Willy smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t run.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then he led her over to the couch. When she sat down, he began talking, looking at the floor so her face couldn’t distract him from his story.
“When I was ten, I got fed up with the orphanage and ran away. I was gone for six days, and it was awful; it rained, the wind was howling, I got chased by a pack of dogs, and my food ran out on the second day. I tried to turn around on the third day, but I got lost and ended up further away. I ended up fainting from hunger and falling into stream, but luckily, I just floated back to town. My caretakers punished me severely, even though I’d already been punished enough. They didn’t realize it, but that made me want to try to escape again. And again. And again.”
“But you got out,” Jessica said. “You got adopted.”
“Six months after I stopped trying to escape,” Willy said. “And if I hadn’t been leaving so often, I would have seen my adoptive father a year earlier. He’d been coming in all that time, but I missed him each time I tried to escape. I sabotaged my own happiness because I couldn’t see that running was useless as long as I didn’t have help.”
Jessica nodded, and tears flooded her eyes. He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to it, happy to see his action provoke a smile. “Will you think about it?” he asked softly. “Will you let me help you…or will you keep running away?”
The warmth of her hand was all he had to hold on to in the long silence that followed. He willed her to speak—to give him an answer, even if was a no, but she just shook her head again.
“Why are you doing this for me?” she asked, her tone thick with confusion. “Why do you want to help me? What would you be getting return?”
Willy laughed. “Marriage,” he said simply. “To a bright, wonderful woman. For however long as she’ll have me.”
Jessica looked at him, wiping tears from her cheeks. “What do you mean by that?”
Willy looked down, trying to choose his words carefully. “I mean…I know what’s like to feel the need to run away. I know I can’t ask you to turn that off inside of yourself…I’m just asking you to try. And if you can’t…then we go our separate ways as soon as it’s safe for you.”
Jessica gazed at him, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. “So, we can get married, and you won’t pressure me?”
Willy nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” And even though his heart ached for her already, he meant it very much; he’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, even if it was just for a minute longer.
“I’d like to think it over,” she said softly, and Willy watched as she rose and walked toward her room.
“Of course,” he said hurriedly. The door was already closing behind her. “Just let me know.”
And he wondered if he hadn’t fallen into a trap, like the ones he gave Richard to set out for squirrels; then he relaxed, because if he had, it was the most delightful trap he’d ever encountered.
****
The next morning, he woke to find a glass of water and the scent of sizzling bacon invading his nostrils. Beyond that he could smell butter and eggs, and then his ears caught the faint clink of silverware against porcelain. Willy sat up straight, alarmed; who had gotten into his house in the middle of the night? No one had ever vandalized his property before, but it wasn’t unheard of when classes were out in Davinia. Then he remembered the day before, and his eyes flew open as a lightning bolt of shock woke him up. He gasped and scrambled out of bed, flinging the door open and sending it crashing into the wall in his urgency to look into the main room.
Sunlight was streaming through the wide window overlooking the street, and he could see Vincent’s huge carriage rolling down the lane, full of travelers on their way to the train depot. His head spun wildly from side to side, trying to figure out where the scent of food was coming from; it took him a moment to realize the source was his dining room table. Jessica was sitting with her back turned, soft honey-brown locks tumbling down her back as she leaned over a paper, a glass of juice by her side. She didn’t move as she walked up behind her, but she smiled up at him as she took his seat, so she clearly heard him rise. Her silvery eyes were clear and cautious, and he could tell she was feeling antsy about the decision she had made last night.
“Good morning,” he said as he poured himself a tall glass of juice and started spooning eggs onto his plate. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine,” she answered shyly, her voice breathless. “Actually, better than I have in a while. It’s quiet out here compared to the city I was in.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Jessica pushed her eggs around on her plate before speaking again, chewing her lip as she sorted through her words. “I saw the paperboy as he left the paper; he reminds me of my old Sunday school teacher. I wonder if they’re related?”
Willy grunted and shrugged, and Jessica’s careful expression faltered. His heart sank, and he felt certain at that moment that her answer was no.
“Might be,” he offered, wanting to say anything to stretch out the moment longer, and keep her around for a while more.
Jessica nodded, watching Willy eat. “Yes. And the stars seem different somehow. Brighter, closer together.”
Willy ate a few bites of food and nodded, aware that his silence was making her squirm. What was she gearing up to say? The anticipation was killing him.
“I wonder why that is?” Jessica asked. “You’re so full of knowledge, I thought I’d ask, but if you don’t know, maybe we could ask around.” Her gaze was burning with hope, and it seemed like she was holding her breath. We? Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
Willy leaned back in his chair and set his fork down. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I bet we could find out.”
Jessica stilled, then a bright smile over her face. “We could? How?”
“I have a friend at a university,” he said slowly. “We could write to him and ask if something like that can happen just from switching states. Does that sound good?”
Jessica nodded, and Willy was happy to see relief settle into the features of her face; her smile widened, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. “It sounds perfect. Shall I get some more bacon?”
“I’ll get it,” Willy said as he stood up from the table. “You write down your measurements for me. We’ll have to get you some dresses and hats, and another pair of shoes. But before that,” he called as he walked down the stairs, “more breakfast.”
He heard her sigh happily all the way in the kitchen, and he wondered briefly if he’d be able to keep this up—cohabitating with a fiery woman who made him feel like he was burning with emotions, even though he couldn’t read her like anyone else. There was a distinct possibility that she could consume him with her flames, but Willy didn’t think he wanted to find out what happened if he walked away. Like he told Hank, once you’ve fixated on a goal, anything else seems like settling—and Jessica was undoubtedly the spark he had been looking for.
When he came back upstairs, he found her leafing through his volume of Shakespeare, and his heart skipped a beat. His destiny really had been within himself, he realized—he couldn’t have done it without the beacon that called Jessica to him.
THE END
Mail Order Bride Lizzie
Story Description
Binghamton, New York - 1871
It’s the spring of 1871, and seventeen-year-old Lizzie Perry is in love with a shop boy named Henry. She must uphold her end of the pact she made with her sisters, however, so, begrudgingly, Lizzie begins corresponding with Fred, a twenty-five-year-old sheep rancher from Cheyenne, Wyoming, but maintains her relationship with Henry as well.
Things change when Lizzie realizes just how impoverished her ailing parents really are. In an effort to help, she resolves to head out west and get to know Fred, though she tells him she won’t marry him until she feels she knows him. Once in Wyoming, Lizzie pines for the city, her shop boy, a
nd her general sheep-free lifestyle back in Binghamton.
Is Lizzie doomed to pine forever, or will she give this dashing rancher a chance?
“If you keep rushing ahead like that, we’re going to have to strap a leash on you,” Ann remarked as her little sister Lizzie outpaced her and their elder sister Margaret for the third time at the market that morning.
Lizzie groaned and reluctantly stopped at a stall overflowing with vegetables. “Fine, but will you two please go faster?”
“Why are you in such a hurry, Lizzie?” Margaret asked in her soft, gentle voice. She was as sweet as Ann was prickly.
Ann cut her eyes at Maggie to let her know that she knew precisely why Lizzie was in a hurry. Ann was too smart for her own good, and certainly too smart for Lizzie’s own good. Though Margaret was the eldest of the three of them, Ann loved to act like she was. She’d even done that back when their eldest sister Sarah had still lived at home, and Sarah was a full ten years older than seventeen-year-old Lizzie.
Lizzie felt the familiar twist in her heart she felt each time she thought of Sarah. Five years after Sarah’s first husband had died in the war she’d answered the personal ad of a handsome Scottish gentleman named William. His letters had swept Sarah off to San Francisco on the other end of the country. It had been nearly six months since Lizzie had seen her eldest (but somehow closest) sister and she missed her terribly.
Lizzie shook those sad thoughts away. She couldn’t have a frowning face, not now. She needed to be at her most beautiful, her most charming.
Margaret dawdled at the vegetable cart to fawn over some butternut squash while Ann stood by and simply smiled at Lizzie knowingly. But then Ann got distracted talking to one of her former teachers and Lizzie seized the opportunity to make her escape. She knew it was risky, but she had to see him. She just had to.
As Lizzie made her way through the marketplace, she untwisted the bun at the nape of her neck and let her long, dark hair tumble free nearly down to her waist. Over and over, Lizzie’s mother Ada, Sarah, and Ann had all told her that proper young ladies wore their hair up, and only their husbands got to see them with their hair down. But where was the fun in that?
Men’s heads turned left and right as Lizzie walked. Margaret, who was beautiful in her own right, blushed and cowered when this happened. But Lizzie only stood straighter and smiled all the more. She knew she was beautiful, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like being reminded.
Boys and men followed her with their eyes all the way to his stall. It wasn’t his stall at all, of course—he just worked there, shoveling nuts into sacks for customers. But whenever Lizzie arrived at this particular stall at the market, Henry was all she could see.
Lizzie had known the moment she’d first set eyes on Henry three months ago that she loved him. How could she not? His face looked as though it had been so lovingly sculpted that the artist responsible had never sold his masterpiece, settling instead to bask in the riches of his sculpture’s gorgeous face. His dark, decisive brows arched over even darker, nearly black eyes that Lizzie felt herself falling into whenever Henry glanced her way. He had beautiful full lips and wavy dark brown hair that she repeatedly had to remind herself it would be wholly inappropriate for her to touch in public.
Other men couldn’t get enough of Lizzie, but Henry couldn’t have cared less when she first started stopping by the nuts and preserves stall at every available opportunity. He hadn’t even looked at her as she’d offered up her wittiest jokes, her loveliest smiles, and her flutteringest of lashes.
He was looking at her now, though. Ever since Lizzie had started wearing her hair down around him, Henry had started to notice her. He was still a boy of few words, but who cared? It seemed a waste to use lips as gorgeous as those for something as boring as talking.
Lizzie sidled up to a table filled with large glass jars of nuts. “Could I have a pound of almonds, please?”
Henry nodded and poured out the almonds then weighed them. As he tied twine around the sack, he looked back and forth, then gave Lizzie one of his rare smiles. “I’ll be on break in just a few minutes,” he whispered. Then he handed her the almonds. “That’ll be free of charge, ma’am.”
“Why, thank you, Henry,” Lizzie replied, hoping she wasn’t blushing too hard.
A few minutes later, Lizzie and Henry were kissing behind the hardware store that stood next to the marketplace. Lizzie had never experienced anything quite like kissing Henry. She had secretly sneaked a few kisses with boys before, but they had been so chaste—so respectful. Henry, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to devour her with his kisses. Henry stopped for a moment and looked up at Lizzie, whose fingers were tangled into his thick hair, when he said, “I want to see you tonight.”
“What?” Lizzie asked, out of breath. Neither of them usually talked during these secret moments together.
“Tonight,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to work now, but I want to see you tonight. Come to Maggie Adler’s property, near the briar patch.”
“Henry, that’s trespassing…” Lizzie said hesitantly.
He started to kiss her again. “The old bird never stays up past eight o’clock. No one will ever know.
She nodded quickly. “I’ll make it happen. Say nine?”
He gave her a quick but satisfying kiss on the lips. “Nine it is, Liz.”
Lizzie leaned back against the building as he jogged back toward the market. She usually hated it when people called her anything but “Lizzie” (and Henry knew this), but somehow even “Liz” seemed endearing coming out of his incredible lips.
Her sisters were miraculously still at the vegetable cart and had barely noticed that Lizzie had been gone, though Ann did give Lizzie yet another of her knowing smiles. Even Ann’s smugness couldn’t drag Lizzie off of the cloud she was floating on, though, and she remained two feet off the ground the whole way home.
Lizzie smiled up at her family’s cream-colored, two-story house when they arrived home. It would be difficult for her to leave when she and Henry got married. He hadn’t proposed to her yet, but it had to be coming, right? Then their main challenge would be proving to her too-proper parents that a shop boy was a good match for Lizzie.
She frowned when she saw their mother waiting outside the front door with her arms crossed. That was Ada’s disappointed pose. Had someone seen Lizzie and Henry together?
Their mother gave each sister a firm-lipped kiss and beckoned them inside to sit at the kitchen table. The kitchen smelled wonderful, as always. Even without most of her sight, their mother still managed to be one of the finest cooks in Binghamton, if not the world in general.
Ada cleared her throat. “I’ve asked you girls in here because I want to speak to you about something. Your father and I have been very lenient with you—Ann with your books, Margaret with those children you look after… but it’s time you settled down. I want to make sure you’ve found respectable husbands while your father and I are still around.”
Lizzie opened her mouth then closed it. Henry wasn’t respectable by any means. He also hasn’t proposed, a voice in her head reminded her. As if she needed reminding.
Ada stood and retrieved a big stack of newspapers from the counter. She set an issue of the paper in front of each daughter and explained, “You’ll have to be careful to look at the dates on the ads, as some of these papers are months old, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find at least a few prospects.” She set one of the papers in front of Lizzie. “Especially you, my beauty. Any of these young men will snap you right up once he sees a photograph of you.”
Lizzie looked down at the paper. It was San Francisco’s Matrimonial News, the paper that all four sisters had pooled their money to subscribe to over a year ago after their father had been diagnosed with consumption. It was the paper where Sarah had found her husband. Their mother must have renewed the subscription at the start of the year—none of the girls had done it, not that Lizzie knew of. They’d all assumed that there wa
s no rush for them to get married, not now that Sarah could send money home from William’s enormous inheritance.
Lizzie knew that at twenty-three, Margaret was verging on spinsterhood, but Lizzie and Ann still had time, didn’t they?
“Do you really want us to move West, Mama?” Lizzie asked. “We would be so far away.”
Margaret nodded, surprising Lizzie. She tended to just go along with whatever their mother wanted. “Wouldn’t you rather we met nice, respectable men right here in Binghamton? Then we could still help you and Papa out when you need it.”
“If you did meet nice, respectable men here in Binghamton, I would love to meet them,” their mother replied. “But none of you have.”
“That perfectly lovely man Bernard asked for Lizzie’s hand,” Margaret began.
“Mags, he was hideous!” Lizzie interrupted. “I could barely look at him, much less love him.”
“Arthur and Adam Burrows were both ready to propose to you as well,” Ann contributed, “but you wouldn’t give either of them the time of day.”
“Ugh, Ann, it’s just like you to bring up the Burrows,” Lizzie fumed. The pair of pasty-faced twins had barely made a peep whenever Lizzie was around, and their silence hadn’t been anywhere near as attractive as Henry’s.
“Shush,” their mother said, and the girls fell silent. “All I know is that none of you have received a proposal since your sister left for California. Sarah found a perfectly wonderful man by responding to an ad in this newspaper. Don’t you think it’s at least worth trying for all of you?”
“…No,” Ann said after a moment, voicing the feeling that Lizzie couldn’t. Why was their mother doing this to them?
“Well, tough,” their mother replied in a firm tone.
****
Lizzie wasn’t able to go out to see Henry that night. Ada had kept her and her sisters busy with housework all day, then insisted that they comb through the copies of the Matrimonial News to search for viable bachelors. Lizzie tried to pick out an ad as quickly as she could, but her mother found fault with each and every one. Lizzie could feel her heart breaking as the grandfather clock struck nine.
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 53
