ROMANCE: Mail Order Bride: A Sheriff's Bride (A Clean Christian Inspirational Historical Western Romance) (New Adult Short Stories)

by Nathan Adams

  “If it wasn’t for your goodness, Nurse Mary, we wouldn’t survive in here!” The second female voice came from slightly further away, yet reminded Angela of her own, a soft murmur.

  “Come on now. I am just doing what I was put on this earth to do.” Nurse Mary turned her attention back to Angelica. “Do you know where you are, child?”

  Angelica shook her head, her eyes still shut.

  “Could you please pull the curtains?” she whispered courteously. Nurse Mary obeyed.

  “Is this better?”

  She opened her eyes slightly and noticed that the light had grown dimmer, allowing her to see where she was. She tried to make sense of what had happened. “Much better, thank you. Where am I?”

  “You are at the Southwestern Hospital in Oklahoma City, sweetheart.”

  “How?” Angelica was confused. Wasn’t she supposed to be somewhere else? But where? Where was it that she was supposed to be?

  She realized that trying to remember what had happened to her over the past few days was futile. Everything was a haze. She had no recollection of where she was, what she had been doing prior to waking up at this hospital, and worst of all, she had no idea who she was!

  “What is your name, child?” Nurse Mary continued gently. “We need to notify your next of kin to come for you. Is there anyone you know in town? Were you visiting someone?”

  All these questions made Angelica’s head hurt. No matter how hard she tried to remember, she simply could not recall.

  “Your name, honey?” Nurse Mary had a pen and paper at the ready to jot down any information forthcoming.

  “I can’t remember,” she whispered desperately, “I simply can’t remember.”

  “Well, it says here,” Nurse Mary riffled through some papers, “that you were in an accident. There was a storm last night, and apparently, Mr. Crosby, who was returning home from a business trip, saw your carriage down the side of the hill. He brought you here immediately. There was no coachman, which is strange, but we are all assuming that he had seen you were hurt and went in search of help on foot. You were unconscious the entire time, so Mr. Crosby was unable to find out anything about your identity, and we were hoping you would be able to shed some light about that.”

  Nothing sounded familiar to Angelica. It was as if the entire ordeal had happened to someone else

  “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Maybe.” Nurse Mary left the room, only to return after a few minutes with a small pocket mirror. “Perhaps if you see your own face, you will remember. We have had some patients with amnesia, just like you, who took one look at themselves in a mirror and it all came back to them. With a bit of luck, you will too! Here,” she offered Angelica the mirror.

  Angelica lifted the mirror and peered into it warily. The face staring back at her was totally unfamiliar, a complete stranger.

  The bright eyes looking back at her had a fiery spark to them, while the plump cheeks had a faint blush. The small cut she noticed on her forehead did not cause too much discomfort.

  Angelica Hurst was a lovely young woman, one whose appearance demanded attention, although her disposition and upbringing meant she paid no heed to the admiring glances she had often received from men. She was saving herself for her husband, and her kindness and inherent warmth seemed to shine out of her.

  Angelica, unfortunately, was not familiar with any of this. She had no recollection of her past, her friends, or her life. All she felt while staring at her unfamiliar face was a deep, empty void and a horrid feeling of dejection.

  “It’s quite alright, lamb. We can try tomorrow. Perhaps you will remember then. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and I think you should rest now. If you need me for anything, I’ll be near.”

  Angelica was deeply thankful that there was someone as sweet as Nurse Mary around. The woman was a great comfort.

  Angelica’s time in hospital sped by. She was well taken care of, but her memory refused to return, no matter how hard she tried.

  “I’m afraid that we have to release you,” Nurse Mary told her after a few days, her expression sad.

  “Release me?” Angelica was confused.

  “Well, yes.” The nurse seemed uncomfortable in her role as the barer of bad news. “You seem to have recovered fully, and you aren’t ill, so we cannot keep you here any longer. We need the space for other patients. I’m sorry.”

  “Where am I supposed to go?” Angelica rose from her bed. “What am I supposed to do? How will I take care of myself?” She burst into tears, and Nurse Mary rushed to comfort her.

  “There, there, sweet child. We’ll find a way out. I promise you that. The good Lord never closes a door without opening a window, you know,” her voice was a whisper in Angelica’s ear. “There, there.” Angelica snuggled into the comforting arms.

  “You know, there is a very nice lady in town I know. She could offer you room and board, as a personal favor to me.”

  Angelica looked up at her savior. “I don’t know how to thank you.” The tears of relief streamed down her face.

  “So, the first week will be free, but then we must find a manner of payment, if you wish to remain there indefinitely. Are you good at sewing, embroidering, knitting, anything of the sort?”

  Angelica smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Oh, yes!” Nurse Mary laughed out loud. “I’m being silly! Of course you wouldn’t have any knowledge of that. But we do need to check. I need to get back to my duties, so I’ll have to leave you for a while, but don’t worry your little self. God always finds a way to help those in need.” She smiled at Angelica and left the room.

