Bittersweet Bride

by Denise Hunter

  Twenty-one

  The ride back to Cedar Springs the next day was long and tedious. The weather had grown noticeably cooler, and Mara was grateful for it. She had many hours to think back on her last morning with Clay. Not that there was much to think about. He had rushed through breakfast and hurried to get saddled up like the rest of them. He had barely spoken two words to her, but she knew in her heart that he ached as she did.

  Duncan led them at a gallop, and her backside was in no shape for the beating. No wonder ranchers stayed so trim and brawny. Duncan had been a gentleman through and through, she had to admit, even if he did set a difficult pace.

  By the time they reached town, dusk was setting in, and Mara dreaded the confrontation with her parents. She knew now she must tell them the truth. Clay had been right. She had to show them Christ’s love with her obedience if she ever hoped to reach them.

  She wished she could change into proper attire before seeing her mother, but it was the dinner hour, and her family would undoubtedly be seated around the table. She would have no way of sneaking to her room first. She sighed deeply as the horse drew to a halt. She was ever so glad to dismount. When she did, her muscles ached as she stood straight.

  “You be all right now, Miss Lawton?”

  She nodded. “Thank you for seeing me home safely.”

  “Glad to oblige.” Duncan touched the brim of his hat and rode away, the hooves of his horse stirring up the packed dirt.

  She turned toward her home. Light spilled from the windows, filtered by fine lace curtains. Dread curdled in her stomach. She had wronged her parents, and now she had to face them with it. Why, oh, why did she do such foolish things?

  She walked up the porch steps, her weary legs trembling beneath her. How she longed for a hot bath and her feather bed! The door opened easily, and the odor of burning food caught in her lungs. Some things will never change, she thought, remembering her own failed efforts with a cookstove.

  “Who’s there?” Her father’s voice boomed from the kitchen, followed by the scraping of his chair.

  “It’s me.”

  “Mara?” Her mother called, and Mara heard their footsteps. “Why, what are you doing home so—”

  They rounded the corner just then, and her mother’s words cut off. Her eyes widened, her chin dropped, and her painted eyebrows snapped together. “Why are you dressed like—like a man?”

  She opened her mouth to respond.

  “Mara, what is the meaning of this?” her father asked.

  William joined them then, and Mara knew he had come to see what the excitement was about. She had a childish urge to stick out her tongue. He laughed at the sight of her.

  “Get out!” her mother and father said to William at once, her father pointing back toward the dining room for emphasis.

  Seeing her mother’s face, Mara knew she would not be let off easily. Nonetheless she wanted to get it out of the way. “Mother, Daddy, I know I was supposed to visit Sadie, but that isn’t where I went.”

  Her mother sucked in a breath.

  Her father’s eyes narrowed.

  “This has something to do with that—that—Clay Stedman!” Her mother spat his name as if it were spoiled meat.

  “Now, Letitia, don’t get all excited.”

  Mara watched the emotions play on her mother’s face. Her hands covered her mouth. “It’s true, isn’t it?” It was no question. “Oh, my baby girl! You are ruined. Ruined! Who will have you now, I ask? No one, that’s who! Word will get around before tomorrow passes, and your reputation will be beyond repair!”

  “Come now, Dear—let’s let Mara speak for herself,” her father said.

  They both stared at her. Her father with a this-better-be-good expression, her mother with a horrified one. Had it not been so serious, it would have been comical.

  She addressed her mother, who seemed most in need of explanation. “While it’s true that I did go to see Clay—”

  “Oh, I knew it!”

  “Hush, Letitia—let her speak.”

  “I went on the roundup with the local ranchers.” She gestured to her clothing. “That’s why I’m dressed like this.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. Dozens of men had seen her this way, and she wasn’t proud of it.

  Nor was her mother. The woman swayed, and her hands suddenly produced a fan that began fluttering in front of her face. “Oh my—”

  “Let me get this straight,” her father said. “You pretended to be a man—a boy—the entire time?”

  She nodded. “It was only yesterday that I was found out.”

  “What did he do to you, Darling?” Her mother pressed a handkerchief to her eyes.

  Mara’s stomach churned with anger. Would her mother never learn? Why did she always see Clay through the veil of her prejudices? “He protected me, Mother. That’s what he did.”

  “All those men—” her mother moaned.

  “It was foolish of me, I admit. But nothing happened. Clay insisted on sending me home—”

  “As well he should!” her father exclaimed with a frown.

  Mara didn’t know if her mother was going to faint or yell. She seemed to waver between the two.

  “I shouldn’t have gone, and I shouldn’t have deceived you. Clay made me see that. I’m deeply sorry, Mother, Daddy.” She beseeched them both with her eyes.

  Her father softened first, nodding. “Well, there’s no harm done, I suppose.”

  “No harm?” her mother asked. “Why, she’s been alone at night—mind you, at night—with dozens of wretched cowboys, and there’s no telling what—”

  “Enough, Letitia! We’ll leave well enough alone.”

  Mara looked from one parent to the other. Her father rarely had the upper hand with her mother, but it looked as if the woman was backing down. Mara scarcely dared to breathe.

