Looking for Love

by Barbara Goss

  “I don’t want much for supper,” Fiona said. “I’m still full from the luncheon.”

  “I am, too. I’ll get us something light.” He turned and left the room.

  While he was gone, she opened the valise that Addie must have packed, removed a nightgown, and felt herself blush even though she was alone in the room. Addie had sewn her a nightgown so shear, Fiona could see right through it. She put it aside and decided to sleep in her chemise instead.

  She washed up in the warm water and soap the hotel had provided, and then jumped into the bed before Sam returned.

  Sam knocked, and she bid him to enter. He was carrying a tray laden with a large covered dish, a teapot, and some cups. He moved the oil lamp to the dresser, laid the tray down on the nightstand, and lifted the cover of the dish to reveal fresh, sliced fruit and two wedges of cheese.

  “That’s perfect,” Fiona said.

  Sam looked around the room for a place to sit. The chaise was too big and heavy to move and there wasn’t another chair. He looked at Fiona and touched the bed. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  “No, have a seat.” Fiona moved over to make room for him to sit down.

  “We’ll have us a sort of picnic,” he said. He handed her a plate and took one himself, placing fruit on both of their plates.

  They ate mostly in silence.

  Sam poured them tea after they’d eaten their fill of the fruit and said, “I’m glad you didn’t select this pattern of wallpaper for our bedroom.”

  Fiona laughed. The wallpaper was gray with huge pink carnations splattered all over it.

  “Were you happy with the pattern I picked?” she asked.

  “I love it. It’s subtle and…” he winked, “romantic.”

  Fiona felt herself blush. “Is it? It’s just small pink roses on white lace.”

  “And pink roses and lace are very romantic,” Sam said. “I think you’ll agree someday, soon, I hope.” He took a quick sip of his tea.

  “It was a lovely service,” Fiona said to change the subject.

  “A perfect ceremony. Martin did a great job,” Sam said.

  Fiona set her empty cup down. “Do you think he’ll ever marry again?”

  “I hope he does. I think if he meets the right woman he would.”

  “I like him and hope he finds someone, too.” Fiona laid her head back on the headboard. “Thank you for the lovely supper.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Jordan.”

  Sam took the tray and set it outside of the room for the hotel staff to pick up, replaced the oil lamp on the nightstand, and reached up to pull the window shade down, making the room dark. He went to the dresser, opened a drawer, and removed a blanket. He took off all but his smalls, laid down on the chaise lounge, covered himself up, and sighed.

  “This is crazy. Here we are, all ready for sleep, and it’s only eight o’clock. Are you tired?” he asked.

  “A little bit,” Fiona answered. She felt like she was back at the orphanage when she and her roommates would lay in bed and talk. “I’m still a bit too wound up to sleep, though.”

  “We could talk a bit—you know, get to know each other better,” he said.

  “All right.” Fiona said.

  “Tell me: what was it like growing up in an orphanage?”

  “It was very strict, ritualistic, and lonely, even though there were hundreds of other children there. It’s hard to explain,” she said.

  “How did your parents die?”

  “Smallpox.” Fiona hadn’t thought about it in a while, but she didn’t mind sharing it with her new husband. “My mother contracted it first. When the doctor gave us the diagnosis, my sisters and brothers and I were all sent to the church, where they’d set up a sort of holding center for all who had family members with the disease, but my father refused to leave my mother. He stayed and nursed her, came down with it himself, and died three days after she did.”

  “What happened to your siblings?” Sam asked.

  “They died of it, too. The church had two rooms, one for those of us who showed no symptoms, and one for those who did. Each day, more children were quarantined into the other room. I waited for the day when the doctor would examine me and send me to the sick room but that day never came. I never got the disease. I was swiftly carted off to the orphanage after that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sam said, sounding sincere. “I always complained about having an older brother. After hearing your story, I’m thankful I had such a sibling.”

  “There were just the two of you, then?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes. Shortly after I was born, my father was killed in the Civil War at Fredericksburg. My mother never remarried. She was too busy chasing after Martin and me.”

  “How did she come to have the land and cattle?” Fiona asked.

  “It started out as a land grant, then our neighbors went back east and my mother bought their land and cattle. She raised the cattle and marketed them all alone until Martin was about twelve. He took over a good share of the work then, and when I was older, I did as well.”

  “Your mother is a remarkable woman, then. I can’t imagine the hardships.”

  Sam sighed. “We had a lot of those: snowstorms, drought, locusts, ice storms, cattle sickness…I grew to respect my mother as well as love her.”

  Fiona felt closer to Sam after learning about him and hearing him speak of his feelings. She’d relaxed during their chat and was feeling a bit drowsy.

  “I can’t imagine growing up without being loved,” Sam said. “I don’t suppose the nuns gave out hugs or kisses at night, did they?”

  “No. Never,” Fiona said.

  “I’m so sorry, Fiona,” Sam said. “Someday soon you’ll have a family to love you. Will that make you happy?”

  “Yes. I hadn’t thought much about a family, but it would be wonderful. Just to be part of your family is heart-warming to me. I’m fond of Martin and I adore your mother, but to have children of my own some day? That would be heavenly.” She felt her eyes growing heavy.

