Leora_Bride of California

by Kit Morgan

  Leora turned to her. “Thank you, Mrs. Pleet, that’s very kind if you. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  “Fine,” she said with a smile. “Now let’s get you over to the church. I’m sure the others are there by now.”

  “What others? I thought it was just going to be the three of us.”

  “Three?”

  “Yes, Theron told me you wanted to go, and I thought it would be a good idea, in case we need another witness.”

  “Well, I assume Reverend Wingate’s wife Lydia would act as witness. No, I’m talking about the others.”

  Leora felt the first prick of panic. “Who exactly are these others?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Mrs. Pleet said. “But Mrs. Rutherford invited folks from some of the different committees to attend your wedding.”

  “What? Committees again? Which committees?”

  “Let’s see … there’s the church board, such as it is. Then the Garden Committee, the Education Committee, the Ladies’ Society for Godly Living …”

  “Godly living?” Leora asked in shock. “Since when does a town need a Ladies’ Society for Godly Living?”

  “If you ask me, it’s the only decent committee in Nevada City. Some lady started it up years ago and it almost stopped as quick as it started. It was a miracle it didn’t and suddenly thrived the way it did.”

  “What exactly does a Ladies’ Society for Godly Living do?” Leora asked, still getting over the shock that her wedding was going to be invaded by Mrs. Rutherford and Lord only knew who else.

  “Pray, mostly. And let me tell you, when the gambling house came to town during the Gold Rush, they prayed and prayed for that place to be shut down.”

  “What happened?” Leora asked.

  “Their prayers were answered. That den of iniquity burned to the ground, and the ladies whose husbands frequented it were finally home at night. It was glorious!”

  “You were there?”

  “Of course, dear – I was head of the committee back then! Now sit yourself down and we’ll see to your hair.”

  * * *

  Mrs. Rutherford and company (and a large company it was) sat in the first several pews on both sides of the church. Leora thought she’d die when she first saw them, but then noticed they weren’t even paying attention to her. No, their eyes were fixed on something else entirely – the Rev. Mark Wingate’s wife.

  She’d met her in Theron’s office not ten minutes ago, and yes, she herself stared at Lydia Wingate for a moment before she collected her senses and moved on to other matters, like her wedding. She supposed if she wasn’t getting married that day she might have asked Theron a question or two.

  But as it was, the Rev. Wingate filled in the details himself. “Lydia was my mail-order bride. We married back in 1870, and I’ve never regretted it a moment back. If it hadn’t been for Brother Bedford, God rest his soul, sending away for her, we’d never have met.”

  But the late Reverend Obadiah Bedford hadn’t been the only one calling for then-Pastor Wingate to marry. Leaders of the California Annual Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church had decided he should take a wife; Bedford was only acting on their bidding. Of course, none of them had expected that the woman they’d sent away for would be a Negress, a former house slave from Mississippi!

  But to the surprise of all involved – including Mark and Lydia – they’d fallen in love, and Mark had convinced his superiors to let them wed. Just in time, as it turned out; the state of California had passed an “anti-miscegenation” law shortly after, which would have prevented it from happening. And it had cost Mark his pastoral circuit – the Conference had transferred him to teaching at their preparatory school in Napa.

  But they both insisted it was worth the small sacrifice. Now they’d been together for twenty years, with a son (Mark’s stepson, actually – a distinction they simply referred to as “a long, sad story”) studying theology back East, and two teenage daughters at home in Napa. And they didn’t give two shakes what anyone else thought of it – they had God’s approval and the Conference’s, and nothing else mattered.

  No wonder Mrs. Rutherford and her group stared.

  “Ahem … Miss Mitchell?”

  Leora turned to the Rev. Wingate. “Yes?”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Er … yes.”

  “Then we’ll begin.” He turned to Theron and motioned for him to take his place at her side. There was no organ music, no wedding march. This was as simple as it got, except for the thirty or so people sitting in the pews behind them – none of which (except for Mrs. Pleet) had offered to help Leora prepare for this moment in any way. One would think they were there to watch a hanging, not a wedding.

