Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. White

by Kit Morgan

  It seemed to work. “I … I’m terribly sorry,” Miss Norton stammered. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Lily said. She had to remain hospitable, after all, but she did wonder. Well, she’d make sure not to bring up the war – that would only cause trouble. She went into the kitchen and found Henry munching on a cookie. “Henry, I need your help. And stay out of those – you’ll spoil your supper.”

  Henry chuckled, stuffed the rest of the cookie into his mouth and followed Lily into the front room. “What do ya need, Lily?”

  “Can you take Miss Norton’s trunk up to her room and …” Lily stopped. Henry was staring at Miss Norton much the same way she’d been staring at Lily earlier. “Oh no.” Ma and Oscar had both warned her how easily Henry became infatuated with some of the women passengers, but had also said he wasn’t nearly as bad as he used to be. If that was the case, what was she to do about the puppy-dog look he was giving her?

  Then she saw Miss Norton had a look on her face like she was trying to decide whether or not to take home the puppy! “Er … Henry? Miss Norton’s trunk?”

  Henry jumped at her voice. “Oh yeah. Sorry, Lily.” He bent down, hefted the trunk onto one shoulder and straightened. “Which room?”

  “Number four.” Lily turned to Miss Norton. “Follow me, please.”

  Miss Norton took a last look at Henry then hurried after Lily. “My, but he’s strong, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is. Almost as strong as my husband Oscar, Henry’s older brother.”

  “I see. What a fine young man.” Miss Norton glanced over her shoulder and gave Henry a smile. He smiled back as he ascended the stairs, almost lost his balance, but righted himself and grinned. Miss Norton laughed. “Well done, sir. But please be careful.”

  “Don’t ya worry, ma’am. I will!” Henry trotted up the remaining stairs and sauntered down the hall and into Miss Norton’s room, passing the women as he did. “Where would ya like it, ma’am?”

  “Anywhere in the room is fine, thank you,” Miss Norton said. She sounded impressed. Oh dear – Henry would be beside himself for the rest of the evening, and likely beside Miss Norton if given half a chance. Lily hoped he remembered she was leaving in the morning.

  Lily took a moment to study the schoolteacher as she, in turn, studied Henry. Miss Norton had light brown hair, blue eyes and an average build, a little thick around the middle. That made sense – she was clearly over thirty, and how much physical work was there to teaching children anyway? “Supper is in an hour,” she told her. “If you need anything in the meantime, just come downstairs and ask.”

  “Ya can ask me too,” Henry gushed.

  “Thank you, I’ll be sure to ask one of you should I need anything,” Miss Norton replied, smiling at Henry.

  Lily nonchalantly covered her mouth with her hand as Henry continued grinning. And not moving. “Henry? We should go now.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah …” He finally started moving his feet, though his eyes stayed fixed on Miss Norton.

  Lily shook her head. This was not going to end well if he didn’t get whatever ideas he had in his head out of it. “Remember what I told you earlier about the cake?”

  Henry’s head moved in her direction, but still not his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

  Lily sighed and took Henry by the hand. She would have to tell Oscar about this, before it got worse. “Come on, we have chores to do.”

  “Uh-huh,” Henry said, letting Lily drag him out while still smiling back at the teacher.

  As soon as she closed the door behind them, Lily spun on her brother in-law. “Henry, what has gotten into you?” she admonished quietly. “You know it’s rude to stare.”

  “Well … yeah, I know that.”

  “Then why were you ogling Miss Norton like that?”

  “But she stared at me first! Ain’t rude when they stare at ya first.”

  Lily put her hands on her hips. “Who told you that?”

  “Uh … I dunno. I just figgered …”

  Lily was having a hard time staying angry – actually, she was having a hard time not laughing. Henry did have his own brand of logic. Finally she grinned and kissed him on the cheek. “Henry, I love you, you silly duck.”

  Henry beamed. “Aw gee, Lily, thanks for sayin’ so. But don’t say it too loud, or Oscar’ll be jealous on account ya said ya loved me. I ain’t heard ya say that to him.”

