An Inconvenient Marriage

by Christina Miller

  His daughter kept her gaze on him, waiting for his answer, and he had to be honest before her and God. “Things aren’t what they seem between Clarissa and me.”

  “I know. I heard everything on Valentine’s Day.”

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  “How will I know what’s happening if I don’t? How will I know what to do, how to be safe?”

  She’d started the bad habit in Kentucky. Perhaps she told the truth, thought it was the only way she could stay safe, as she had during the war. “We’re not at war anymore. I want you to stop.”

  “I’ll stop if you’ll let me tell Clarissa something.”

  His sigh came from his toes. “Go ahead.”

  “When I was eight, I heard him try to tell my mother he loved her.”

  What? “Emma Louise...”

  She turned to him. “I heard what you said and what she said, and I saw what she did afterward. I hated her for that. I know I acted like it was your fault. But I felt safe with you. I never felt safe with her.”

  Emma, how you suffered... “I should have been there for you—”

  She turned to Clarissa. “When my father tried to tell you he loved you, you said the same exact words my mother did. But she said it in a mocking way, not out of love, like you did. That made him think you didn’t love him either. But I know you do.” She opened the jewelry box and slipped the bangle over her wrist. “I know about this bracelet too. I heard Harold Goss tell Absalom about it. Since you’re giving it to me now, you must not be in love with Harold anymore.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.”

  She sounded certain, as if she’d known it for a long time.

  “Please make my father happy.” Emma took the little jewelry box and made for the door, then stopped and turned to Samuel. “You’re a good father, and I’m sorry for what I did.”

  As Emma’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, Samuel realized his eyes were closed. A good father? And Clarissa loved him—at least, his daughter thought so. Could it all be true?

  And when Clarissa asked if he loved her, she hadn’t meant to refuse him?

  He dared not open his eyes, see what was in Clarissa’s, in case Emma was wrong. But at her gentle touch on his arm, he had to open them, had to see if his world had suddenly changed from bleak to sun-drenched, from solitary to full.

  And when he did, he saw not only color and sunshine but also love. “Is she right, Clarissa? Do I have hope?”

  Her sweet lips curved upward into a perfect smile that infused more joy into him than he’d known in—forever. “I promise, if you tell me you love me, I won’t reject you.”

  “Could you love me, just a little? Because I’ve loved you ever since you brought me the pail of coffee at church.”

  “And you drank it even though it nearly ate a hole in your stomach.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I visited Ellie Talbot yesterday, and Graham told me how the strong army coffee made you sick.”

  Samuel stood, took her hand, lifted her to her feet. Slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I love the way you cover my mistakes, the way you love my daughter, the way your eyes shimmer in the moonlight...”

  “I do love you, Samuel. And I love how you kiss me.”

  As Clarissa wrapped her arms around his neck, Samuel realized he’d come home. Home to love, to family. And when he kissed her, tasted the fruity sweetness of the tea and breathed in her flower perfume, his past turned loose of the hold it had on his heart for more years than he could remember.

  Turned loose so he could love again.

  When she kissed him back, he felt her change as well, her fears dissolving as she held him closer. He could become the man Clarissa needed—he could sense it.

  One thing yet remained. He pulled away and gazed into those smiling hazel eyes of hers with their gleaming gilded flecks. “You became my wife—and Emma’s mother—out of necessity. But could we start over now? Would you become my true wife—my chosen bride? Because you’re the woman I’ve always been looking for.”

  He hesitated, in case he was moving too fast. “You know I’ve always been a man of action. Do you need time to think it over?”

  “Not a single minute. I have a feeling my thinking-things-through days are over.” Her smile widened, then she laughed her tinkling laugh that always brought more happiness than he had a right to feel.

  For the first time he could remember, he didn’t feel like a failed father, a failed family man. The sparkle in Clarissa’s eyes proved quite the contrary.