  Her mother snapped her mouth shut, and her lips tightened in a thin line.

  “William!” her father called to the next room. “Go and draw your sister a bath.”

  Mara sighed as her mother walked away, her back stiff and unyielding. Her mother probably thought she was not sorry at all, that she was only manipulating them as she had done in the past. Mara couldn’t blame her. But she would prove to her parents God had changed her—even if it killed her. And considering the pain constricting Mara’s heart, it just might.

  ❧

  After resting from her adventure, Mara remembered the small black Bible Clay had given her. She retrieved it from her bureau where she had put it after unpacking. It looked like a worn, familiar friend. She felt some guilt at taking his Bible. Did he have another one to read? She should give it back when she saw him again.

  “I marked some passages earlier tonight. Read them. It’ll help you understand why I’m doing this.”

  At the memory of his words she thumbed through the Bible. The pages parted at the twentieth chapter of Exodus. She smiled when she saw it was marked with a leaf, a dark, glossy bittersweet leaf. Verse twelve was underlined.

  “Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.”

  She reread the sentence. Did this mean those that honored their parents lived a longer life? The thought jarred her and comforted her at the same time. She knew so little about God and His ways. She was like a newborn in her faith compared to Clay.

  She flipped through the pages, and again they fell open, a leaf marking a spot in Colossians chapter three.

  “Children, obey your parents in all things: for this is well-pleasing unto the Lord.”

  He had been right. She shouldn’t have doubted it for a minute. He was doing the right thing, much as she disliked what that meant. She picked up the leaf and twirled it between her fingers. She hoped it was not all for naught. She hoped her parents saw that her life was no longer a strangling vine, but a useful thing of beauty.

  Other passages were marked.

  “If ye love me, keep my commandments.”

 
; “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

  “Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.”

  The words she read convicted her, convincing her she needed time to study God’s Word. How could she be a light to her parents if she didn’t know what was required of her? She promised herself and God right then. She would learn His ways, and she would do her best to live the life Christ called her to, and someday she hoped her parents would trust Him as well.

  Twenty-two

  Autumn’s chilly fingers plucked away the colorful leaves of the trees one by one, sending them scuttling across the ground and into piles. Each week fewer and fewer leaves hung from branches until the smell of winter drifted in the brisk breeze.

  Mara saw Clay only at church each week, and though she’d tried to return his Bible, he had shaken his head and showed her he had another. It was hard seeing him every Sunday. When their eyes would meet, they would exchange sad smiles and go on their way. Beth was the only bright note in her days and her only source of information about Clay. She couldn’t keep from asking after him whenever Beth would come to visit.

  Mara was almost relieved when the frigid days of winter moved in, bringing with it drifts of snow and sparkling icicles. People holed up in their snug homes, daring to go out only when necessary.

  Church was often cancelled in the winter when snow lay thickly on the ground. Many church members lived too far to risk exposure during the coldest months, and few had sleighs for transportation.

  Mara busied herself with sewing and chores. She even taught her mother some basic stitches. She made shirts for her father and William for Christmas and an apron and scarf for her mother. Beth showed up a few days before the holiday with a pair of mittens she had knitted. Mara gave her the doll she had sewn, complete with a tiny dress and bloomers.

  She had wanted to make something for Clay. Oh, how she’d wanted to. But doing so would only worsen the pain for them both. She knew she was right when, as Beth left that afternoon, she passed on words from Clay.

  “Tell Mara I said Merry Christmas and that I’m thinking of her.”

  Her stomach knotted at the words. Oh, Clay, I’m thinking of you too—every minute of every day. But she hadn’t said the words to Beth. She couldn’t say anything for the lump in her throat. She only nodded.

  She often found her mother looking at her oddly while they cooked or did laundry together. Though she hadn’t said anything, Mara thought she must be confused about the changes in her daughter’s life. Once her mother had walked by her bedroom when she was teary-eyed over Clay. Her mother had asked if something was amiss, but Mara said she was fine.

  She read the Bible in the parlor in the mornings, and once her father asked where she’d gotten it. Across the room her mother stiffened when she told him Clay had given it to her, but she said nothing.

  When an accumulation of snow melted away in mid-February, Mara both looked forward to and dreaded returning to church. How she longed to see Clay again, but she knew it would be agony as well. She prayed repeatedly for God to take away the feelings if they weren’t pleasing to Him, but thus far He had done anything but.

  One afternoon, as she and her mother peeled potatoes for supper, her mother surprised her. Mara had been thinking of Clay, wondering what he was doing, how he and Beth were getting along, when her mother spoke suddenly.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  The shock of hearing the words erased any response from her mind. Her mother continued to peel the potato, but her lips stretched in a taut line. Still, Mara had to be honest.

  “Yes.”

  Her stomach flipped uneasily, and her fingers seemed clumsy in her attempts with the paring knife. She expected her mother to be furious or disgusted by her admission. But if she was, she remained silent. Though the lack of response unsettled Mara, she realized later that it was a good thing. Perhaps her mother was beginning to see the truth. Perhaps she would see Mara’s obedience and Clay’s honor and change her mind about him.

