Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1)

by Jan Holly

  Close to the sun in lonely lands,

  Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

  The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

  He watches from his mountain walls,

  And like a thunderbolt he falls.”

  Rose recited the words with quiet power. “That’s Tennyson, one of my favorite poets. The Eagle.”

  “Can you say it again?” He listened closely as Rose complied.

  “That’s poetry? I like it,” said Charles. “Reminds me of the Bible, in some parts.”

  “Yes!” Rose nodded. “I think so, too.”

  She asked what they were reading in church. He explained, and as she listened she felt exhaustion overtaking her. As much as she endeavored to keep her eyes open, her eyelids felt heavier and heavier.

  Next thing she knew, she was waking up in her own bed, the sound of a dove close outside her window. This time, she knew just where she was. She knew what day it was, too. It was Sunday. She washed and dressed quickly, putting on her best dress once again. She grimaced, trying to shake out the creases. After buttoning her shoes she stepped out of her room where the enticing aroma of breakfast lured her into the kitchen. She saw that a plate had been left for her. It was at the place on the table that she now considered hers. She poured herself some chicory-laced coffee and sat down to uncover her plate. Corn pone and fluffy scrambled eggs and some tinned peaches drizzled with cream. She ate quickly, surprised at how famished she felt.

  Charles stepped inside. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she answered with a smile. “Thank you for the breakfast. When do we leave for church?”

  He sat down across from her and rubbed his chin slowly. “I’m sorry, Rose. Church will be there next week. You’ve got to rest up, all right?”

  “I’m well enough,” she said calmly. “It’s my first Sunday in my new town. I need to attend church.”

  “You want to get me in trouble with Doc?” He leaned forward, trying to catch her eye. “He’ll dose me with castor oil if he sees you there.” He shuddered.

  Rose smiled, just a little. She stood up, bringing her dishes to the sink. “I guess you’re right.”

  He steered her around by offering her his arm, and walked her to the front porch. “I put the rocker out here. Thought you might want to sit out here this morning. I’ll go to church and be right back. If I didn’t show up there’d be no end to questioning and we’d get the cavalry out here.”

  “Give my best to Pastor James,” she said. And Miss Annabelle Spack, she told herself to add. Mrs. Bradford, now. She kept quiet, though she felt ashamed. She couldn’t fight the feeling that Charles must wish that Annabelle was his bride. Annabelle was so tall, comely, and full of vitality. She had a laugh that rang out like bells and a confident way about her. Rose rocked slowly as Charles rode off. He turned and waved his hat, and she waved back. Then, she was alone except for the sweet sounds of birds and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Rocking, stay-at-home invalid, that’s what I must seem like, she thought.

  †

  Charles felt hot underneath his collar when he saw so many curious eyes turn his way. He understood the congregation of Grace Church would be looking forward hopefully to meeting his new wife. They must be wondering why he showed up alone. He sat down and opened his Bible, but could not concentrate. When it was time to stand up to sing the hymn, “Jesus Has Loved Me,” he caught sight of Mr. Caleb Bradford and his new wife, Mrs. Bradford. Feeling a surge of shame, he looked away quickly, remembering that he had thought she was his bride-to-be at the train station. He felt a familiar lonely feeling descend upon him, and fought to keep his eyes straight ahead, looking forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them lean into one another as they sang. The lonely feeling settled more heavily into him.

  After the service, Pastor James beckoned him. Charles nodded and joined him in a quiet corner at the front of the church while the rest of the people were milling about outside.

  “How’s Mrs. Smith?” asked the pastor, looking concerned.

  “She’s not well,” admitted Charles. “Doc says her heart may have been weakened. She needs to rest.”

  “Her heart?” James’ face fell. “I thought maybe she just fainted because she was weary from the journey. Traveling that long can make a person get run down, for sure.”

  “Turns out she was real sick back east. She wrote to me about it, but one of the pages of the letters went missing. She…” Charles trailed off, not knowing what to say. He thought of her worry that he would not have wanted her, had he known that she was still convalescing.

  “So, Doc says she just needs to rest and she’ll recover? How long will it be? Did he say?”