  Mrs. Pleet, however, had fetched some dried flowers from her attic and fashioned a small bouquet out of them. Leora had to be careful not to move the tiny bundle too much for fear the petals might disintegrate. But they’d held together so far, and she hoped they’d last until after the ceremony.

  “Dearly beloved,” the Reverend Wingate began, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join together Leora Mitchell and Reverend Theron Drake in holy marriage; which is an honorable estate …”

  Leora glanced at Lydia, who stood, a bemused look on her face as she eyed those in the pews. She tried to pay attention to what the Reverend Wingate was saying, but also wanted to turn around to see whom, or what, Mrs. Rutherford and her ensemble were looking at: Lydia Wingate, or Leora’s horrid dress?

  “I require and charge you both, as you stand here in the presence of God, before whom the secrets of all hearts are disclosed …”

  So this must have been what it was like for Lottie when she married Sam! How awful! Yet here she was, trying to keep from fidgeting and thinking of an excuse to turn and sneak a peek at the guests—no, that wasn’t what they were. Spectators? Yes, that was a better word. Guests, spectators, passers-by – it didn’t matter.

  And as luck would have it, she soon didn’t need an excuse to look. “Ohhhh, the tragedy!” came a loud whisper. “Why is he marrying that girl?”

  Taking that as her cue, Leora, then Theron, turned. The pews went silent, but every eye was now riveted on Leora’s dress. A few women put a hand to their mouth to stifle a gasp while others let their eyes drift back to Mrs. Wingate.

  “Ahem,” the Rev. Wingate said to pull their attention back. “Theron Alexander Drake, will you have Leora Ann Mitchell to be your wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others keep yourself only to her so long as you both shall live? If so, say ‘I do’.”

  Someone behind them sneezed, then another began to cough and another, for whatever reason, said. “Ouch!”

  Theron’s eyes narrowed. “I do!”

  The Rev. Wingate looked just as perturbed, but continued. Now it was Leora’s turn and the pastor’s words hit her in a rush. She only caught part of what he’d said, as the noises behind them, though subtle, were still a distraction. She did manage to catch husband-live together-holy state of matrimony … good grief, no wonder Lottie had such a hard time during her vows. And she had much more important things on her mind at the time.

  But was this any different? Who brings this many people to a wedding of two people no one knows? At least she didn’t know them. It bordered on ridiculous and she wondered what was going on. Did this Mrs. Rutherford really think she ran the church as well as the rest of the town? Or was Mrs. Pleet exaggerating?

  “If so, say ‘I do’.”

  Leora shook herself. “What?”

  The Rev. Wingate stared at her with a tight smile. “If so, say ‘I do’,” he repeated with forced patience.

  “Oh, yes,” she said and swallowed. “I do.”

  “Well, that’s it then,” someone behind them muttered.

  Leora stiffened and sensed Theron do the sa
me. She heard the Rev. Wingate, after glaring at the latest naysayer, say a few more words, then before she knew it, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He said it with a happy smile, as if to challenge the throng behind them. “Brother Drake … you may kiss your bride.”

  She sucked in a small breath. Kiss? She’d never been kissed. Theron was gazing at her with those piercing blue eyes, and for the first time she noticed the thick lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead. Her eyes fixed on his mouth as it quickly descended toward hers.

  Then it happened – her first kiss! And though it was only a gentle brush of his lips on hers, she felt her knees grow a little weak and the tingly sensation from the day before encompass her whole body. Enough so, that when he lifted his lips from hers, she did the unthinkable.

  She moaned.

  Naturally, Mrs. Rutherford was the first to gasp, followed by a quick succession of whispers and assorted noises from the rest. At this point Leora didn’t care. What could they do? She and Theron were married.

  “It is now my pleasure to present to you, Rev. and Mrs. Theron Drake,” Rev. Wingate said.

