He swallowed. “Mary…” he cleared his throat, “She died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
His eyes were locked on to the table a few inches in front of his plate. He didn’t dare look up.
“Where did you meet her?”
Not more questions. He couldn’t take thinking about her like this. Or at all.
“I, um,” he sucked in air like a drowning man, “Church.”
She was silent for a time and he risked a glance at her only to find her eyes resting gently on him.
He saw compassion and something that looked like understanding in her gaze. He didn't know all that she had been through, but it was possible she understood loss like he did. It would almost be a relief to share his burden with someone as kind and caring as Alice.
Mary’s sweet face rose to the surface of his mind and the pain came back as fresh as if she’d died yesterday. She had been the one thing he’d gotten right in this life. Scratch that—the first and Jack was the second—but she’d also caused him the most pain he’d ever felt.
His love for her, begun from afar when he saw her at church that fateful, hot day in August, now acted as a reminder of what had been. Nothing could match up to that…could it?
He glanced at Alice again, this time her eyes were downcast. Could he learn to love again?
Just the thought brought him fear. The painful memories in the wake of Mary’s death were enough to make a weaker man go mad. If he hadn’t had Jack, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.
Now there was another woman in his life. A sweet, delicate, fragile woman who needed protection despite her fierce determination. Alice needed to know that not everyone in her life would hit her. That she truly could feel safe in their home.
It was wrong though. He wasn’t able to love her—not like she deserved, and not with Mary’s memory hanging on to him like the threads of a dream after you first woke up.
Without a word he pushed to his feet and noticed her jump in response. He mentally chiding himself for the quick movements and felt even worse when he saw the tremor that went through her hands.
“Sorry…I have to go.” He turned and left, not even allowing himself a glance back at his son.
Chapter 5
Several weeks had passed since their dinner. The one time that she’d seen Robert open up to her, though he did it so begrudgingly. The look of terror on his face when she’d mentioned Jack’s mother had almost made her take back her question, but something had pressed her to continue.
She felt bolder with Robert, not that you could have seen that from their interactions since, but she wasn’t afraid of him. He had proven himself to be a gentle man and she trusted that he wouldn’t lash out and strike her. It didn’t make her any less jumpy during the day, but when he was home at night and they spent time reading near the fire, she felt as relaxed as she ever had.
But one thing troubled her. She knew he was still in love with his late wife. It was etched in the lines of his face. The way he looked at his son. The way he looked at her. It was almost as if he wanted to let go of Mary but couldn’t.
Then again, was Alice reading in to what she wanted to see? It was entirely possible because over the last few weeks she had started to care more deeply for Robert than she would have imagined.
It was the small things he did. The way he took care of Jack. The way he did simple chores because he knew she didn't like them. The way he brought her gifts from town and left them, never saying a word. He was better at romance than he realized.
Tears pricked her eyes. What could she do though? She couldn’t make him let go of his former wife. She couldn’t help him get over the loss if he wasn’t willing to talk to her.
Jack cried out and she bent down and picked him up, snuggling him against her. The only thing that came to mind was telling him how she felt, but the thought terrified her. How could she tell him, a man still grieving the loss of his wife, of her feelings? Was it even fair to tell him? Was it selfish?
The reality that he was leaving for a week on a cattle drive pressed the thoughts to the forefront of her mind.
She thought of her own mother and how she had felt after her death. The pain had stayed sharp for a long time, but she’d had a friend who had talked with her about the loss. It had helped.
Maybe that was it!
She grabbed a blanket and wrapped Jack up in it then headed toward the barn, her determination driving her despite the nerves buzzing in her stomach.
Walking into the barn, she took a fortifying breath as she walked toward the back where the light streamed in from the cracks in the boards. Robert used a pitchfork to toss hay into a stall and she paused for a moment, watching the muscles in his back work as he twisted and turned, hefting the hay back and forth.
“Robert,” she finally said, breaking the silence.
He turned. “Alice.” He was surprised, but he didn’t look unhappy to see her. “What are you doing out here?”
She frowned. Now that she was here her resolve crumbled. Could she really tell him what she wanted to?
“I wanted to talk to you before you left.”
“All right,” he said, tossing the pitchfork to the ground and coming toward her. He stood, strong arms folded in front of him and an open expression on his face.
It was now or never. She had to tell him what she was thinking or else risk never gaining the courage to say something again. Dropping her gaze, she sent up a prayer for wisdom to cover her words.
“I just…” she bit her lip, “I just wanted to tell you that I know how it feels to lose someone you love.” Her brow furrowed in concentration. She couldn’t cry—not now. “I lost my mother and went through a very hard time, especially while I was still living with my father. The other day, when we talked about your wife, I could tell the pain is still very fresh and…I wanted you to know that…I’ll wait.”
Heat flooded her face and she risked a glance up at him. She knew her message was cryptic but nothing was coming out like she’d planned it.