  “He said he’ll re-examine her in a month. Sooner if she has a setback. Till that time, we won’t know any more. She needs to be kept real quiet and do nothing but rest.”

  James shook his head, closing his eyes. “I got to pray, all right?”

  Charles nodded.

  James put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Lord, I’m reeling with the news about Mrs. Smith’s poor health. I’m finding it hard to trust in your plan; you know that’s a struggle of mine. Aid me in helping Charles, Lord. Guide me. I know you are with Charles and his wife, let them know this. In Christ’s name. Amen.”

  Charles kept his head bowed as James pressed his shoulder and then let go.

  They left the church together. As Charles walked down the steps, he saw Caleb Bradford and Mrs. Bradford.

  “Oh!” she said, holding a lace handkerchief to her nose. “Please, Caleb. Let’s move. We’re downwind from the horses. You know how I cannot abide the odor of horses!”

  Caleb looked at her adoringly. “That’s right, my sweet Annabelle. Come this way. Are you sure that you’re not afraid of them, dear?”

  “Well, they’ve got those big teeth. I simply can’t bear them!” She shuddered.

  Charles had a sudden memory of Rose’s open countenance and tender expression as she leaned toward Rascal. He smiled, remembering it. He thought about how she had held her hand out so matter-of-factly, and how her eyes had softened with affection for his horse. He could see her hands, gently touching Rascal’s mane. He wondered how she was feeling, hoping she was resting and regaining strength with every moment that passed. He had a sudden pang, worrying that she was feeling lonely, and left out.

  While nodding quickly to others, rather than socializing, he made his way over to where Rascal was hitched. Within moments, he was heading home. As soon as his house was in view, he could see that Rose was no longer sitting on the porch. He urged Rascal to increase his pace, and loving any excuse for speed, his horse complied readily. At the house, Charles dismounted Rascal and led him toward the back of the house. There was Rose. She was washing something in the galvanized metal tub.

  “Hello, Charles. Well, hello Rascal,” she said, smiling, shading her eyes, which were covered by her spectacles.

  “Rose, I…” He trailed off. He had been about to say that she should let him do that. But didn’t women have delicates that they preferred to wash by hand? Unmentionables, his mother had referred to them as such, he seemed to recall. He missed his parents, suddenly, and wished they were still living. They had passed away several years ago, within a year of one another.

  “I simply had to wash my dress. It’s such a dry, sunny day. It’ll dry in no time, I’m sure, then I’ll wash the one I’m wearing, tomorrow,” she said, resuming her scrubbing.

  He stayed some distance away, beginning to remove his horse’s saddle. “I can buy some fabric for you, in town, tomorrow.” No, she should not be exerting herself by sewing a new dress, should she? He slung the saddle onto the fence. “Barney’s Mercantile has ready-made dresses, I believe. Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll bring one home for you. Or two!” How many dresses did women need?

  “Oh, that’s quite all right,” she said, looking down. She seemed uncomfortable. “I’ve got this one and the one I’m wear
ing.”

  They seemed so worn and far too large for her, though. How could he encourage her to accept something new, without insulting her by indicating that her appearance was somehow lacking? This was going to confound him, that was for sure, he thought, leading Rascal into the paddock. He removed the horse’s bridle, draped it over the saddle, and picked up a brush from the fence post. Rascal stood completely still while Charles groomed him.

  “He doesn’t even need to be on cross-ties,” said Charles, smiling at Rose.

  “He loves it!” Rose stood up, walked over, and leaned against the fence.

  Charles reached in his pocket and pulled out a hoof-pick. Rascal docilely allowed him to clean and check each one until the last.

  “Son of a gun,” muttered Charles, biting back a grin. “He does this every time. Every time.”

  “What is he doing?” Rose shaded her eyes.

  “He is putting all his weight onto this one leg, see? So I can’t lift it. I lean on him, like this. Now, any other horse, he’d shift his weight back and I’d be able to lift his leg. No matter what leg I end with, he always puts all his weight on it.”

  “It’s a game,” said Rose, marveling. “He’s doing it on purpose. Rascal, did I speak out of turn yesterday? Are you indeed a rascal, sir? In fact, a rake? A rapscallion, even?”