  Perhaps it was time to take a hatchet to the trunk that held Grandmother’s lavaliere...

  * * *

  Three weeks later, after a birthday breakfast prepared by Samuel and the children, Clarissa stepped out the back door, tranquility restored to Camellia Pointe. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the peace before surveying the grounds one last time before all of Natchez would arrive for the Spring Festival.

  And what a festival it would be. Croquet was set up for the first time since the war, to be removed before Samuel and Willie’s late-afternoon swordplay demonstration. Refreshment tables and chairs waited in the pergola. A podium stood before a rise in the gardens from which the choirs would sing, and Sergeant John had found a little rowboat for romantic rides in the duck pond.

  And the camellias bloomed as they hadn’t in years.

  Today would be nearly perfect.

  Samuel, having gone to the sanctuary for prayer, now ambled her way, Honey nipping his heels. She smiled at his easy pace, his relaxed countenance. Was this the man who’d burst into Christ Church at a run a mere month ago, demanding action and demanding it now? Clarissa closed her eyes for a moment and thanked God for Samuel’s newfound sense of peace, of calmness, unhurriedness. Camellia Pointe had been good for him.

  Late in the afternoon, the Natchez Community Choir sang to a crowd that packed the grounds, the last choir in the contest. When the final tones faded away, they filed from the makeshift stage, but Samuel remained at the podium. Within moments, the judges handed an envelope to him, and he held it in the air.

  “According to Mississippi Community Choir Association tradition, the host choirmaster announces the winner of the annual contest. However, this year, we have a special guest to do the honors. Please welcome the founder of the Association—Mister Barnabas Hezekiah Adams.”

  Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat as she watched her father cross the lawn from the pergola. She clutched Emma’s arm beside her for a moment, then ran toward him, the details of his face blurred by sudden tears in her eyes. Her father, home again, with her once more...

  “Papa—”

  At her shout, he turned in time to catch her in his arms.

  After a moment, she released him and stood back to look at him. Still straight, still handsome, although gray at the temples and with crinkles around his eyes.

  Papa kissed her cheek and whispered over the murmur of the crowd, “Little girl, you’re as beautiful as your mother.”

  With a wink, he bounded up the slope and clasped Samuel’s hand, then snatched the envelope from him. “The winner of the annual Mississippi Community Choir Association Contest is—” he ripped open the seal “—Natchez Community Choir, led by Choirmaster Montgomery with a duet by Missus Reverend Samuel Montgomery and Miss Emma Louise Montgomery.”

  Emma raced to Samuel’s side and smothered him with a hug as Clarissa took the makeshift stage with her own father. Vaguely aware of Samuel’s words of thanks and the treble-clef-shaped trophy he accepted, Clarissa kept her gaze upon her father, her attention on his voice.

  “I should have come sooner.” He ran his hand over her hair, just as he had when she was a girl. “The first year after your mother left us, I lived in a fog. The only place I could get any peace was at the Delta. Then, after so much time
had gone by, I wanted to come back but didn’t know how. I didn’t know if you’d want me.”

  “I wanted you,” Clarissa whispered.

  “Then last week, when I got your letter and realized I’d missed your wedding, something broke in me. And you took on all the work of hosting the Festival just so you could see me. I knew then that I could come back, could ask you to allow me in your life again.”

  If something broke in her father, then it shattered to shards in her. He hadn’t stayed away all these years because she hadn’t been enough for him. “Will you stay?”

  “For a while. The Delta will always be my home. But I’ll be back. You can count on it.”

  That evening, when Samuel and Willie’s swordplay demonstration was over and the crowd had dispersed, the entire household, along with Joseph, retreated to the drawing room. Seated between her father and Samuel on the velvet sofa, Clarissa told Papa of the events since Samuel had come to town, of the wedding, the will and the treasure.

  “I can see Absalom figuring out that the gold was in the sanctuary, the same way you did.” Papa leaned back against the cushion and patted Clarissa’s hand, comforting her as he always had in the old days. “But how did he know Grandfather had hidden half the gold in the cemetery?”

  “He must have followed me out there the day I took my bracelet from the secret compartment.”

  “But you didn’t find the gold that day.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know the stone had another, much larger, compartment underneath.”

  “Speaking of stones, I never understood why your father inscribed the sanctuary stone with only Lamentations 3:22, since his verse encompasses verse 23 as well,” Samuel said.

  “He was a stickler for scriptural accuracy,” Papa said. “You must have missed it.”

  Willie leapt up from the windowsill, where he’d played with Honey. “I’ll go look.”

  At least it gave the boy something to do.

  “I’m disappointed to hear Absalom turned out the way he did. He lived like his namesake in the Bible, and his wild hair brought his demise as it did for the biblical Absalom,” Papa said as Willie slammed the back door on his way out, Honey scrambling to keep up. “I’d hoped he’d turn out better than his father had, than any of the rest of the Poes, for that matter.”

  “The Poes? What have they to do with Absalom?” An image of the family of horse thieves and drunkards passed across Clarissa’s mind. “Come to think of it, they have a lot in common.”

  “More than you think,” Grandmother muttered under her breath, resting her hand on her chest.

  Clarissa went to her side and knelt by her chair. “What is it, Grandmother? Are you well?”

  “Better than you will be when I tell you about the Poes.” She waved Clarissa away, so she returned to the sofa. “I heard what your father said to you about something having broken in him when Samuel told him of our problems here. And it broke me too.”

  She paused, drawing her handkerchief from her lacy sleeve and dabbing the corners of her eyes. “It’s time you knew the truth. Nobody outside the family knows this, because my pride kept it hidden all these years. But Absalom’s father, Ben, was not our son. He was a Poe.”

  A Poe. Not their son. Absalom was not her blood relation.

  As the truth began to feel real, she glanced at Samuel, who winced, his eyes half closed as if the news hurt him.

  “Ben’s mother was dead and his father in prison, and we took him in. Your grandfather always hoped Absalom would repent of his sins and give his life to Jesus, and he prayed for him daily. But in case he didn’t, he wanted the estate to go to you, since Absalom would waste it. He knew that, if Absalom had changed, you would share it with him. And God may yet answer our prayers for him.”

  “Go on, Euphemia,” Joseph said. “Tell the rest.”

  Grandmother frowned at him a moment then stared straight ahead, looking at no one. “Clarissa, you asked why I said Absalom left us for dead during the epidemic that took your dear mother. Your grandfather, parents and I were still sick, along with more than half the town. But the doctors had run out of medicine. Absalom stole our calomel, sold it to the wealthiest families in town for hundreds of dollars, and ran off. Thus he left us for dead. It’s a wonder any of us lived without our medicine. None of us saw him again until he barged into church.”

  Clarissa had no words.

  “Emma,” Grandmother said, “run to my room and bring me the small gold box on the top shelf of my wardrobe.”

  Emma shot out the back door to Grandmother’s suite, now fumigated and reclaimed from Absalom.

  “It’s a relief to have all the family secrets out in the open, Grandmother.” Now that their secrets and regrets lay behind them, they could all move on to a better life, a bigger life.

  “That’s not all of them,” Grandmother said. “Samuel, the day you came to Natchez, you asked why I called you to this church when I didn’t care for your grandfather. Well, that isn’t entirely true.”

  He shot his gaze to her, frowned. “What isn’t?”

  “That I didn’t care for Jonas Montgomery.”

  Emma came back in and gave the box to Grandmother Euphemia.

  “Your grandfather and I courted for two years.”

  After a few seconds of sudden silence in the room, Clarissa realized her mouth was open, and she shut it. Courted—with Samuel’s grandfather?

