Quickly, I rush for my sheets. I tied them into knots after my visit with Mark Ashton that morning, in preparation for tonight. I open my window and throw the sheet ladder out the side.
There are no downstairs windows on this side of the house and, even if there were, I know my Father. He’ll either head back to the tavern in the other direction or he’ll go back to the kitchen and his own private stash of whiskey.
Sure enough, I make it down the ladder without incident and head to the church.
When I knock on the door, Pastor Jamison opens it for me. He is white-haired with a weather worn but rosy and very pleasant looking face.
His pale blue eyes widen slightly upon seeing me at the door. He had not expected me to come before nightfall. He smiles nonetheless.
“Come in, Ruth,” he says hurrying me into the meeting hall. I see him look around cautiously before closing the door behind him. It is a small town and, if anyone sees me enter the church or leave the town boundaries tomorrow morning, Father is sure to get word of it.
“Has something happened?” Pastor Jamison asks as I follow him to the church closet. There, he picks out a blanket for me and places my packed knapsack gently inside.
“Not really,” I answer. “Mark Ashton proposed and I turned him down, obviously.”
“Yes, I heard about that,” Pastor Jamison says darkly. I have a feeling the entire town of Ridgefield knows by now. “I trust your father did not take that well.”
“No,” I answer. “He locked me in my room. He thinks I’m still there.”
“Then, let us pray he remains convinced of that at least until tomorrow morning,” pastor Jamison says.
He carries the blanket and pillow as well as a small lantern to a pew in the back of the church.
“I’m afraid this is the best I can do,” Pastor Jamison says. “I had hoped to have a bed for you at my home next door but...in the end, I thought it best not to risk you being seen.”
Pastor Jamison knows as well as I do what will happen if my Father finds out what I’ve done. Not just to me, but to anyone who helps me. Even the pastor.
I smile at him and touch his arm in gratitude.
“This is wonderful,” I tell him. “I cannot thank you enough.”
Pastor Jamison looks down at me, gives me a smile and pats my hand. It’s a fatherly gesture. One I can vaguely remember receiving from my own father when I was very young. Before he turned into what he is now.
“I assume you’ve told your young man in Texas about your...circumstances?” Pastor Jamison asks. I feel my face color and I look down at my feet.
I’m not quite sure how to tell the pastor that Abel has no idea who or what my Father is. He knows that my family is not wealthy but, as for the rest of it...he believes my mother is still alive and that my father is as he once was.
I’ve told Abel that my father is a man of few words; strong, silent but caring. Abel believes this because that’s what I’ve told him. When he wrote to me of the joy he had in his brothers and his warm memories of their father and mother, I could not bear to tell him the truth of my own sad state.
Pastor Jamison, apparently, does not need me to say any of this. When I look up at him it is clear that the truth is written on my face.
“You know it is never good to begin a marriage with a lie, don’t you Ruth?” he asks as though I am five years old again and being scolded for spilling milk on the Sunday School classroom floor.
“I haven’t lied,” I feel the need to insist. “Not exactly. I simply have not told the whole truth.”
“In my experience,” Pastor Jamison tells me. “The truth tends to come out sooner rather than later. It would be best to tell your fiancé the truth about your circumstances as soon as possible.”
I look down and begin to fidget with my dress sleeve, completely unwilling to look my pastor in the eye. Pastor Jamison has a way of making you feel guilty about things you know you shouldn’t have done, even if you have a million excuses for doing them.
“Alright,” I answer quietly. “As soon as I get off the train, as soon as I see Abel, I’ll tell him the truth.”
I finally take a chance and look up into the old man’s eyes. He gives me a gentle smile and pats me on the shoulder.
“I know you will, Ruth,” he says. He sets the lantern by my side and moves towards the door of the church.
“I’ll be back at dawn with the carriage to take you to the station,” he tells me as he reaches the door. “Until then, good night.”
As the door closes, I feel my stomach tighten at the thought of what will happen tomorrow. Not tomorrow, exactly, but, three days from tomorrow when I will see Abel.
Because, even though Pastor Jamison is sure that I will tell Abel the truth, I am not. How can I tell my fiancé that I married him, in part to escape an abusive father? And, worse yet, how can I tell Abel that I’ve lied to him?
Chapter 3
I’ve had three days on the train with nothing to do but think about my situation. Even as we pull into Medina station where Abel and his brothers have arranged to meet me, I’m still not sure what to do.
I know Abel’s three brothers are eager to meet me. Abel told me so in his last letter, the one that came with the train tickets. He is the oldest of three. They all work together and live together in almost complete harmony.
Even though their parents are several years passed on, Abel and his brothers all have very fond memories of them. They share those memories with each other and smile.
I did not want to place a damper on their happiness. I did not want to bring the gloom and misery of my situation into someone else’s life. I wanted my life, my circumstances to be as happy as Abel’s are.
Now that I am facing the prospect of meeting him, I am forced to realize that such a lie, even kindly meant, will likely not stand.
Part of me wants to come clean. A part of me wants to hold nothing back from my new husband, wants there to be no secrets between us.
