by Cabot, Cara
The guests were still in shock at the outburst they'd been exposed to, looking from Gertie to Isabel then to Rose's parents and around at each other. Rose stood up and gently grabbed hold of Gertie's arm to help her steady herself as they left the parlor.
“Are you going to let her talk to me like that at my party?” Isabel asked her father angrily. Her eyes were narrow slits full of fire.
“She's old, she doesn't know what she's saying. Just let her go rest, Isabel, let it go.” He spoke slowly, knowing that Isabel most likely wouldn't be able to just 'let it go'. And of course she didn't.
She glared at Rose and Gertie as they walked from the sofa to the door where the parlor opened to the foyer.
“Yes, she is old. An old, dried up bitty who is just jealous because no man ever loved her and she has no husband or children to show for her life. Grant and I are in love, and I will not have you speak to me that way, I don't care how old you are!” Her angry venom spilled out and the part about her and Grant being in love was like an arrow piercing Rose's heart. She winced at Isabel's cruel words and looked at Grant, his face red with embarrassment.
“Enough Isabel!” Henry scolded.
Gertie stopped in her tracks and started cackling and slapping her hand on her knee. “Well, you are more of a fool than I thought you were if you think that Grant loves you. He doesn't love you, he loves Rose, any person with half a brain can see that.”
Rose felt her own face flush red and Grant looked at her quickly before looking down at the floor. She wished that for one moment she could speak with him, just him alone. She knew she couldn't forgive him, but she wanted to hear his side, hear from him exactly how this could have happened.
When she'd first heard the news, he did try to talk to her but she'd been so hurt, so furious that she refused him until he gave up. Now, she wished she would have let him speak so she could understand better why things happened the way they did.
Her mother gave Rose a look that meant please take Gertie out quickly to end this standoff before it escalated into something worse. Gertie and Isabel were the two most stubborn people in the Greenlee family and who knew how far it could escalate with both of their tempers flaring. Rose nodded slightly to her mother, and then to Gertie she said, “Come on, Auntie, let's go.”
It was silent as they walked out and they didn't hear any voices until they were halfway upstairs. If the guests were uncomfortable when the party started, Rose could only imagine how awkward they must be feeling now. Though she knew that what Gertie said was not kind, she felt a slight tinge of happiness that Gertie put Isabel in her place and voiced the thoughts that were in her head.
When they reached Gertie's room, she patted Rose's hand lovingly.“Don't worry child, you will get through this and be stronger because of it. Best to find out that you can't trust that cad before the wedding than afterwards. Something much better awaits your future, I just know it. Someone who will love you so much that they would never want to hurt you.”
She moved her hand to cup Rose's smooth face and smiled kindly at her. For being an outspoken spitfire, she did have a softer side, too. “Thank you,” Rose told her. Rose knew she was being sympathetic and trying to make her feel better, but it didn't make her feel better at all. She didn't think there was anything that someone could have said to make her feel any better at all. Her heart was broken and it would take more than words to heal it.
After Gertie was settled in her room, Rose stood at the top of the stairs, contemplating whether or not she should go back down to the party or just call it a night and go to bed herself. Though she didn't say goodnight to anyone, she thought they would understand if she was not to be seen for the remainder of the night.
Walking back to her own room, Rose wondered what Gertie would think of what she had planned. Would she understand the reasoning behind it or would she think that Rose was making a foolish mistake, running away from her problems? She didn't know and, unfortunately, she wouldn't be around to find out.
Once safe inside her own room, Rose took a deep breath. She could hear laughter and piano music coming from the parlor, apparently the outbursts of Gertie and Isabel didn't deter the celebration for long. Though they weren't doing it directly, they were celebrating her loss. Celebrating the new family that was just beginning: Grant, Isabel and their child. She shook her head, trying to shake that image out.
She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out the letter. She'd read it probably a hundred times but she read it again:
Dear Miss Greenlee,
Thank you for your response to my ad seeking a mail order bride. I am happy to tell you that after looking over the letters from women who have responded, I have chosen you to be my bride.
I have purchased a train ticket that is enclosed with this letter. I have taken care of arrangements and have planned a small church wedding the day after you arrive; if your parents wish to attend, I would love to meet them, please have them purchase tickets and I will reimburse them for their travel.
I look forward to meeting you in person and starting our new life together,
Yours,
David Thompson
David Thompson. Her husband. He had signed it 'Yours'. He was hers. A man that she had never met, yet someone she would soon be spending the rest of her life with. She could feel her heart beating faster as she ran her fingers over the train ticket that was inside of the folded letter. Was she acting irrationally? Possibly, but to Rose this seemed like the best option she had.
