by Lyn Cote
Sunny looked up and found that Noah Whitmore was looking straight at her. His intent gaze electrified her and she had to look away again.
“I’m making this announcement because I’ve staked a homestead claim in Wisconsin but must accumulate what’s necessary and return there while there is still time to put in a crop.” Still focusing on her, he paused and his jaw worked. “And I have chosen a woman who I hope will become a wife.”
A wife? Sunny sensed the conspicuous yet silent reaction Noah’s announcement was garnering. And since Noah was staring at her, everyone was now studying her, too. He couldn’t...no, he—
“Adam Gabriel,” Noah said, his voice suddenly gruffer, “I want to ask for thy foster daughter Sunny’s hand in marriage. And I want us to be married now, here, today.”
Ice shot through Sunny. She heard herself gasp. And she was not the only one. She couldn’t think straight. Noah wanted to marry her?
I couldn’t have heard that right.
Adam Gabriel and Noah’s father, Boaz, surged to their feet, both looking shocked, upset. A few other men rose and turned toward Noah.
White-haired Solomon Love, the most elderly and respected man at the gathering, stood. He raised his gnarled hands and gestured for the two fathers and the others to retake their seats. Adam sat first and then, grudgingly, Noah’s father.
Sunny could do nothing but stare at the floor, frozen in shock as Noah’s impossible words rang in her head.
* * *
Noah inhaled, trying to remember to breathe. Though this was the reaction he’d expected, his emotions raced like a runaway train.
Solomon moved to the aisle and faced Noah. “I understand why thee is in a hurry to get thy crop in, yet taking a wife is an important decision. It cannot be made lightly, hurriedly.” The man’s calm voice seemed to lower the tension in the room.
“This isn’t a hasty decision,” Noah said, finding he was having trouble getting his words out.
“When did thee court Sunny?” Solomon asked politely.
Sunny tilted her head, as if asking the same question.
Noah looked down. Everyone here knew that the woman he’d courted over a decade ago—and who had rejected him when he went off to war—sat in this very room, now the wife of another man. And how could he explain how Sunny had attracted him from the first time he’d seen her here at Christmas last year? She’d drawn him because he sensed another soul that had lived far beyond this safe haven.
The war had never penetrated the peace here. An image of soldiers, both blue and gray, lying in their own blood flashed in his mind. The gorge in his throat rose. He made himself focus on here. On now. On her.
“I haven’t approached Sunny,” Noah continued, keeping his voice steady. “In her circumstances...” His voice faded. Then he looked Sunny straight in the eye. She still looked stunned. He hoped she wasn’t going to resent this public declaration. After meeting her in town upon arriving home, he’d thought this over carefully. He’d decided the best way to spike scurrilous, misguided gossip was to propose publicly.
He cleared his throat and chose his words with care. “I didn’t want her to take my interest wrongly.” That much was true. He’d first seen the way she was treated in town long before he’d left for Wisconsin. “But I think she’ll make me a good wife. And I’ll try to make her a good husband.”
Noah turned his gaze to Solomon Love, wanting to give all his reasons. “I could have just gone to Adam Gabriel’s house later to ask, then taken her to the justice of the peace.” Noah paused and bent his head toward her as if acknowledging he would have needed her agreement. “But I didn’t want to do it like that. I didn’t want to do this the world’s way, or away from the meeting.”
“Like last time? When thee ran away and enlisted?” his father retorted, obviously unable to keep his ire undercover—even here.
Noah stood his ground with a lift of his chin. His father wasn’t going to ruin Noah’s plans. Or hurt Sunny’s feelings.
Solomon cleared his throat. “Marrying should be about thee and the woman thee wishes to marry. ‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife,’” Solomon said in a tone that effectively capped a lid on any further public cleaning of the Whitmore family closet.
Boaz glared at Noah still, but shut his mouth tightly.
Noah didn’t relax. He glanced at Sunny. She still looked frozen. He hoped he hadn’t done this all wrong. Concern tightened into a ball in his midsection.
Solomon’s wife, Eve, a little silver-haired sparrow of a woman, rose and leaned on her cane. “I think we should all pray about this now. And, Solomon, we are old and forget the passion of youth. There is no reason to prevent Sunny and Noah from marrying today and leaving for Wisconsin tomorrow with the blessing of this meeting. As long as this is what the two wish. And if they have sought God’s will and have become clear, we should not try to prevent this marriage. Which I believe,” Eve said, her quavering voice firming, “would be of benefit to both.”
“Good counsel, wife, as usual.” Solomon beamed at her. “Noah, will thee sit and let us pray for thee and Sunny that thee both have clearness about this?”
“I will.” Noah sat, suddenly very weary. He glanced at his father, who still managed to bristle though he neither moved nor spoke.
Every head bowed, so Noah lowered his and waited... He hadn’t kept track of how much time had passed until he heard Sunny’s baby stirring and whimpering. Then he realized that the service had gone on much longer than usual. Others were also becoming restless. Noah tried to sit as if he were at peace, but his nerves jittered. Homesteading he’d seen proved hard enough for a man with a wife. He needed Sunny even though he hadn’t thought of marriage after the war. He was offering her a fair deal. He needed a wife and she needed the protection a husband could provide. If Sunny refused him, he’d be forced to go alone.
