by Sky Winters
“A little,” Thomas said, huffing out a quiet laugh. “I’ve never held any important role before.”
Affection softened her heart, and she playfully bumped into him. “You are doing wonderfully, do not worry.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, giving me away should not be so challenging. You couldn’t possibly want to keep me.”
“That’s true. That would be a rather burdensome task.”
She snorted, her smile widening so much that it bit into her cheeks. “Ass.”
“That’s not proper language for a lady, much less a bride.”
“I felt it appropriate to make an exception in this case.”
“Ah, understandable.”
Before she could make another comment, the organist began to play his part. Anticipation jittered through her, and she blew out a long breath. “Here we go.” She extended her elbow out a bit, and Thomas encircled his arm around it. Then, taking one slow step at a time, they walked down the aisle.
Christina nearly gasped as everyone stood up from their seats and turned to face her. Apparently, it hadn’t helped that she had been expecting them to do that. She nearly laughed, so anxious and excited, but she swallowed it back and returned her focus forward, on Wyatt. The closer she got to him, the easier it was to make out his face. His eyes were alight with joy, his facial muscles lax with awe. She did not deserve to have such a look directed her way, but she cherished every second of it.
Once she was standing in front of Wyatt, Thomas had sneaked away to sit in his spot on the front pew. The pastor had said something important, Christina knew, but she couldn’t take her attention off of Wyatt. She soon tuned out the pastor, the whispers amongst the pews—she was mesmerized by Wyatt’s glazed eyes as he stared back at her.
A little boy—Thomas’s nephew—walked in between and held up a pillow with Christina’s ring and Wyatt’s ring.
Christina jumped, shocked by how quickly time had seemed to past. She trembled as she grabbed Wyatt’s ring with her right hand, and she continued to tremble when Wyatt grabbed her own ring. Then, as the pastor instructed them, she put Wyatt’s ring on his finger, and then he put her ring on her finger. She continued to tremble, and Wyatt squeezed her hand for a brief second before he released it and backed away.
It was silly of her to miss him—to want to move closer to him and have him hold her—but she did. Shaking her head at herself, she blamed the strange sensation on the emotional nature of this occasion.
“I do,” Wyatt said, his smile widening.
She glanced at the pastor, who was more or less telling her to say the same thing.
“I do,” she said, giggling a little as she returned her gaze to Wyatt. She felt so dazed—time was moving at inconsistent paces—too fast, too slow—the only thing that was keeping her steady on her feet was the thought of being in Wyatt’s arms soon.
He winked at her knowingly. He never judged her for daydreaming, not even on their wedding day. God, she loved him.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the pastor said, closing the bible in his hands.
Wyatt stepped forward and bowed his head until his lips met hers. Their family and friends cheered loudly. And though Christina knew she should end the kiss promptly, she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing Wyatt’s collar and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. She would never get enough of this man.
When they finally parted, he whispered, “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she whispered back.
The organist played another tune, signaling them to leave. Christina hesitated for a moment, inhaling the scent of Wyatt, before she grabbed his hand. Then the two of them hurried down the aisle, their friends still cheering for them.
THE END
REDEMPTION BRIDE
Lucy Evans stood silently on the grimy platform of Union Station, Denver. The smoke from the engines had covered everything in a light dusting of black powder, like a dark frost; it was certainly cold enough. She was early, her train wouldn’t be leaving for well over an hour, and so she sat down gingerly on the wooden seat that ran parallel to the railroad track, not wanting to dirty her new dress; her only dress.
There was a small yet cosy waiting room, bright with lamps and a fire blazing in the grate. It was full of respectable people, good people, fine women of the State and businessmen too. A couple of small children sat wide-eyed and open mouthed, clutching at their mother’s skirts for comfort.
The young woman preferred to wait outside. It was bitterly cold and her dress was thin, yet she did dare enter to join the others; she was not one of them. Lucy Evans was not a respectable woman, not a good woman. She did not deserve to sit with decent people, and they would not have accepted her, despite the changes she had made.
She had travelled a long and weary road and at 18 years of age she was going to put the past behind her once and for all and try and make a new life for herself, far away from this place. Denver had been her home for many years, but there were too many unhappy memories and besides, everyone knew her as the old Lucy Evans. Now she had found a new path; now she had found God.
Orphaned at the age of six, and abandoned by her aunt at 12, her life had been hard. She had lived on her wits and the seldom kindness of strangers for a few years, but at the age of 14 she had met a man in town who had promised her a home and a job; he had meant a brothel and prostitution.
There she had learned that love was cold and paid for by fat and sweaty business men whose respectable wives no longer gave comfort; or the cruel, thin lipped men that would beat her for their own pleasure. Lucy had hardened her heart and closed her mind to all of these things; it was the only way she could survive.
The change had happened almost six months ago, in the summer and in one of her rare moments of free time. She had walked into town and heard a Minister of the Lord preaching in the Square. His sermon had touched her heart. She hadn’t understood everything but the words he read from the bible moved her deeply.
‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness’.
It was if a something had clicked on inside her head, her hardened heart had opened up with the realisation that it was not too late to be saved, even for a woman like her. She had been abandoned by everyone except God, and now it was only He who could save her.
Lucy had seen the light, literally, and from that day on she had started saving every dime and nickel that she could, to get away from that forsaken place. God would forgive everything; he could see into her heart of hearts and that her work was necessary to release her from the sinful past. All she needed was to save enough for a one-way ticket to Paradise, and a new dress.
Paradise had come in the shape of a remote mining town in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. One night she had woken from a vivid dream in which a messenger of the Lord had visited her with a message. He hadn’t been that specific, and yet she felt a deep calling to travel out west. Her only hope had been to find a man willing to marry her, and she had replied to an advertisement placed in the Denver Times, looking for young woman to become mail order brides. There were plenty of lonely gold miners out in the west, and she had written several letters in a bold and looping script, calling herself Millie Jane and inventing a past far removed from her present circumstances. Even lonely old prospectors could be choosy.
An offer of marriage had arrived in the first letter she received, and without hesitation she had packed up her few belongings, leaving behind only the past. Until this moment she had been convinced that it was God’s will. Only now, sat on the cold and windy platform, did she start to have doubts.
His name was Gus and he was twenty years older than her. He had built his own cabin and had assured her that he had made enough money to support a wife and perhaps even a child or too.
She did not even know what he looked like, she did not care; God would guide her and he would not let her down. Lucy did not expect love or even hap
piness but to live a good and Christian life was all that she desired, and felt she deserved little more.
The nearby whistle of an approaching train caused her to jump up from the seat and clutch eagerly at her bag, her heart racing as the engine rounded a bend in the track and was clearly in sight. It was time to say goodbye to Lucy Evans and embrace the new Millie Jane. With a thumping heart she climbed up the steps and entered the carriage, sitting close to a window and avoiding eye contact as the compartment filled to capacity. Staring out into the old city for one last time, her eyes met her own reflection in the glass. A pale, oval face with large grey eyes stared back at her, it was neither ugly nor beautiful but some might have called it wistful or ethereal. Lucy Evans called it hopeful.
It was a long road ahead. She could only take the train so far, a wagon, the Pony Express would meet her, and from there she would make the long, slow journey to Sierra Nevada.
The journey gave her time to think about her life, all the cruel and vile things she had seen and been made to do, and as every mile distanced her from the past she felt cleansed. Shifting her small bag onto her knee she looked inside. She didn't have many belongings, only the basic essentials to see her through the journey. Her one treasured item was the old battered bible that Jess, one of the women in the brothel had given to her just before she had left.
Jess was a large, busty woman, the kind that the city business men preferred in their beds to their stuffy proud wives- but would never acknowledge in public. Outwardly she was a jolly and generous woman, with an easy laugh and could drink most men under the table- a good time girl some would have called her. Privately she was a sad and heartbroken woman with the death of two children and an abusive husband in her past. But tears and a sob story did not provide food or shelter and after running away from her vicious husband she had found herself almost destitute. That had been over 20 years ago. The only option available to a single and penniless woman had been prostitution. She had chosen survival, if only for her dead children's sake and had locked her grief away deep inside her heart.
Jess was old enough to be Lucy's mother, and she had taken the young girl under her wing like a surrogate mother hen. It had made life at the brothel almost bare able. Lucy had been the one to sit with Jess in the dark hours, when brimming over with cheap liquor, the tears had fallen and the heartbreak had sobbed from her soft and fleshy breast in great waves of grief. She had held the small and bloated hands, heavy with cheap rings stuffed onto the stubby fingers, the only touch of kindness that Jess had received in years.
It had been Jess who had helped her escape; not that she was bound to the brothel, but Jake, the owner had been abusive when he found out her plans to leave- she was one of his youngest girls and a favourite with his clientele. He had struck her and her face had been bruised for a week, threatened to write to her prospective husband and reveal her past- but she had kept the letter from Gus by her side at all times and had not revealed her destination. Jess had supported her, helped with the arrangements. It had been Jess that suggested she change her name, just as a precaution. She knew a man who could forge a new birth certificate- just altering her Christian name would do the trick- besides her surname was soon to change anyway. She did not have to spend any time thinking on a new name- she chose Millie Jane- the names of Jess's two lost daughters.
Although it broke Jess’s heart to see her young friend leave, she would not have had it any other way.
They had parted tearfully that morning in the brothel, neither wanting a long and protracted farewell.
At the sight of the old battered bible, Lucy could feel the tears start to gather behind her eyes. The old leather was soft beneath her fingertips and she longed for the comfort of her old friend. Jess hadn't really understood about her new found faith but she had accepted it all the same. The bible had been her only connection to her own childhood; a Christmas present from a father she had rarely seen. Making it a present to Lucy had been an enormous gesture; a gift of love.
Lucy had tried to persuade the older women to travel with her, to find God in her own heart, to find peace, but Jess had sadly shaken her head. It was too late for her own redemption; the truth being that she did not want to be saved.
The Bible fell open to a page that was bookmarked with two letters. Unfolding the paper she re read the words that she had seen a hundred times, written in a bold and steady hand. It was the correspondence she had received from Gus.
Dear Miss Evans,
I hope this letter finds you well?
I have seen your advertisement placed in the Denver Times. I am a Gold Miner out West and have a homestead in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I am looking for a wife and companion out here. I have built my own dwelling which is modest yet comfortable and I can offer a good young Christian woman like yourself a decent home. I am a regular church goer myself and I only drink in moderation. I have no image of myself to send but I am healthy and a good worker.
Yours sincerely
Gus Mason
She smiled recalling the morning when she had first received the letter. God had answered her prayers and was giving her the chance for a new start. She had replied immediately to the note, stating that she was happy with the proposal and once she had sorted out her travel arrangements she would send a further note, letting him know when to expect her. She had included a small image of herself, a studio portrait taken in town. It was quite a good picture she thought- she had worn her best dress and Jess had styled her hair. She had looked pretty and wholesome which is just what she wanted to achieve; to look like any other respectable girl in town.
Gus had replied that he was both surprised and delighted by her quick and positive response. In reality he had anticipated months of correspondence and careful wooing. He was not particularly a man of words, but promised faithfully that he would look after her. He had been touched by her image and had not expected such a young and pretty woman as a result of his search.
Lucy had quickly made the travel arrangements and had written ahead to let him know of her plans and her expected date and time of arrival. There hadn't been time to wait for his reply and she prayed that he would be there to meet her.
As the miles flew passed, the landscape changed from the buildings of the city and the suburbs to the gradual progression into the countryside and onwards as they approached the Sierra Nevada and the more isolated places in the mountains.
She had waited for more than three hours for the delayed Pony Express to take her on the final leg of her journey. Now she felt much more confident mingling with the strangers she met in the new places she found herself. In the coach she travelled alongside a respectable middle aged woman and her child, introducing herself as Millie Jane Evans and creating a whole new history. Lucy had been surprised and rather guilty at the ease with which she could lie. Reinventing herself hadn't been too difficult so far. She had told Mrs. Adams that she was visiting her old father, a retired gold miner in the mountains; it had an element of truth and she was sure that God would forgive her the small white lie. Anyhow, it was a necessity. If she told the truth no respectable man nor woman would speak to her, she would be shunned from society and Gus would never have agreed to marry her.
When Mrs. Adams and her daughter left the coach, she was the only passenger remaining. With only an hour or so to travel before she reached her final destination Lucy began to fret. What if he hadn't received her letter and wasn't waiting for her? What if he had changed his mind about marrying her? It had all happened in such a haste, in her hurry to be away from the brothel and to start her new life as a good Christian woman. But they were not her biggest fears. It was not a Christian thought but what if she did not like him, and did not or could not love him, what then? She would have to put her trust into Gods hands.
The light had started to dim and the air chill. Lucy was cold and emptiness gnawed at her stomach. Her eyes were heavy and weary yet she could not sleep. After hours of sitting on a wooden seat, the carriage had
become uncomfortable and she longed to stretch her legs. All she could do was to gaze out of the small compartment window at the white orb of the moon hanging above the approaching mountains, and wonder at her fate.
The horses slowed to a juddering halt at their final destination. They were over three hours late from the scheduled time and she doubted that there would be anyone to greet her. Her life to date had taught her to be resourceful, and she had a little money put away for an emergency and the carriage driver had told her there was a small respectable hotel where a single young woman could stay if needed to at the end of the street.
As she stepped down the carriage steps she could hear a piano tinkling from within the local saloon. The street was deserted except for a stray mangy dog skulking about in the shadows. Looking up the street to her left there stood a general store, all locked up and shuttered for the night and several other wooden clad buildings, similarly all in darkness.
To her right she could see a large building towards the end of the street. She could see that several lights were lit in many of the rooms and she guessed it to be the hotel. The coach driver confirmed her opinion and she set off slowly down the muddy track of road, eager for a good night’s sleep.
As she wandered down the dirty street, careful to avoid the patches of mud and horse dung, a voice sounded out across the cold night air.
“Miss.”
Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. The voice was male, low and rich, and it rang out clearly, even though she was certain that she had been alone.
“Miss, wait”.
The voice sounded nearer and she could hear the soft pad of footsteps approaching.
Turning round her hands flew to her chest in fright. A tall, dark figure had moved out of the shadows and was almost upon her and she stepped back in fear.
The figure stopped and removed his hat. She could focus on his features now, quite handsome with dark hair and clean shaven. His eyes looked kindly upon her as he bowed his head apologetically.