  The next day Angelica was dressed in her old attire, which had been properly washed and cleaned. Looking like her old self again, in her beautiful purple dress and hat with a delicate little pink flower, she could rejoin society, albeit as someone totally unknown.

  As they walked, Nurse Mary remembered something essential. “My dear girl! How shall we call you upon your introduction to Mrs. Merriweather?”

  Angelica stopped. She hadn’t given this any thought, but Nurse Mary was completely right. What would she be called now that she had no name of her own? She didn’t belong to any family, and she had no father or mother who could claim her. She belonged only to God, who was the only One she could rely on for protection.

  “What do you propose?” Angelica asked.

  “When I was a little girl, I remember my father telling me a story about a little girl who got lost and remained so for many years. After numerous hardships, she found her way back home and rejoined her family. Her name was Perdita. Do you like it?”

  Angelica thought about it for a moment. She felt no particular connection to that name, but then, no other name came to mind. She was, just like that little girl, lost without any hope of being found again.

  “Yes,” she agreed, “Perdita.” She tasted the name on her tongue, wondering whether it suited her.

  Nurse Mary finally stopped in front of a large house. It was old but not unkempt. The shrubs were trimmed and the roses added to the charm.

  She knocked on the door, which was soon opened by an elderly woman who, upon seeing Nurse Mary, gave a welcoming smile.

  The three women were soon seated in the parlor, with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits at hand, discussing Angelica’s room and board.

  “And she owes her obedience to Christ?” Mrs. Merriweather asked, as she took a sip from her cup.

  “She is a sweet child, Perdita,” Nurse Mary replied, “the sweetest there is. But, it seems our good Lord has decided to tempt her faith by erasing her memory, and what is left for us Christians to do but to help?” She took a bite from a biscuit.

  “True, dear Mary. That is most true. And you, child,” she turned her attention to Angelica, “you have no recollection of how you landed up in hospital?

  ‘No, ma’am,” Angelica replied obediently, “and I rely on your kindness and generosity, but I do know I cannot take advanta
ge of it. Is there any way in which I can return your goodness.”

  “Are you any good at handiwork?”

  Angelica looked at her long, slender fingers.

  “I can sew pretty well?” she glanced at Nurse Mary, waiting for her nod of affirmation. “We tried at the hospital, and I did not disappoint.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Merriweather nodded. “I myself do some work as a seamstress and can take you on as my help. Would that be agreeable to you?”

  “That would be wonderful!” Angelica’s eyes widened in delight at this stroke of good luck. “I am more than indebted to both of you. I don’t know how I could ever repay you!”

  “Hush now, child.” Nurse Mary’s smile showed she was pleased. “There is no need to thank us. Just praise His name each day and when the chance presents itself, give a helping hand to another Christian.”

  Angelica moved in with Mrs. Merriweather that same day, working on whatever came to hand. Her sweetness of character shone through in her daily dealings with others, and Mrs. Merriweather found her company pleasurable.

  “Never forget, Perdita,” Mrs. Merriweather would tell her at dinner, “He works in mysterious ways, and no matter how difficult our path may be, we should never despair, for we are never apart from His grace.”

  Angelica would listen to this old woman’s wise words, and then think on them once alone in her room. The worry of who she was never left her mind. The fact she had no idea as to her identity was a loss she could not describe, yet she realized that it is at the time of loss that we remember our blessings.

  She had met two wonderful women who had welcomed her into their home and hearts.

  It was while reading the newspapers that something caught Angelica/Perdita’s eye. It was an advertisement for something she had never heard of before: a mail-order bride. After thinking about it, she realized that, although she was happy where she was, she had no real prospects, no family, and nothing to look forward to. Perhaps, she thought, is she wrote to the gentleman in question, describing her predicament and exchanging letters, she might find herself a possible future husband, thereby creating a better life for herself.

  Her memory was not returning, and she felt more comfortable each day as Perdita; her newfound identity had become something she could hold on to.

  She was determined that whatever God had in store for her would be the path she would travel for the rest of her life, and if she was always to be Perdita, then she would accept it.

  Feeling God’s hand in her life, she set out to write a letter to a certain Mr. Zacharias St. Clare. From what she could gather from his advertisement, he was a recently widowed father, who, after his wife’s death, was left to take care of his infant daughter on his own. He had a ranch, on the outskirts of Oklahoma and was in search of someone who would be willing to share his life.

  She couldn’t imagine what he was like, even though she tried really hard. Was he a handsome man? Was he a good father to his daughter? Was he a fair land owner and a righteous employer? And most importantly, was he the one who would save her from her predicament?

  Feeling she had nothing to lose, she set herself the task of replying to his advertisement. She had not intended writing an overly long letter, but the end result was longer than she had anticipated, as she ended up explaining her circumstances.

  She read through her final draft and sighed. Even if he did not think her a suitable life, at least her truth was out, and no harm would be done.

  With those thoughts in mind, she went out to post her letter, knowing that whatever the outcome would be, God’s hand was in it.

  As it turned out, she did not need to wait long for her reply, which surprised her. She happened to glance through the window a few days later and saw the postman come up the path. Going out to get the mail, she noticed one letter was addressed to her. She opened it and settled down to read.