Solomon stood again, his joints creaking. “We are past our time. Noah Whitmore and Sunny, if it meets with thy approval, my wife and I will meet with thee here at two this afternoon to seek clearness about this.”
Noah rose. “I’m willing and I thank thee.”
All eyes turned to Sunny. She flushed scarlet.
Constance touched Sunny’s arm. “Is thee willing to meet for clearness?”
Sunny nodded, her eyes downcast.
Constance stood. “Our foster daughter is willing.”
Noah nodded his thanks.
Then, as if released from a spell, the congregation broke up. They would head home to eat a cold dinner with no doubt a heated discussion of Noah Whitmore proposing to the latest soiled dove the Gabriels had taken in. Noah wished he could change that, but he’d discovered that human nature could rarely be denied.
Outside the meetinghouse Noah approached Sunny, his broad-brimmed Quaker hat in hand. “I know my proposal shocked thee. If thee is not interested in marrying me, just say so.”
She looked up at him and then glanced around pointedly, obviously letting him know that too many people hovered nearby. “I am unsure. I will come at two.”
He bowed his head and backed away. “At two.” Just then the woman he’d loved walked past him. She nodded and gave him an unreadable look. He felt nothing for her now. She didn’t understand him. She hadn’t understood why he’d gone to war. And he certainly was no longer the man she’d contemplated marrying ten years ago.
He turned his gaze to Sunny. She was so pretty and so quiet. He didn’t know what had caused her to become a prostitute, but she wanted to change, wanted a new start, just like he did. They were well suited in that regard.
Solomon’s Bible quote repeated in Noah’s mind. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. Declaring his proposal had sharpened his need for Sunny to
go with him.
He could only hope that she would seize her chance to start anew. And in the process, possibly save him—from himself.
* * *
Sunny paused on the step. She’d never entered the meetinghouse by herself. April sunshine had been tempered by the cool breeze from the west. She pulled her shawl tighter.
Dawn had lain down for her long afternoon nap so Sunny had come with empty arms here—to make a decision that would change both their lives forever. Should she accept Noah’s proposal? The thought of marrying chilled her, robbing her of breath.
She couldn’t think why he would want to marry her. Why any man would want to marry her.
She opened the double door and stepped inside. There in the middle of the Quaker meetinghouse on two benches facing each other sat Eve and Solomon Love, and Noah Whitmore, the man who had said in front of everybody that he thought she would make a good wife.
Fresh shock tingled through her. His thrilling words slid from her mind into her heart and left her quaking. What do I know about being a wife?
Sunny tried to conceal her trembling, the trembling that had begun this morning. She walked as calmly as she could manage toward the bench where Noah sat. Without looking directly at him, she lowered herself onto the same bench as he.
Sitting so near him stirred her—and that alarmed her. She had never felt attraction to any man. Was Noah’s recent kindness to her the cause? She faced the Loves, who had been good enough to speak to her since she’d come here. Very few of the Quakers—or Friends, as they called themselves—had made the effort to get to know her. They’d been kind but distant. She couldn’t blame them for avoiding her. They were holy, she was stained.
Eve smiled at her and, reaching across the divide, patted her hand. “Sunny, thee does not know about the clearness meeting. It is how Friends try to clear their thinking and make sure that they are within God’s will.”
Unsure of what she should say, Sunny merely nodded. She concealed her left hand in the folds of her gray skirt. In the hours since this morning she’d chafed the flesh beneath one thumb from fretting, a childhood habit. She’d been forbidden to suck her thumb or chew her nails, so when upset, she’d taken to scratching, worrying at her hand. She resisted the need to do it now.
“Noah,” Solomon asked, “please tell us again what thy plans are and why they include Sunny.”
“I have staked a claim on a homestead in western Wisconsin. Very near the Mississippi River.” Noah’s words were clipped. “Planting time is near. I need to return as soon as possible.”
Sunny’s emotions erupted—fear, worry and hope roiled inside her at Noah’s words.
“That sounds as if thee is committed to leaving us for good.” Solomon’s voice was measured and without judgment.
Noah nodded.
“Why have thee chosen to ask Sunny to be thy bride and go with thee?” Eve asked.
Sunny nearly stopped breathing. Her throat muscles clenched with fear.
Noah propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward as if thinking.
Many questions tumbled through her thoughts, but she could not make her mouth move. Was Noah asking out of pity? Was she in a position to say no to him even if it was? The memory of the man who had inappropriately touched her several days ago slithered through her again, as if he were here leering at her. Dear God, no more.
In spite of her inner upheaval, Sunny made herself sit very still as silence pressed in on all of them. She drew in a normal breath. Yes, she could refuse this proposal, but she had Dawn to think of. Would life with Noah be better for Dawn than life alone with her mother? Would he be a loving stepfather for Dawn?
“Noah?” Eve prompted.
“How does a man choose a wife?” Noah asked in return. “I need a wife and want one. I only know that Sunny has attracted my attention from the first time she came to meetings. I’ve watched her with her little girl. She seems sweet and kind.”