  Rascal lowered his head, peering up through his long eyelashes at Rose. He mouthed the dusty ground and then slowly shifted his weight onto his other side. Charles cleaned the final hoof and patted his neck, and Rascal meandered into the small barn that housed his stall.

  “You are a good boy,” called Rose after him.

  Rascal swished his tail once, violently, making Charles and Rose laugh.

  Glancing at Rose, Charles felt as awkward as a schoolboy. When she smiled, her face transformed, he thought. He couldn’t look away.

  “How about I fix us some lunch,” he said. He stopped at the pump and scrubbed his hands and splashed some water on his face, drying it with his shirtsleeve. “Then I can help you hang your clothes to dry, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you,” she said warmly.

  They went into the house and heard a light knock at the front door.

  “Howdy,” said Mrs. Tilden, standing on the porch. “I brought by some dinner. We had extra.”

  Rose and Charles thanked her, bidding her to come and share the meal with them. But she declined, smiling, saying she’d be back another day for a longer visit. Waving a quick farewell, she hurried back to her buggy.

  After they’d finished the hearty soup and small loaf of bread, they realized that there was extra left over for their next meal. Rose was just about to sit in the parlor when they heard another light rapping at the front door.

  “Hello? It’s me, Clara Lee Chadding. Hello Mr. Smith, Hello Mrs. Smith. I won’t sit down but a minute with you. Mrs. Smith, I know the sun must be much harsher here than where you were born and raised. I have brought you a sunbonnet. You’ll find they protect one’s complexion better than the little hats that seem so popular these days.”

  “Thank you,” said Rose sincerely, turning the bonnet over in her hands. “It’s lovely! This pattern of sprigged blossoms is so pretty.”

  “I can make them up with my eyes closed I’ve made so many,” she said. “I’ll show you how someday. And I had some extra fabric. You look just about the same size as my cousin Lena. She’s a little bit of a thing, so I kept her measurements in mind.” Clara Lee reached into her basket and pulled out a folded dress in the same material as the sunbonnet.

  “I declare, I’m so touched, I don’t know what to say, truly,” said Rose. “Your kindness knows no bounds. Thank you!”

  “You are welcome. You’ll see that folks around here stick together, look out for one another.”

  “Let me put the kettle on. We can have a proper visit,” said Rose, beginning to stand.

  “Thank you kindly but I need to get back home,” said Clara Lee. “But here are some cookies to have with your tea.” She handed her a little package wrapped in wax paper. “Another time soon I’ll come for a real visit and we’ll have a good talk. Now, don’t get up. Charles will see me out.”

  Charles walked Clara Lee to the door, thanking her quietly. Rose seemed near tears, her smile tremulous as she joined him in thanking their friend and neighbor.

  “Smells like molasses cookies, if I’m not mistaken,” he said, turning back to Rose after Clara Lee had ridden away in her buggy. “I’ll make some tea.”

  †

  She composed herself while he filled the kettle with water and heated it. She heard the sounds of his moving about the kitchen. Kindness always elicited tears from Rose, especially since the deaths of her family members. By the time Charles came back to the parlor, she had dried her tears. He poured her a cup of tea from a chipped yellow teapot. The cups were delicate china, faded, on mismatching saucers. They looked tiny in his large hands. He had set some cookies on a plate.

  “Cookies and a tea party. I could get accustomed to this,” she said. “This is lovely. Thank you, Charles.”

  He shrugged, smiling quickly as he darted a bashful glance in her direction. “Figured you’re used to fancy things back east. These cups and teapot used to belong to my mother. She had a full set, but this is all that’s left.”

  “They’re beautiful. I love old things. When I see how things have aged, it makes me think about how they were used, and treasured.” She sipped the tea, savoring its flavor and warmth. “We’re truly blessed to have such caring neighbors.”

  At that moment, they heard the approach of a buggy. Charles went to the door to welcome Pastor James and his wife, Mary. Rose stood to greet them, shaking their hands as Charles introduced Mrs. James and Rose to each other. They sat together in the parlor. Pastor James and Mary politely declined the offer of tea and cookies, saying they’d just come from dinner.