  No, she refused to let herself think that. It would be unbearable to let herself hope and be disappointed all over again.

  Yet, on Sunday, when her mother arrived at the breakfast table wearing one of her nicer dresses, Mara was astonished.

  “You needn’t stare, Mara,” her mother said. “I have been to church before, you know.”

  Mara wasn’t about to point out that it had been years. She was too delighted to say anything for fear her mother would change her mind. Though her father and William stayed home, she was thrilled at what she hoped was God working in her mother’s heart.

  At church she had the pleasure of seeing the shock on Clay’s face when he saw her mother at her side. His sad smile changed as his mouth curved up at the corners. When her mother turned to greet the pastor’s wife, he winked at Mara. Oh, how her heart fluttered. Her knees turned weak, and she felt empty inside with wanting him.

  His gaze did not meet hers again that day, but she relived that wink at the end of every night when her eyes closed and her body relaxed against the feather mattress.

  God was teaching her so much through her separation from Clay. She was learning to depend on Him and Him alone. She was learning how to treat others and how to ask forgiveness for past offenses. She was learning that her worth was not in what she had or of whom she was born. It was in the fact that God had made her, that God had sent His Son to die for her.

  The lessons were harder than anything she had ever learned. But Sara reminded her frequently that God never said it would be easy—only that He would be with her through it. And He was. Mara could feel His presence.

  Hope surged in her when her mother began attending church every Sunday the weather allowed. She even began asking Mara questions. She didn’t know the answers to some of them, but she searched her Bible each day to find answers for her mother. She prayed heartily that God would draw her father and brother to Himself also but took heart that her mother seemed to be coming around.

  One week in March, after the last snowfall had melted away, leaving slushy puddles, a period of rain began pelting the winter-frozen ground. Elk River, to the north of town, began swelling with the melted snow and spring torrent. Though the banks were usually high enough to sustain a substantial amount of rain, the hardened ground refused to absorb the extra water, and the people of Cedar Springs began to worry that the waters would come rushing through the town streets.

  When the second week brought no respite from the rain, the bells of the church rang one morning announcing an emergency town meeting. At her father’s instructions Mara stayed home with her mother and began packing while her father and William went to the church house. It had reached the point where the town needed to be evacuated to ensure safety. Though the Lawtons’ house sat on a rise, they thought it prudent to stay elsewhere.

  Mara packed her things first and then went to the kitchen to pack some food since they would have to move to someone else’s home until it was safe to return. By the time she’d finished packing the food, her mother was still putting together her own things.

  Moments later Mara heard a noise outside. Peering out a window, she saw her father and William sloshing through the puddles while wagons drove by briskly on their way to their homes.

  “Mother!” she called up the stairs. “Are you almost finished? The meeting’s over. We need to hurry.” She gathered the bags by the door so her father could load them.

  The door burst open, and her father and William barged through, water dripping from their hats.

  “Where’s your mother?” her father asked.

  “She’s upstairs still. What’s happening?”

  “Will, get the wagon hitched.” Her father started up the stairs. “Letitia, we need to leave right away!”

  “I haven’t finished,” Mara heard her call. “I need to pack a few more gowns.”

  “You’ll have to leave them.” His
voice faded, but Mara could still hear him. “We’ll be going to the Dearborns’, but we must leave now! The river is about to crest. Hurry!”

  Mara picked up two satchels in each hand and opened the door. She could load the wagon while Will hitched the horses. She dashed across the ground while rain beat at her head and clothing.

  She didn’t see the wagon that had pulled up beside her until Clay stepped in front of her. He took the satchels from her hands. “I’ll load these. Where are your parents and brother?” He had to shout over the pouring rain.

  “Will’s hitching the team. Mother and Daddy are inside getting the other things.”

  “There’s no time. The water could crest anytime! We’ll take mine.” He threw the satchels into his own wagon and raced toward their house.

  “Will!” She had to shout his name again before he heard. “Leave the wagon. There’s no time!” She gestured toward Clay’s wagon, and he seemed to understand.

  Mara followed Clay to the house. His long legs had covered the ground quickly, and she hurried behind him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. For the first time, fear balled up in her stomach. What if they didn’t make it out in time? The town lay in a valley beside the river. If the water crested, it would send a raging flood through the streets of Cedar Springs.

  Father in heaven, keep us safe!

  When she entered the house, her parents were coming down the steps laden with boxes and valises. Clay took her mother’s burden. “We’ll have to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  He ushered the group to his wagon. In their haste her parents didn’t seem surprised or disgruntled to have Clay there. In fact, they seemed relieved for the help. The rain pummeled them until it had drenched them, running into their eyes, clinging to their hair.

  They threw the bags into the back. Clay lifted Mara into the wagon as her father helped her mother onto the seat. Her father and Will had no more settled beside her than they felt, more than heard, the rumbling ground. They looked at one another with widening eyes. Terror snatched the breath from Mara as she turned and saw a wall of water raging past the church and toward them at an alarming rate of speed.