Laura's Second Chance (Widows of Virginia 2)

by Christina Ward

  He leaned down, with both of his hands clasping her shivering one. Laura couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m so sorry” he said. Tears cascaded down his face, warming Laura’s hand. “You deserve more than this. I cannot bind you to a future full of such uncertainty.”

  “Oh, Robert.” Laura caressed his cheek. “I won’t leave you. You were there for me when I needed someone. I will not abandon you now.”

  And as soon as she said it, Laura knew it was true. She couldn’t leave him now. Not ever.

  * * *

  After the fire, Robert would often stare at nothing in particular. He would sit silently outside the barn, looking at the charred earth. It broke her heart to see him falling apart.

  “Robert,” she called.

  He glanced up at her, gave a wan smile and patted the space next to him. Laura sat down.

  The long stretch of the dirt road overlooked the plentiful trees and farmlands of their closest neighbor. She wondered what he was thinking about. Was he feeling guilty for his father’s transgressions that led to his family’s downfall? Was he thinking about his own drinking that had likely contributed to the situation? She’d like to think he was dreaming of a solution to the problems.

  “Talk to me,” she said softly, looking at the landscape.

  “About what?” He cracked his knuckles.

  “Anything…” She looked at him. “Do you know how the fire started?”

  “A lantern… I don’t know the details yet.”

  Robert bowed his head down as he drew one deep breath. It sounded like he was about to break down.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  He didn’t answer for a while.

  “I don’t know…” he finally said. “I can’t think clearly these days. All these problems – the debt, the money, the people I am responsible for – I have to resolve this somehow...”

  Laura didn’t say anything, she just let him pour out his worries.

  “And then,” he looked at her with defeat in his eyes. “And then I think about you. About bringing you into a household with no future.”

  Laura wanted to look away and put her own head in her hands, but she had to be strong for him. Like he had been strong for her.

  “I wanted to give up,” he continued. “But every time I saw you walking around the house, the garden or out in the fields, I felt ashamed and disappointed.”

  Laura forced a small smile. “You need not worry about me. I’m stronger than I look. You can lean on me for support.”

  “No.” He shook his head. "Didn’t I say I would help you move on, completely recover from your loss?” He grabbed his own head. “But look at me, Laura! I’m a failure in all respects. I lied to you, I can’t fulfill my promise.”

  For a moment Laura wondered at their fates. Was this why God had brought them together once more? Because they needed each other?

  “When was the last time you sought God’s guidance?” She asked after a moment of silence.

  Robert glanced at her again, likely surprised by her question. He fell silent and a faint reddish color appeared on his cheeks.

  “What good would it do?” he muttered. “I don’t deserve Heaven’s blessings.”

  “Prayer is a powerful tool, Robert. Remember the poem you sent me after Anton’s death?” She closed her eyes as she pictured the words from the letter. “A grieving heart sees the skies gray...”

  Laura looked pointedly at him, but when he didn’t respond, she went on to recite the beautiful string of words he webbed for her. Laura looked pointedly at him, but when he didn't respond, she went on to recite the beautiful string of words he webbed for her. Laura smiled. Finally. He looked at her with a renewed spark in his eyes. It reminded her of the young man she met so many years ago. The man who had seen the beauty of the world and had the words to show it to others.

  A tear fell down her cheek.

  He wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I had always wondered how you felt about my letters, the few poems I wrote for you.”

  “They are what got me through the first few months,” she whispered. “I don’t think I could have gone on without your kind and wise words.”

  She could clearly see him blush.

  “Why don’t we visit the church today then?” she said. “We have so much to be thankful for. And a lot of guidance to ask.”

  “Yes, let’s do that” he said standing up.

  He helped her up without letting go of her hand. They walked back to the house and took the carriage to the nearby church – a simple wooden building stood beside a small cemetery.

  She sat on the bench at the back and Robert followed. They both silently said their prayers. For the first time since her husband’s death, Laura truly thanked the Lord for his grace. She thanked him for Anton and the time the Lord gave them together. And she thanked Him for sending her Robert. Because since coming to Gables, she hadn’t thought about her loss, not the way she did back home.

  “Thank you.” Robert said.

  “What for?”

  “For opening my mind and heart… and for staying.”

  She smiled. “I’m just returning the favor. You once pulled me out of my grief. I was drowning and didn’t even know it.”

  “We are a match, after all then. A cure for one another.”

  “Oh, you and your words.” She giggled softly.

  Chapter Six

  The next day Robert left her in charge of the house and the farm as he left for the city. He would speak to his lawyers, try and extend the repayments, plead his case on account of the fire. She had time to think during the few days before his return.

  With just one farm, devastated by the fire, their options seemed pretty limited. But Laura wasn’t one to give up easily. Surely there had to be something Robert could do. Early in the morning she asked Arthur to give her another tour of the farm. This time she wasn’t just admiring the sights. She asked questions about how things worked, what things were, who worked on what and how many people were involved in each activity.