  Lily frowned. Merciful heavens, Henry was probably right! She liked him, certainly, even though they’d only been married a little over a month. But had she ever actually said so?

  Was she really in love with him? Or did she just appreciate what he’d done for her? Now that Henry had brought it up, she’d have to examine how she felt. She’d fallen into the family’s busy routine over the last few weeks, and it hadn’t left much time to pay attention to her feelings. Did she love him?

  “What’s the matter, Lily?” Henry asked.

  Lily jumped. “Oh goodness …”

  Henry laughed. “Sorry to startle ya. But I thought ya said we had chores?”

  She quickly nodded and rubbed her temples. “Yes, we do. I have to help Oscar with the rolls, and I think he wanted you to help Willie.”

  “I’ll ask him. C’mon, let’s not be flappin’ our gums on the stairs, or Ma’ll tan our hides.”

  She smiled. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”

  “She don’t think I am, or she wouldn’t threaten to do it.”

  Lily laughed. “Oh, Henry, you really are special.” She wrapped her arm through his, and together they went downstairs.

  Chapter 14

  Supper was an interesting affair, with Miss Norton and Henry stealing glances at one another all the while. At least they weren’t outright gawking at each other anymore. But Willie and Abe noticed, and the two drivers did their best to keep their chuckles in check. Meanwhile, Abe’s one passenger, a tall, gruff-looking, middle-aged fellow, only said two words – “thank you” – the entire meal. Lily hadn’t caught his name, but at least he had good manners.

  Anson was the one out of character – slouched in his chair, picking at his food. There was still no return letter from Emeline Turner, and his disappointment was so obvious it even caught Abe’s attention. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you just had to shoot your horse.”

  Anson straightened in his chair. “Nothing.” He poked a chunk of potato with his fork and popped it in his mouth.

  Abe squinted his right eye at him. “This have anything to do with …”

  “Don’t,” Oscar said, his deep voice stern.

  Abe leaned back and brought both hands up. “Just asking. Didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I know,” Oscar said. “But Anson’s doin’ ‘nough harm all by himself. He don’t need an excuse to do more.”

  Lily cringed. Oscar had just informed everyone Anson was feeling sorry for himself, and Anson looked ready to explode. Never mind that it was true – unrequited love was painful, and bringing it up didn’t make it better. She wondered if Oscar felt the same – she was still pondering Henry’s quip upstairs. Did she love him? For that matter, did he love her? One fling at the waterfall – albeit replicated a few times in their own room – wasn’t entirely an answer.

  She watched her husband out the corner of her eye as he spooned himself another serving of fried potatoes, then turned to her. “Would you like some more?”

  She smiled shyly. “No thank you.” If he knew what she’d been thinking about, would he feel the same?

  But to Lily, the words, “I love you,” were not to be taken lightly. She wanted to make sure she was absolutely sure before she uttered them. She certainly hoped he felt the same. He acted like he did, but he hadn’t spoken them either. At least he wasn’t repulsed by her – that counted for a lot – and they had consummated their marriage. But doubts remained.

  She looked at Oscar as he continued to eat – he was still busy watching Anson – then surveyed the rest of the t
able, the people and the large inviting room that housed them. This was her home now, her family, her life. And she liked it. She sighed in contentment as peace permeated the very marrow of her bones. She belonged here, she realized. And, more importantly, she belonged with Oscar.

  Lily studied him again, a tiny smile on her lips, and knew. Yes, she was in love with her husband. Which meant the next step was to say so … and hope he did the same.

  Everything was quiet after breakfast the next day – too quiet, Lily thought. Anson was still moping, but that was to be expected. The greater problem was Henry, standing on the front porch and staring forlornly down the lane to the main road. She and Ma were in the living room, watching him through the front window. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked Ma.

  Ma shook her head. “Gotta admit, he ain’t never done this ‘fore.”

  “Stare like that, you mean?”

  “Oh, th’boy stares, no doubt, but he stares at what’s in front o’im. That schoolmarm’s gone, ‘n he’s starin’ where she usta be.”