“I mean, I can wait for you to share about her—if you ever want to.” She felt disappointment in herself for covering up the reason she’d shared—that she wanted to wait for him to get over Mary—but with Robert standing there, unmoving and unspeaking, she didn’t know what else to do.
“Thank you,” he finally said. “It is difficult to talk about her. I appreciate your patience.” He turned back to the hay, bending to pick up the pitchfork.
Apparently their conversation was over. Alice felt the disappointment and turned to go, knowing that, though she’d had the courage to say something, she had been a coward in the end.
***
Robert stared into the campfire, the flames licking the dry logs. The small fire gave off little heat in the chill of the plains, the wind rushing across the open space and cutting through his clothes. It was unseasonably cold tonight but Robert didn’t mind. It matched his mood.
Alice’s words haunted him, causing him distraction after distraction the whole day. He couldn’t count how many times Leo, the lead hand, had to call attention to something he’d forgotten to do.
What was it about that woman that got under his skin and sunk into his thoughts? For such a mild and sweet woman, she took over his mind much to easily.
“What’s eatin’ at ya?”
The gravelly voice came from behind his right shoulder and Robert turned to see Leo standing there, cup of coffee in hand.
“Join me?” Robert offered.
“Sure.” The man, older than most of the hands, sat down next to Robert and stared into the fire, taking sips of his coffee and squinting his eyes against the brightness of the flames. “So, you going to tell me what’s botherin’ you or what?”
Robert considered what he could say. His heart was anchored to his late wife but his new wife threatened to break through his loyalty. No, he couldn’t share that. It was his problem. Something he had to deal with.
“It’s nothi
ng. Sorry about being distracted today. I’ll be more alert tomorrow.”
“Right,” Leo said, unconvinced. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that new wife of yours now would it?”
Robert blinked.
“Thought so.” Leo took another swig of coffee then turned his perceptive gaze to Robert. “What’s the trouble, son?”
His words were so kind and he seemed genuinely interested in the answer that Robert found himself opening up to the man. Sharing his thoughts and feelings about Alice since she’d arrived.
When he was done Leo nodded slowly. “I see. Sounds like that new wife of yours has been through a lot. Kind of like you have.”
“You could say that.”
“And it also sounds like you’re trying to hold on to the past with one hand and grab onto the future with the other. How’s that working out for you?”
“Not well.”
“Far be it for me to tell you what to do, don’t take this as that,” Leo shrugged then looked back into the flames. “But let me just say that folks that are no longer with us don’t tend to hold grudges or have any feelings at all.”
The harshness of the man’s words struck Robert, but he couldn’t fault the logic.
“I know it’s not easy to move past that type of pain. I lost my first wife and it took me years before I was ready to love again, but I did. Love again, that is.” A toothy smile took over the features of his worn face. “And it’s been the best, second-love a man could ask for.”
Robert let out a sigh. “But it feels like betrayal.”
“Son, just because you loved your first wife doesn’t mean your love stopped when she breathed her last. It just means that you have felt the love of a good woman. Why couldn’t God let you feel that twice in one lifetime?”
Robert dared to hope that this was true. When he dug past the hurt over Mary that he continued to dredge up, the truth remained. He wanted to get to know Alice better. To accept the feelings he had for her and uncover what more there could be.
“Take it from me,” Leo finally said, standing, “love is a living thing. It may be cut off, but it can grow again.”
Robert watched the man as he walked to the next campfire, checking in with the other hands. Could Leo be right? Could his marriage to Alice contain love like his marriage to Marry had?
Chapter 6
Alice scrubbed the floor, the water in the bucket turning to a dirty brown. Her ankle felt strong and she had finished reorganizing the pantry while the bread was rising near the warmth of the sun coming through the window. When Jack went down for his nap she had decided it was time to clean the floors, though her knees had already started to protest the awkward position.
The front door opened and she jerked her head in the direction, surprised to see Robert standing there. His hat was in his hand and dark black hair framed his face in a wild and windblown look. His green eyes blazed with some emotion she couldn’t place, but he didn’t look unhappy. In fact, he looked…alive.
“You’re back.”
“I am.”
She stood, placing the soaking brush in the bucket and went to the counter. “I’m almost done with the floor but I can make you something to eat if—” The plate she’d just picked up slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces. Her heart dropped and frustration and embarrassment overtook her. “Oh no!”
Before she knew what was happening, Robert stood at her side and stilled her hands, covering them with his own. “Are you all right?”
She was shaking, but this time it had nothing to do with her clumsiness and everything to do with the man standing close to her, the smell wind and horses emanating from him.
“I-I’m sorry.”
He smiled down at her, not releasing her fingers. “It was an accident. No need to apologize.”
She felt her flush deepen and looked down. Why was he so close? Why was he holding her hands? Had something changed?
“Alice, when you came into the barn last week…”
She looked up at him, surprised at his change in subject.
“You said you’d wait for me.”
