Clean Inspirational Romance: Escape to Paradise (Inspirational Happy Sweet First Love Second Chance Romance) (Contemporary New Adult Love Inspired Holiday Short Stories)

by Johanna Jenkins

  Once he is out of sight, I press myself against the wooden wall of our small house and feel myself sinking down to the floor. I take two deep breaths as I remove the letter from the envelope and read it over once more.

  The handwriting is Pastor Jamison’s. I was glad, very glad at first to receive correspondence from him. And, I was overjoyed to see my first letter addressed to ‘Mrs. O’Connor’.

  I read the letter and its words stare back at me.

  I am writing to you with the greatest urgency to tell you that your Father has discovered your whereabouts. How he came upon this information, I could not tell you. Though, I can swear to you that I did not reveal your destination to him. Regardless, he has purchased a train ticket and intends to travel to Medina on the first train one week from today. In a drunken state, many have heard him make vows of violence against you and your new husband.

  I crumple the letter against my chest and close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks. The shaking has abated for now. But, the horrible pang in my chest remains.

  Ridgefield is a small town. There is little to do there but gossip. I curse myself for not imagining that word of my flight would reach my father. I curse myself further for thinking that he would not do everything in his power to learn of my whereabouts.

  I look at down at the paper once more as though trying to memorize it. The first train one week from today.

  This letter was posted ten days ago. That means that my Father is even now making his way here to Medina. I know he will be here within the week. Possibly even tomorrow.

  The letter said he threatened violence. Against me, against Abel...my father is exceptionally cruel when he is drunk. I know that he will make good on his threat.

  The sun begins to sink lower in the sky as I take two deep breaths to calm myself. I lift myself up from the floor and move to continue cooking the stew for supper.

  As I do, I know one thing for certain. Tonight, after the others have gone to bed, I will have to tell my husband the truth.

  Chapter 5

  “Ruth, what’s wrong?” Abel says, closing the door to our bedroom. “You were quiet all through dinner and Caleb told me you were upset this afternoon. Something about a letter?”

  Abel is standing in front of me, looking at me with those piercing green eyes so filled with concern. And, suddenly, I don’t know what to say. It’s as though my voice has stopped. I open my mouth several times, but no sound emerges.

  “Did you get a letter from home?” he asks.

  Still unable to speak, I nod.

  “Bad news?” he asks again. “Did something happen with your parents?”

  At that last question, I finally find my voice.

  “It was a letter from home,” I answer slowly. “And it was news regarding my...my father. But, I promise, it is not what you think.”

  “What was it then?” he asks moving to sit on the bed.

  Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and begin to tell the whole story. I tell him about Mama dying two years ago, about how my father fell to drink. I tell him about Pastor Jamison, writing to Abel in secret, running away from my Father’s home. All of it.

  I don’t look at him as I speak. Instead, I cast my eyes to the floor and pace up and down in front of our bed.

  I don’t lift my eyes until I have finished speaking. When I do, I end my frantic pacing and stop in front of him.

  My breathing nearly stops when I see his expression. It’s not one of disapproval, but one of shock and concern.

  “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

  My hands still trembling, I look to the ground once more and shrug my shoulders.

  “I...I knew how close you were to your family,” I answer. “I loved hearing all your stories about your brothers and your mother and father in your letters. And...I remembered what my own family was like before Mama died and...I wanted it to be like that again. And, I did not want you to think me dull or dramatic.”

  I hear him rise from the bed though I do not dare to look up at him. I imagine that he will walk out the door and, in the morning, insist that I leave the house.

  That is why I am more than a bit surprised when I feel his hand gently touch my jaw and lift my eyes to meet his.

  He is smiling at me and my heart stops.

  “Ruth, you silly girl,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I could never have thought you dramatic. And certainly not dull.”

  My heart suddenly swells and, before I can stop myself, I’ve thrown my arms around him in a desperate embrace. He returns the gesture and we stay like that for a long while.

  Finally, after what may have been moments or hours, he pulls away.

  “The question remains now,” he says taking my hand and leading me to sit beside him on the bed. “How likely is it that your father will find his way here to the farm?”

  “Very,” I tell him, though reluctantly, “Father can be very determined when he wants to be. And, if he is aided by drink, as I’ve no doubt he will be. There is no telling what he may do.”

  Abel nods, his hand still on mine. He is silent for a moment, then turns to me.

  “I’ll speak to the boys,” he says referring to his three brothers. “If your father does show his face, we’ll be ready for him.”

  My hands begin to tremble again as I imagine some horrible shootout between my father and my new family taking place right outside our home. With my father, I know there is likely to be injury, possibly even bloodshed.

  “Perhaps...if I were to speak with him when he comes,” I say. “Maybe if I tell him that I want to stay here.”

  “No,” Abel says firmly. “If he does come, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  “Abel, he’s my father,” I begin. “Surely I could talk to him.”

  “I know you’re worried for my sake,” Abel says. “But you needn’t be.”

  He looks at me and his expression of firm resolve shifts to a mischievous smirk.

  “My father wasn’t exactly a saint either, you know,” he says.

  I lift my head and turn to look at him.