  Henry walked to the end of the porch and sat on the railing, eyes still intent on the path.

  “He’s got th’real thing this time, I’m ‘fraid,” Ma said in dismay. “‘N I ain’t sure what t’do ‘bout it.”

  “You mean, he’s in love?” Lily said, her voice cracking. “But he just met the woman!”

  “Sometimes ‘at’s all it takes.”

  “But how … I … no, he couldn’t possibly be.”

  Ma glared at her. “Chile, y’gotta lot t’learn ‘bout love. ‘N Henry ain’t like the rest o’ us.” She turned back to the window. “Sometimes I envy him. When he makes up ‘is mind, he sticks t’it.”

  “But … doesn’t he realize she’s not coming back?”

  She nodded slowly. “Th’knowin’ part o’ him does, but th’hopin’ part o’im’s still hangin’ on t’th’chance she might.”

  Lily’s sigh was heartfelt. “Poor Henry.”

  “Poor Henry? Poor us – he’s likely t’sit there starin’ at th’road all day. ‘N then who does his chores?” Ma shook her head again. “Hope he ain’t so bad he stops eatin’.”

  Lily’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

  “Aw yeah. If he made up his mind ‘bout her, he won’t think o’ nothin’ else.”

  Lily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. What woman wouldn’t want a man with such single-minded devotion to her? It made her heart melt just thinking about it.

  But all the White men had that quality. Anson had letters already penned to Emeline, ready to send, and she’d read some of them. He’d told Emeline about himself, what he did for the stage stop, how his days were spent, how beautiful it was there, that their table was never empty nor their larders spare. He was presenting himself as best he could on paper, without actually courting. But until she responded, he could do nothing. And if her eventual reply was “thank you but no thank you,” he might end up staring off into the distance with Henry.

  Did the younger men come by that naturally, or had they learned it from Oscar? He watched over Lily like a hen over her chicks, always present or close by, offering comfort and adoration. He told her how beautiful she was daily, and showed her nightly. For so long she’d thought of herself as a walking blemish, nothing pure or beautiful about her. But Oscar didn’t see her that way.

  Oscar told her he saw bravery in her scars, a courage lacking in most of the people he’d seen come through. He saw devotion, resilience, perseverance, a great compassion for others and an appreciation for life. And she was beginning to see it too, beginning to disperse the shadows that had obscured her vision for so long.

  And she was dispelling her own selfishness and snobbery too. Years ago she’d have had nothing to do with someone like Henry, or the rest of the Whites for that matter. They were what her father would’ve called backwoods hill-dwelling hicks. What, she wondered, would he say now? “Oh, Daddy …,” she whispered.

  “What, chile?” Ma said.

  “Nothing.” Lily gazed out the window at Henry one last time, then turned toward the kitchen. She and Ma had chores to do. She just hoped Henry got around to doing his.

  “Oscar?” Lily whispered in his ear.

  “Mm?”

  “I’m worried about your brothers.”

  Oscar opened one eye, then the other. “Don’t be. They’ll manage.” He pulled her closer, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. Her soft cotton nightdress was new, a present he’d ordered when he sent Willie off with his list of supplies for the stage stop a few weeks ago. He’d given it to her after supper as a surprise, and she’d cried and hugged him so hard he’d lost his breath.

  “Henry started making a chair for Miss Norton. Don’t you think you should speak with him?”

  “Won’t do no good. Once Henry’s got somethin’ in his head, that’s it. To him it’s real. He’s gotta figger out on his own that it ain’t.”

  “How long will that take?” she asked.

  Oscar shrugged, just enough so she’d feel it. “With Henry, ya never know. Though I suspect this time it might take a while. Ya don’t wanna encourage him, but ya don’t wanna discourage him neither.”

  “Very helpful,” she teased.

  “Helpful as I can be, honey. How’re you and Sadie gettin’ along?”

  “I’m not sure – Ma has been running us both ragged, so we haven’t been able to spend much time together yet. Poor Sadie will never want to visit me again.”

