by Kate Whitsby
Marianne, a grin on her face, took her things and said, “Let’s start with showing you where your room is and getting you an apron so you don’t mess up that pretty shirtwaist.”
As soon as Cecily had stowed her belongings she went to the kitchen. Julie handed her an apron. Marianne asked, “How are you with baking?”
Her smile was sunny. “I can make a decent crust and bread. I don’t know how to make a biscuit, but I can learn fast.”
Marianne chuckled. “They’re not that difficult, long as you remember not to roll them too much. Makes them heavy.”
Cecily was soon busy rolling out and cutting biscuit dough. Carol asked, “What’s it like in the city?”
“It’s very dirty and crowded.” Cecily looked up from the circles she was making in the dough with a water glass. “It’s also very pretty in its own way.”
“I’m going,” Carol announced. “I want to go to college. I want to be a doctor.”
Cecily said, “That’s a very noble profession.”
Marianne sighed. “I know she means it,” she said to the room at large, “but I really wish she would stay here.”
Carol made a face. “Mama, most of the people here care about crops and cattle, and whether the wind is going to pick up again. I want to see a city. I want to see places where there are a lot of people, and most of the people here hope they don’t see many ever.”
Marianne flapped her hands, “Now that is just not true. Most of the people who live here came here to try to make a better life.”
Cecily sensed it was an old argument. Julie said, “Well, I’ll be in Fargo at the start of fall and I will be terrified.”
Cecily asked, “Fargo?”
Julie nodded, “I’m to teach there.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You must be very excited!”
Julie sighed. “I am, but I am not. I’m torn, I suppose.”
Cecily understood that all too well.
They finished preparing the meal while talking about recipes and the weather and, of course, Cecily’s upcoming marriage to Thom.
When Cecily confessed she did not have a wedding dress Marianne said, “I have a wedding dress, if you’d like to wear it. You look to be about the size I was when I was your age.”
Cecily bit her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”
Marianne’s eyes were kind. “Yes, I’m sure. Your parents...your mother passed on?”
Cecily blinked back tears. “She did.”
Julie asked, “And your father?”
Cecily shook her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about him.
Marianne said, “So you were alone in the city?”
Cecily took a long breath. “For a year and a half. I...worked as a seamstress and took in laundry for a little while. It earned me enough. I had to give up the apartment I lived in and take a much smaller one, but as it was just me that was not such a hardship.”
It hadn’t been and there was a harder truth beneath the surface of her words, one she did not want to discuss just yet.
What would they think about her once they knew about her secret? She would have to tell them, of course, and she knew it, but she hoped to make a good enough impression on them first that they might have some understanding of what had happened.
Chapter Four
After dinner ended and the dishes were done, everyone left except for Marianne and her daughters and Thom’s father and Thom. Marianne hustled Cecily into her bedroom, and then went and fetched the gown.
She brought it in and Cecily looked at the yellowing ivory length with real appreciation. It was plain and simple, and quite lovely as well. She touched it gently and raised her eyes to Marianne.
“Are you certain? I know it must be important to you.”
Marianne set the dress down and said, “It is. Thom’s my son, and his brother’s wife wore this gown. You didn’t meet her today because she’s been under the weather, and so we just send food over there.”
Carol popped into the room and closed the door. Her eyes were troubled. She came closer. “She lost another baby,” she said softly. “It makes her very sad.”
Cecily looked away. She’d never had children. She couldn’t imagine the pain of carrying one just to lose it. “I’m terribly sorry.”
Carol said, “One day women won’t lose their children. That is, if medicine gets better.”
Marianne gave her daughter an indulgent look. “Oh, Carol, you have such funny ideas.”
Carol asked, “Why are they so funny, mama? I want to go to the city to learn and be independent, but that doesn’t mean that one day I won’t want to come back here or to a place like it so I can help people.”
That would be a wonderful thing, and Cecily smiled at her encouragingly as Marianne helped her out of her clothes and into the dress.
The world needed more people who wanted to help the human condition to be better.
*****
After the dress was tried on and pinned, Cecily dressed again and went to talk to Thom. He took her by the arm and led her outside. They strolled along the front porch and she looked up at the sky.
The sun had long since set. The sky was an ebony dome pricked with tiny silver stars. His hand was warm and heavy on her waist, and it felt so right there that she wanted to ask him to leave it there forever.
“That sky is incredible.”
Thom pointed upward. “There’s the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. See them?”
She looked where he was pointing and then, as she looked, the constellations swam into view. A smile lit her face. “Oh! Are there more?”
“Yes, and you will see them all sooner or later. Some are brighter than others, depending on the night.”
She leaned into his warmth. “Thank you for choosing me, Thom.”