  “I’ll make it happen,” Sam whispered.

  “Thank you,” Fiona answered, only half awake.

  During the next two weeks, Fiona and Sam lived with Sam's family. Addie had given the couple her room, since it was bigger. Fiona slept on the bed each night, and Sam on the cot he'd rolled in from the attic. He brought it out when no one was around and folded it and slid it under the bed each morning because he didn’t want his family to know they hadn’t consummated their marriage yet.

  Each night, they curled up in their respective beds and talked until they fell asleep. Fiona looked forward to their nightly chats. She’d come to know Sam so much better and she'd grown fond of him. What other husband would be so patient with his bride? Addie was already talking about grandchildren. The thought warmed Fiona.

  Chapter 9

  Sam looked forward to his nightly chats with Fiona. He couldn’t imagine a life without parents or siblings. How lonely she must have been. Every day he lived with her, he felt closer to her, and he missed her when she wasn’t close by, like when she'd accompanied his mother to town. He knew he was attracted to her physically, but now he felt a fondness that overwhelmed him sometimes.

  He went into town to get his supplies and was ribbed by some of his friends for finally getting married. They also made mild jests about his honeymoon, and Sam just smiled and nodded. They’d get their wedding night—he hoped it would be soon.

  Sam stopped at the general store, picked up their mail, and sifted through it: there was a letter for Martin and one addressed to him. He didn’t recognize the handwriting and curiosity got the better of him. Rather than waiting until he got home, he ripped it open.

  Dearest Sam,

  I’ll keep waiting for you to knock on my door again. You know you can’t stay away from me. That mouse of a woman you married can’t possibly satisfy you like I can. I’ll be waiting.

  Love and lots more,

  Abby.

  Sam c
rumpled the letter up and threw it into the trash beside the counter. Of course he could stay away from her—she was poison. Whenever he even thought about seeing Abby, he prayed for help and told the devil to leave him alone. He had a beautiful wife and he’d promised fidelity to her. He just knew that once they'd slept together as man and wife, the temptation to visit Abby would fade away.

  As if his day couldn’t possibly get any worse, he met Martin as he entered the stable to groom his horse. Martin stood in the stall, saddling his stallion.

  “Going out on a call?” Sam asked him.

  “No. I have a counseling appointment at the church.” Martin left his horse and came around the stall to stand by Sam. “How are the newlyweds? You two seem happy.”

  “We’re doing great,” Sam said, putting fake enthusiasm into his answer. “I love being married, and Fiona is everything I’d hoped she’d be.”

  “So, you’re in love?” Martin asked.

  Why did his brother insist on being so inquisitive? He’d always been like that, and Sam would often lie rather than tell him things he didn’t care to share…like now.

  “I told you: we’re doing great. That should answer your question.”

  Martin smirked. “No, brother, it doesn’t. It sounds like another of your evasions.”

  “You’re going to be late for your appointment,” Sam said.

  Martin sighed, mounted his horse and mumbled, “I knew it,” as he trotted out of the stable.

  Sam walked into the house and the aroma of something sweet hit him. He walked to the kitchen and was amused to see Fiona removing a pie from the oven. Flour powdered her nose. At that moment, his heart shifted slightly in his chest; his wife looked adorable.

  She smiled up at him and said proudly, “My first pie!”

  “If it tastes as good as it looks, then I’m in for a treat.”

  “I also made tonight’s supper,” she said. “Mother's teaching me to cook.”

  Sam gave his mother a loving smile. He couldn’t have asked for a better mother. He loved how she’d taken to his wife and was teaching her how to cook. In a week or two, they’d be living in the cabin and he wouldn’t have to suffer without his mother’s cooking.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Sam said. He threw the mail on the counter. "It’s for Martin. I saw him in the stables but forgot to give it to him. Shall I put it in his office?”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” Addie said. “And don’t return until supper time—I’m going to show Fiona how to make biscuits.”

  Addie turned to Fiona and began showing her the ingredients. Sam left the room, but he winked at his mother before he left.

  At supper, Sam couldn’t honestly tell the difference between his mother’s stew and Fiona’s. He raved about it and treasured the proud smile she gave him. The pie was delicious, as he knew it would be.

  That night, when they were both in their respective beds, Fiona said, “Your mother asked me to call her 'Mother.' I feel as if I belong to a family, finally. Martin also acts like a real brother. He even teased me for having a bit of flour on my nose.”

  When Sam heard that, a bit of jealousy flared through him. Could Martin have eyes for Fiona? Was that why he was always on his case about falling in love, and why he'd tried to talk him out of marrying her?

  “Are you asleep, Sam?” Fiona whispered while he was so busy fuming over Martin—he didn't answer her.

  “No, I was just thinking.”

  “What were you thinking?” she asked.

  “I was thinking about how wonderfully things are falling into place and how I can’t wait to be in our own home soon,” he said.

  “I’ll miss Mother and Martin.”

  “We won’t be but three hundred acres away. We can still see them anytime we want to.”

  “Okay, then I’m anxious, too,” she said.

  “Did you enjoy church this morning?” He’d noticed she'd frowned a few times during the service.