  “Tomorrow ya have time – it’s a family day, remember? No stages comin’ through.”

  “Thank Heaven for that.” She kissed him on the cheek, then snuggled closer.

  Oscar sighed in contentment and relaxed. He should’ve gotten hitched years ago. But then, what guarantee was there that he’d have met Lily? No, the Almighty’s timing was best. He was older and wiser now, and so was she. Now if they could just set a good example for his lovelorn brothers, all would be well in his world.

  The next morning the family was up and about earlier than usual. Sadie helped Oscar and Lily prepare breakfast, then, along with Henry and Anson, surprised Ma with breakfast in bed. “Land sakes, ever’one!” she exclaimed when they burst into her bedroom. “Is it Christmas?”

  “Nope,” Oscar said. “We just happen to think we got the best momma in the world, and we wanted to let her know.”

  Ma wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at the roomful of people. “Thank ya, thank ya so much. You three… make’t four …” She looked at Lily. “are the best kids a mother could have.” She looked at Sadie. “Ya’ll know what I mean when yer younguns get a li’l older.”

  “I already do,” Sadie said. “And not all of mine are so little anymore, remember? I still can’t get over Honoria being sixteen.”

  “They grow fast, don’t they?” Ma said as she looked at the food piled on her plate. “This looks wonnerful, whoever made’t.”

  Oscar, Lily and Sadie smiled in return.

  Henry stepped forward, reached in his pocket and pulled something out. “And I made this for ya, Ma.” He handed her a small carved figure.

  Ma took it, looked at it and gasped. “Why, Henry, this’s lovely …” She held it up so everyone could see.

  Oscar leaned forward. “Henry!”

  “Henry,” Anson said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect.”

  Lily and Sadie exchanged a quick look. “What is it?” Lily asked.

  Ma held it up a little higher. “It’s th’spittin’ image of my Josephus,” she said, fresh tears in her eyes. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ so beautiful in my life. Thank ya, Henry – yer pa’d be so proud o’ ya. This’s somethin’ all o’ us can enjoy.”

  Henry blushed. “Aw shucks, Ma. I can make ones for Oscar and Anson too if they want.”

  “I want one,” Anson said in a rush. “Can ya make mine bigger?”

  “Sure. I made Ma’s small ‘cause I figgered she’d wanna carry Pa ‘round in her pocket.”

  �
��Thass right consid’rate o’ ya, Henry,” Ma said. “How long ya younguns been cookin’ this up?”

  Oscar looked at Lily and Sadie. “We thought of it last night. Dunno how long Henry’s been workin’ on that, though.”

  “I was makin’ it for yer birthday, Ma,” Henry said. “But when Oscar said he was gonna surprise ya with breakfast in bed, I thought I’d give it to ya now.”

  Ma wiped at her eyes again. “Ya younguns’re th’best thing ever happened t’me. I cain’t stop sayin’ it.”

  Sadie smiled. “You’re a very blessed woman, Mrs. White, to have such sons, and now a daughter too. I hope my own children grow up to be as fine as them.”

  Lily straightened and Oscar caught the pride on her face. He reached over, took her hand and squeezed. She looked up at him and beamed. Life was good.

  A loud, insistent rapping on the front door wasn’t. “There ain’t no stage comin’ today,” Henry said.

  “Even if there was, they don’t show up this early,” Oscar commented. “Henry, stay with the women. Anson, come with me.” He left their mother’s room, Anson close on his heels, and went straight to the end of the hall where they kept two loaded shotguns for emergencies. He directed Anson to a window where he’d have a good view of most of the yard around the house, then headed to the front room.

  By the time he got to the door, the pounding had stopped. “Who’s there?” he shouted, not willing to open it just yet.

  “Eli Turner!”

  “Eli? Aw shoot, and here I was worried!” Oscar opened the door to find a disheveled, cut and bleeding Eli Turner leaning against the jamb. “What in tarnation happened to you?”

  “Emeline … they got Emeline!” Eli took two steps toward him and collapsed.