  On the second day a small barn at the edge of the property caught her attention.

  “What’s in there?” She glanced at Arthur as she pointed to the building in the distance.

  “Just storage, Ma’am. Supplies, leftover crops from last harvest.”

  “Crops?” She sped up her step.

  “Yes, Ma uses them for cooking, and in the winter some of the neighbors buy from us too.”

  After reaching the barn Laura waited at the large door as Arthur fumbled through the many keys attached to his keyring. It took a moment to open the padlock, but finally the door creaked as he pulled it open.

  Sunlight flooded inside and the dust in the air tickled her throat. Straw crinkled under her feet as she went from sack to sack, from crate to crate checking what was stored in the small barn. Most of the sacks including a large pile at the back were filled with sweet potatoes and cassava.

  “I thought you grew corn here?” she asked.

  “Oh, these are from the other farm. The one Mr. Smith had to sell to the neighbors.”

  “Can these still be planted?” She pulled out one of the potatoes and weighed it in her hand.

  “No,” he shook his head. “There’s not enough in here and even then it’s the wrong season.”

  For a moment she felt disappointed, but then a new idea sparked in her mind. Arthur’s mother was a great cook, and she wasn’t too bad herself. They might not have the crops to sell in huge quantities, but these sacks were full of goods she could put to use.

  “We can still use them though. Can you get a few of the men together and bring some of the sacks back to the house, please?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Laura ran back to the house to find Arthur’s mother. Gemma was thrilled with her idea and eager to help. All afternoon, with Arthur’s help, they peeled and boiled the root vegetables and then baked pies and tarts. Laura was determined, if she couldn’t help Robert with the paperwork
and legal matters, she’d find a different way to support him.

  Before the day’s end Arthur had to scour the farm for other ingredients. The kitchen was almost empty except for the delicious aroma of baking by the time they were done making and filling the last of their puddings and tarts.

  Exhausted and excited Laura barely slept that night. She rose early ready to go to the market. As they couldn’t afford any staff she was going to sell the goods herself with Arthur’s help, while Gemma stayed behind to work at the house.

  The sales started out slow, but as the word spread amongst the townsfolk about how wonderful the desserts were, buyers began to flock to Laura’s stall. The next day they set out their stall in a different town and the same thing happened. All week Laura spent her days at market selling the pies and tarts and her evenings back in the kitchen helping Gemma make more of them. Tired, but happy to see the fruits of her labor, she went to bed every night thinking about the time when Robert would hear about their success.

  After a week they returned to the first town. As Laura laid out her goods a lean man in a smart white apron approached her.

  “Mrs. Bennet?” he asked.

  “Yes?” Laura turned around to greet him with a smile. “How may I help you?”

  “I have been hearing a lot of good things about your desserts from my customers. Some have recommended including them in my menu.”

  Menu? Customers? Laura raised her brows.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t follow..."

  “Please excuse my manners for not introducing myself properly. I’m Mr. Chris Tabs.” He tipped his hat. “I own a restaurant in the city and several bakeries, including one just two blocks from here. Have you heard of it? It’s called Breadcrumbs.”

  “Yeah, I know where it is,” Arthur chimed in, appearing at Laura’s elbow.

  “I was wondering if I could order from you in bulk. We would need desserts delivered regularly to the bakery and restaurant.”

  Laura stared at the man, then at Arthur. The boy’s jaw dropped.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Tabs…”

  Could this be the way to save farm and the house? It was definitely a start. She felt dizzy with excitement and… speechless.

  “Please, don’t say no.” He laughed seeing her hesitation.

  “Mr. Tabs, this is such a pleasant surprise, no one’s asked us before-”

  “Do we have a deal then?”

  Mr. Tabs extended his hand and she shook it.

  “Yes, we do.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later.

  Laura had just came back from the shop, bringing pastries for the farmhands. Business had been going well enough to move from a simple stall at the market to a permanent shop.

  “Robert?” she called for the man of the house from the hallway.

  She wanted to tell him about more good news – with the business growing she planned to add some chairs and tables for the regular buyers who demanded a place to sit down. Laura looked in the office and in the kitchen, but he wasn’t anywhere in the house.

  “Have you seen Mr. Smith?” she asked the first worker she met on the way to the farm.

  “Yes, Ma’am. He is resting under the arbor.” The man pointed towards the hill covered in sprouting sweet potato and cassava.

  “Thank you.”

  She followed the path leading to the arbor Robert had put up for her. An expansion to the store, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Laura smiled. The money from the shop would help tide them over till the crops were ready to sell. Robert also started painting again and his portraits fetched a fair price. But as she got closer to the arbor her smile faded. She couldn’t see Robert anywhere.

  Where on earth could he be...?

  She walked up to the structure to catch her breath before looking elsewhere. But what she saw in the middle of the arbor made her heart skip a beat.

  The rose petals were scattered all over the wooden floor and bouquets of flowers in different sizes and colors covered the table inside.

  “Robert?” she called, turning from side to side.

  “Hello, Laura.”

  He appeared out of nowhere holding a bouquet of white tulips. He remembered! Laura blushed and smiled. Those were her favorite flowers.

  Robert’s black suit clung to his muscled frame, much like the one he wore when he first set foot in Laura’s home in Newport News several months earlier.

  She raised a brow and tried to cover up her nervousness with a joke. “Look at you, all neat and prepped-up. What’s the occasion?”

  He approached her and she couldn’t help but notice the trepidation in his steps. Laura’s chest tightened when Robert handed her the tulips.

  “I think I have enough flowers to start my own farm,” she said, but her giggle fell flat, the air around her feeling heavy.

  “Are we celebrating something?” she asked, peering up at him. He looked so happy. Maybe it was news about the farm. She didn’t dare think of anything else.

  “It depends on your answer.”

  Not about the farm then, Laura swallowed and took a deep breath. “And the question is?”

  Robert dropped to one knee. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Laura covered her mouth with her free hand, trying not to choke on the surprise. Cold sweat dripped down her neck. Her hands shook, but thankfully, the tulips had more strength in their petals and stems than Laura did in her knees and legs.

  Robert’s smile dimmed a bit.

  “Laura? Y-you don’t have to answer immediately…” he started to back out.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  He’d been there for her in her darkest hour. She loved Anton, but like Susan said months ago, that now seemed like decade, he would have wanted her to be happy. Robert made her happy. He respected her, he respected her love for Anton.

  What other answer did he expect?

  But he continued to gape at her. Laura didn’t repeat her answer. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “What do you think that means?” she giggled into his ear.

  He didn’t reply either, just lifted her up and spun around holding her tight.

  The End

  of

  Laura’s Second Chance

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  A Mail Order Bride for the Undertaker

  Edgeport, Missouri, November 1870

  “Miss Mercy, Elliot took my paper!”

  It took all her willpower not to sigh at the little freckled red-head boy grinning at her from his desk near the door. Mrs. Teresa Grayson, Mercy’s superior, was known for her powerful glares, but Mercy was not a strict sixty-year-old matron. Far from it. She was just an eighteen-year-old orphan trying to keep her home from being closed down. She knew substituting for Mrs. Grayson would be a challenge, but at least this was something Mercy was good at.

  “Elliot, please give Ruth back her paper.”

  “But I don’t have it.”

  Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly. It was a good thing the Scriptures kept her sane. Mercy smiled at Elliot and crouched down in front of him.

  “Ruth really needs her paper back so she can do her homework.” Mercy opened her palm. “And it’s not good to take things from someone without their permission, remember?”

  Elliot’s face crumpled, but he didn’t cry. Thank God for small blessings. He handed back Ruth’s paper. “I was just playin’.”

  Mercy ruffled his hair. “We can play other games. Games where everyone’s happy.”

  Elliot pouted and stared down at his feet. “Are you mad, Miss?”

  “Of course not.” She kissed his forehead and handed the paper back to Ruth.

  “All right, everyone.” Mercy clapped her hands. “That�
��s the end of today’s lesson. God be with you.”

  The children rushed out of the room, but Mercy could still hear the stampede rolling through the hallway. Distracted by the noise she almost missed the two curly-haired girls, one blond and one brunette that stayed behind. They were sisters, if Mercy remembered correctly.

  “Yes, Carla, Caroline?”

  They looked up at Mercy and smiled at her. Carla produced a small red apple from behind her back. Caroline giggled and hid behind her sister.

  “Is this for me, girls?” Mercy leaned down to their level.

  They nodded. Oh, bless their little hearts. But Mercy knew she couldn’t take it. Food was scarce at the orphanage. She wondered how they managed to squirrel the apple away in the first place.

  Mercy stroked their blonde heads. “Why don’t you keep it for later, hmm? I’m not really hungry right now.”

  They looked at each other, their mouths in a frown. They hardly spoke to anyone, except on days where they asked for their parents. The mixed emotions on their little faces forced Mercy to scramble for a better excuse.

  “Excuse me, Sister?”

  A young woman with blonde curls piled atop her head held together by a red scarf appeared out of nowhere. Her brown petticoat swept street dust into the room.

  Mercy turned around, and smiled. “Oh, I’m not a nun.” Well, not yet anyway. She had been considering that option despite being raised a protestant. All because of the nuns next door, that helped run the orphanage with the pastor and his wife.

  “Miss?” Carla glanced at the stranger and back to her teacher.

  Mercy looked down at the girls and patted Carla on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go and find your friends? I think I can hear Daisy and Lyle playing tag from here.”

  The sisters laughed and raced outside.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “I was told to look for Mercy Elkwood?”

  “That’s me.” Mercy tucked a stray black curl behind her ear and approached the woman. “Please, take a seat.”