  “I haven’t opened this box in sixty-four years.” She lifted the hinged lid and gazed at its contents. “Jonas shattered my heart when he broke our engagement and married my stepcousin, Esther, instead. It was Christmastime, and I had bought these cufflinks for him. Plain black onyx, appropriate for a minister of the Gospel.”

  Samuel coughed, shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea my grandfather would do such a thing.”

  “Don’t let it tarnish your memory of him. He was a fine man, and we were young. I married well afterward and fell in love with my Hezekiah before our first month was out. Much as my granddaughter has done, but not as fast.” She held out the box to Emma. “Give this to your father, sugar. They’ll go well with his new Sunday suit.”

  Samuel accepted the gift, rose and kissed the elderly woman’s cheek. “I’ll wear them proudly.”

  After a moment, the back door opened and banged shut, breaking the mood.

  “Miss Clarissa, look at this!” Willie dashed in, waving an envelope. He thrust it at her like a sword. “There was another loose stone, and this one had XXIII on it. It was so faint, I had to squint to see it. I climbed the tree and pulled out the stone, and this was in there.”

  Clarissa turned over the envelope. Her name was written on the front, in her grandfather’s hand. She pulled out a hairpin, broke the seal and found a single sheet of paper and a lock of dark hair tied with a thin blue ribbon.

  Her mother’s, she was sure. Her fingers trembled as she ran them over the long strands of soft hair. Then she laid it on the arm of the sofa and opened the page.

  Dearest Clarissa,

  I’m sure your grandmother has explained why I insisted you and your cousin compete for my estate. I have every confidence in you and know you’ll someday read this in my home, which you have won. But I also want you to know why I insisted you marry before inheriting.

  I know how hard you took Harold Goss’s betrayal. But he isn’t worthy of you. I know things about him that you do not. Seeing you after his marriage, I feared you would harden your heart against men, against love. I wanted you to marry so you could learn to love a man. This is what happened to your grandmother as well, when her betrothed betrayed her. We have a happy marriage and I wish the same for you.

  Your loving grandfather,

  Hezekiah Daniel Adams

  “Well, Father has done it again,” Papa said, a catch in his voice. “Proven he is the wisest man i
n the family.”

  Later, upstairs in their suite, Samuel beckoned Clarissa to join him on the settee by the west window, the early evening sun shining in a thin light. “I found this in my coat pocket yesterday,” he said, handing her an envelope. “It’s your valentine.”

  She reached for it, couldn’t help the smile blooming on her face. “You signed it, ‘Fondly, Samuel.’”

  “Foolish, I know. But what I wanted to write was, ‘Yours forever, and yours alone.’ That evening didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

  “I’m glad we had a second chance.”

  He drifted his arm about her shoulders in the darkening room. “Your father invited Miss Phemie and Emma to the Delta for the rest of the spring, before the summer heat. Can you let your grandmother go?”

  She glanced around the room, the place where they had nearly lost each other. Now the place of her second chance. “I can. I will.”

  “No need to think it through first?”

  “No need.”

  Samuel slid something from beneath the cushion and held it out to her. A green velvet box. “My grandmother asked me to give it to the woman who would fall in love with me.”

  Clarissa hastened to accept the box and open it. The emeralds inside gleamed in the last rays of the sun.

  He lifted the lavaliere from the box. When he’d fastened it around her neck, he cradled her face in his hands, kissed her—the woman who’d fallen in love with him. He drew her closer, his past rolling away, the future beckoning from a place nearer than he’d have thought.

  She finally pulled away, touching the green stones that matched her eyes. Eyes that held a hint of a smile. “For a man of action, you took a long time to give this to me.”

  “Not so long.” He gazed into the beautiful face of the woman who’d taught him how to wait, how to love. “Sometimes it takes a while to discover a second chance.”

  * * * * *

  If you liked this story,

  pick up this other heartwarming book

  from Christina Miller:

  COUNTERFEIT COURTSHIP

  Available now from Love Inspired Historical!