[2015] Western Love

by Christian Michael

  Of course Millie had written those letters to him. It was clear now. The way she spoke, the things she laughed about, the times she’d slipped into teasing him. All of it added up to complete the picture of who she’d become to him. She’d always been Miss Hoff even if he hadn’t seen it at first.

  “The sunset doesn’t hold the answers you’re seeking, son.” Peter’s voice broke through the silence around him.

  “I suppose it doesn’t. Did you know?”

  “Know what, Lloyd?”

  “That she was the one who had written me the letters. How she and her sister conspired to trick me? That she’s been lying to me?”

  “No, I didn’t know any of that. I’m not a mind reader, you know.” Peter laughed as he stepped up next to Lloyd, evaluating the morning with him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems that everything has worked out in your favor. Aside from the death of that poor girl of course, God rest her soul.”

  “But…” he searched for the words to express what he was feeling. “But she lied to me.”

  “True, but can’t you see why?”

  “That doesn’t make it all right?”

  “Of course not, but she did tell you the truth. I think that has to count for something. Especially when you care for her.”

  He shot Peter a sharp glance.

  “It’s obvious, son,” the pastor said, his smile as bright as the sunlight now flooding over the mountains before them.

  “I do care.” He admitted the truth out loud but allowed his heart to feel it as well. It was more than care—it was love. But with that feeling came fear. Fear to love again, fear to know what would happen in the future. How could he commit is life to her knowing that the sting of death was more painful than anything he’d experienced? Was he really willing to open himself up for that pain again?

  “You’re doing it again,” Peter said.

  “What?”

  “Trying to reason through every area of this and not leaving anything up to the Lord. What does your heart say, Lloyd?”

  His heart? He hadn’t considered that in a long time—unless it was regarding his daughter. She was the only person who fully held his heart, and look at what had happened? She had been close to death. It reminded him that life was fragile. But it also reminded him that to live without love was pointless. If he didn’t have Josie in his life…he didn’t even want to think what it would mean. He’d rather have loved her well than to never have had her.

  “It says to be reckless.”

  “Then be reckless in love, dear boy.” Peter turned to him, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Take every opportunity, forgive often, and enjoy your life. God will see you through—despite all of the things that may or may not happen.”

  Peter turned to go but Lloyd stayed with is gaze fixed on the sunset. He wanted to believe that what the pastor said was true. In fact, he wanted to do more than believe it; he wanted to live it.

  When he considered what Millie had done he could see clearly how, in the grand scheme of things, him holding it against her would do neither of them any good.

  With resolution, he turned to go inside but stopped short when he saw her standing a few feet behind him, shawl pulled tightly against her shoulders and a look of nervous fear on her face.

  Without thinking and without considering the future or even the present ramifications of what would happen between them, he went toward her and pulled her into his arms. The moment before their lips touched he felt her hand resting softly over his heart and peace flooded him.

  ***

  Millie couldn't have been more shocked had Lloyd yelled at her. To be here in his arms kissing him was at once completely right and confusing all at the same time.

  When he pulled back just far enough to look down at her, he kept his grip—light and gentle—on her arms.

  “Does this mean you forgive me?”

  He cracked a smile. “There’s the humor I’ve been missing Miss Hoff.”

  “Have you really Mr. D?”

  He bent down and kissed her again. This time the passion nearly overwhelmed her and she leaned into his warm embrace, breaking away to tuck her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for several minutes before he spoke again.

  “I forgive you.”

  They were the sweetest words—the ones she’d longed to hear but couldn’t have hoped to achieve had she not said anything. Her heart felt light after the weight of confession was lifted.

  “I’m so sorry. I should have told and—”

  “It’s all right. It’s in the past. We can move on and be Mr. D and Miss Hoff now. Or,” he held her gaze and a smile quirked the corners of his lips.

  “Or what?” she asked, curious.

  “Or we could Mr. D and Mrs. D.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “I’d done it once before, if you remember, and I suppose it still stands—though I do remember asking you by another name.”

  “Would you ask me again? The real me this time, please.”

  He smiled, reaching up to push her hair back from her face. His hand stayed behind, resting there. “I finally understand why I felt so drawn to you before. I know you, Millie. You. Not your sister. And, though I’m sorry she’s gone, I am glad you are here. I want to face this life—it’s ups and downs—with you by my side. I want you to become a mother to my daughter. And I want to walk through the unknown of life with you. I can’t know the future, as much as I may try to plan for it, but I do know that I’d rather risk loving you than to not have you in my life.”

  She knew she was crying, the tears falling gently down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid for Lloyd to see her tears because, through their letters and now in real life, he’d seen the broken parts of her and accepted her just the same.

  “How could I say no to such a beautiful proposal?”

  “I’d hoped you wouldn’t be able to,” he admitted with a laugh.

  She smiled, entwining her fingers with his. “Then my answer is yes.”

  “I knew you’d see reason Miss Hoff.”

  She grinned. “Of course Mr. D.”

  They sealed their love with a sweet kiss. It symbolized the beginning of their lives together—not as two strangers getting to know one another, but as two hearts that had started to fall in love only to be interrupted.

  Now that the interruption had been discovered and passed by, they were free to love in the way they had started at the beginning of their letter writing. Just to hearts, knitted together by the plans of the Lord.

  THE END.

  Looking For Love

  Mail Order Bride

  CHRISTIAN MICHAEL

  Chapter 1

  When the train whistle blew, Cora abandoned her seat on the sofa and hurried to the window. She pulled back the heavy burgundy drapes and sighed deeply. In the dusky light, she could just discern the locomotive as it snaked its way across the tracks toward the Alexandria station. “Look, Hannah! Isn’t she beautiful? I haven’t traveled by train in ages. I’ve quite missed it. And oh my, how the Potomac has risen since the rains! We must walk by the river tomorrow.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  Her dearest friend Hannah sat on the sofa in the O’Leary family parlor, her red hair gleaming in ringlets about her shoulders, her freckled face bright with happiness, not much different than when the two were children.

  “A walk sounds lovely, although it does make me sad to see how much the waterfront has changed since the war. I scarcely recognize it, even these three years later.”

  “I’ve hardly been anywhere in the past three years. Papa was so sick with the consumption. All I could do was nurse him. But memories of our adventures here in Alexandria helped revive me, especially on the very difficult days. Did you think of those times, too?”

  “Of course, dear. I remember how you and that twin brother of mine consistently lead me into trouble. Or more often, each other.”

  Cora laughed.
The sound startled her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed. Certainly not since the last time she had visited the O’Learys. Was that six months ago? Nine?

  “Do you remember when Mama spanked you both on the train for playing in the engine car in all that coal dust?”

  “Oh, stop. That isn’t a pleasant memory!” Oddly though, as she said the words, Cora laughed again. Even the humiliation of that public spanking was a better memory than the war years that came after.

  Hannah joined her at the window, tucking Cora’s arm into her own. “It’s good to have you back again, if only for a week. But you’re changing the subject yet again.” She drew back. “Why, you’re positively shaking! Whatever is the matter? And don’t tell me it’s my imagination because I simply won’t believe it. You’ve been here for over two hours, hardly spoken, picked at your supper. And now this--mooning over trains and shivering as if you’ve caught your death. Come back to the fire and tell me what this is all about.”

  Cora allowed Hannah to arrange her on the sofa in front of the crackling fire, a brown velvet cape thrown over their laps.

  “Is it that horrid half-brother of yours? What has he said of his promise to allow you to apprentice as a nurse?”

  Cora’s heart leaped at the words. To apprentice as a nurse was all she had wanted for so long--all her father had wanted for her--that she couldn’t imagine life without it. She closed her eyes momentarily. But forget it, she must. She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes, it is Edward.” She twisted her gloves in her hands. “He says there is no money to provide for me while I apprentice, that it has all been spent or promised.”

  “No money. But your father had plenty upon his death.”

  “I know, Hannah, I know. But he left me in my brother’s care. I have no money of my own, except a small inheritance from my mother. Very small, likely not enough to cover my needs.”

  “And what does he expect you to do instead? Marry?” Hannah smiled at her own joke for she knew Cora had no designs to marry.

  Cora searched for space within her thickened throat to speak. She swallowed hard, then whispered, “Yes.”

  Hannah gave a start. “What? You to marry? And whom has your brother found worthy of you?” Her voice was shrill.

  Cora shook her head. “It’s too horrible to say aloud.”

  “Mr. Jeremiah Bladen. It is him, isn’t it?” At Cora’s nod, Hannah slapped her hands over her cheeks. “My word! I won’t allow it. We can’t let this happen. He was pawing at you when you were little more than a child. He’s evil.”

  “Don’t speak of it, Hannah.”

  “And what of Mr. Bladen’s marriage? I remember a few years back, you were relieved to hear of his nuptials?”

  “He lost his wife to influenza a month after dear President Lincoln’s death. He has three horrid daughters. Oh Hannah, whatever will I do?”

  Hannah wrapped her arms around Cora. “My dear, we shall do what I have always done when I don’t have the answers.”

  Cora smiled into Hannah’s shoulder, and declared the words at the same time as her friend, “Ask Mama.”

  Chapter 2

  “A mail order bride,” Cora gasped the words. Even after hearing them spoken repeatedly over the past twenty minutes, she couldn’t accept them. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I simply couldn’t. Papa—“

  “Your father would approve," Mama O’Leary assured. “He would want you settled and safe. My Matthew can give you that.”

  The pit of Cora’s stomach was hollow and swallowing her down fast. She sank into a chair by the Mama O’Leary’s sitting room door.

  Hannah laughed. “Oh Cora, you look positively white. Quite the contrast to her gorgeous ebony hair, eh mama?”

  “Our Cora has always been lovely, even with pasty cheeks.”

  Conversation and laughter wrapped around her. The O’Learys loved both dearly—talking and laughing. She had asked for advice and this was what was offered: A mail order bride. Hannah’s oldest brother Matthew in need of a wife and her in need of a husband.

  Years ago, she had known the incredibly tall, auburn haired boy. But she could hardly picture him now, except through the wedding photo that hung on the wall downstairs. She felt nothing for him.