But another voice, louder than the first, tells me that I dare not reveal my family circumstances. This voice insists that if I do, Abel will surely withdraw his proposal. Who would want a woman with such a past?
We’ve stopped in the station and before I know it, the clerk has helped me off with my bag and I’m standing on the platform waiting for my fiancé to greet me.
I have never seen a picture of Abel. He’s described himself as being tall with red hair, clean shaven face and green eyes. But, there are several men here who would fit that description.
I’m starting to feel anxious when I hear a voice call out from my right.
“Miss Watson?” it asks hesitantly. I turn to see a man, a boy really, with hair the color of straw, bright blue eyes and a face full of freckles. This surely is not Abel.
“Yes,” I answer. The boy breaks into a grin and looks behind him.
“Abel!” he shouts. “Over here! I’ve found her!”
I look around and see several of the better to do ladies wince at the boy’s loud-voiced cry, but I merely smile. Life with my Father has made me used to yelling. And I’ve come to appreciate the difference between pleasant and unpleasant cries. This is entirely pleasant.
I look toward the direction of the boy’s shouts. It’s only a moment before I see him. His face is ruddy and sun-worn. His hair is indeed redder than any I’ve ever seen. Certainly deeper than any in Connecticut. His emerald green eyes sparkle when he spots me. Then he smiles and my heart begins to beat fast and light in my chest.
He is every bit as ruddy and handsome as I hoped he would be. As he approaches, I feel heat race up my face and I begin to wonder whether or not I will be Abel to say anything to him at all.
“Ruth Watson?” he asks, his voice light, carrying just a hint of an Irish lilt. As I feared, I am unable to speak. I nod instead.
“I’m Abel O'Connor,” he says with a small smile that tells me he is every bit as unsure about this meeting as I am. This gives me some courage.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Mr. O'Connor,” I manage as prettily as I can. His smile brightens and I’m sure my blush deepens.
“Abel, please,” he says as he takes my hand in his and places a kiss on my knuckles.
“Abel,” I say looking into his eyes as though I am testing the sound out in my mouth. I find that it is not at all unpleasant.
“And you must call me Ruth,” I say to him. “We are engaged after all.”
He lets out a low chuckle.
“My,” he says. “You are a real lady. Just like I knew you’d be.”
“There are those in Ridgefield Connecticut who would disagree with you on that point,” I answer.
“Then they’re fools, the lot of them,” he assures me. I smile and for a moment, I consider telling him what I’ve done. I consider telling him about running away from my Father, about my mother’s death, all of it. But, before I can make the decision, he turns to the straw-haired boy beside him.
“Gabe, take Miss Watson’s bag to the carriage. We’ll follow behind you,” he says.
Gabe hurries to obey. As he lifts my bag from the ground at my feet, I can’t help but be amused by the look of wonder on his face as he looks up at me. It’s as though he’s never seen a woman before.
Which, I remind myself, out here, is probably not far off the mark.
Abel offers me his arm and I take it gratefully as we make our way to the carriage.
“I assume it’s just you, then?” he says when we’ve moved from the station. “No escort or–”
“No,” I answer. “Just me.”
“That’s surprising,” Abel says almost to himself.
“That a woman would travel alone on a train?” I ask. “It is really not as dangerous as people make it out to be.”
“No, it’s not that,” Abel says as we reach the wagon. “I’m only surprised your parents didn’t want to come to the wedding tomorrow. From what you’ve told me, you’re quite close.”
Here it is. The moment of truth. I know right here and right now, I have the decision to make. And, I know what that decision should be. I know that Abel deserves to hear the truth.
But, when I look into those deep green eyes, when I see the small curious smile quirking at his lips, I can’t stand the thought of losing him. And, I’m sure I would if I told him that I had lied to him.
So, I simply look down and shrug my shoulders.
“They wanted to,” I lie. “But, it’s not a good time for the farm. Lots of work to do.”
“I can understand that,” Abel says, helping me into the front seat of a small, mule driven wagon. “My two other brothers are looking after our farm too. But, they’ll be able to come down for the wedding.”
“That’s good,” I say, glad to be off the subject of my family. “I’m very much looking forward to meeting them.”
“Just as I’m looking forward to meeting your family one day,” Abel says. I pray that he doesn’t notice my blush.
When we arrive at the inn where I’ll be staying the night before moving up to my husband’s farm after the wedding, Abel goes in before us to set up the room.
Once he’s gone, Gabe, who has been silent the entire ride seems to find his voice.
“I suppose there're lots of ladies where you come from back east, aren’t there?” he asks.
“There are certainly more of us there than there are here,” I confirm.
“Do they all dress like you?” he asks.
“I suppose they do,” I answer.
“I only ask ’cause, the only ladies I’ve seen around here aren’t exactly ladies if you get what I mean,” he says. “And they wear a lot less than you do.”
“I’m sure they do,” I answer fighting back a smile. I suppose most women would find this sort of talk shameful. But, my father has, over the past few years, caused me to be rather immune to shock.
Abel comes out and leads me down from the wagon seat. Gabe quickly follows us with my bag.