He smiled down at her. “I decided to get a mail-order bride because...” his voice trailed off and his face took on a sheepish look. “Well, most of the women around here are related to me or they are too young and I decided it was high time I was wed. I have a house of my own after all, and...and I’m a hardworking man. I will work for you, Cecily.”
Her hand came up, rested on his cheek. “Us.”
He blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“Us,” she said softly. “You’ll work for us, and I will do the same. Marriage is something two people get into and it should be two people who work hard and benefit from it.”
His hand moved slightly. A little tingle ran up and down her spine. Would he kiss her? She really hoped so.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t imagine I would care about you. I thought, well I thought that if I were lucky I’d get a woman I could come home to and work for, and that would be that. But...well, I think I might just love you anyway.”
They barely knew each other, but she felt strong emotions for him as well. She said, “Sometimes there’s a plan we don’t see until it’s unfolding around us, is what my mother used to say.”
His hand shifted slightly. He cleared his throat. “I can agree to that. I have to get home now.”
She turned to him. His face hovered above hers. Then he kissed her, a simple chaste kiss that made her whole body light up.
He walked her back inside and to the door of the bedroom, then left.
Cecily bade Marianne goodnight and went into her room. It still had some of Thom’s personality in there and she wandered around the room, taking in the plain iron bedstead with its straw and feather mattress, the old quilts piled high, and the small carved figures on the dresser.
Had he carved them? She turned a fanciful goose in her hands and a smile came. It was good whittling and it had taken time to do it. She could imagine him doing it, anyway. He had a patient soul.
There was water in the wash basin, and a clean washcloth lay on the small shelf below the bowl as did a bar of soap.
Cecily washed thoroughly for the first time in days. She’d barely had time to wash on the train,
or use the facilities, and while she had washed well at Jenna’s bowl she had been mindful of the time that it would take to wash very thoroughly and so had skimped somewhat.
The soap was everyday soap, but it had been pressed with some wildflowers that lent it a pretty smell. She lathered well and then dressed in a warm nightgown and fresh underwear.
She climbed into the bed, then stretched out luxuriously. She’d slept well in Jenna’s company but she was used to sleeping alone, and her body had yet to recover from the difficult trip.
Her eyes closed, but that thought persisted and kept her from sleep.
He was a good man and he had to know the truth. If she did not tell him she would be wronging him, and greatly.
Eventually she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
After chores and breakfast, Thom asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. She nodded eagerly and went to fetch the green coat. It was warmer that day, but still cool, and Marianne had warned her that the night would come on chilled.
They headed out into a day made glorious by the sun shining down from the blue sky. A few clouds were tucked into the corners, and the smell of the cows and the grass made a delicious aroma as they headed down the small and well-beaten paths of the ranch.
She pointed to cows grazing nearby. “There’s no way to keep them in?”
He shook his head. “That’s the good thing about this place. There’s so much grass they can graze, and so few people, we don’t worry too much about rustlers.”
She asked, “Not much? So there are some?”
He nodded. “Yup. I told you we do have it happen occasionally. More and more people are moving up this way to try to make it here but, fortunately for us, they tend to stick closer to the towns and cities.”
“Is it like that everywhere that people...um...ranch cattle?”
Thom laughed. His laughter was rich and warm, and her heart beat a little faster. “You mean raise cattle.”
She laughed too. His hand went to her elbow and he guided her past a few cow flops. “Is it like that everywhere that people raise cattle?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. Rustlers are a fact of life. So are there any wild animals out here that can kill cattle. There are natural predators here that we had in Texas, and a few we didn’t, but we’ve learned to adapt. That is the real key to raising cattle here, to learn to adapt to the difference in the weather.”
“What was the weather in Texas like?”
He wrinkled his forehead, “Hot. Very, very hot. As cold as the winters get here, that is how hot Texas gets in the summer.”
“You prefer the cold?”
Thom looked down to her face. “Will the cold bother you?”
She answered without thinking. “I couldn’t afford much in the way of coal the last two winters. I would sit under as many blankets as I could get and hope for the weather to change. Perhaps I am used to it now, or maybe it doesn’t seem so daunting, but I don’t think the winters here will be so bad.”
“I don’t think they are, as long as there’s a way to build a fire.”
His lips twitched. He was making a joke! She allowed herself to laugh. “Fire is good. So that stove of yours, is it coal?”
He nodded. “There’s not a lot of wood, so coal is the best thing to use.”
“I love that the houses are made of rock and clapboard. Is it to help keep them warm inside?”
He looked surprised. “Why, yes. The stone holds the heat in much better than just plain boards. We bake the mud, too.”
She blinked. “What?”
He grinned. “It’s a trick my father learned in Texas from the Mexicans. They make a form of house out of baked clay. Down there they do it to keep the heat at bay; here we do it to seal it in. I don’t think anyone else has caught on yet, but everyone who comes to our ranch remarks on how much warmer our houses are than theirs, and when we say we bake the river mud and use it they think we are pulling their legs.”
“The places in New York are red brick or wood. They get very cold. They also get very hot. My upstairs neighbors, last year this was, were actors in a theater. They used to drink a lot, they drank all winter, and were up at all hours. I once asked them why they must drink so and they said they could not afford a fire, so they made their own.”
He stopped walking. His eyes searched her face. “You had a hard row to hoe, being all alone like that, didn’t you?”
The wind picked up, and it had teeth. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I suppose so but...but it was fair.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Fair? How so?”
“I needed to row it to understand why...” Now was the time to tell him the truth, but before she could a cow mooed loudly then came toward them, its jaws moving rapidly.
Cecily fell back. Thom took her arm. “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid. She’s with calf is all, and we are standing in a patch of early grass that they find particularly tasty. Let’s move left.”
They did. The cow approached and bent its head to the flattened grass that they had been standing upon a few moments before.
Thom said, “I have to go ride along some of the pastureland with my father. I will escort you back to the house if you like.”
She clasped her arms, cupping her elbows in her hands. The words were stuck on her tongue. “I think I will be fine, but thank you. I should get used to it, I suppose.”
He nodded and they walked back toward the barn, where he saddled a horse and left quickly.
Cecily stood in the barnyard watching him go. Chickens pecked at her feet and flapped their wings at her. Barn cats soaked up the sun, and a few hogs rooted busily in their pen.
Peace settled over Cicely.
She’d been afraid for so long. She’d been starved, not just for food, but for affection. She’d been too ashamed to try to make new friends and all her old ones had left when the money and good times had run out.
She had earned just enough to eke out an existence, and it had been a meager one, but she had deserved that fate. It was a small price to pay for what she had done and she didn’t feel any bitterness about it.
She felt better than she had in a very long time, though, as she stood there in the barnyard with the soft sun on her head and shoulders.
The times that had come before the day she had stumbled into that agency, clutching her small purse to her chest and trying to breathe, were dark. Very dark. They had been the darkest times of her life, but she could feel them slowly vanishing from her heart and mind.
She had survived it. She had survived that darkness.
She started to walk toward the house, still thinking hard.
After that horrible thing had happened she had been left alone, in debt, and faced with a very public shame. She had had to move from the large and pretty place she had lived in to one that was both grimy and in a dangerous section of the city.
She had gone door to door in one of the nicer neighborhoods, knocking and inquiring if anyone had needed sewing or washing, and that bold move had taught her both humility and gratitude.
At first she had gotten nothing but no’s, but then a woman had said her regular washwoman had stopped washing and told her she could do the wash, but only if she did it there in the house so she could know for sure her clothes would not be stolen.
Bent over a washtub with her back aching and her hands burning, Cicely had let the tears come and land in the steaming tub. The lye had burned her fingers and the tears scalded her cheeks, but she had enough money to stop that night and buy the first food she had been able to buy in nearly a week.
She did such a good job she got a recommendation, and before long she was leaving her house early every morning to wash the clothes in someone’s house, hang them to dry and then—when they were dry—to starch and hang or fold them away carefully.
She could pay her rent. She no longer had to hide when the landlord knocked on the door. She had food. She could hold her head high again, knowing she had done h
er best.
Then, just when she was sure she had earned her way out of her shame, she had been accosted on the street by someone who had known her before the terrible time.
That had scared her.
She had known that as she stared into the florid face of the man who had accosted her and begun yelling at her at the top of his lungs about her sins she would never be able to move past it.
That was the same day she had stepped into the agency that oversaw mail order brides and put her name in the books to be offered as a bride. She had listed herself as unmarried and childless, which she was, slender but strong—which she was—and an orphan. Which she was. For the most part, anyway.
She headed for the house. Marianne met her at the door with a smile. “How was your walk?”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
Marianne smiled. “I think we should get that gown fixed up for you. Tomorrow’s the big day, after all.”
Her knees knocked together. She was running out of time to tell Thom. She decided then and there that she would tell him that night.
It was only fair.
Chapter Six
She didn’t get a chance to tell him. They didn’t get a single moment alone that night. Julie and Carol were excited about the dance that was to follow the wedding and Marianne was, too. The gown had to be fitted, then refitted and hastily altered. Dinner had to be served and food had to be prepared for the next day.
Cicely kept trying to find a way to get Thom alone, but before she could he had given her a small kiss on her forehead and left to go home.
She washed and readied herself for bed, but Carol snuck into her room to ask her about the city, bearing cookies and cups of hot tea, and they spent nearly an hour talking before Carol departed and left Cicely alone again.
She lay there, restless and afraid.
The wedding was the next day!
She had to tell him, but short of getting up and making her way across the deep darkness that lay between the houses to be alone with him, she was not sure how she could get a chance to tell him before the wedding.