She remembered back to the day she first saw the ad. It was just by chance, she hadn't gone looking for opportunities to be a mail order bride. She had grabbed her father's paper one afternoon to read it as a distraction from Isabel's talk of wedding plans and noticed a list of ads from men out west, places where the men outnumbered the women, seeking brides. Rose couldn't imagine marrying a stranger, yet she was intrigued enough to read through them. There were miners from Colorado, ranchers from Montana and farmers from Iowa, Minnesota and Nebraska. One of the ads, placed by a farmer from Iowa, caught her eye. The man seeking a wife seemed to be in a hurry as he wanted to be married before the fall harvest. He said he was a twenty-five year old farmer originally from Michigan. He was a Christian and an upstanding citizen of Middleton, Iowa, looking for a bride who would be willing put in the work needed for the farm to prosper and build a home and family together.
As she read on, she noticed there was something about this ad that seemed different from the others, she could feel it in her gut that he was a good man.
She finished the paper and put it back in her father's study, but the bachelor farmer in Iowa occupied her thoughts for the rest of the day. After all of the pain and heartbreak she'd been through, she was convinced she never wanted to go through that again. Love wasn't worth the pain. She would protect her heart and NEVER let herself fall in love again. But that made her sad, too, because she wanted more than anything to be a mother with a family of her own. She wanted a houseful of sweet children who would love her unconditionally and wouldn't betray her or leave her for another woman as a man would. The bond between a child and mother could not ever be broken.
It was quite the conundrum, though. How could she possibly have a houseful of children without falling in love and getting married first?
The idea of being a mail-order bride, though frightening, was intriguing to her because it provided a way for her to become a mother without falling in love. The package came with a husband and a home. She would be a good wife of course, respecting and honoring the man who would be the father of her children, but she would not be in love with him. At least not the way she had fallen for Grant. She would not open herself up to hurt like that again; she was done being vulnerable.
The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. Not only would it fit the bill for providing her with a husband without first falling in love, it also provided her with a means of escape. Escaping the sight of Isabel's growing pregnancy and her c
ruel remarks, escaping having her heart broken over and over at the sight of Grant and Isabel together, escaping the embarrassment that she faced by living in this town among friends and neighbors who knew how she'd been jilted.
Later that night, she'd snuck into her father's office to find the newspaper again. Her heart sunk when she could not find it at first but then she located it under a pile of work on his desk. She tore out the back page that contained the ad and went back to her own room to write a letter to the farmer, Mr. David Thompson, telling him about herself as the ad had requested and that she wished to be his wife. She left early the next morning to bring it to the post office before she changed her mind about it.
After that, she waited. Waited while she spent long days crying and sleeping. Waited while she worried that maybe she'd be rejected by someone who'd never even seen her. Worried that he would not reject her, in which case she would have to go through with it and would be taking a train to Iowa, leaving Grant and Isabel behind.
The reply came much quicker than she'd expected. She was stunned and happily surprised that he had chosen her to be his bride. She felt flattered and wondered how many letters of inquiry he'd received. She didn't know what he looked like because he hadn't sent a picture, she only knew from his description that he had blond hair and blue eyes. Perfect-her eyes were blue, too and she'd love to have a house full of sweet little blue-eyed babies. And even if he wasn't handsome, she really didn't care that much about it. That would make it easier not to fall for him. It wasn't his looks that she was after. The reason she had chosen David to reply to instead of the other numerous bachelors was because he mentioned that though he wanted someone hard-working and could handle life on a farm and he said that he would be kind and respectful to his wife. Kindness and respect. That's more than Grant gave her and at this point in her life, that was all she wanted from a husband.
She kept David's letter hidden in her room and didn't share her plan with anyone. She knew her parents would not allow it if she told them and she didn't want to give them the opportunity to forbid her. She was to leave in two days on the train bound for Middleton, Iowa, a young farming town on the prairie.
Her plan was that she would pack in secret, as much as she could carry herself and instead of leaving from the station in her town, she would go all the way to Springfield and leave from there. No one would know her there so they wouldn't be able to tell her parents where she'd gone. She didn't want to cause her parents too much worry so she'd leave them a letter explaining to them that she'd gone off to get married and why she made the decision to do it. She would not give them the name of her new husband or the town that she was headed to right away, she'd wait for a few months at least, until she was settled and sure that they wouldn't be able to do a thing about it before she'd choose to let them know where her new home was. Hopefully by then, she'd be over the worst of the pain of losing Grant. She knew she could never be completely over him, ever, but that would be a burden she'd have to live with.
Rose stuffed the letter back in her drawer and sat in front of the mirror looking at the tear stained face that was reflecting back to her. Her father had always told her that she had the most beautiful, twinkling eyes, eyes that reflected the joy that she had for life. No one could say that about her now. That joy was long gone from her blue eyes that now appeared more gray. The twinkle, the innocent zest for life were ripped out of her. She brushed her dark hair one hundred strokes and then got into bed where once again she cried herself to sleep.
***
The two days before Rose left flew by in a blur, much faster than she thought they would. She was so preoccupied with trying to secretly pack and prepare for her trip, wondering about what her new husband and new home would be like and trying to act normal so that her family would not suspect that she had anything planned. She did her best to avoid Isabel, who was constantly addressing her stomach as “little Grant Jr.” try to spend time with Louisa, knowing it would probably be the hardest on her after Rose was gone.
