Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver

by Kit Morgan

  Ma’s lower lip trembled. “For a while now, yes.”

  Ebba was surprised at the tears streaming down Ma’s cheeks. She scooted her chair closer and took the woman’s hands in hers. “What’s wrong, Ma? He seems like a very good man. And if he loves you too, then …”

  “He does!” Ma blurted. “He just told me so!”

  “Then I don’t understand. Why are you in here crying while he’s out there somewhere?”

  Ma gave her a helpless look. “Because I’m afraid, child. I’m afraid I’ll … oh, never mind.” She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and stood. “You’d best go back and help Charity with those pies.”

  “I will not.” Ebba stated.

  Ma gaped at her. “Go back to the kitchen, Ebba. Please.”

  Ebba got up and took Ma in her arms. “No. You need me here.”

  Ma choked back a sob. “Dagnabit, girl, why can’t you listen?”

  “Because I’m trying to be like you,” Ebba whispered and hugged her tighter. “You’re a strong woman, Ma, one I can aspire to. It’s not like you to run from anything. If you run from it, then that means it’ll be too scary for me to face.”

  Ma gently pushed them apart and stared at her in wonderment. “Lord, child, you’re wiser than I thought.” She swallowed hard and sat. “You’re right, I have to face this whether I want to or not. I just wish I knew why I’m so afraid of it.”

  Ebba retook her seat as well. “Maybe because you never thought it would happen.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s it.”

  Ebba stared at the hats on the worktable then glanced around the room. “Maybe because you don’t want to replace your sons’ father with a new one?”

  Ma closed her eyes against more tears and nodded. “Ebba, you truly are wise beyond your years. Now let’s not talk about it anymore. You go help Charity with those pies – I’ll join you in a minute.”

  * * *

  Ebba watched Ma out of the corner of her eye for the next hour as they, Charity, and Summer and Elle Riley (Clayton and Spencer’s wives) worked in the kitchen. Rufi managed the Riley children while the women baked.

  “How old is little Charlie now, Summer?” Ma asked.

  Summer stopped kneading dough to think. She and Elle were both pretty blondes with bright blue eyes and soft Louisiana accents – they’d grown up as best friends in New Orleans. “Four and a half now,” she finally said.

  “And his sister?” Ma inquired.

  “Kate just turned two.”

  “They’re both dears,” Ma said with a smile. “I’m sure they give Leona hours of pleasure. As you can see, there’s no shortage of it around here with the amount of children we’ve got.”

  Elle laughed. “Honestly, Mrs. Weaver, I don’t know how you do it. You have children coming out of every nook and cranny.”

  “Just how I like it,” Ma said. “Summer, how’s that pie dough coming?”

  “It’s ready to be rolled out,” she said, reaching for a rolling pin.

  “And what about you, Elle?” Ma turned to her. “How old are Fletcher and Clementine?”

  “Fletcher is three; Clementine just turned one.”

  “My, I didn’t realize Kate and Clementine’s birthdays were so close together,” Ma said.

  “Only two weeks apart,” Summer said as she began to roll out her dough.

  “Are you looking forward to having children, Ebba?” Elle asked.

  The room went silent for a moment. “Ebba?” Charity said. “Did you hear Elle?”

  Ebba jumped. She’d been so busy watching Ma, she hadn’t realized someone was addressing her. “Oh … sorry, what was the question?”

  Elle smiled as if she understood her distraction. “I asked if you’re looking forward to having children.”

  Ebba blushed. “To tell you the truth, right now the only thing I’m looking forward to is getting through tonight and tomorrow.”

  A series of giggles made its way around the kitchen. “One thing at a time, then,” Summer said. “I must say though, I am jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of what?” Ebba asked.

  “That you get to have wedding guests.”

  “You didn’t have any at your wedding?” Ebba asked.

  “Nothing like what you’ll have.”

  “Summer got married the night of Christmas Eve,” Elle explained. “She only had six or eight people present. When I married Spencer, it was a full church wedding plus an extra bride and groom – Billy Blake married Abbey Davis at the same time!”