  Theron and Leora turned to face Mrs. Rutherford and her followers. The church went silent. Some had sour expressions on their faces, Mrs. Rutherford’s the sourest. Others looked quite happy, while a few were checking their watches. One even had the audacity to stand up and clap, followed by Mrs. Pleet who did the same.

  Mrs. Rutherford turned, glared at the traitor and the man quickly sat down. Mrs. Pleet didn’t.

  So this is how it’s going to be, Leora thought. Mrs. Rutherford and her cabal of followers didn’t approve of her. Well, they were just going to have to get over it. She was here, she was married and she wasn’t going anywhere.

  She glanced at her new husband. Theron had locked eyes with Mrs. Rutherford, and she had a sudden image of two bulls locking horns. What was between them? What was their history? She knew so little about this man. Did he owe money to the bank? Mrs. Pleet did say that the ones that did, followed the woman around like dogs. But Theron didn’t seem the type, at least not from what she knew of him so far.

  She glanced at Mrs. Wingate, who wore a satisfied smile on her face. Did she know something the others didn’t?

  Theron squeezed her hand, then led her down the aisle and straight out the door. No one in the pews said a word and no one stood. Leora felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She shouldn’t let it bother her but it did.

  Theron pulled her to the left and led her along a path that wound its way around the church. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To my office. Mark and Lydia will meet us there. Then we’ll go to Mrs. Pleet’s for lunch and cake.”

  “Cake?”

  Theron smiled. “It is our wedding day. Mrs. Pleet made us a special cake.”

  Now a tear escaped. “That was sweet of her.” If only she could say the same for the rest of the people that thought it their civil duty to witness her wedding. Thank Heaven it was over.

  They entered Theron’s office through a side door at the back of the church. Mark and Lydia greeted them with happy smiles and Leora felt herself relax another notch. At least they were glad to see them married. Unlike the rest of the town …

  “Congratulations, Theron,” Mark said and shook his hand.

  Lydia hugged Leora. “Congratulations, dearie. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.”

  Leora smiled and willed the rest of her tears to stay as they were, unshed. “Thank you – that means a lot to me.”

  They took care of the necessary paperwork, then made their way to the boarding house for lunch. For the first time, Leora noticed Mark had a limp – she’d seen he used a cane, but had thought it no more than a walking stick. She wondered what had happened to him, but the thought soon left once they reached the house as Mrs. Pleet fussed over the four like a mother hen over her chicks. “I had to leave before that Mrs. Rutherford and her brood of vipers said anything,” she complained.

  Lydia looked at Mark, then Theron. “Who is she? The local busybody?”

  Mark stifled a laugh.

  “It’s like I told Leora yesterday,” Mrs. Pleet said. “Her husband owns the bank and most folks in town owe him. She thinks that gives her the right to bully folks.”

  “Not very neighborly,” Mark commented archly.

  “There’s not much one can do about it,” Theron said. “I’ve tried to avoid dealings with her until now.”

  “I think you might have more than your share now that you’re married,” Mrs. Pleet warned.

  “Why’s that? She obviously doesn’t approve of my choice of a bride, but that’s none of her business.”

  Leora felt her cheeks grow hot. “I think I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with her.”

  “Nonsense,” Theron said. “It’s true that, as my wife, there are folks who are going to want your attention and there’s a lot of work involved. But you needn’t concern yourself with the likes of Mrs. Rutherford. She’s more bark than bite.”

  Leora took a deep breath. She hadn’t had to deal with anyone like Mrs. Rutherford before and hoped that it stopped at the wedding, but if Mrs. Pleet was implying what she thought she was, then she hadn’t seen the last of the woman. Drat.

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things when the time comes,” Mark said with assurance. “Now, how about that lunch?”

  “Right you are, Rev. Wingate!” Mrs. Pleet said and hurried to the kitchen.