  “You are exactly what we need, Cora. In last month’s letter, Matthew mentioned he was in need of a bride to help him raise my grandchildren. Women are scarce in that wild Colorado territory.” Mama O’Leary shuddered.

  Of course Hannah had written to her about Matthew’s wife, how she’d ran off and left him and their children, then caught the influenza on the train trip home. She’d died in a Midwestern town surrounded by strangers. A horrible way to go. Alone and far from home. Was that a risk she faced if she accepted Mama O’Leary’s proposal?

  But what choice did she have? She wasn’t wealthy enough or strong enough to carve out a life alone. She couldn’t marry Jeremiah Bladen. And she wasn’t afraid of the west--adventure was not a stranger to her; an odd exhilaration filled her chest thinking of the wild territory beyond the Mississippi. Still…

  Mama O'Leary continued thoughtfully, “I expect he was joking a bit about placing an advertisement, but I immediately volunteered my services as matchmaker. I promised to find him the perfect mail order bride. Since he didn’t take my advice the first time around, he is quite happy to accept it now.”

  “But come, child, this is not a moment to faint away. You will be joining our family and that is a most wonderful thing. But let’s set this aside for now, my rheumatism is acting up, and you give such a lovely massage.”

  “Oh, Mama O’Leary, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” Cora hurried to her room and fetched her father’s medical bag. Old habits indeed die hard, as she always carried it just as her father had done. But her mind was a runaway train. Colorado. Matthew. Mail order bride. Jumping on board this new proposal scared her more than anything had in a long time.

  After Mama O’Leary was wrapped in warmed blankets, Cora handed her a steaming mug. “Sip this. The medicine and the warmth will ease your pain.” Then she moved blankets aside and began gently administering to the tight muscles.

  Hannah’s laughter trilled from across the room. “You never are more yourself than when you’re nursing, are you, Cora?” Then she smiled mischievously. “Or sparring with my brother, that is.”

  Cora gasped. “Hannah, you’re awful. Simon and I haven’t sparred since we were quite young.” She carefully repacked her father’s medical bag as she spoke.

  Hannah’s laughter rang out again causing Cora to look up. “Quite young, you say? I believe it was six months ago when you were here last.”

  Cora laughed in spite of herself. “Oh stop, you. Don’t listen to her, Mama O’Leary, we’re not nearly as much enemies as we once were.”

  Mama O’Leary laughed her happiest belly laugh. “Oh, my dear, I can assure you I never perceived you to be enemies.” She sobered quickly and clutched Cora’s hands. “I worry over Simon so much. His feet you know… They bother him more than he says. And he won’t let any of us help.”

  Of course, he wouldn’t because he was too self-centered to realize how much his family worried over him, but Cora refrained from saying. “He’s stubborn, but strong. I was there you know, sat with him while father…well, as father helped him.” During the war, her father had amputated four of Simon’s toes on one foot and two on the other. Of all the things she had witnessed during the war, the amputations were possibly the worst. Simon had taken ill directly after the procedure, and she had feared he wouldn’t survive.

  Mama O’Leary nodded. “I knew of your help. Your father sent us a telegram and Simon wrote to us of course. Simon writes such beautiful letters you know, has a poet’s gift. It brought us great peace knowing you and your father were caring for him.”

  “The little bit of caring Simon would allow me wasn’t much.” Cora huffed. He had in fact sent her away after he stabilized; his words cruel and unforgiveable. “Your son is an awf
ul patient.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head, but at his mother’s sad expression, she relented. “But, my father would say the more stubborn the patient, the better he heals.” Both women smiled as Cora meant them to do.

  “And with whom have you not been enemies with since you were a child, Nurse Cora?”

  Cora startled, nearly falling across her patient as Simon himself walked through the door. His red hair, so similar in color to his twin sister’s hung over his forehead in disarray. His was more naturally curly than his sister’s and far less cared for.

  “You were listening at the door then, Private Simon?” Cora scolded, her hands on her hips, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “We didn’t hear you arrive.” She glanced at her companions. They appeared unperturbed to find Simon had listened to their conversation.

  “Indeed I was. It is best to silence your feet when you hear yourself discussed on the other side of a door, the better to hear with certainly.”

  “An eavesdropper. I should have known.”

  Mama. O’Leary’s cleared her throat. “Simon, my boy, you are just in time.”

  Simon kissed the jaw his mother offered. “And what time is that, Mama?”

  “To congratulate Cora. She is to marry.”

  Simon’s eyes darted to Cora, his gaze hard. She stiffened her back. Her future was nothing to him. And she hadn’t decided. Not yet, not fully.

  “You are so rarely at a loss, brother. What say you?” Hannah leaned forward in her chair.

  “What saintly gentleman have you found deserving of our nearly perfect Nurse Cora?”

  “Your brother.”

  “My brother?” Simon spoke the words as if he didn’t understand them. “My brother?”

  “Yes, you only have the one, you know. I was all set to advertise on his behalf remember, a mail order bride. Your brother is in need of a wife; the children are in need of a mother. And our Cora is now in need of a husband. It’s perfect.” Mama O’Leary clapped her hands together.