  Summer shook her head as she started to roll out the dough. “That was an event, to say the least.”

  “How many people were at your wedding, Charity?” Ebba asked.

  “Let me see … the Weavers, the preacher and Aunt Betsy. That was all.”

  “Isn’t it amazing that you remember all these details?” Ma asked. “They fade, but then one day everything is as clear as a painting on the wall again. You’ll do the same with your children. It’s like finding a present when you didn’t expect one.”

  The other women smiled at her. “Have you found a present lately, Ma?” Ebba asked. She figured she’d sneak that in. Ma couldn’t put up too much of a fuss in front of the others, could she?

  Ma gave her something between a dirty look and a smile. She knew exactly what Ebba meant. “I suppose I have.”

  That got everyone else’s attention. Charity arched an eyebrow. “Really? Is there something I should know about?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Ma wiped her hands on her apron.

  Ebba wanted to yank the woman’s apron off and make her go talk to Sheriff Hughes, but didn’t think she could pull it off.

  As it turned out, she didn’t need to. “Afternoon, ladies,” Sheriff Hughes said as he came through the back door. “I heard something about cookies?”

  “I’m sorry,” Ma said, “we’re busy with baking more pies for tomorrow. But there are some from yesterday.” She went to the hutch where the cookie jar was and brought it to the table. “Help yourself.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said as he took off the lid and pulled out a few. “Mmm, sugar cookies are one of my favorites.”

  “I’m afraid they won’t be as good as Mrs. Upton’s back in Clear Creek.” Ma turned her back on him. Ebba watched her stand and fold her arms across her chest. Heavens, the woman was stubborn!

  “Now, I wouldn’t say that, Mary,” the sheriff argued. “Your sugar cookies are as good as Sally Upton’s any day.”

  “Are they?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “Of course they are. Sally might be the hotel’s cook and make some fabulous meals, but it’s her molasses cookies that are tough to beat.”

  Ebba wanted to bury her face in her hands. Did he have to say that?

  Ma spun to face him. “Oh they are, are they?”

  The sheriff backed up a step. “What’d I say?”

  “Take your cookies and scoot!” Ma ordered as she grabbed the cookie jar and shoved it back in the hutch.

  “Ma, you forgot the lid,” Charity said, pointing at it.

  Ma grunted, snatched up the lid, took it to the hutch and put it back on the cookie jar. Then she spun on her heel to face Harlan. “Don’t be taking up space in the kitchen, Sheriff – we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “As do we menfolk. What did you want us to do with those crates in the barn?”

  “Why don’t you ask one of my boys?” she asked tersely.

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “No need to get upset, Mary. None of the boys are around.”

  “What? Well, where in tarnation are they?”

  “How should I know?” he said with a helpless shrug. “If I did, you think I’d be in here asking you?”

  She didn’t budge an inch. “Well, Sheriff, I’m rather busy right now and I don’t need distractions.” The look on her face said exactly what kind of distraction she meant.

  The other women cast nervous glances between t
he two. “Do you want one of us to go find them?” Charity asked.

  “No,” Ma snapped. “They’re probably trying to finish up the plowing so they don’t have to worry about getting behind.”

  The sheriff looked at the cookies in his hand. “Where did you want me to put the crates, Mary?”

  Ebba decided to take charge. “Maybe you’d better go show him, Ma.” She gave her a nudge toward the door.

  Ma gave her a what do you think you’re doing? look before turning back to the sheriff. “I … well …”

  “That’s a good idea,” Charity added. “How is the sheriff supposed to know where to put them unless you tell him?”

  “Go ahead, take care of it while we get finished up in here,” a grinning Summer suggested.

  Ebba fought against a smile. Thank you, ladies!

  Ma pressed her lips together before she conceded. “All right, Harlan, follow me.”

  * * *

  “So that’s what’s wrong,” Charity said.

  Ebba smiled and nodded.