It seemed to be a day for Sunny to be stunned. No one—no one—had ever praised her like this. A melting sensation went through her and she wished that the backless bench would give her more support. She tightened her posture.
“That is a very clear reply,” Solomon said.
“Sunny, is thee ready to take a husband?” Eve asked.
Sunny swallowed, thinking of how he’d praised her. “I am.” She paused, then honesty forced her to bring up the topic she did not want to discuss. “I have a past.”
Noah gave a swift, stark laugh. “I have a past, too.”
“It is good to be honest with one another,” Solomon said, tempering the emotions with a glance.
“I have a daughter,” Sunny said, each word costing her. She pleated her plain gray cotton skirt.
“I know, and I’m willing to take responsibility for her,” Noah said, glancing toward her.
Sunny measured his tone. He sounded sincere. Nonetheless she had overheard a few words about his own family. And she must speak for her child. “Your father has been known to show temper.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” Noah said as if stung.
Sunny absorbed this reaction. The bad blood between the two had been plain to see even in her short time here. Maybe not getting along with his own father would make him a more considerate parent, could that be?
“I’m sorry I spoke in that tone to thee,” Noah apologized. “I promise I will provide for your daughter, and I will protect her. I’ll try to be a good father.”
Noah had just promised Dawn more than Sunny’s own unknown father had ever done for her. She nodded, still hesitant. “I...I believe you.”
“I have watched thee all my life, Noah,” Eve said. “And thee has not had an easy time. Losing thy mother so young, that was hard. And thy broken engagement when thee went off to war. But thee cannot change the past by merely moving to a new place.”
Sunny wished Eve would explain more. Who had Noah loved and been rejected by?
Noah sat up straight again. “I know that. But I cannot feel easy here. My father doesn’t need me. My five brothers are more than enough to help him.” Though he tried to hide it, hurt oozed out with each word.
“Thy father loves thee,” Solomon said. “But that does not mean that a father and son will not disagree.”
Noah’s expression hardened.
Sunny sensed his abrupt withdrawal. Noah Whitmore had been kind to her in public, protected her, something hardly anybody had ever done for her. He’d asked her to marry him and said she was sweet and kind. He offered her marriage and protection for Dawn. But could he love her?
How could she ask that? Did she even deserve a man’s love?
She touched his sleeve. He turned toward her. When she looked into his eyes, she fell headlong into a bottomless well of pain, sadness and isolation. Shaken, she pulled back her hand and lowered her gaze, feeling his piercing emotions as her own. What had caused his deep suffering? She had met other veterans. Was this just the war or something more?
What had happened to Noah Whitmore?
“I want to start fresh—” Noah’s words sounded wrenched from him “—and take Sunny and her little girl with me.” Noah claimed her hand, the one she’d just withdrawn from him. “Sunny, will thee be my wife and go west with me?”
Noah’s hand was large and rough but so gentle, and his touch warmed her. Then she did something she had barely learned to do—she prayed.
Dear Father, should I marry Noah Whitmore?
She waited, wondering if the Inner Light the Quakers believed in would come to her now, when she needed it so. She glanced up into Noah’s eyes and his loneliness beckoned her, spoke to her own lonesome heart. “Yes,” she whispered, shocking herself. Her words pushed goose bumps up along her arms.
Noah shook her hand as if sealing a contract. She wonde
red how this new beginning, complete reversal had all happened in less than one unbelievable day.
“We will make the preparations for the wedding to take place during this evening’s meeting,” Solomon said, helping his wife to her feet. “May God bless your union with a love as rich and long as Eve’s and mine.”
The elderly man’s words were emphasized by the tender look he gave his spouse, who beamed at him in turn.
Oh, to be loved like that. Sunny turned to Noah and glimpsed stark anguish flickering in his dark, dark eyes.
Maybe Noah, born and raised among these gentle people, was capable of love like that. Am I?
But what could I possibly have to offer in the way of love?
I’ve never loved any man. The thought made her feel as bleak as a cold winter day. Would she fail Noah? Men had only ever wanted her for one thing. What if that was all she was able to give?
Chapter Two
The weekly Sunday evening meeting became Noah and Sunny’s wedding. Two single straight-backed chairs had been set facing each other in the center of the stark meetinghouse. Noah sat in one with his back to the men.
Outwardly he’d prepared to do this. He had bathed, shaved and changed back into his Sunday suit—after Aunt Martha had come over to press it “proper” for his wedding. While she’d fluttered around, asking him questions about his homestead, Noah’s brothers had been restrained and watchful. Only his eldest brother, Nathan, had asked about Wisconsin and had wished him congratulations on his wedding. His father grim, silent and disapproving. Nothing new there.
Now Noah—feeling as if he were in a dream—watched Constance Gabriel, who was carrying Dawn, lead Sunny to sit on the straight-backed chair set in front of the other women. His bride managed only one glance toward him before she lowered her eyes and folded her hands. Since he couldn’t see her face, he looked at her small, delicate hands. Tried not to think about holding them, tenderly lifting them to his lips. Sunny brought out such feelings in him. He wanted to protect her and hold her close.