Now the night was upon her. She ate with her family in the dining room, savoring the roast beef, mashed potatoes and fresh garden green beans-one of her favorite dinners that was topped off with her mother's famous cherry pie. Rose knew after that day, she would be the one doing all of the cooking for herself and her new husband. She wondered if she would ever be as good of a cook as her mother.
After dinner, she played some games and read with Louisa and after kissing everyone goodnight-except for Isabel-she retired to her room for the evening. She wanted to wait until just after dark and then set out for the Springfield station where she would stay until her train left the next morning. By the time her parents found her letter, she'd be halfway to Iowa.
Unfortunately, though, a summer thunderstorm was rolling through, so Rose was going to get off to a later start than she'd wanted to. She laid out the letter from David on her desk next to the one she'd written to her family. She had two bags packed full but not too heavy for her to carry. She wondered if she should bring more, but she could always come back for more or have it sent to her in the future, once she'd let her family know where she was. She looked at the carved cedar chest that stood at the end of her bed. Her hope chest. How she had loved the feeling of every object that she'd put into that chest over the last year, preparing for her future home with Grant. She wondered if there was anything in there that she should be taking with her but ended up deciding against it. She wanted a fresh start and everything in that hope chest was tainted with the memory of Grant. The embroidered linens with her and Grant's initials, the silver set that her mother had given her for her 18th birthday in anticipation of the engagement that was soon to come, each item, though possibly useful in her new home would not be worth the pain that came with it.
Rose suddenly remembered a book that was on a shelf in the parlor downstairs that she wanted to bring with her. It was a book of fairy tales, fables and poems that had been her favorite book ever since she was a little girl. She loved to reread it, especially the poetry, half of which she'd memorized by now. It brought her comfort and it was a little piece of home that she wanted to bring with her. She was kicking herself for letting it slip her mind earlier. She was so focused on saying her goodbyes, she'd completely forgotten about it.
She wondered if she should go get it or if she should just forget about it- she didn't want to wake anyone or bring any attention to herself. But after thinking about it for several minutes, she decided to go down and get it. She couldn't leave til the storm passed, anyways, and the task would give her something to distract herself in the meantime. She would just take extra precautions to be extremely quiet, hoping the pitter patter of rain hitting the roof and windows would help cover for any sound she'd make.
Rose successfully made her way to the bookshelves in the parlor without anyone hearing her. She fumbled with the books in the dark until she found the right one. She couldn't see it's burgundy spine but knew it's place on the shelf and the feel of it in her hands.
Just as she was about to leave, she heard something upstairs. What was it-footsteps, a door, perhaps? Her heart started beating faster and she spun around, knocking something over in the dark. A flash of lightning outside the window revealed that it was a picture frame holding a portrait of her parents on their wedding day. She carefully put it back in place as she wondered to herself if she would have a wedding portrait taken of her and David.
Her mother was only a year older than Rose was when she was married and became an instant mother as well. What an odd twist of fate, Rose pondered, that she owed her very existence to the death of Isabel's mother. If Isabel's mother would have lived, Rose's parents would have never met, let alone married and she would not have been born. She wondered if Isabel's mother would have survived would things have turned out differently; would Isabel still be the same cold, selfless creature she was now? Though it was impossible to know for sure, she imagined that Isabel would probably be just the same cruel person she was now
, only using a different excuse for it.
She carefully made her way out of the parlor and back upstairs again. She hadn't heard any other sounds and nobody had ventured downstairs so she thought the coast was clear. That is, until she came upon the upstairs hallway where her bedroom door was open. Her heart skipped a beat and she held her breath. She was certain she had closed her door behind her when she'd left for the book. The light from the lamp on her desk was still on and poured out into the hallway.
Slowly, she stepped in the room and found Louisa, standing over her desk with a letter in her hand.
“What are you doing in here?” Rose asked, startling Louisa.
“I, I ...I was coming in to sleep with you, there was a lot of thunder.”
Thunder. Rose had planned everything down to the last detail but had forgot about Louisa's fear of thunder. Though she was twelve, she'd had a fear of thunderstorms ever since she was a toddler and always found comfort by the company of her big sister, who had given her an open invitation to spend the night in her room if she should ever feel afraid. And of all the nights for there to be a thunderstorm...
Louisa stood there, letters in hand, eyes glancing from Rose to the packed bags on the rug in front of her bed.
“What's going on, Rose, what is this?” Her voice had a touch of fear in it. Rose knew that her sister had read the letter.
“I can explain, Lulu, just give me a chance to explain to you,” Rose said as she stepped forward, taking the letter from Rose's hand. It was the one she'd written for her family, the one from David was still on the desk. She hoped that Louisa hadn't read that one yet, as she quickly grabbed if off the desk as well.
“You wrote this letter, is it true? Are you running away to marry someone?”