  “Sheriff Hughes and Mrs. Weaver,” Elle said in wonder. “Who’d have thought?”

  “Her entire family, apparently,” Summer replied.

  “Well, enough thinking for now,” Charity declared. “Let’s get this last batch of pies in the oven, then we can start on the cookies.”

  Summer and Elle nodded in agreement and continued with their tasks as Ebba wondered what to do next. Maybe she should ready herself for when Ma came back in the house. Judging from what she knew of the woman so far, she’d either be upset again or smiling.

  But there was no time to ponder it further, as several children came racing through the kitchen and out the back door. “Heavens, what’s the hurry?”

  “Rufi?” Charity called into the next room.

  Rufi dashed into the kitchen, her eyes darting everywhere. “Where did they go, the little ladri?!”

  “That way,” Ebba said and pointed at the door.

  “Who were they?” Summer asked.

  “Gabby, Leo and Mel,” Rufi spat. “My younger brother and sisters.”

  “Why were they in such a rush?” Ebba asked.

  “Because the devils just took my necklace and they know I can’t catch them to get it back,” Rufi said with a roll of her eyes. She sat down heavily at the kitchen table to catch her breath. “But I’ll get it back later. They just want me to chase them, the fuorileggi.”

  Summer’s son Charlie came running into the room. “Chase me, chase me!” he cried as he ran around the kitchen table and back into the hall.

  Rufi took a deep breath as if to brace herself, stood up and ran back into the parlor. Her arrival was greeted with a cacophony of giggles and squeals of delight.

  Ebba couldn’t help but laugh. She took a deep breath herself and realized how tired she felt. She wasn’t used to being around so many people, at least not in the same house. Once again she found herself thinking about the peace and quiet to come after the wedding was over and the guests were gone. Unfortunately, she still wouldn’t be alone. By her estimation there were twenty-four other people living on the farm. If Sheriff Hughes had his way, it would be twenty- five.

  The thought made her head swim. After the wedding, she’d have to talk to Daniel about them building a house of their own, before she went mad from the crowds.

  “Ebba, are you all right?” Charity asked.

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired from all the excitement, I guess.”

  “And no wonder,” Summer added. “I remember when a few folks stayed the night at the farm because of the snow when Clayton and I got married. But there weren’t nearly as many people at my wedding as yours.”

  “And she doesn’t have the luxury of walking out of the church and going home,” Elle added. “She is home.”

  “Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down,” Charity offered.

  Ebba glanced at each of them. Would they think less of her if she took Charity up on her offer? She should stay and help … yet on the other hand, a few moments to herself would be heavenly. “Are you sure?”

  All three women nodded. “Enjoy it while you can,” Elle said. “From the looks of things, a moment to yourself is going to be a rare thing around here.”

  Ebba’s heart sank at the statement. Just as she’d been thinking … “Thank you,” she told them, then headed upstairs.

  Once in her room, she sighed in relief and went to the window. She pushed back the lace curtain and gazed out upon the orchards below. Daniel’s room was at the front of the house and had a wonderful view of the apple trees and the little valley beyond. She noticed a wagon coming over the top of the rise and watched as it began its descent down to the farmhouse.

  “More people,” she said to herself. “I wonder who.” She didn’t have to wait long to find out – as soon as the wagon got close enough, she was able to spot the pig. The Davises had arrived.

  Chapter 13

  Ebba knew she should go downstairs but couldn’t muster the energy. Now that she was alone, everything she’d been through since arriving in Denver was catching up to her: her parents’ death, working for horrible Mrs. Feldnick, meeting with Mrs. Pettigrew, the long trip, the ideas she’d had in her head about Daniel and his family, not to mention the expectations she’d set up …

  None of those expectations remotely resembled the situation she found herself in – except for her allergies flaring up in the countryside, of course. That one, she’d hit the bull’s-eye.