“I’ve set you up in the largest room they have,” Abel tells me. “It’s only one night, I’m afraid. I can’t justify being away from the farm too long.”
“I understand,” I answer as we reach a large wooden door. He opens it to reveal a simple room that is twice as large as the one I have at home.
The bed looks warm and comforting. There is a table for me to place the two books I’ve bought, and a dresser just across from it.
“I hope it will be all right for you,” Abel says. I turn from the room to him, still standing in the doorway. He’s looking down as though nervous to hear my opinion on my accommodations.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him. The beaming smile that crosses his face is bright like sunshine and lightning.
Gabe moves into the room and places the trunk by my bed then, with a nervous look between me and his brother, rushes out again.
“Gabe and I will be sharing the room just down the hall,” Abel tells me once his brother is out of sight.
“I’m happy to know you’ll be so close,” I say trying to be flirtatious but blushing all the same.
He smiles and then looks down, a blush coloring his own already red cheeks. I expect him to move down the hall to the room he will share with his brother. But, instead, he stands at the doorway staring at me.
“Ruth, I…” he begins hesitantly. “You may think this a little forward but...there is a tradition about engagements.”
“Is there?” I ask. I think I know what he’s going to say, what he’s going to ask and my heart begins to leap in my chest at the thought.
“I’ve heard,” he says. “That the groom is supposed to kiss the bride when she accepts his proposal.”
“I must admit,” I answer slowly, my heart still thumping in my chest. “I have heard of that tradition.”
He looks at me hesitantly for a moment. He looks so shy and so sweet that I can’t help but smile at him. This seems to give him courage. He gives me a close-lipped grin in return.
“Well then,” he says coming in from the doorway and stepping towards me. “I have never been one to break a tradition.”
He reaches me and moves his hand to touch my face. Just before his skin touches mine, he pulls back.
“With your permission, of course,” he says gently.
I look up into his deep green eyes. A bright grin crosses my face as I nod to him. That is all the encouragement he needs.
Slowly, gently, he takes my cheek in his hand and guides me up to meet his lips.
The kiss is tender and soft and sweet and everything I’ve always dreamed a kiss should be. His hand moves up to stroke my hair as the kiss deepens and suddenly, for the first time in years, I feel as though I am home.
He pulls away much too soon for my liking.
“I should say good night,” he says stepping towards the door. “I don’t want to start the wedding night early.”
He chuckles awkwardly, but his blush is still the most adorable thing I think I’ve ever seen.
“Good night, Ruth,” he says resuming his place in my room’s open doorway.
“Goodnight...Abel,” I say smiling. I’m beginning to love the sound of that new name on my tongue.
With a final nod and a smile, he exits the room leaving me to close the door behind him. I do with a happy sigh.
For a moment, all my fears about my father, about my past float away. I know I will be happy with this man.
After years of waking up dreading each new morning, I will finally be free. Free to live my life as I see fit. Free to start a new with a husband and a family.
I go to bed sure that the ghosts of my past have finally been laid to rest. Of course, they haven’t been. Not yet.
And, some horrible little voice in the back of my mind breaks through my blissful sleep to tell me that the ghosts will come back to haunt me sooner than I imagine.
Chapter 4
I am staring at another letter now. This one is much less pleasant than any that I received fr
om Abel. I can feel my hands begin to shake, and the paper rattles in my hands. My breath is becoming very shallow and I know that I could not speak if I tried.
I have been so happy these past few weeks since Abel and I were married. So blissfully, incredibly happy with my life, with my husband and with my new family that I should have known it would not last.
I should have listened to that voice, the little one in the back of my mind on the night of the wedding. But, I pushed it aside. Everything was so perfect living with Abel, working alongside his brothers. I didn’t want to believe that my past would matter any longer.
I didn’t want to believe that the ghosts would come back. Now they have.
I set the letter down and put my hand to my mouth to keep my sobs of fear from overcoming me.
“Ruth?” I hear a gruff voice ask from the door to the house. “Is something wrong?”
I turn to see Caleb. Abel’s oldest brother, he’s darker and stockier than his other brothers. His black beard gives him a gruff appearance, but his black eyes are filled with concern as they look at me.
I quickly fold the letter and stuff it back into the envelope. I turn to him and attempt a smile.
“No, Caleb,” I tell him. “Everything’s fine. Just some...surprising news from home.”
“Shall I fetch Abel for you?” he asks, motioning out towards the farm behind him.
“No,” I say quickly. “No...I...I’d rather not trouble him with this now. I will speak to him tonight. You can tell him dinner will be ready for all of you just after sunset.”
Caleb looks at me hesitantly. I can tell he’s not entirely convinced.
“Ruth, are you sure you will be all right?” he asks.
“I will be able to manage, Caleb,” I say as gently as I can, though, I fear it came out a bit sharp. I turn and smile at him to try and soften my tone.
“Now, you’d best get back to your work,” I tell him. “I’m sure the others will wonder where you’ve got to.”
He looks at me one more moment then nods.
“I’ll pass your message along to Abel,” he says as he heads back to the farm, closing the door behind him.
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