  Dear Miss Perdita,

  Please do not hold it against me that I address you so familiarly right at the onset of what I hope to be a long and fruitful correspondence. Your letter has moved me deeply, and I can only say that in the chain of human events, the hopes of a Christian are utterly inseparable from his or her faith. We can only depend on the all-powerful influence of God to guide us and offer assistance in our direst times of need. But also, we as Christian people are urged to reclaim the world for God by listening to His instructions.

  Just like you, I have suffered in this life, but throughout every hardship, God has sustained me; he has cherished my soul and filled my heart with gratitude, which is what I see in you. Seeing that neither of us find ourselves in the best of circumstances, I sincerely believe that we can, through God’s Providence, give each other the affection we need, and, perhaps, even love.

  Please know that He will never fail you, if you put your faith in him, as I have, and now, he has led me to you.

  Awaiting your reply eagerly,

  Zacharias St. Clare

  His reply surprised her. She suspected it was one of the warmest, most tender letters she had ever received. Zacharias appeared to be a wonderfully thoughtful, Christian man, who would help her overcome the obstacles life had put in her path. His tenderness might also enable her to regain her memory, as both were God’s children.

  Her reply, this time, was brief and succinct. She expressed her joy at receiving his response, as well as his kind willingness to continue with their correspondence.

  The letters, over the next few months, seemed to fly between them. The more they corresponded, the more they opened to each other, despite the fact that there was little about herself that Angelica could tell him. Her past was a mystery, and so was her future, for now. Her present, however, was an open book, and she wanted him to know all there was to know about her.

  As a result she recounted her days at the hospital, how she got her new identity and how she learned more about herself with each passing day. She had learned that roses were her favorite flowers, that goat milk made her queasy,and that she enjoyed reading children’s Christian stories

  In her letters, she finally learned to let go of her pain and opened up her heart to the possibility of being healed. She had come to understand what Zacharias had meant when he said that the glory of His name was not to be found only in times of happiness of joy but also in times of loneliness or tiredness and sadness. She opened up her heart, and as if by magic, she felt that something which had been lost to her had finally been returned. She felt His nearness and comfort through Zacharias’ words, and she felt Him urging her on, telling her not to be afraid anymore, for He was with her, He was keeping her close.

  The letter that was to change her life forever finally arrived, the one that would give new meaning to her life. Zacharias offered to send for her, and, should she accept, would make her his wife as soon as circumstances allowed.

  Angelica took a few days to fully grasp the intensity of the situation and her own emotions before breaking the news to her two dear friends. They were both overjoyed at her news.

  “That is wonderful, my dear!” Nurse Mary hugged her. “And you get to remain here with us, in Oklahoma! What joy!”

  Mrs. Merriweather shared her enthusiasm, and despite the fact that both women were sad to see Angelica leave, they knew this moment was bound to occur at one point or another.

  In a way, Angelica was like a wounded bird and someone needed to tend to her injuries. Fortunately for her, her saviors were these two wonderful Christian women who took it upon themselves to guide her in God’s light, and offer all the love and support an incomplete person such as she would need. Now, that she had found someone who would look after her and keep her safe, the two women considered their job done and were more than happy to see their little bird married to a good man.

  Zacharias sent for her the end of the month, and she found herself waving goodbye to her two friends. The situation suddenly seemed all too familiar. She was in a carriage, waving goodbye to someone, on her way to somewhere she really wished
to be.

  The sensation was strange, and she wondered whether it was a memory struggling to surface.

  Closing her eyes, Angelica tried to relax her mind in an effort to remember, but nothing happened. Settling back, she looked out the window, eager to take the first steps of her new life.

  The journey did not take long, and the carriage stopped in front of a huge gate. The road in front of her was long, and she could not see where it ended.

  She peered through the window curtains shyly. A tall man stood outside, his curly brown hair playfully ruffled by the wind. He was leaning against the fence, his arms dangling to his sides. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his forearms and hands had been tanned by the sun.

  He approached the carriage slowly and peered inside.

  “Miss Perdita?” he found her crouched against the opposite wall like a scared animal. “I do hope your trip was pleasant.” His smile was warm and friendly.

  Although she wished she could stay inside a little longer, Angelica realized it would be inappropriate. Gathering her courage together, she smiled and offered him her hand so that she could get out. Keeping it safely in his, the two walked the distance to the house.

  Too scared to speak before being spoken to, and feeling intimidated by her new home, she felt that his touch was protective, and she felt safe in his presence.

  “I am so glad that you are finally here, may I show you around?” His smile was warm and welcoming.

  At Angela’s nod, Zachariah felt a sense of relief. “I am so glad that you have finally arrived. He smiled at her, as they entered the house. “May I show you around?” he asked politely, and Angelica nodded. He took her on a tour of his home, stopping in front of a closed door. “This is the nursery. Do you wish to meet my daughter now, or would you prefer until you have freshened up a little?”

  “I’d really like to meet her…” Angelica whispered.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” he opened the door.

  The room was bright, with toys stacked on shelves and in the corner. The little girl was sound asleep in her crib.