  “What do you mean?” I ask with surprise. When Abel wrote to me about his father, he always spoke of a gentle, soft-spoken man who valued education above all else. It was his father who taught Abel and his brothers how to read and write.

  “I mean, my father’s life back in Ireland wasn’t exactly law-abiding,” Abel says. “That’s why he and my Ma moved to America. He was trying to get away from...certain aspects of his life. He went straight when he got here. But, he remembered enough from his old days to show me the way around a gun.”

  “You never told me that,” I say slowly. I’m still slightly surprised. I had been imagining Abel’s deceased parents as pinnacles of saintly parenthood.

  “I didn’t think it needed to be said,” he answers. “My father’s past didn’t matter. And neither does yours.”

  He turns to me once more and smiles.

  “Don’t you see, Ruth? That’s the beauty of life on the frontier. This whole brave new world,” he says. “We can forget about what happened before and start again.”

  His hand moves once again to my cheek. I can’t help but lean into his touch.

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am that I get to help you start over,” he says.

  Tears fill my eyes once again and I can’t help a large smile spreading across my face as he leans in and kisses my lips.

  As I move further into my husband’s arms, I feel safe. As though the shackles of the past have been thrown off and I may finally be able to start again.

  Chapter 6

  The next evening, just after supper, Abel gathers his three brothers to give them my news. He says that he’ll need their help. I insist on being there with them, even though Abel has told me time and again to go in the back room and rest.

  “Ruth, you’ve been fretting today as it is,” he tells me as his brothers gather around the table. “Hearing our plan to deal with your father won’t help
you. It’s best for all of us if you lie down in the back room and try to forget this.”

  “Abel, he’s my Father,” I answer firmly. “I know him better than any of you. Besides, your brothers have the right to hear the truth from me.”

  In the end, he relents, and I’m not sure how glad I am that he does. I have spent the day in nervous worry. That train could pull in and my father could arrive at any moment.

  All day, I’ve been looking over my shoulder expecting to see father standing behind me, his hand raised and ready to strike. I’ve jumped at each sound remembering the loud crack of the gun father used back home.

  On top of that, I am not anxious to tell the story of my family once more. Telling it to Abel was enough.

  Now, I would like nothing more than to do what Abel has suggested. Go back into our bedroom, lie down and try to forget the whole thing.

  But, I know that I cannot do that. What I said to Abel is very true. His brothers deserve to hear the truth from me as much as he did. We are family now. A family should not keep secrets and I certainly should not force my husband to tell my secrets for me.

  My hands do not shake as I tell the story this time. My eyes remain dry. I am glad of that. The thought of crying in front of Abel’s three brothers as I did in front of my husband fills me with an embarrassed sort of dread.

  When I finish my tale, there is silence. Finally, the youngest, Gabe, speaks up.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Gabe asks.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Matthew tells him. Matthew is Abel’s middle brother. He is shorter than Abel and fairer than Caleb. Indeed, he’s almost as skinny as Gabe. Despite this, I’ve discovered that he is the most warlike of all his brothers.

  “There’s four of us against one drunkard,” he continues. “If us guarding the door with our guns doesn’t scare him off a bullet to the chest’ll take care of him.”

  “Matthew!” Abel says sharply. “I’ll thank you not to speak that way in front of my wife.”

  Matthew looks at his brother with eyes hardened for a moment. Abel steps forward towards Mark and immediately casts his eyes downward.

  “I apologize, Ruth,” he mutters, barely audible.

  “Matthew does make a point,” Caleb says. He’s seated between Gabe and Matthew across the table from Abel and me.

  “If we stand outside our guns drawn,” he says. “Ruth’s father is likely to back down. Even if the guns are simply for show, we should have them drawn.”

  Abel sits back and seems to consider this, but I shake my head.

  “Father is an expert marksman. I have seen him hit a target more than fifty yards away and drink does nothing to hinder his ability,” I tell them. “He is also a hard man. He is not likely to retreat no matter how many weapons are aimed at him.”

  “Then what would you suggest?” Matthew asks. There’s an impatient tinge to his voice that makes Abel glare at him once more. But, this time, Matthew does not back down. He continues to look at me, his eyes narrowed.

  “I would prefer to speak to my father myself,” I tell him. “With Abel at my side, of course. But Abel feels that–”

  “I’ve already told Ruth that is not an option,” my husband says before I can finish. I look at him and open my mouth to state my case once more. But, before I can, he grabs hold of my hand and squeezes it. When I look into his eyes, I can see a silent plea there. He is begging me not to press him on this.

  Without a word, I look to him and nod. I turn back to the table, silent.

  “What do you say we should do, Abel?” Gabe asks again. I can hear a nervous tremor to his voice. He’s a gentle young man. Barely seventeen and, though he knows how to shoot well enough, I know he’s only held a gun a handful of times in his life. The idea of staring down an armed marksman clearly terrifies him.

  “First,” he says, “we need to know when Mr. Watson, Ruth’s father, will arrive,” he says. “Gabe, tomorrow you will go into town to find out about the train schedule and any passengers. No doubt word of a lone man coming in from Connecticut will spread quickly.”

  Gabe nods. He looks much happier at the prospect of going into town than he did at the idea of standing guard at the door with a loaded gun.

  “As soon as Gabe brings word back, I will stand guard at the door with my rifle,” Abel says. “This will be the only gun present. If any shot is to be fired in defense of my wife, it will come from me.”

  “Abel,” Matthew begins urgently. Abel holds up a hand to stop him.

  “The rest of you may stand guard with me if you like,” he tells them, “but, if you do, do not bring your weapons. Hopefully, Caleb’s face alone will be enough to scare them off.”

  Caleb smiles good-naturedly at that and Gabe lets out a very nervous chuckle. Eventually, even Matthew reluctantly agrees to this plan.

  By the time Abel and I retire for the evening, it seems that I am the only one left in the house that has reservations. I keep remembering my father’s face as he beat me. The hard look in his eyes when he would shoot at a target.

  Abel can see my distress even as we climb into bed.

  “Don’t worry, Ruth,” he says. “No one can take you away from me. Not even your father.”

  As the light is put out and I fall asleep in his arms, I desperately wish that I could have his confidence.

  Chapter 7

  “He’s here! He’s coming!”

  Gabe’s voice carries all the way up the path and to the house. The sun has just set and I’ve just begun setting the table for supper. At Gabe’s cry, I drop the plate I’m holding to the table, pick up my skirt and rush outside.

  There, I see Caleb and Abel rushing from their work towards the house.

  “Ruth, get inside,” Abel tells me as he picks his rifle up from its place by the side of the house.

  I hesitate. There is some part of me that wants to see my father. Even though I dread his coming, even though I am terrified of what he may do, I have an almost instinctive need to look him in the eye.

  “Quickly, Ruth!” Abel urges me. Knowing that this is a battle I will not win, I head slowly into the house.

  Once there, I grab a chair from the table and sit by the window. From here, at least, I might be able to see and hear what is said.

  It’s not long before I see the dark form of my father heading up the hill towards the farm. My breath catches in my throat as I see the rifle in his hand. He’s stumbling only slightly, but there is a hard look in his eyes.

  Quickly, I move from the window to sit in the chair by the wall. I do not think I can stand to watch what might happen.

  “Ruth!” I hear my father call. I press my eyes close and purse my lips. It’s as though I’m afraid he will hear me if I take a breath, “Ruth! Come out here, now!”

  “Sir,” I hear Abel’s calm clear voice call out to father. I can picture him holding out his hunting rifle towards him. “There is nothing here for you. If you turn back and leave our property now, we promise there will be no bloodshed.”

  “I am not going anywhere without my daughter,” Father says. “I did not consent to this marriage!”

  “She does not want to go with you,” I hear Caleb say. He’s putting on his gruff voice that I’ve heard him use to intimidate men in town. It suits his hard appearance but does not suit his calm and gentle nature.

  “It would be best if you turn back now.”

  “My Ruth can speak for herself,” Father retorts. “Don’t think I don’t know what men like you do. You steal young women from their homes. Lure them out to this wasteland with fancy promises. If my daughter wants to stay here, she can come out and say so. Otherwise, I’m taking her back home.”

  I stand from my chair, completely torn. I know that my Father will not leave until he has seen me. I know that the only way to end this is to go out there and face him. All the same, I stand paralyzed with fear.

  “You will not go near my wife,” I hear Abel say, I imagine him lifting his rifle menacingly.<
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  “Ruth!” my father calls out once again, I jump when I hear the cock of his rifle. I’ve heard this sound one too many times to mistake it. “If you come out now and face me, I promise your young man needn’t be harmed. You have until the count of ten.”

  “I’m warning you Watson,” I hear Abel say, but there is a tremor in his voice.

  “One,” Father begins. I know now that I am the only one who can end this.

  “Two,” Father’s voice continues. I square my shoulders and steel myself before stepping outside.

  He’s not passed “Three” when he sees me come to the porch. He lowers his gun slightly, but I notice that it is still cocked.

  “Come on, Ruth,” he says in the gentlest voice I’ve heard from him in two years, “I have a train ticket for you. Come back with me and we can forget any of this ever happened.”

  “No,” I answer firmly trying to keep my voice from trembling.

  “What did you say to me?” he asks moving forward menacingly, Abel lifts his gun and blocks his path. Caleb, Matthew and Gabe move in as well, barring my Father from the porch of the house where I stand.

  “Go back inside, Ruth,” Abel tells me not taking my eyes off my father.

  “No, Abel,” I say. “Father is right. I can speak for myself. I can tell him plainly that I will not return with him.”

  “You will do as you’re told, Ruth,” Father says menacingly, trying to move towards me once again. Abel presses the gun towards him one more time.

  “I am a married woman now, Father,” I answer him bravely stepping forward, “I am not subject to you any longer.”

  My father stares at me for a long while, his rifle still held aloft. I do not recognize the surprised and undeniably vulnerable expression on his face when he looks at me.

  For the first time in two years. For the first time since Mama died, he doesn’t look hard, or cold or angry. He looks lost.

  “You are still my daughter,” he says quietly, “you always will be.”