by Nerys Leigh
“And finally, Amy Watts.”
Amy froze.
“Amy Watts?”
Don’t look, she told herself. Just go. Don’t look back.
“Amy?” Sara called.
The area around her was emptying. She had to go now, while she still had the chance.
She heard confused voices. The family she was hiding behind began to move.
Run!
She turned to flee, not looking where she was going, and collided with an arm clad in a black jacket sleeve. She looked up. The arm was attached to a man dressed in a black suit who was staring behind her. He glanced down at Amy, a line forming between his close set eyes and his lips pursing beneath his thin moustache.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, stepping back.
“Amy, there you are!” she heard Sara call.
Screaming at herself not to, she slowly turned towards the group of people she was trying to escape.
Beside Pastor Jones, a young man stood looking around him, twisting his hat nervously in his hands. He was tall and wore a grey suit and shiny black shoes, unlike the other men who were all dressed in plaid shirts and wool trousers and boots. His clean-shaven face was handsome, framed by gently curling dark brown hair down to his collar. He was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined. He looked kind. And utterly terrified.
Guilt pierced Amy’s soul. She couldn’t do this, not to him, not to anyone. It was a despicable thing to do to another human being. She wished, not for the first time, that her heart was harder.
Cursing herself for looking when she knew she should have run, she threw one last, longing glance at the ticket office and then walked towards the little crowd of people. She would just talk to him, explain, come to an arrangement.
It would work out somehow. She would think of something. She’d come this far, she’d escaped. She could do it again.
Reaching Pastor Jones and the young man, she pushed her hat from her head and let it hang behind her on its thong.
The pastor let out a sigh of relief. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “Amy Watts, may I present Adam Emerson.”
Adam stared at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, his gaze travelling from her sandy blonde hair caught up in a loose braid, down past her beige shirt and brown linen jacket, to her brown trousers and brown leather shoes. Amy swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She’d dressed for the possibility of having to ride, not meeting someone she was supposed to marry. She glanced at the other women with their fancy dresses and ribbons in their hair, thinking how strange she must look. And how much of a disappointment she must be to the man who thought he was meeting his wife today.
Except, she hadn’t intended to meet him at all. She should have been buying a ticket for the remainder of the journey to San Francisco and getting back on the train by now. Or, failing that, finding the nearest livery to buy a horse to ride there.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and held out her hand. At least this way, when she explained how she wasn’t going to marry him, he might at least be a little relieved.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Emerson,” she said.
He looked back at her face, a bemused expression lingering on his features. “Uh, yes,” he said. He took her hand and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Watts.” He smiled slightly.
“Well,” Pastor Jones said, “now we’re all sorted out, let’s get the luggage and head to the church.”
“Can I carry your bag?” Adam said as they all headed for the far end of the train.
Amy looked down at her shabby carpet bag. “Oh no, thank you.” While she was almost certain he wouldn’t run off with it, she felt safer with it in her hands. It held everything she owned.
He nodded and looked at the ground awkwardly. Amy felt instantly sorry for him. How on earth was she going to do this?
The baggage car was being unloaded when they reached it. Amy watched Sara smile up at Daniel. He leaned down to say something to her and she laughed and tightened her hold on his arm. Amy glanced at Adam beside her. He had replaced his hat and was moving stiffly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. She sighed and shifted her grip on her bag.
The men set about sorting out the various trunks and bags and loading everything into their wagons and buggies.
“Which one’s yours?” Adam said, looking around at the rapidly dwindling pile of luggage.
“Oh, I don’t have anything else,” Amy said. She patted her bag. “It’s all in here.”
He studied the small bag. “Are your things being sent separately?”
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She should have just gone, bought the ticket and got back on the train. Later she could have written to Adam and explained and apologised. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
“Um, no. This is all I have.”
His eyes widened. “In the world?”
She nodded.
“Oh.” He seemed uncertain what to say at first, then he perked up, smiling. “Don’t worry, there’s a very good general store in town. They have everything anyone could possibly need. We could go there tomorrow if you like, after you’ve rested.”
Why did he have to be nice? Amy looked at his expression, so eager to please her, and hated herself. “Thank you,” she said softly.
With everyone’s luggage loaded, they began the short walk to the church. Amy began to panic. She looked desperately back at the train as it pulled away from the station behind them. What was she going to do? Say no at the altar? She searched around her for something, anything, to get her out of the situation.
“Are you all right?” Adam said.
She started at his voice. “Yes. No. I’m...”
And then she fainted.
Chapter 2
Shocked voices surrounded her.
“Oh my, is she all right?”
“Give her some air!”
“Amy? Amy, can you hear me?”
She kept her eyes closed and her body relaxed. She’d seen it performed several times before, the fake swoon. Of course, all those times had involved women fainting into the arms of a convenient handsome bachelor, usually with the intention of gaining a husband. She was doing it for the exact opposite reason, but the technique was the same. After counting to sixty, she opened her eyes, fluttering her eyelids as if she was regaining consciousness.