  She was surrounded by people here, almost two-dozen future relatives, and would continue to be for as long as she was married to this man. She was expected to work as hard as they did, from before sunup to after sundown, even in the fields. But that wasn’t what bothered her most. What did was that Daniel had accepted her ailment like it was nothing. He was willing to look past it and take her “as is.”

  Ebba swallowed hard. The question was, was she willing to do the same for him and his family? Did she have the same fortitude to jump into this marriage with both feet as Daniel? Sure, mail-order brides and their grooms were strangers at the onset. But Daniel’s willingness to accept her while knowing she wasn’t the best candidate for farm life made it all seem – how should she put it – too good to be true? Yes, that was it.

  But would he still accept her later, when she was unable to do the work required of her because of her constant sneezing?

  She shook her head as she watched a portly, middle-aged man bring the wagon to a stop in front of the house, set the brake and climb down. He walked around the horses to get to the other side of the wagon and help his wife do the same while Matthew and his wife Charlotte maneuvered around the pig to disembark. She saw Mrs. Davis look at everything with either indifference or a disapproving.

  Ebba glanced at the orchards and wondered why the woman couldn’t or wouldn’t appreciate the simple beauty of the little valley. Then again, maybe Mrs. Davis felt that when you’d seen one farm, you’d seen them all. Or maybe she just liked looking down on things. Based on meeting her back in Nowhere, that was a possibility.

  Ebba went back to the bed, falling backwards onto the mattress and staring at the ceiling. The men would be coming into the house soon. What would they do for supper with all these extra people here? More would arrive tomorrow before the wedding. Then the Weavers would really have a houseful!

  Ebba threw an arm over her eyes and tried not to think about it. No wonder Ma was on edge. Sheriff Hughes hadn’t chosen the best time to profess his love for the woman, even if the farm was taking on the atmosphere of a wedding celebration. Maybe that’s what prompted him to choose to do so, but her reaction couldn’t have been what he hoped for.

  But then, what would she do or say on the day Daniel did the same? She let her arm slide onto the mattress. “Daniel …” she whispered. “Daniel.” She liked the sound of his name. “I love you.” But there was no heart behind her words, because they weren’t true. She didn’t love him, and wasn’t sure she could.

>   “Ohhhh, why do I always have to think like this?” She sat up and folded her hands in her lap. Was she getting cold feet? “If I am, that’s not going to do me much good.” No, indeed. Where would she go? What would she do? If the man she would marry tomorrow was confident they were going to be good together, then why couldn’t she be?

  Because there are no guarantees, that’s why, she thought to herself. And once you’re married to this man, there’s no turning back …

  Ebba took a deep breath and blew it out. “Why did I ever think I could become a mail-order bride?” she asked aloud. But then, what options did she have? It had been that or a lifetime of drudgery under the hectoring voice of Mrs. Feldnick. Better to marry a stranger – heck, better to die alone in the wilderness – than live under the thumb of that old biddy.

  She sighed again and felt pathetic for doing so. What was wrong with her? What was she so afraid of? At least one of them was sure they’d be happy.

  She smiled as she remembered the look on Daniel’s face as he held her in his arms on the porch swing. “You and I are gonna be okay,” he’d said. She could hear the smile in his voice and feel the surety of his words while in his arms. It was in that moment, miserable with her stuffy nose and watery eyes, that she believed him, if only briefly. How was she able to do it? She didn’t know.

  Ebba only knew that she wanted to believe him again and hang onto that belief. The last thing she wanted to start her marriage out with was a bucketful of doubt. Right now, however, she felt like she had one of those buckets in each hand to carry down the aisle. Worse, she didn’t know how to let go.

  * * *

  By the time supper rolled around the Weaver house was filled to the brim with people. Calvin, Bella and their – for lack of a better term – tribe were everywhere. Arlan, Samijo and their children, along with Ma, the Quinns and the Davises, took up the dining parlor, while the Rileys, Benjamin and Charity and their kids were in the kitchen. Sheriff Hughes, Daniel, Ebba and Truly (for the life of her, Ebba didn’t know how she wound up with the baby in her lap) were on the front porch.