Mail Order Bride_Cecily Finds a Husband

by Kate Whitsby

  She was sure she would never sleep, but eventually she did.

  Chapter Seven

  Her wedding day dawned and Cicely got up and washed carefully. She washed her hair, too, and let it hang to dry. It was early, far too early for anyone else to be up, and the room was warm enough that the heat and the steady strokes from her hairbrush dried her hair quickly enough.

  She pinned it up neatly and dressed, then went into the kitchen to start the stove and began to make coffee. The kitchen was spotless despite all the cooking that had been going on in there in preparation for the wedding.

  She hummed softly as she worked, quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the house.

  “That coffee smells good.”

  She turned, one hand at her throat. Thom stood in the doorway, already dressed in his denim pants and heavy work shirt. His coat bore a light dusting of the early morning dew and his face was freshly washed, so freshly washed that it was still slightly reddened.

  She kept her voice low. “Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup.”

  He took a seat and she got the coffee and took it to the table. They sat and he stirred cream into his coffee and smiled at her. “You know what’s funny?”

  She shook her head, “No.”

  “When I saw you there all I could think was soon enough you’ll be at home with me and I will get to watch you in the kitchen every morning.”

  Her throat closed. Tears jumped up in her eyes. She opened her mouth but Marianne, dressed and pressed, came into the kitchen. “Why, Cicely! You’ve made the coffee and started the biscuits! Thank you.”

  “Oh,” she gave her a smile. “It was nothing.”

  Her heart sank, however, as she realized that everyone was rising there was no time to talk to Thom alone before they all came into the kitchen.

  She had to find a way to talk to him. He had the right to know, and he had the right to know before he married her.

  He might not even want to marry her, however, once he found out.

  Breakfast was sliced bacon and fried apples, biscuits and fried eggs. She knew it was delicious, but she could not taste a single thing she put in her mouth.

  Her eyes were glued to Thom.

  She had fallen in love with him, as crazy and impossible as that seemed. She had been desperate to escape the city and put that shame behind her, and she had known that sooner or later she would have to tell him the truth; any man she had found would have had to know the truth eventually, but she had not realized how hard telling that truth would be.

  Breakfast over, Thom headed out to help with the chores and she went to the living room to finish the alterations. Her heart sank with every stitch.

  She did not want to lose Thom.

  That was the truth.

  He was not just a kind man, he was a genuine one. He would not know how to tell a lie if someone gave him a book explaining the subject, and she knew withholding the truth from him was wrong.

  Carol and Julie were in the kitchen. Marianne was kneeling on the floor pinning the hem when Cicely began to cry. Tears ran down her face and burned her cheeks. Her hands shook.

  Marianne looked up, then stood quickly. She took the pins from her mouth and gathered up the gown. She got Cicely up and into her bedroom, then sat her down on the bed before closing the door firmly.

  “What is it, Cicely?”

  Cicely wiped her eyes with one hand. “Everything.”

  Marianne looked alarmed. “Have you...do you not want to marry Thom?”

  She hiccupped. “Oh, more than anything! But...but I owe him the truth, and if I tell him he may not want to marry me.”

  Marianne set the gown across her knees, handed Cicely her needle and said, “Right there, dear.”

  Cicely plied the needle. The motion soothed her. She thought hard for a few moments, and then she decided to make a clean breast of it. If she told Thom and not his family she would be asking him to lie for her, and with her, too.

  She said the words in a halting voice and when she was done Marianne took the gown. Cicely took that as a sign of Marianne’s disapproval and began to weep harder.

  “Now, there, there.” Marianne hugged her tightly. “Hush now. Women who are alone or afraid—it can be hard. I imagine it was not easy for you to tell me, and I know it won’t be easy for you to tell Thom, but you must.”

  Cicely nodded. “I wanted to since we met, but the time has never felt right and...and I am so ashamed and so scared. I know he’s a good man, but am I good enough for him?”

  Marianne sighed. “How can we know? Thom has to decide that for himself, and the only way he is going to be able to decide is if he knows.”

  Cicely dried her tears. “Are you...do you want me to leave?”

  Marianne’s eyes were clear. “No. Thom feels for you. If he wants to marry you, how can I stand in his way? I admire your courage, Cicely, in coming clean about this, but I cannot swear Thom will still want to marry you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “I will tell him right now.”

  Marianne nodded. “I think the gown’s about ready. I’ll just leave it right here while I go check on that beef.”

  She left the room. Cicely sat there on the edge of her bed, giving the occasional watery sniffle. It was too late to go back; her secret was out, and while she felt much lighter she knew she would not feel right until she talked to Thom. She just could not seem to work up the nerve to do so.

  Chapter Seven

  The men were done with their chores. Thom had gone to his house to change for the wedding. Cicely set out through the grass, her arms swinging at her sides.

  Her heart was a hard knot in her chest and her stomach felt weak and sick. Her heart raced, and her mind did too. How could she tell him and make him understand how it had all happened? What would he think of her? Would he tell her to leave?

  She gathered her courage and went up on the porch. She knocked on the door. It came to her that if she wed him—if he still wanted her—she would never again have to knock on that door because that would be her door, the door to her house and home.

  Thom came to the door. He had his work clothes still on and there was grass on his jeans and in his hair. She stared at him, her heart leaping into her throat.

  How, how in the world, had she gotten so lucky as to find a man like this one?

  She knew bad men. She knew bad husbands. Thom was not one.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  He looked over her shoulder. “Um, do you want to come in?”

  He stepped away from the door. She entered. The house still smelled new, like wood and something else, something pleasant and masculine. She took a deep breath and looked around. The stove was neatly blacked and the floors swept. There were two doors off the main hallway. One was the kitchen, the other was the parlor. The kitchen and bedroom must be in the back, back by the stove where the bedroom could stay warmer in cold weather.

  “Your parents have fireplaces along with their stove.”

  He nodded. “There’s a small stove in the bedroom back there, too.” He jerked his head then his face went red. His hands plucked at his shirt. “Is something wrong?” She sighed and hung her head. His fingers came out and lifted it. His eyes met hers. “Cicely, do you not want to marry me?”

  She threw her arms around him. His hard and solid body met hers, and anguish wound through her body. “Oh, I want to very much! It’s all I want, but when I tell you what I have to say, you may not want to marry me!”

  He held her tightly. “I can’t imagine anything so terrible that I would change my mind.”

  “No, you can’t because you...you have no idea of what it is like to be a bad man or husband.”

  She stepped back, fighting for control. His confusion showed on his face. He asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

  She would have loved some, but she shook her head. “No, no thank you. I came to talk to you and I must before I lose my nerve and flee.”

  “Flee?” He s
tepped closer. She let her eyes wander across his face, trying to memorize every detail just in case he declared he did not want her after all. “Cicely, I cannot think what is upsetting you so much but whatever it is, I am sure we can get through it.”

  Her body slumped. “I hope you feel that way after you hear me out. I truly do.”

  He said, “Then why don’t you tell me, and we can go from there.”

  Tell him. Where to start? Cecily wrung her hands. “I must tell you this now. You see, I want to marry you. I do. More than anything, but I am afraid if I start us off with a lie, everything will be a lie.”

  Thom drew closer. His kindly face wore a look of concern. “What is it, Cicely?”

  Her fingers twisted tightly around each other. Her face went red, then redder. Her throat closed and she had to swallow hard to get the lump that rose in her throat to go down enough to speak.

  “I was wed before.”

  The words were a mere whisper.

  Thom stared at her, obviously bemused. “You’re a widow? But in your letters, you said you were unmarried.”

  She shook her head. “I am not married, but neither am I a widow.”

  He looked even more confused. “How is that possible? Were you divorced?”

  That word, so forbidden and taboo, sent cold chills racing up and down her spine. Her tongue cleaved to her palate, but she shook her head and managed to speak, “No, no I am not divorced either.”

  He looked increasingly concerned but not angry, which was a relief. “I don’t understand. If you are unmarried, not a widow and not divorced...I do not understand Cicely. I am trying to, I really am, but you are going to have to tell me what it is that you are getting at, because right now I just can’t see it.”

  She dropped her hands and took a long breath. “I didn’t either. Not at first. I just do not know even where to start, or how to explain it all to you in a way that you can and will understand.”

  Thom put his hands on her shoulders. “Start at the beginning. That is usually the easiest and best way to explain something, or so I have found.”

  Cecily wanted to lay her head on his chest and just rest there. She needed his strength right then, but she wasn’t sure he wanted to share it with her so she remained where she was.

  “When I was...five years ago, when I was sixteen, I met a man. His name was Roland Winters. He came into the hotel where I worked. My mother worked there too and...and there was never enough money in the house, so she asked me to take on the job.”

  “You worked in a hotel? You never told me that.”

  He still did not sound angry, but she gulped anyway. “I worked in the laundry. I washed the sheets and ironed the pillowcases. Sometimes guests had laundry that needed doing, and that was my job as well.

  “At least it was at first. Then I got moved up when they learned I could sew well enough to make some small repairs and alterations to guests’ garments. The hotel loaned dinner jackets and gowns...some guests were...um...they didn’t know they had to dress for dinner. The hotel kept the gowns and jackets and sometimes I had to do a quick alteration on those and then remove the alteration so that the next guest could wear them.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” His voice was encouraging, and she knew he was deliberately soothing her.

  She cleared her throat. “It wasn’t. It was a respectable job, and I was proud of it. There are worse jobs in the city, and lots of girls have them. I enjoyed it, and I knew I would work there until I married. My mother...she had to work since my father...I should have known, you see.”

  He frowned. Puzzlement showed on his face. “Should have known what, Cicely?”

  She sighed. “My father drank. Oh, how he drank. He had a story for every ill, and he had a dislike of hard work that went to his bones. But he was not charming.”

  Thom asked, “Was he cruel?”

  She bit her lips. “He was. I know discipline is a father’s responsibility, but he was not a disciplinarian so much as he was cruel. He was surly and childish and he was always angry if he was thwarted from his drinking.

  “When I met Roland—oh, he was charming! He came down to have a suit altered. Not a borrowed one, his own. He said the tailor had done a poor job on the sleeves. I thought he was telling the truth. As it turned out he lied that first meeting, and lied ever after too.”

  Thom asked, “Was it his suit?”

  She gave him a grateful look. “No. How did you know?”

  His lips curved upward. “I don’t know about a tailor, but I would guess a man who could afford a suit from one would take that suit back if it didn’t fit properly.”

  She nodded. “That never occurred to me. He was a fast talker, and he was handsome and charming. He offered me supper and I...well I had never had dinner out at a restaurant before. I was grateful, I suppose. Grateful that such a successful man saw me as pretty and wanted to take me to supper.”

  “And you married him?”

  She bit her lips. “My mother died suddenly and without warning. I was left trying to support my father. It was unbearable. Roland was...he was like a lamp in the darkness. I’d lost all my faith by then, even if I didn’t know it. I got blinded by the money he was always flashing and the way he smiled all the time. I forgot that life is not made of those things. I got proud.”

  Thom said, “You wouldn’t be the first to do that, Cicely, and it sounds like you’ve come to peace with yourself and your faith since.”

  Her hand went to her chest. She felt the wild beat of her heart below her palm. “Oh, I have. I really have but...but I wed him and then, many months later, a woman showed up at our door. Turns out she was his wife, and Roland was not a businessman as I had thought, but a gambler. All the trips he took out of town were to gamble. He was also a thief. Much of what was in our home was stolen.”

  Her face was scarlet and her eyes teared. “I let myself get so involved with all those beautiful things he brought home that I never let myself ask how he got them. I was so caught up in buying pretty dresses and pretty things that I forgot to be humble. I forgot pride went before a fall.

  “And I fell. Hard. When I found out where everything came from, and that he was already married and so we couldn’t be...I was...I sold everything that didn’t get taken by its rightful owners and donated the money to charity. I tried to get my old job back, but they wouldn’t take me because...well because everyone knew what had happened. I survived by taking in laundry and sewing and managed to keep the small place I rented after I gave up the place we had lived, but I didn’t have much in the way of anything and it made me understand that I wanted to be someone better than who I had been.”

  Thom took her into his arms. Her face rested against his chest and she felt the reassuring thump of his heartbeat below her cheek. “You were wronged, Cicely. You had too much pride, yes, but you know that now. It was a hard lesson, but sometimes the lessons that are the hardest to learn are the ones we need the most.”

  “I did learn many a lesson from it. I learned humility again and grace. I...I am ashamed to say that when Roland would come home from what he said was his work and he would have lots of money in his pockets, we would live like kings—and with no regard for frugality or the future.

  “I was there with him and I knew, deep down I truly did know, that so many of the people who were there with us were only there because Roland bought everything for us. He used to take me to fancy suppers and out dancing. He’d buy me a pretty dress and some little bauble, or he would come home with a bauble and while my head would say something was wrong and that I was being prideful and putting too much stock in material things, I kept taking them and reveled in my lifestyle.

  “If you still want me, I swear that I have learned, the hard way, that being a good wife does not mean waiting idly by while you work at whatever you work at. It doesn’t mean being given expensive trifles in exchange for cooking meals or being pampered. I knew, before I wed him, that hard work is the only way to really have an
ything and I forgot that while I was with him, but I relearned that lesson afterwards and I swear I will never ever forget it ever again.”

  “Cicely, you are a hard worker and beautiful and kind. Any man would be happy to have you as a wife. You are not soiled by this. Is that what you think? That he soiled you?”

  She swallowed back tears. “You...you know now I was not married, and lived with a man. In the eyes of society, I was fallen. A fallen woman. I didn’t...I didn’t realize how many people knew about that until the day a man who had known Roland and had been cheated by him accosted me on the street and began to scream hateful names at me. Names that made me feel so small and...dirty.”

  He pushed her away so he could look down at her face. He didn’t let go of her, either. “You thought you were married, Cicely. That wasn’t your fault. People can get tricked; it’s not fair, but it happens. If anyone is at fault here, it is him. You had no way to know that he was already married. You could not have known unless he told you, and he didn’t. You were done wrong, and if he was here I would be happy to punch him in the face for what he did to you. As far as society goes, well, here it’s different. We live by our own rules, and we don’t hold with cheaters making a fool out of an innocent girl.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “That’s the same thing your mother said a little while ago when I told her. I have to ask. Do you still want to marry me?”

  He nodded. “I most certainly do.”

  The tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Are you sure?”

  Thom chuckled and wiped her tears with the ball of his thumb. “I am very sure. This is Montana, Cicely. This places forgives much. I’m sure whatever wrong you did, you’ve repented and you’re past it.”

  Her lips trembled. “I am so sorry I lied to you.”

  He shook his head. “Let’s agree that you told me the truth and that I know it and I’m willing to accept it. I love you, Cicely; I think I fell in love with you the minute you stepped off that train in that silly green coat.”

  She laughed. “It was a rather silly coat, wasn’t it?”