When they broke apart to catch their breath, they leaned into one another and felt their bodies call to each other. Paige grew nervous, while Mitch, understanding, stood up and drew her to her feet. Once she was standing up, Mitch knelt before her. He took her hand, and gently removed the wedding band from her hand; the band he had put on it when she arrived a month before.
Paige stared down at him, suddenly confused.
Mitch held the ring up with one hand and held her hand with his other hand.
“Paige... You came here expecting a new life and for over a month lived an uneasy life with a suspected murderer, a drunk, and an angry, bittern man. You lived the life of a servant in a saloon that is failing surrounded by women who sell their bodies. You lived in a town that does not know you, and you barely know it. You had every reason to leave, and yet you stayed.”
Mitch stopped and kissed her hand sending thrills down Paige’s spine. “Somewhere along the way, you decided to fight for me, and heaven only knows why. Somehow, you broke through my walls and let light shine in. Somehow, you have shown me grace and forgiveness and offered me a ray of hope. You have been stubborn. You have been persistent. You have shown me a love I thought I would never experience, and I have not deserved it at all... You say you forgive me. And with that statement, I realize I have come to love you, beyond what I can understand, but its true. So, right here, I want to start over. I want to offer you my hand. I want to ask you to marry me, for real this time.”
Mitch searched Paige’s face as he asked, “Paige, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”
Paige dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Mitch’s neck as she wept against him. “Yes!”
The two knelt on the ground on the hilltop as the sun set, and they recommitted to each other to be husband and wife directly before God. After several minutes, both faces wet with tears of joy, the couple stood and made their way back down the hill, to the town, and to the saloon.
Chapter 4
Nine months later, a very pregnant Paige stood in front of the old saloon sweeping the dust off the wooden plank path. She stopped as she watched the stagecoach pull up and exclaimed as she watched her sisters both climb out. Both of the younger woman hurried to greet her, and the three stood in the middle of the dusty town hugging and crying together. Wiping their eyes, the younger women directed the men helping with their bags to follow Paige.
Paige led the women into the building and directed one of the well-dressed young women inside to show the men where to put the luggage. She then turned to her sisters, “Welcome to Rose Hotel!”
With that announcement, Rose emerged from the kitchen, and offered her own warm welcome to Maria and Julie. The younger women looked around the main room and noted the expensive decor and the impeccable cleanliness. They could not imagine that this had been a saloon only six months before.
Paige had divulged a great amount of information her letters once she and Mitch united. She shared how Mitch sold the saloon to his sister under the condition that she keep on the women as well-paid workers in her new hotel that easily rivaled the other hotel in town, and during the day was run as a cafe offering some of the best food in town. Once the papers had been drawn up, Mitch moved he and Paige back to his ranch where Paige found herself wrapped up in a life she never dreamt of.
She and Mitch lived alone on the ranch for the first couple of weeks as he spent the days teaching her some of the daily chores she needed to stay on top of, and as he did minor repairs or collected scattered cattle from the surrounding areas. They spent those first two weeks wrapped up in each other under the moon as often as they did under the roof of their home. Mitch had found it hard to share his bed in that home with Paige at first; too many memories of his life with his first wife, but Paige compromised by turning the old bedroom into her sewing room, and turning the upstairs loft into their new bedroom. As they found love in each other, everything fell into place much more completely, and when Paige finally realized she was pregnant, she kept the secret to herself for over a month, not wanting Mitch to worry.
It was their sixth week in their home that Mitch realized Paige was getting plump around the middle. He knew immediately and grabbed her and rejoiced with her, the pair dancing around the main room in excitement. They made regular trips into town to see Rose and help her transition the saloon to a hotel, and it had been Rose’s idea to have Paige’s sisters come stay around Paige’s due date to welcome the new baby into the world.
Three days after they arrived, Paige, Maria, and Julie were sitting in the front room of the hotel when Paige’s water broke. With Rose’s help, the sisters moved Paige up to the room she and Mitch had shared before moving back out to the ranch. One sister ran to get Mitch and another ran to get the doctor. As her labor ensued, Mitch held Paige’s hand and murmured words of love and encouragement as she worked through the pain.
After several hours, in the early morning hours of that winter day, the clear cry of the newborn girl broke the silence of the town. As Paige touched each finger and toe, and Mitch stared in unspeakable joy at his incredible wife and beautiful baby girl, Rose stood at the end of the bed with Maria and Julie.
Rose asked, “What are you going to name her?”
Mitch and Paige looked at each other and smiled knowingly before looking back at their little girl. “Grace,” they replied in unison.
A Bride’s Calling
Chapter 1
Victoria Bramwell ran her hand across her slightly swollen belly as she walked across the street in busy downtown Charleston. The war still raged on, but seemed far away in that moment. Areas of Charleston still carried on as though only the rest of the world had gone mad, contributing to the surreal feeling in her gut that something was very wrong. Her thoughts went to her unborn baby. James did not know yet; she had not sent the letter telling him the wonderful news. She hesitated, the letter in her other hand, because she did not want to tell him and maybe cause him to worry even more. She noted the tone of fear and near desperation in his last two letters. She knew from his letters that the North was making it hard for the Confederate soldiers, and yet the South refused to be cowed. More and more men left Charleston every day to fill in the ranks, to take up the call of States’ freedom.