“She’s awake!”
“Give her some air!”
The first thing she saw was Adam’s face staring down at her, his face filled with distress. His eyes so incredibly blue.
He was kneeling next to her, his hand on her cheek. He snatched it back as soon as she focused on him.
“Are you all right?” he said, helping her to sit up.
She put a hand to her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” That was the traditional opening line after a feigned swoon and she didn’t see any need to change it now.
“You’ve obviously had a lot of excitement and stress travelling,” Pastor Jones said, crouching beside her. The others formed a circle around her semi-prostrate form.
“I’m all right,” Amy said, feeling uncomfortable with all the attention. “Truly, I’m fine.”
Adam held her firmly as she stood, putting his arm around her waist to steady her.
Pressed against him, she got the impression of strength. Hoping she wasn’t wrong about that, she took a step in the direction of the church and softened her knees. Everyone gasped as Adam grabbed her to stop her from falling, much to her relief. Going down the first time she’d hit her elbow and it hurt.
“Maybe I should just take her home,” he said. “Could we possibly have the ceremony tomorrow?”
“Of course we can,” Pastor Jones said. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure all she needs is some food and a good rest.”
Sara untangled her arm from Daniel’s and came over to them. “Are you well, Amy? Can I do anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” She lowered her voic
e to a whisper. “You go and marry your handsome cowboy. I know you want to.”
Sara smiled and leaned in close to her. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?”
After more refusals of help and some fussing from Mrs Jones, everyone crowded into the white clapboard church and Amy and Adam continued past towards the centre of town.
He had let her go when Sara came to talk to her and now he didn’t seem to know what to do. He hovered at her side, looking like he expected her to keel over at any second.
“I’m not going to faint again,” she said. “You don’t have to worry.”
He continued to look concerned, but he did move away a little.
“I’m sorry,” she said as they walked.
“What for?”
“For spoiling everything for you. The wedding and everything.”
The sound of his laughter caught her by surprise.
“Oh, don’t be sorry about that. To tell the truth, I wasn’t looking forward to it.” He gasped and looked at her. “I mean... I don’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to marrying you. I just meant the whole idea of a mass wedding was a little... I don’t know. Unromantic. Just the two of us will be much nicer.” He smiled and looked at the ground, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Amy couldn’t believe he still wanted to marry her, even with her looking like she did and having fainted like one of the pampered princesses she saw in the city. She couldn’t imagine what she’d written in her letters to make him so enamoured of her. Maybe she’d tried too hard in her desperation to escape from Mr Courtney. Now she’d met Adam, she wished she hadn’t been so... whatever she’d been. This would be so much easier if he was disappointed.
They came to a halt on the wooden walkway in front of one of the shop fronted buildings towards the end of the main street. Lost in her thoughts, Amy hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. She looked up, but with the wooden awning above her she couldn’t see any sign to indicate what kind of store it was. It looked closed. Adam produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let her in.
“Just go on through,” he said, indicating a door in the back wall as he locked the door behind them.
She looked around as she moved through the room. A whole wall of cubby holes sat behind the counter, filled with letters and parcels. A set of shelves nearby held paper and pens and pencils and other writing related paraphernalia along with brown paper, string and envelopes.
A post office.
Beyond the door was a modest sized parlour with a pale green settee and two brown armchairs. Against the back wall was a kitchen area with a sink and large dresser and a table surrounded by four mismatched chairs. Through the window over the sink, Amy glimpsed a fenced in yard. A door in the far right corner led outside.
“Please, have a seat,” Adam said, removing his hat and jacket and hanging them on a coat stand. “May I take your coat?”
He owns the post office, Amy thought as she put down her bag, shrugged off her jacket and handed it to him. He seemed so young to be a postmaster. She wished she’d read his letters, but she hadn’t wanted to know about the man she was going to use to get her across the country and then abandon. It occurred to her how selfish that was now. He had paid for her train fare, a significant amount of money, and would be getting nothing but betrayal in return. She should at least have read his letters instead of getting Katherine to read them for her, but she’d been afraid of losing her nerve if she knew anything about him.
“Would you like something to eat?” Adam said, hovering beside her as she sat on the damask settee. “Or drink? Did you eat supper already on the train? Or would you like to clean up? Or maybe take a nap?”
She stared up at him, trying to decide which question to answer first. He seemed so uncertain what to do. It was endearing.
No, it wasn’t endearing, because she did not want to be endeared to him. At all.
“Um, yes please, yes, no, if it’s not too much trouble, and no, thank you.”
He gave a small laugh and sank onto the other end of the settee, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrogate you. I’m a little nervous.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s all right. So am I.” That was the truth, at least.
