Gunsmoke and Gingham
Page 44
He took the paper she offered him, staring at it blankly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t? I thought you didn’t want me spending any of my money on food or anything.”
He shrugged. “We love each other. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, does it? I was too wrapped up in what other people would think.” He felt like an idiot for the way he’d treated her, when she had nothing but love for him.
“We love each other? I—I know I love you, but you love me?” She stared at him, wishing she could throw the letter away now. If he loved her, would it say something that would change his mind?
He walked to her, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I should have.”
“What...We got Sam’s letter today. You should read it before you say something else. I don’t want you to love me and then take it all back.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to read it to know you’ve been telling me the truth.”
She pulled back so she could see his face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He sighed, pulling her letter from his pocket. “I read your letters.”
She swallowed hard. “All of them?” There had been a couple where she’d raged at him for dying. She’d been angry, but not at him. Never at him.
He nodded. “I came home early, and you weren’t here, so I went to the room you were in yesterday, and I opened the trunk.”
“Some of them were written when I was angry with you for dying. I’m so sorry you had to read those—”
He covered her lips with his fingers. “I do understand. I alternated between anger and grief. Sometimes I was angry with you. Sometimes I was angry with your father, but there was almost always some anger. And a grief that brought me to my knees.”
She sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I got a letter today too. Your brother has been asking questions around town. I don’t think he knew the full story when he went to see Mrs. Johnson. I want you to read the letter.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need proof.”
She swallowed hard. “You may not, but I need to know what he found out. I need to know if it was your mother who told my father you died, or if they decided on it together. I need to know why!” She turned back to the stove to finish cooking lunch. “Please.”
William watched her for a moment, but he understood. He’d probably come to the same conclusion later. They both needed to know what had happened. Well, they knew what had happened. They needed the why of it, though.
He picked up the letter, using the knife at his place setting to slit it open. He closed his eyes for a moment, half afraid of what he’d find, but he had to know. They had to know.
Dear William,
Until today, all I knew of the story was that she had decided to leave town and never see you again, and it would be best if you thought she was dead. When I received your letter yesterday, I sat down and wrote that to you, but Dottie convinced me I needed to make sure of what I said before I destroyed your marriage with a girl you’ve loved your entire life.
I went first to talk to Mrs. Johnson, her family’s old housekeeper. She said that she only knew that you had died, and she’d been dismissed once Mary ran away in the middle of the night. I think her father believed that she helped her get away, but she claims not to have had anything to do with it.
Then I went to talk to Mama. That’s where the truth started to slowly unravel from the lies. Mama went to take Mary a letter from you. She’d picked it up while she was checking for a letter from you for herself. When Mr. Brown opened the door, he told her he wanted to speak with her privately, but in a whisper, so Mary wouldn’t know what was happening.
They went into his study, and he told Mama that he didn’t want the two of you to marry, and he would do anything to keep you apart. He offered her money to tell you that Mary was dead, said he was going to tell Mary that you had died. She took it, because Papa was already sick, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to be able to make ends meet.
William, I don’t want you to think badly of her about this. She was crying when she told me. She was absolutely heartbroken about it. She wanted to tell you again and again, but she was afraid he’d find out. He told her you weren’t good enough for his daughter, but we all know he was wrong about that.
I don’t know why he kept up the lie for so long. He lost his daughter, the only person who loved him, because of the lie. I really can’t understand it, but I do know that’s what happened. Mama said she won’t write to you again, until she knows that you want her to. She truly is remorseful over her part in it. She told me she didn’t believe that you could truly love Mary as much as you thought you did, and she was sure you’d get over her. Now that you’re together again, she said that she’s glad it worked out the way it did.
I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad (or is it good?) news, but Mary has always been true.
Your brother,
Sam
He read it all over again, setting it down beside his plate. “Your father paid my mother to help him lie to us.”
She flipped the flapjacks onto a plate and put them on the table along with the bacon. “I’m not terribly surprised. Papa never liked you.” She poured them each a glass of milk and sat down, reaching for his hand. “He thought I should find a boy who wasn’t a farmer’s son. He told me that many times, but not until after he’d sent you out west.”
“Well he certainly tried to ruin our lives. I’m glad we found each other again.”
She smiled. “Me too. I wish you could have believed me sooner, but I do understand why you didn’t. I had a hard time believing my father lied to me as well. He was good to me.”
“I know you loved him. I’m sorry that I came between you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t come between my father and me. He decided to come between us. I don’t understand it, and maybe I never will.”
He brought her fingers to his lips. “I won’t doubt you again.”
“I won’t be a perfect wife. I’m afraid I’ve grown independent over our years apart. If we’d married when we wanted, I would have leaned on you forever. Now—I’ll probably insist on helping make decisions.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want a wife who will stand with me against the storms of life.”
“As long as I’m with you, I know I can stay strong. Living without you…that was hard on me.”
He nodded. “So I read.” His eyes met hers. “After all you went through, mourning me as you did, having me not believe you…I think you should hate me.”
“I couldn’t ever hate you, William. I hope you can see that now.”
“We’re going to be together forever and have a dozen babies, aren’t we?”
She groaned. “I’m not so sure about a dozen. Maybe four or five would be nice, though.”
He pulled her into his lap by the hand he was still holding. “I think maybe we both need to take the afternoon off work.”
She giggled, burying her face in his neck. “Is that so? What will we eat for supper if I take the afternoon off.”
“At the moment, I don’t much care. Make eggs or something. I like your eggs.”
“Okay, eat your lunch and then we’ll take the day off.” She pressed her lips to his. “I do love you, William.”
“And I love you. Thanks for not really dying.”
Mary sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Someday we’re going to be able to laugh over that, won’t we?”
“Someday.”
Epilogue
On the six-year anniversary of Mary finding out about William’s death, she was too busy to think about lies or anything else. In fact, she was so busy, she thought of nothing but the pain she was in.
By early evening, it was all worth it though. William was invited into the room where she held their daughter. At first, he was afraid to approach them, so he stood at the doorway. “Is it a boy or girl?”
&nbs
p; “A girl. Come over here and see her.”
He stood beside the bed, looking down at both of them. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sit down with me. You won’t hurt me.” After he was sitting, the two of them stared at the baby together. “She has all her fingers and all her toes. What should we name her?”
He blanked out. He couldn’t think of anything that would be appropriate. “I don’t know.”
She smiled. “How would you feel about naming her Melinda? After my mama? She’s the one who told me I had to go back to school and talk to you…”
“Wait…you weren’t going to go back to school?”
“Did I never tell you what happened the day we met? I think you and Melinda should hear this story together for the first time…” She told him all about the day her mother had told her she was dying, and they started to read Heidi together.
He watched them both, realizing that he had everything he needed in the whole world right there in that room. Thank God for second chances.
About the Author
@AuthorKOsbourne
Kirsten Osbourne
kirstenandmorganna.com
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