Victoria smiled to herself as she remembered James’ very passionate display during dinner the day before he joined. One of his distant cousins, Thomas, had snuck into town the day before and had dropped in on Bramwell Estate to ask for help with his cause. Thomas Bramwell was on the other side of the fight, or was supposed to be, but rather than openly fighting for the North, he had joined a secret movement in an effort to help get as many slaves as possible to freedom. The Bramwells were a large family scattered from New York to Philadelphia and down to Charleston, so it was rough on the family as different members took their sides. Still, when a family member showed up on the doorstep, they were welcomed in. So Thomas was.
What struck Victoria most about the man was how different he was from James, not just in ideals, but also in person. James was fair and blond, of medium build, and of gentle tone. He had just finished his time abroad, having spent several years in England to attend one of their universities. He was well versed in politics and legalities, and as a hopeful for local or state politics, he felt very strongly about the individual rights of each person and also each individual state’s rights to make decisions as best fit its own people.
Meanwhile, Thomas was dark skinned, with black hair, and tall with a booming voice and echoing laugh. He had not chosen to follow a more scholarly path. He was content to someday fill his father’s shoes in a factory up North. He was rather brash and demanding, and his view was that slavery was the single most driving point of the division of the country, and the best way he could help was to see its demise by helping people find freedom in the North or beyond the borders of the South to the West. Politics did not matter to him, seeming like wasteful talk in light of the human factor at stake.
As the two debated passionately over dinner that evening several months before, Victoria and her in-laws had eaten in silence. Thomas had attempted to draw the others into the conversation, but no one took the bait. Then, as dinner had wrapped up, James made his decision to join the Confederate Army, to the complete dismay of Victoria and the disdain of his cousin.
Now, it seemed like a distant memory as Victoria made her way to the post office where she hoped to post her letter to James. As she walked up to the front of the building, she saw the postman step out and tack a page to the bulletin board where the casualties were listed. As he turned back to go inside, he saw Victoria and grew pale. Seeing his reaction, the unease in Victoria’s belly grew. She glanced at the old man as she stood before the pages pinned on the board. The other two pages were from the day before; she had already read them, so she moved on to the new page.
Her heart sank and her knees grew week as she realized she was staring at the name of her husband, right at the top of the alphabetical list, classified as a casualty. The postman stepped up to her and took her elbow to lead her into the building, but she stopped him as she peered at the paper. After James’ classification as a casualty were the letters “DT.” She looked at the postman. "What do those letters mean?”
The old man looked up and down the street, “You better come inside, Mrs. Bramwell. Come. Come. I have a sturdy chair you can sit in, and I can make you some tea before you head back.”
Victoria was confused and shocked, and she wanted to just sit down and cry and scream, but the energy to do those things seemed too much. She allowed herself to be led into the building. Once she was settled, the forgotten letter now crumpled with no place to go, she dug out her handkerchief and wiped the wet tears off her face. She sat there, numb, as the old man placed a cup of tea in front of her.
“There. Drink that. It will do you right good.”
Victoria smiled weakly in thanks. As she lifted the tea, she said, "Please, do you know what those initials stand for?”
The postman sat opposite Victoria. He leaned close and said in a whisper, "Yes, ma’am, I do. 'D' is for a deserter, and 'T' is for a traitor. I am sorry, Mrs. Bramwell, but your husband was killed for being a deserter, and therefore is also a traitor.”
As the words sank in, Victoria did not realize she had dropped both the teacup and the crumpled letter as blackness engulfed her.
Chapter 2
The following day, Victoria’s mother-in-law, Grace Bramwell, propped the pillows behind Victoria after the family physician recommended she remain in bed for a few days to allow the shock wear off and to protect the life of the baby. Grace was truly like a second mother to Victoria. When Victoria had returned to American with James, she expected to be looked down on. After all, not only was she British, but also she was not from a well-to-do family. In fact, she had only met James because she worked as a governess to a wealthy family, and she had literally run into him on one of the outings to the library that she was so fond of taking her charges on. However, when she and James arrived at the family home in Charleston, Grace had taken her in as though she were one of the family, and made every effort to make her feel at home.
As Grace wiped Victoria’s brow, Victoria could see the grief in the dear woman’s face. She reached out and took her hand, "I am sorry...so sorry...”
A single tear rolled down Grace’s cheek, but she gave no other sign of emotion. "I just cannot believe it. Surely there was some mistake. Wars can be so confusing, you know. There is no way James was a traitor, and not a deserter either!”
Suddenly overcome, Grace gave in to her grief and the two women held each other and cried for several moments, until there was a knock at the bedroom door. Grace hastily dried her eyes and sat up regaining her composure.
“Yes?”
One of the maids stuck her head in. "Madam, there is an officer here to speak to you.”
Grace looked alarmed. “I see. I will be down in a moment.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the maid before closing the door behind her. Grace stood up. "Get some rest, my dear, and think of nothing except my sweet grandchild you are cooking in there.”