  “Yes,” she drew the word out, “but it’s so different than the church I was brought up in.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m sure I will, but it surprised me that the people didn't dress up for church like they always did in my church,” she said.

  “Things are more relaxed out here. Farmers take an hour off from their work to attend and have to get right back to work after the service. They wouldn't have time to keep changing their clothes, besides. In the summer, the women don’t always wear bonnets or hats, and the men forego the ties and jackets. I rather like that, myself,” he said.

  Fiona was silent.

  “Fiona?”

  He knew she’d fallen asleep.

  Every single day that week, Abby sent Sam a message. Some were long and begging while others were short and sweet, saying things like, “I’ll be waiting tonight, wearing nothing but a smile,” or, “I really need you tonight.”

  Each time he'd read the note and toss it in the trash. He promised himself that from then on, he wouldn't even read them, but just toss them instead. The only problem that concerned him was the possibility that someone else in the family might pick up the mail. Wouldn’t they want to know whom the letter was from, especially since he hadn’t received any mail since his letters to Jane?

  At breakfast, he announced he was going into town to pick up some doorknobs and once they were in place, they’d be ready to move into their home.

  “Can I come along?” Fiona asked.

  “I’d love for you to come,” Sam said without thinking. Then he started to worry she’d expect him to pick up the family's mail. What if there was a letter from Abby? Not 'what if'—he knew there would be one. He’d just have to try and hide it when the time came.

  He helped her up on the buckboard and they rode into town. Every so often she’d look at him and smiled. When he parked the wagon in front of the hardware store, he walked around and helped her down from the seat, spanning her tiny waist with his hands. She gave him a questioning look when he failed to release her right away. Sam wanted her in every way, and his patience was wearing thin. He prayed for strength.

  They picked out doorknobs and locks for all of the doors in the house and Fiona caught sight of a doorknocker. She traced its curves with her forefinger but said nothing.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  “It’s adorable. It’s a woodpecker, and when you pull the rope, he knocks on the door.”

  The store owner came over and said, “My brother carves them out of the best wood. It’ll last forever.”

  Fiona put the knocker back into its box, seeming reluctant.

  “Do you want it, Fiona?” Sam asked.

  She nodded.

  “They why didn't you say so?” he asked. “Don’t ever be shy about asking—my money is now your money. Whatever you want, I’ll try to oblige…if I can.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a whisper. Louder, she said, “I just think you’ve spent so much on me already.”

  Sam put his arm around her shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. “And I hope I can always do that.” He removed his arm. “We aren’t rich, but we aren’t poor either.”

  “Where do you—I mean, we—get our money? You don’t go to a job.”

  “Don’t you wonder where I’m off to each day? I work—I’m a cattle rancher. When we need money, we either sell some cattle, rent out our bull for breeding, or sell a steer or two to the butcher,” he said. “As long as we have cattle, we have an income.”

  “I thought you were just helping Mother,” she said. “So you—I mean, we—have cattle, too?”

  “About two hundred head at last count,” he said with a smile.

  “How many does Mother have?”

  “Well, when we married she gave me three acres of land and a hundred head of cattle, which left her with only fifty head, but she’ll grow that herd in no time. She’s a pro at breeding,” he said.

  Sam paid for the things they’d purchased—including the doorknocker�
�and they left with the box of hardware. They walked down the wooden walkway toward the general store, where a man with a shiny badge on his chest stopped Sam.

  “Howdy, Sam,” the man said. “Have you see any strange women around town?”

  “Strange women? No,” Sam answered. "Why?”

  “We got a wire a few weeks ago that a woman murdered a man and might be headed this way. There are a few bounty hunters hanging out at the Horseshoe Saloon, and I fear if they find her it might be worse for her than if I found her and sent her safely back to…now where was it? I’ve forgotten—somewhere in the east.”

  Fiona began to tremble. Sam thought she might be cold, so he put his arm around her and drew her close.

  “No, Tim, I haven’t seen any strangers at all. Does the woman have a name?”

  “Yes, but I’ve forgotten it. If you see a strange woman,” the sheriff looked at Fiona, “either of you, let me know.”

  Sam felt Fiona shiver again. “We will,” he said. When the sheriff crossed the road, he looked down as his wife.

  “Are you okay, Fiona?”

  She nodded, but he noticed her face had lost all of its color.

  “You’re shivering.” He hugged her to him, but when desire for her stirred in him, he released her. “We’ll go to the general store and I’ll buy you a shawl and pick up the mail.”

  Sam picked out a white shawl and paid for it, then wrapped it around his shivering wife. He hoped she wasn’t going to be ill, as they had to move into their house in a day or two. The clerk handed him his mail and without looking at it, he put the few pieces in his pocket, walked his wife out of the store, and back to their wagon.

  Fiona was quiet the whole ride back, and Sam started to get concerned. He’d put her in his mother’s care as soon as they'd reached home.

  Fiona felt sick to her stomach. If the sheriff had told Sam the woman’s name was Fiona, he’d guess it was her, since Fiona wasn’t exactly a common name. When they'd arrived home, Sam led her to his mother, who fussed over her like a mother hen.