  They had a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, followed by cake and coffee. The cake Mrs. Pleet had baked was a simple white cake with white frosting, but she’d decorated it with flower petals and mint leaves. “Where did you get flowers at this time of year?” Leora asked.

  “Oh, we’ve got a florist in town,” Mrs. Pleet explained. “He mostly ships down the mountain to Sacramento, but we have enough customers here to keep him busy.”

  Leora stared at her. She and Lottie had never had dealings in Lawrence other than buying food. Things such as florists and the hothouses where they grew their flowers in the cooler months weren’t a concern. But as a pastor’s wife, she’d need to know about those sorts of things.

  She forced a smile as she realized how unfit she was for the tasks ahead. How busy was a pastor’s wife? What were her duties? Thank the Lord she could read and write!

  Soon lunch was over and the Wingates were bidding Theron and Leora goodbye, anxious to get back to Napa via the afternoon train. Leora wished they could stay – Lydia had a strength that she envied. The woman was older, wiser and, Leora could tell, had been through a lot as a pastor’s wife, not to mention life in general. Leora wanted to glean some of that strength, or at least talk with her and find out what exactly a pastor’s wife’s duties were, but she wasn’t going to have the chance. She’d have to rely on her husband to teach her.

  What was wrong with her? Why did she fear him showing her what to do? Because it was new territory for her, that’s why. Unfamiliar territory, which would mean plenty of opportunities to mess things up. Just like she always did …

  Four

  When you worked in a mill, there was a certain learning curve starting out, but once an employee knew their job, the daily routine hardly varied. Leora, her sister Lottie and their friends worked from six a.m. to six p.m. six days a week. Supervisors roamed the mills making sure that carders, spinners, weavers and doffers were fully engaged in their tasks. Breaks were few and they barely had time to relieve themselves before a supervisor accused them of malingering.

  But that was then, this was now, and now she was a pastor’s wife. To some it probably didn’t sound like much, but to Leora it was everything.

  She hadn’t thought about what the job would entail during the journey west. She’d been too busy wondering how Lottie and the others were doing with their new husbands. When she did think about Theron, she thought of him in ways to make sure she wouldn’t be disappointed when she saw him for the first time. Thankfully, he wa
s far from a disappointment, but she should've also thought of what her new responsibilities would be.

  She had an idea, of course. She knew preachers visited the sick and the poor, preached on Sunday and perhaps organized a function or two. But nothing had prepared her for Mrs. Rutherford and her expectations. Heck, she still wasn’t sure what those expectations were!

  A memory hit, and she remembered when she and Lottie had first started working at the mill. She’d done something stupid, trivial but stupid, and the supervisor, Mr. Egan, got in her face and yelled at the top of his lungs. It was one of the most horrifying experiences of her life.

  Now, years later, she couldn’t remember what she did to deserve such a scolding. All she remembered was Mr. Egan bellowing and threatening to take her outside to the whipping post. Someone explained to her later that Mr. Egan was from the South and no such whipping post existed. Too bad they waited until the end of her shift to tell her. She’d spent the day agonizing over a prospective beating that was never going to happen.

  But his words had cut her to the quick, and she’d become a real perfectionist when given a task for fear of reprimand. Mrs. Rutherford and Mr. Egan would have made a fine pair.

  “You’ll come see us won’t you?” Mark asked Theron as they shook hands.

  “When we get the chance. It might be a while before we get out your way.”

  “Maybe next spring?” Lydia suggested and smiled at Leora.

  Theron glanced at the women and nodded. “We’ll see what happens after Easter.”

  They finished their goodbyes, and Theron and Leora headed back to the church while the Wingates went upstairs to prepare to go home. “Did you notice it?” Theron asked as they walked.

  “Notice what?”

  “The house where you’re going to live, of course. It’s behind the church.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was too nervous.”

  “I understand – besides, most people think the parsonage is the house next door. Sometimes it’s hard to tell because of where it sits.”

  “At least you don’t have to walk far to work,” she said with a smile.