Victoria nodded, still too grief-stricken to even attempt a smile, and watched Grace leave the room. She dozed off for a bit, but woke with a start when Grace rushed into her room.
“Get up! Get up!” Grace said in a loud whisper, "James must have done something terrible. There are soldiers here to collect you for questioning.”
Victoria sat up and sprang out of bed, rushing to the wardrobe to put on a dress. Grace saw the dress and put it back into the wardrobe. “No. Victoria, you don’t understand. They think you are involved in some sort of conspiracy. You have to leave, but you mustn’t be recognizable. Jane is coming down with one of her dresses. You must get dressed and leave out the servants’ entrance right away.”
Victoria started trembling, not understanding completely the trouble her mother-in-law thought she was in, but she knew soldiers in the house, when it was not for a formal event, were not a good thing. She silently turned to her mirror and started putting up her hair. “Won’t they think something is wrong if I don’t go down?”
Grace shook her head. "No. I told them you were not at home. I asked them if they would like to come back later, but they insisted they wait for your return. So I have Charles and Fiona serving them tea and a light lunch in the front parlor. You only have as long as it takes them to eat. I am certain they will ask to search the house.” She wrung her hands nervously and a light sweat broke out on her forehead. “Oh, I wish I knew what this was all about.”
Grace went to the door and peaked out just as Jane walked in with one of her maid’s dresses, complete with apron and bonnet. The Bramwell house had slaves on their plantation property, but in the Charleston house, they opted for white servants, so it would not be out of place that Victoria be seen in a servant’s clothing, provided she was not recognized. As Victoria got dressed, she looked at Grace. "Where do I go?”
Grace heard the fear and trepidation in the young woman’s voice, and her heart broke. The poor dear: pregnant, husband dead, and now accused of being part of something sinister. As a mother, Grace barely knew how to grasp it herself, but to look at her son’s young bride, so far away from her own family and all that she had known, this had to be most unsettling, terrifying even.
Grace moved away from the door and took Victoria’s hands in her own as Jane helped tie the apron and placed the bonnet to cover Victoria’s thick, curly, blond hair.
“Victoria, Jane will accompany you to the edge of town. She knows where to go. You will stay there, out of sight, until Mr. Bramwell and I come up with a solution to this mess. Maybe he has some contacts he can discuss this with so we can clear James, you, and our family. Though,”Grace paused as a thought crossed her mind, "if he cannot, our family is ruined. Our name will be complete and utter mud. You...you don’t worry about that, my dear. We will do what we can, and we will send for you as soon as we can.” Grace kissed the younger woman on the cheek, and then she pulled the brim of the bonnet down low to shield Victoria’s bright blue eyes. “Now go!”
Victoria grabbed her Bible and her small bag with a change of under garments, some small trinkets from her past, and a necklace that James had given her, and with a teary glance at Grace, she followed Jane silently to the back stairwell, into the kitchen, and out the servants’ door.
The two rushed across the garden and out the back fence into the alley that ran between the huge Charleston homes. Jane said nothing, but she held Victoria’s hand firmly in her own and forced the two to walk at a normal pace. Victoria’s heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, she was certain someone could hear it, but she trusted Jane to do as she was asked, and she let herself be led down alleys and side streets until, after what seemed an eternity, the young women stood in front of a run-down establishment with a sign on the front saying it was a boarding house.
Victoria stared at th
e building, frightened to step inside.
“It’s okay, ma’am. I volunteer here. These is fine women who will take good care o’ ya and your babe. You ‘ill have a nice bed, a quiet room, and home-cooked food e’ry day.”
Victoria nodded and followed Jane inside. Jane introduced Victoria to the women, a pair of spinster sisters who ran the establishment, and they in turn took her up a flight of stairs to a room that overlooked a yard at the back. Beyond that, an expanse of woods indicated they were quite literally at the edge of Charleston. She glanced around the room and realized Jane was already gone. Still, as she viewed the space she was going to reside in, she took a breath of relief, for the room was not much different than what she had been used to living in as a governess, and before that as a parishioner’s daughter in England. The older women showed her where the lavatory was located as well as a back door where she could come and go privately, then they told her when meals were and left her in peace.
Alone with just her thoughts, Victoria sat on the bed and gave in to the emotions that she had held in check. As the uncertainty of her life unfolded in her mind’s eye, she put her face in her pillow and sobbed until she fell asleep.
Chapter 3
Victoria stayed in the boarding house as she was told, though she interacted with the other women and the matrons only at meals. She discovered on her second day there, when she forced herself to leave the confines of her room, that the boarding house was in fact a halfway house for women who found themselves with child outside of marriage. All the women were there until their babies were born, and then they had to choose to keep the child or give it up for adoption, which the matrons assisted with. All the residents were further along in their pregnancies than Victoria, and none were willing to share their stories, which suited Victoria fine, so she pretended to be a simple servant and spoke very little, though she was something of a novelty with her British accent, which was so different from the Southern accent of the Carolinas. Still, she was able to brush of questions, and the other women left her alone.
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