He didn’t add anything and she felt the need to reply. “Yes…”
“It was unfair of me to withhold so much from you.” His shoulders drooped and he shook his head. “To be honest, I married you because my sister recommended it and I needed someone to watch after Jack.”
The truth, though it was one she had guessed, still stung to hear it. “I see—”
“But,” he said, before she could say more, “I’ve realized that’s not fair.”
“Oh?”
“No. I was deeply in love with my wife Mary. We had known each other for many years before we married and it took us a long time to get pregnant with Jack. When he was born, it was the happiest time of our lives. Then Mary took sick,” his voice cracked and she saw the emotion reflected in his eyes. “I was devastated by her death and, quite frankly, didn’t think I could love again.”
She searched his eyes, looking for the truth. What did he think now?
“I was wrong to believe that you can only love once.” He shook his head, his mouth quirking into a half smile. “I just wanted to tell you that…I want to be invested in our marriage. I want to try to love again.”
Her heart soared at his words. “Really?”
“Yes.” He pulled her hand up and kissed the knuckles. “I see such amazing qualities in you and have realized over the time that you’ve been here that I want to open up to you. My connection to the past has been holding me back. Forgive me?”
“Of course.”
He looked into her eyes, searching them as he leaned closer. Her heart began to beat more rapidly with the realization that he was going to kiss her. She had hoped for this moment, unsure that it would ever happen.
“And Alice,” he whispered, his lips nearly on hers, “You will always be safe with me.”
Robert's words were almost too good to be true, as was his kiss when their lips finally touched. But it was proof that God’s plans were always for the best.
God had delivered Alice from the debilitating fear she had lived in. He had provided her with a new home and a new life. And now, for the first time, she not only felt safe, but she was safe.
THE END.
A Pregnant Bride
Mail Order Bride
By: Christian Michael
Chapter One
Lillian’s head was swimming in the hot, soupy summer heat. She, her two sisters and her mother were all crammed into the tiny church reception room. Her nose filled with her mother’s warm perfume but it made her feel sick, so sick she could hardly bear to keep her eyes open
‘What do you mean Benson isn’t there?’ she said, her voice barely audible. Lillian’s head remained firmly down, her veil providing a tiny shelter from the outside world making everything look softer. She and her sister’s hair were filled with peach blossoms and tiny petals littered the floor, becoming creased and browning with little pink bursts at their edges.
‘No-one’s seen him since yesterday, my dear Lillian, I’m so sorry’ Margaret’s voice was gentle, lilting. Margaret was the youngest, barely fourteen. Her hair was wild and strawberry blonde, worked into careful braids for the occasion which looped round at the back of her head. She was wearing her best summer dress of pink linen which she had almost outgrown. Mother was terrified that she would end up as tall as her own sister Elizabeth. ‘Finding her a husband made your grandmother ill with nerves,’ she used to say. Margaret was optimistic and gentle almost to a fault. Clara, the middle daughter, was studious and had petite, elegant features. She was the opposite of Margaret though only a year older. Shy and thoughtful, she struggled with making conversation. She was happiest alone, rummaging through their father’s library or (to their Mother’s dismay) sitting in fields sketching flowers. Lillian worried for her, her quiet steadfastness and her searing intellect would surely make it difficult for her to survive married
life. But here Lillian was, with no married life to speak of. Suddenly she was the failure, no longer the perfect eldest daughter but the embarrassment of the family.
No-one spoke for a while. Each woman hovering in place, straining against the harsh lines of their corsets. The three sisters could barely meet each other’s eyes, none of them able to face the shame and fear that Lillian was feeling.
‘I suppose we should tell the guests’ Clara said, gesturing as if she wanted to conjure something more comforting out of the air.
‘Have we sent your father to look for him? Have we any means of contacting him?’ Mother replied. Her voice had the distinct curtness of someone trying to hide panic.
‘Father has been looking for him all morning. The groomsmen have no idea where he could be.’
‘Then it’s done’ Lillian said ‘Please, Clara, apologize and send everyone home’. Lillian’s mother looked shocked at the coolness with which her daughter spoke. Lillian herself was somewhat shocked. Her nimble, slender fingers seemed to move without her as she unpinned her white lace veil that had belonged to her mother and before that her grandmother. The lace was damaged in parts, the intricate flowers frayed and unwinding. Her face without the veil suddenly seemed stark and blank. Her blue eyes were wet and red rimmed, but she didn’t look hysteric. It was important for a young lady not to let her sentiment overtake her, her governess’ voice echoed in her head from years ago. Lillian’s blonde hair was off her face in tight, shiny ringlets. She pulled away the remaining blossoms as though they were pieces of lint. Even her dress, which had been months in the making, seemed tarnished and worn looking. The satin ribbon seemed gaudy. She longed for her comfortable blue dress at home. She wanted to be cloaked in it, hide herself from the world. A bitterness in her head would have preferred if he was dead. Then she could mourn him and be a figure of a respectful sort of pity, which would be some sort of improvement.
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