His eyes held hers for a long moment before moving away. “Well, this is my home.” He gestured vaguely around the room then looked back at her. “I mean your home. Our home.” He smiled, his cheeks reddening a little. “It’s not very big, but I’ve tried to make it pleasant and cosy. The outhouse is through that door out the back and there are two bedrooms upstairs. I’ve made up a separate bedroom for you. I don’t expect, I mean, even if we had got married today, I didn’t expect us to be sharing a bed straight away. I just wanted you to know that. I’m not the kind of man who would ever pressure you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Just, it will be entirely up to you. That’s all.” He laughed again, closing his eyes. “And that was entirely too much information all at once when we’ve hardly even had our first conversation.”
Amy couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. Adam froze, staring at her with wide eyes. Then he started to laugh too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...”
“I know exactly what you mean.” He was smiling at her, his eyes shining. He started to reach out his hand towards her, but then stopped and withdrew it. “Well, how about I show you upstairs and while you’re freshening up, I’ll make us some supper.”
“That would be perfect, thank you.”
They both stood and Adam’s eyes went to her bag which was sitting on the settee between them. “I can carry it upstairs for you,” he said, “if you’d like.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
He seemed to relax at that as he picked up the bag.
A door opened onto stairs and Amy followed him to the second floor. Two doors led off a small landing, both of them open. Amy glimpsed a double bed with a colourful quilt and a large, oak wardrobe through one door. Adam stood aside to allow her to enter the other door ahead of him.
She stopped inside, her mouth opening in amazement.
A single bed stood opposite the door, topped with a blue quilt, a knitted blanket in shades of pink folded at the foot. Next to it stood a small table with a vase of fresh violets. On the other side of the room was an oak wardrobe that matched the one in the master bedroom, only smaller, a matching chest of three drawers beside it. A washstand against the wall opposite the window held a basin and jug, towel and cloth and a fresh bar of soap. The walls were painted a subtle shade of lavender blue and the curtains at the window were white with embroidered flowers in blue along the bottom edge.
It was the most beautiful room Amy had ever seen and it was all for her. For tonight, anyway. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she blinked rapidly.
Adam walked past her and placed her bag onto the bed. “I know it’s not very grand,” he said, looking around, “and you must be used to so much more in New York. I did my best, but maybe it needs a woman’s touch. If there’s anything you’d like to change...” He stopped as he turned to face her. “Amy? What’s wrong?”
She sniffed and shook her head rapidly, her fingers covering her mouth. “It’s perfect,” she managed to whisper. “It’s the most perfect room I’ve ever had.”
The truth was she’d never had a room to herself, and even the ones she’d shared with others weren’t anywhere near as beautiful as this one. But she couldn’t tell him that.
She cleared her throat, silently chiding herself for the outburst of emotion. “Thank you. It’s lovely. I know I’ll be comfortable here.”
The look of relief on Adam’s face made her want to cry again. What was wrong with her? She wished he wasn’t so eager to please her. It made her feel so much worse.
“I’ll leave you to rest or whatever you want to do,” he said. “Just come down whenever you’re ready. And call if there’s a
nything you need. Anything at all.”
He gave her one last smile then walked back out to the landing, pulling the door closed as he left.
Amy sat down on the bed and ran her hand over the quilt. It was soft and beautifully made. She wondered if Adam had already owned it, or if he had bought it especially for her arrival. He seemed to have put so much thought into everything.
For a moment she wondered if it would really be so bad to stay here and marry Adam. From what she could tell, he was a good man. He would be a good husband. She might even be happy here...
She shook her head to dislodge the unwanted thoughts. Her father had been a good man and a good husband and of what use was that to her and her mother when he died? She wouldn’t become dependent on any man to look after her. This was her life and she would find a way to live it relying on no one but herself. She would be no one’s bride.
No matter how good and handsome and kind Adam Emerson was.
Amy spent a while in the bedroom, cleaning the dust from the journey away with the water and lavender scented soap, unpacking the few meagre belongings she had, then sitting in the comfortable chair by the window and gazing at the scene outside. Directly behind the post office was a yard with two wooden outbuildings and the outhouse in the far corner. Beyond that was another road, with more houses huddled together. The two houses directly behind, however, were single storey, so from her window she could see over the top to the vista beyond. It took her breath away.
She’d spent much of the train journey here staring out the window at the wide open spaces of the country she’d lived in all her life, but never seen. She was used to the city, noise, people everywhere, dirt and rubbish, wealth and squalor side by side. It hadn’t ever occurred to her how much empty space there was just beyond her small world. On her way across the country she’d seen prairies and mountains and desert, lakes and great forests. Now she gazed at the fields of gently waving corn interspersed with lines of trees where a creek or river flowed, stretching to the horizon where blue mountains reached for the sky.
It filled her with a deep sense of peace, a feeling she wasn’t used to. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes.