Soothed by God’s gentle light, she managed to fall asleep and woke up rested and relieved. She knew that He had heard her and that He would help her. She was just afraid that the form of His help wouldn’t be what she wanted.
That night, she was surprised by Callaway’s early return home. It was way before supper time and he caught Noemie and the baby in the parlor, reading a book together.
Even before he entered, he could hear the baby’s sweet gurgles and giggles, and suddenly he felt something that he’d never felt before. He had no idea what that something was, but it melted around his heart and stayed there, warming him up. He knocked on the door and apologized for the interruption.
Noemie smiled and the baby smiled as well. It smiled at him for the first time, its little blue eyes glistening in the setting sun, whose rays were trickling in through the window. It was truly a magical sight to behold: a mother and her child.
“Can I get you some tea?” he suddenly offered, not knowing why. She was usually the one offering him all sorts of drinks and snacks. Not this time.
“Actually, I would like a tea,” she replied. “And the baby…”She stopped herself. It would be too much of her to ask him to warm up the baby’s milk. “Yes, tea would be perfect, thank you.”
“What about the baby? Does it need milk?”
She heard him ask and it passed through her like thunder, shaking her to the very core of her being. Did he just ask about the baby’s wellbeing? Did he actually pay attention to it?
“Yes…” She looked at him, in awe. “Milk. She needs milk.” She was at a loss for words.
“I can warm it up, no problem.” He smiled and went to the kitchen, returning fifteen minutes later with both the tea and the milk.
As Noemie was feeding the baby, she thought to herself that this would be the perfect time to ask him that dreaded question. Yes, it might ruin the magic of this moment, but she might also get the answer that she was looking for.
“Call? Can I ask you something?”
He sat across from her and nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Why don’t you want children?” All of a sudden, she regretted asking it. It’d be too much. He’d explode again, she was sure of this.
Instead, to her complete surprise, he just took a deep breath. “Babies… children… are frail beings,” he started. She saw how difficult this was for him and she loved him even more for telling her the truth, no matter how painful it was. “And I know that the good Lord put us all on this Earth not only to be good to one another, but also to procreate. To fill the Earth with children’s laughter.”
She smiled. He was finally opening up to her, and it seemed there was so much more to him than she had originally thought.
“But, Noemie, look at the world we live in. Just look at it. It’s full of bad things, bad people, tragic accidents and incidents that leave us questioning everything. Not that I’m saying that all of these are testing my faith, but… I’m wondering…” He paused and looked deeply into her eyes, as if trying to peer into her very soul. “I’m wondering what kind of a life my child can have when I can’t be there every step of the way to protect it?”
She finally realized it. It’s not that he didn’t want children in the real sense of the word. It was the opposite. He wanted them so much that the thought of him not being able to protect them every single second of every single day from all harm that might befall them, hurt his very being.
Noemie freed one hand and caressed him gently on the cheek.
“Oh, Callaway, you beautiful soul, you sweet, kind man.” She smiled at him. She’d had it all wrong, so very, very wrong. She felt guilty not giving him the benefit of the doubt but jumping to conclusions as to why he didn’t want children and how he was punishing her for something while in reality it was something completely different.
“And now when I look at you, at the two of you,” he continued. “It gives me hope. It makes me believe in the goodness of humanity once again and the possibility of perhaps…”
She felt like she was sitting on needles. Was he about to say what she thought he was going to say? But he remained silent.
“Callaway, sweetheart,” she whispered. “We are all put on this Earth for a purpose. Now, whether that purpose is to procreate or to serve the lord another way, only He knows. But He also wants us to know that there is nothing to fear as long as we carry Him in our hearts, as long as we act by His laws and obey His word. If we do all this, no harm shall befall us, or our beloved ones.”
“But, Noemie, the world is a cruel place.”
“Yes, it might be. That’s why you create a safe haven for your child at home. So that it knows that it always has somewhere to turn to when things get rough. You teach it that family is at the core of everything and that no one can love us like those whose blood we share.” She smiled at him.
Her words soothed him. They not only offered solace, but also a hint of hope, of a possibility for a brighter future.
“We also teach our children to do the same: to carry Him within their hearts, so that when they are away from us, their loving parents, they are never alone, never left to their own devices. Don’t you see, Callaway, that there is nothing to be afraid of as long as He is with us?”
Callaway gazed into the child’s eyes. It was smiling at him. It never stopped doing so. Her eyes were bottomless and blue, like the immeasurable ocean, hiding secrets that only deep contemplation can reveal. He wanted to keep looking into this ocean, to get lost in it. Now that he knew that losing control, letting God be his guide, didn’t mean that anything bad would happen.
“So that means we can keep her?” Noemie couldn’t resist. She had to ask this question burning her up on the inside.
Callaway looked at both of them and smiled. He didn’t have to say anything else. Noemie knew, and it was the best news she had ever received.
“But what about the couple that was supposed to adopt her?” She suddenly remembered that someone was to come for little Pearl and take her away from them.
“Well,” he started, placing his palm gently on the child’s head, “we’ll have to inform them that the deal is off.”
“The deal?” She laughed. “You’re talking about her like she’s a business affair!”
“Well, you know what I meant!” His laughter joined hers. Only then did he realize that it had never felt so good to laugh.
“We’ll tell them not to come and that’s that.”
“Will you send them a telegram?”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” he promised.
She smiled.
“She is kinda cute,” Callaway added as he gazed into little Pearl’s face.
“She has a name, you know.”
“Oh, does she nah?” He laughed. “I had no idea. When did you come up with it?” he inquired, teasingly.
“Well, I gave it to her a few days after she arrived. I couldn’t resist. She’s just so precious, isn’t she?”
“That she is. Now, her name, Ma’am? What did you choose?” He seemed eager to find out.
“Pearl.”
“Pearl Saunders.” He repeated it. “I like the sound of that. Our little Pearl.” He kissed the baby on the forehead and she giggled in response.
“I think she likes you.” Noemie winked at him. “I think you two will get on mighty well.”
Both of them burst out laughing. It felt good to finally have everything out in the open, sorted out.
“And we’ll have to buy stuff for her, you know.” Noemie added.
“So, it’s gonna cost me?” he scolded her jokingly. “Oh, boy!” They laughed again. “And maybe we can even try for one of our very own,” he whispered into her ear.
Noemie went silent. Why did he have to mention that?
“But, you know I can’t,” she started, but he pressed his finger gently onto her lips, to prevent her from finishing her sentence. “I know it all. And I also know that the good Lord gives to those who pray. Miracles always happen.
We just have to be patient and work hard.” He winked, like a mischievous little boy.
She found him irresistible.
“What do you say?”
She had no words to express her happiness. She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest any minute because there was only so much joy she could take.
“I say yes!” she suddenly exclaimed, which made little baby Pearl widen her eyes in wonder at what was going on. This again made the young couple laugh out loud. Finally, Noemie had everything that she’d ever wanted: a whole family to love and take care of.
THE END
Return to TOC
The Girl Who Went West
Return to TOC
Chapter 1
“What do you think it would be like, Polly? If it were to really happen to us one day? Who could really say when that day might be, what do you suppose it might be like?”
“Oh Meg, who's to say? Is this really the kind of game you want to play? Don’t you find it a little bit, I don’t know-”
“Come on, I don’t believe that for one second. I’ve known you for practically my entire life, and I’ve never known you not to know yourself well enough to speak what you mean. Go on, you can say it. Whatever ‘it’ may be.”
“It’s just that it seems like a depressing kind of game to play. That’s all. I guess I just don’t see where the enjoyment comes in.”
Meg rolled over onto her bed, looking up at the ceiling of her small bedroom but seeing something else instead. How many times had the two of them sat on this bed and had this same conversation? A hundred times? A thousand? They had been having this same conversation since they were small and, for Meg, it hadn’t become any less enthralling. She loved this game, the one where they planned out what their lives might look like in the future. Because it could be anything, couldn’t it? It could be anything at all. That was the thing about the future: it hadn’t happened yet and so it was full of possibilities that the present kept hidden. She could find a rich stranger, or a prince masquerading as a pauper like in the fairytales. Or maybe she would make some great discovery, scientific or otherwise, something that could change the world. Why not? She was every bit as capable of changing the world as anyone else, and why did her thoughts on the matter need to be practical? Being practical was all well and good, but dreaming big was how one propelled herself forward, and she was a girl who intended to move forward.
“Is everything alright, Meg? I feel like you’ve gone off somewhere far away.”
“Yes, I’m here. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“About what you said. Why is it that you think it’s depressing? I guess I don’t see that.”
“Well, look at us. We aren’t overrun with possibilities, now are we? Playing make believe is nice and all, but when you look at reality you and me are just poor girls with poor families. We work hard and, chances are, we’ll be working hard for a long, long time. Men don’t marry women like us, not if they can help it. They marry girls with wealthy families, girls who can bring something to the table.”
“Is that really what you believe? That we bring nothing to the table?”
Polly leapt up off of Meg’s creaky bed and began pacing around her tiny, musty room with her frustration written all over her face. She was a relatively plain looking girl but sweet, with a big heart and an astounding capacity for empathy. These were qualities that Meg believed to be essential if you were going to build a life-long relationship, but Polly’s father had told her many times how little she had to offer that a man would want and, heartbreakingly, she seemed to have believed him. Just thinking that a parent could do that to his own daughter made Meg fuming mad, and she sat up like a shot, wanting her friend to realize how special she was, wanting to hear her say that she knew she was better than the rude comments her father had made.
“Well, I don’t know, Meg. I’m honestly just trying to be realistic here. Maybe things are different for you.”
“Different? Why would they be different?”
“Because,” Polly said with a pained, soft voice that made Meg’s heart hurt, “things are different for beautiful girls. Being beautiful, well, that’s almost like its own form of currency. It gets you things that nothing else can get you. You have that, which means you have something I don’t have.”
Meg’s stomach clenched and she looked down at the old wooden floor. What was one supposed to say to something like that? Could she disagree, tell Polly how wrong she was even though what she was saying was true? Whether it was fair or not, the way a girl looked made a difference with how she got by in the world, and beauty was always something Meg Dylan had had in spades. She was naturally athletic, her body moving with a confidence that very few people came by naturally. She had thick black curls that hung in ringlets down her back and creamy white skin that always seemed to be ever so slightly flushed, which left her with a pretty pink glow. Her big blue eyes were perpetually shining with curiosity and yes, perhaps a little bit of mischief, and all in all she was striking to behold. True, she was already twenty one, which was almost a little old for a girl to be unmarried, but she still got looks of admiration just while walking down the street for her to believe that finding a good match would be possible for her.
Polly wasn’t quite so fortunate. She didn’t have terribly good looks, which meant that being almost twenty-two and unmarried was a frightening thing for her. What she was saying was true. They were all living in the same world but in a myriad of different circumstances and it was those circumstances that so often dictated the shape a life would take. It wasn’t fair, there was nothing just about it, but knowing that didn’t change anything. Meg didn’t know what to say that would be truthful and would also make her friend feel better and, seeing as she didn’t want to outright lie, she decided that her best course of action would be to change the subject. She was just about to do it, too, when a harsh voice ringing out from below made her stop in her tracks.
“Meg! Megan! What in god’s name are you doing up there?”
It was her mother, which for most girls would probably be a welcome sound, but Meg was not most girls. This was true in many respects, but sadly it was especially true when it came to her relationship with her mother. Although she longed for the sort of mother-daughter relationship she had read about, the kind in which the daughter would want nothing more than to run home and confide in her mother when the smallest thing happened just to receive reassurance and love, that was far from the relationship she actually had. Her mother was, it pained her to admit, even to herself, a hard and angry woman. There was nothing comforting about her and she would have cast Meg aside in disgust had she ever made the mistake of coming to her to share either joy or sorrow. Although she was ashamed of the fact that her mother was so harsh and her relationship with her so broken, it was something she had spoken to Polly about at great length. Polly knew very well how cruel Mrs. Whitley could be and she looked at Meg now with a mixture of sympathy and fear.
“Has she been angry lately? Or perhaps I should say more angry than usual?”
“I don’t know,” Meg said glumly. “I suppose so. I’m not sure why. I wish I could ask her about it but it seems like everything I do just makes things worse. I try to just stay out of the way but that’s hard to do when there’s so little space for the two of us to live in. Believe me, if there’s anyone who would like me to get married, it’s my mother. I imagine she would be over the moon about it, just to have me out of her hair.”
“It’ll happen,” Polly whispered in a voice she must have hoped was reassuring but in reality only made Meg feel more forlorn. “It’ll happen just the way you’re hoping for. I was wrong before. If anyone deserves to find a prince charming, it’s you.”
Meg opened her mouth, unsure of whether or not she was going to agree, disagree, or break into tears, but the sound of her mother’s footsteps on the stairway stopped her short. If she was coming up the stairs, she must be in a very bad mood indeed.
Usually she contented herself with just the yelling. If she was making her way up the stairs it meant that she was unhappy enough to make a scene in front of Polly, which was exactly the sort of thing Meg wanted desperately to avoid.
Meg had often wondered what had happened in her mother’s life to turn her into the kind of woman she had become. What she did know she had learned from her grandmother before she passed, and that was very little information. She knew that her mother had gotten married very young to a man who was said to have a promising future in the military. Unfortunately, he had died in the service when Meg was so young that she’d retained no memory of him. She had seen a picture of him once, only once, and had burned the image into her mind. She could see it still, whenever she wanted to. All she had to do was shut her eyes and he was there. How would life have been different if he had lived? Would her mother be a kinder, softer version of who she had actually become? Would they have enough money to live comfortably instead of living hand to mouth, the stress of losing their meager little home or simply going hungry hanging over their heads at all times? No wonder Meg so often chose to escape her life and retreat into her daydreams. In those daydreams there was the constant promise of someone riding into her life and rescuing her, taking her away from her dreary life and replacing it with one that had at least a little hope. Because the life she had with her mother left so much to be desired. Even looking at Polly’s sad face, the face of a girl who could not fathom having a mother who behaved the way that Meg’s did, made Meg want to pack a suitcase and just make a run for it.
“Megan Whitley! What exactly do you think you’re doing? Did you not hear me calling you? Have you gone deaf? What is the meaning of this?”
“It’s my fault, ma’am. I’ve been talking her ear off. You know how I can get going sometimes.”
Mrs. Whitley looked at Polly with stony eyes and Meg was sure even without asking that Polly was already regretting speaking up on Meg’s behalf. Not that it mattered. In no time at all Polly would be leaving this place, off to her rather poor but still incredibly loving family, and Meg would be left with her mother, the lot she had been left in life.
Romance: Western Mail Order Bride Bethany's Love -Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) Page 162