  “Since you were not able to come to church, church can come to you,” said the pastor gently. “And that goes for any Sunday.”

  “I hope to be well enough by next Sunday, for sure,” she said.

  Mary James glanced at Charles as she pressed Rose’s hand. “I’m sure you will be. Meantime, Edward thought you might like to have a brief visit.”

  “I’d like to say a prayer, if that’s all right?” Pastor James. “Folks will tell you I pray all the time.”

  Rose smiled. “That makes me think of: Pray without ceasing.”

  The pastor smiled back, his blue eyes filling with delight. “Thessalonians 5:17.” He clasped his hands and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, I want to thank you for your blessings today and every day. We have a new member in our midst here and I can see how you are working in our lives. Bless Mrs. Smith as she regains her health. Help her realize that she is already perfect in your eyes, and in ours. We’ll keep striving to be your hands, Lord, here on Earth. Thank you for leading Mrs. Smith here to her new home. Through Christ we pray. Amen.”

  Rose couldn’t lift her head. She was battling tears again. When the pastor had said that she was already perfect, she had nearly burst into tears. All this time, she had been feeling a horrible sense of pressure. She had been frantically worrying that she would not get well, not measure up. What if she was unable to ever meet the demands of her new life out west? She didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. Imaging her new husband to be sorely disappointed in her frailty, she suffered, feeling unworthy. She felt so lost and alone. Something about the pastor’s words went straight to her soul and soothed her heart. God was with her. Two tears rolled down her cheeks and she pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, knowing she could not hide her emotions.

  “Please excuse me,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I was sincerely moved by your prayer.”

  Charles leaned forward, looking into her face worriedly. “Pastor James has a way of talking to the Lord as though he’s a friend. I never heard the likes of it before.”

  “Yes,” said Rose, nodding.

  “Wo
uld you like to have a few words with Edward alone, or with me?” Mary pressed Rose’s hand again. “I have written down a copy of his sermon for you to read if you’d like, and I added the hymns we sang as well. I thought perhaps you might feel as though you were there and enjoy that.”

  “Thank you, I’m very grateful. I do have a question. It is something that has been troubling me.” Rose looked down.

  “I’ll just put Rascal’s saddle and bridle away,” said Charles as he stood.

  “Shall I step out onto the front porch?” asked Mary as Charles left through the back door.

  “No, please stay,” said Rose. “It’s something I don’t think I would have felt comfortable speaking about with our pastor in Boston, but somehow I think I could tell you, both of you, and it would perhaps ease my troubled heart.”

  “Please,” said the pastor quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.

  “It’s just that since my family died…” She trailed off, then took a quick breath. “My mother, father, brother, and sister were taken by a fever. I know you are aware of this, Pastor James, having been instrumental in my correspondence with Mr. Smith.”

  The pastor and his wife nodded sympathetically, Mary pressed her hand again.

  “Well, what troubles me is that I feel not only their absence so keenly, but I feel a kind of… blank… when I try to pray. It feels empty, somehow. I don’t know how to explain it, but it weighs heavily on my mind and troubles my heart. Also, as much as I believe… well, I keep struggling with the notion that they’re missing out. Every day, I think, well, that’s another day they’ve missed. Especially for my brother and my baby sister. They were so young.” Her voice broke.

  Pastor James sat on the edge of his seat. “Mrs. Smith, I am so sorry for your loss. When such grief breaks the heart, it’s as though one’s very soul is stunned. Have you ever banged your head, and everything seems distant and cloudy for a moment? Or have you ever heard a very loud sound, such as a musket or cannon going off? After, for a time, one’s hearing is lessened, and sounds seem faraway and muffled. Give it time, Mrs. Smith. The Lord is with you, even if the shock of your loss has distanced your sense of his loving presence, and your faith in his benevolence, and your trust in his plans. Keep praying, keep reading your Bible, focusing on the good news of our savior. Remember John 3:16. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Don’t force your faith. You and God are inextricably bound even if you feel far from his love right now. Your family, too. They’re with you, every moment. Jesus believes in you. He’s right there. Rest.”