returned from the table with an empty platter and clanked it down on the counter. “Something wrong, sweetheart?” Mrs. Cooper paused a moment, and Jane felt her examination.

  “No, Mama. I’m fine.”

  Her mother went back to the table for more dishes. “I saw you talking to that Lawton girl. Did she say something to upset you?”

  Jane paused for the briefest of moments, then opened her mouth to deny it. Her mother spoke first.

  “A mother can always tell, you know. You’ll see what I mean when you have children of your own. It’s like they’re a part of you somehow, and you can tell when they’re hurting. Sometimes you wish you could feel their pain for them.” Another dish clanked onto the pile.

  Jane’s lips tightened when her mother mentioned having children. Who was she kidding? Jane pulled the next dish into the basin and began scrubbing it vigorously. Surely her own mother knew she would never succeed in interesting any man. Jane, who had never even had a beau. She clenched her jaw as her mother continued.

  “But that’s not the way God made us. We each have to endure our own pain, and I suppose that’s best. But it’s hard watching your own children struggle and not being able to help.” Mrs. Cooper turned from the table with a smile. “You’ll see what I mean one day.”

  Jane dropped the pot she was washing with a plop. “No. I won’t.” The words were sharp and part of her wished she could take them back. She was afraid to look at her mother, but saw from her peripheral vision that she had frozen in place.

  “What do you mean?” The soft-spoken words should have gentled her spirit, but instead they ignited the spark that had been burning within her all morning—indeed, all her life.

  “Don’t you understand, Mother?” Jane had ceased her washing, but her hands remained in the water, curled into fists, and her eyes were focused unseeingly on a tree outside the window. “I’m never going to have children. I’m never going to marry.” She laughed harshly. “What man would ever want me?”

  She turned quickly and met her mother’s stricken stare. “Can you answer me that, Mama? What man is ever going to want a skinny, ugly wife?”

  Jane turned back to the basin and began vigorously washing the dishes again, trying to wipe her mother’s hurt look from her memory. “What man is ever going to want me when they can have someone beautiful and dainty, like Cassy, or Katy, or even Mara?”

  The room swelled with silence until Jane wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Only the splashing of dishwater could be heard until the clicking of her mother’s heels on the plank floor joined in to create a pathetic-sounding symphony.

  Mrs. Cooper stopped beside Jane and laid a hand on her arm to halt Jane’s movements. Jane ceased her task, but refrained from looking into her mother’s eyes, which, she knew, would reflect the hurt she had seen in her gaze moments ago.

  “You are special, Jane,” her mother said softly. “God made you just the way you are, and I am glad.” Jane turned to meet her mother’s stare, angered that her mother would say such a thing, yet having too much respect to blurt out her bitter feelings. Her mother read her face. “You are not ugly or gawky, and you mustn’t compare yourself to others.” Her mother touched Jane’s chin and turned her head toward her once again. “There is nothing wrong with the way you are. You are beautiful in your own way, and one day some man is going to see you for the way you are: beautiful inside and out.”

  Jane bit the inside of her lip to prevent more words from spewing out. It would do no good. Every mother thought their child was something special, and nothing she could say would convince her otherwise.

  Jane heard her mother sigh softly before turning to retrieve more dishes. She was relieved the conversation was over. Her mother meant well, but she was mistaken. What would her mother know of being ugly? She’d been born a beauty herself and, to hear her father tell it, every young man in Philadelphia had vied for her attention. No, her mother didn’t know what it was like.

  Jane rushed through the dishes, then dumped the water out the back door. When she returned, she was relieved to see her mother was gone, and she took the opportunity to escape to the solitude of her room.

  Once there, Jane began a sketch of the mountains off in the distance, but her mind was not on the project, and her attempts were futile. She stood back and inspected her work. Pitiful. She’d been doing nicer work when she was thirteen. She took the sketch and wadded it up in a ball, then flung it in the trash. Her mood today was not conducive to creativity. Instead, she felt more like crawling into a cave and staying there until Cassy and Caleb came back.

  Oh, how she wished she didn’t have to return to the Reileys’ place! She had made a fool of herself by assuming Luke’s interest in her indicated attraction. She cringed at the memory of the night before, then threw herself on the bed and pulled the quilt over her head, trying to smother the memory from her mind. If only it were that easy.

  Surely Luke must have read the attraction in her face the night before and realized she had wanted his kiss. Oh, the mortification! She couldn’t bear such a humiliation. How he must pity her: Poor Jane. No one will ever want her.

  A rare tear slid from beneath her closed eyelids, and she swept it away brusquely with the corner of her quilt. She would not make a fool of herself again. She wasn’t sure why she’d let her defenses down where Luke was concerned, but they would go right back up. She would put the distance back in their relationship, and she would allow him to pity her no more.

  eleven

  When Jane opened her eyes the next morning
, the faint light of dawn was seeping through her window sheers. Time to get up. With a groan of protest, she pulled the cover over her head. She dreaded facing Luke this morning.

  The previous night, she’d had her father bring her over just before twilight and, just as she’d hoped, she’d managed to dart into her cottage, deftly avoiding Luke.

  Jane heaved a sigh and kicked off the light blanket. There would be no avoiding Luke today. She scurried around getting ready, aware the sun was over the horizon, and Luke would be expecting breakfast on the table.

  When she entered Luke’s house, she found Elizabeth in the kitchen cracking fresh eggs into a skillet.

  “Sorry I’m late. Thanks for starting breakfast.”

  Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “That’s okay. There’s no rush this morning anyway. Luke got an early start and has already headed out.”

  Part of Jane felt like shouting for joy, but another part—a part she quickly suppressed—felt a twinge of disappointment. She wondered if she was losing her heart to Luke. What a disaster that would be; loving a man who was in love with her sister and who felt only pity for her.

  Jane’s mind wandered throughout the meal, while Elizabeth chattered about her friends. She mustn’t let her feelings for Luke grow beyond what they were already. How had this happened? She remembered with clarity how she’d felt about Luke in the beginning. Why, he had exasperated her like an older brother. Worse even. He’d had the unique ability to say just the thing to send her flying into a fit of rage.

  Yet he hadn’t changed, really. He still taunted her in the same way. No, she was the one who had changed. Some-how she’d grown used to his teasing, even become fond of it. He had sanded away her layer of hostility, exposing the vulnerable surface beneath.