by Kate Whitsby
Sorcha barely heard a word Collin said. But she smiled and nodded her head all the same. The town of Rocky Creek was slow and steady. There were a few people sauntering down the street as Collin escorted Sorcha to the boarding house. Once there he handed her off to Mrs. Harvey, who, with a gruff face and stern voice welcomed Sorcha and quickly gave her the list of house rules.
“Even though you’ll only be here a short while since the wedding will be this evening there is no smoking in the room. I don’t think I need to say no male visitors.” The list went on to include such strange regulation, such as no splashing in the tub, one towel per guest, no writing with ink in the room. All letter writing was to be done downstairs.
“Ink has the tendency to escape the pen and end up on my white sheets. Better to just avoid the problem.” Mrs. Harvey folded her thin arms across her flat chest. “Now, Collin will be back around six to pick you up in the carriage and take you to the church. You do go to church, Miss Breck? Correct?”
“Of course, Mrs. Harvey. On me dear parent’s eternal souls. I haven’t missed a Sunday service since I had the croup when I was four.” Sorcha replied sincerely.
Mrs. Harvey nodded as if that was enough for her.
She kept reciting more rules as she showed Sorcha her room, drew her a bath and before she left her to soak, reminded her that soap was expensive and any over-indulgence would be added to her final bill.
Unable to relax Sorcha quickly rinsed herself off, used a sprinkling of lavender toilet water behind her ears and quickly dressed in the green frock Annis made her promise to wear. The small pearl pin had also been included with her things and she pinned it carefully at her throat.
Before she knew what was happening Mrs. Harvey was knocking on the door letting her know that Collin was there with the buggy to take her to church. Where had the hours gone? Sorcha scratched her head as she thought her tour of the house, bath, and change of clothes couldn’t have taken three hours but apparently they had. She barely had time to adequately fret over getting married. In fact, she hadn’t fretted, really gotten herself worried over the upcoming marriage at all. Why not? What was wrong with her? Could it be that she figured it would never really happen? That the groom would inevitably cancel long before she could commit herself to the idea of being the wife of a total stranger?
Now, here she was riding in a carriage that had wildflowers attached to the seat and flowery wreaths around the horses heads heading toward a church she’d never seen to be married to a man she’d never seen.
It’s too late to back out now, Sorcha. That had been her chant throughout the trip. It had worked for her so far. With a deep breath she stepped off the carriage, let Collin slip her arm under his and walk her into the church.
Standing at the altar with his back to her was a balding man about an inch shorter than Sorcha. The reverend facing her smiled pleasantly. Finally making it down the aisle she stood next to Mr. Latham Teeds. Peeking nervously to her right all she saw was a long nose and a sweaty brow. He didn’t look at her until the reverend said those final words.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together may no man put asunder.”
Turning to face her husband, Sorcha held her breath. Lathan finally turned his head and looked her in the face without any expression on his face. Quickly he kissed her lips and in slow motion Sorcha found herself at the farm that was Latham’s, now hers, too, as Collin shook his friend’s hand, patting him on the back and waving to Sorcha.
Looking around she saw the hens in the coop, scrawny and annoyed, pecking at one another. There was a cow in a field of green and as Sorcha ventured closer to the house, goats appeared out of nowhere, heads down, horns up ready to do battle if she ventured a step closer to the porch.
“Well, what’s the matter with you two?” She spoke aloud, her voice causing Latham to stop and stare at her.
“What did you say?” He snapped.
“I was talkin’ to the billies here. They seem to have an uppity attitude and so I wanted to know what fer.”
Latham continued to stare but said nothing as he stomped up to the goats, grabbing them by their horns and leading them away from Sorcha.
“Go on in the house. If you could start a fire that would be helpful.” His eyes never met hers as he shouted over his shoulder.
With a sigh Sorcha headed into the house. Opening her carpetbag she set Ruth down on the wooden floor. The little kitten sat down, yawned and wrapped her tail protectively around her feet. The house was bigger than any house Sorcha had ever seen.
As she walked through it she counted five rooms including the kitchen and the living room. There were three bedrooms but only one of them had a bed in it. It made her nervous just to look at it, so she quickly went to the fireplace and began to light a fire.
The windows had glass in them and each one looked like a picture. Nothing but beautiful trees, mountains and sky filled them up.
Their first night together as husband and wife was spent in awkward silence. Sorcha immediately took to the kitchen and prepared a simple meal of what she found there, eggs, cornbread, and coffee.
When it was time to retire Sorcha found herself sleeping alone in the room with the only bed in it. There was a small round window, just like she had back in Boston with Annis and Denholm. She thought of them, and the Oceanic and the only comfort was the purring motor of Ruth as she curled up at her mistress’s feet.
So the days went on like this. Latham worked during the day at the lumber yard that was up the road a piece. Sorcha busied herself with the tending of the homestead.
The billy goats had learned their place and after many conversations with Sorcha and several extra handfuls of feed they became as faithful as Ruth, following her around from one end of the property to the next.
The chickens, too, found Sorcha to be acceptable. They soon stopped picking at one another, getting plumper and fuller every day as she came out to gather their eggs that they began producing in bulk.
The cow that had spent so much of its time alone in the field learned it had something in common with the billy goats and when they were allowed together the billies chased each other playfully as the cow looked on like an older sibling might. Her body became plumper and her milk flowed easily.
But every day Latham would come home and say almost nothing. Every night she would sleep alone in what was to have been their room.
Her only companions were the animals. They didn’t see her ugly features. Her thin, wild eyebrows and eyes set too close together. They didn’t care if her nose turned up at the end, nor did they concern themselves with her crooked smile. She spoke sweetly to them and in return she had fresh eggs, a dozen a day. More milk than she knew what to do with and two goats that guarded the house better than any dog ever could.
But her husband didn’t see these things. He paid no attention to the curtains or the lace she added to her frock. He didn’t see the holes in his shirts mended or the quilts re-stitched. She supposed all he saw were those things about her that made her homely, maybe ugly.
Yet, when she looked at him, she saw her husband. He appeared to be a good man. She watched him read the Bible some nights, his lips moving as his eyes followed the words. At church on Sundays he wore a suit and looked as respectable as those men who had rode the locomotive with their gold watches and fat cigars as he sung the hymns. She paid no attention to his bald head or his long nose. To her, he was just fine.
But, as with her experience with Liam Murphy, who had a face that could melt a candle, Latham Teeds must have thought similarly. She fell asleep that night looking at the little round window wondering how Annis was, and if that baby was kicking ready to come out and greet the world. It made her cry and she sobbed silently into her pillow.
The next day Latham left as usual. After coffee on the porch Sorcha heard a buggy approaching. The billies hopped off the porch and stood like lions at the gate of some temple guarding the entrance.
“M
ornin’ Sorcha!” It was Collin waving from the wagon.
“Good morning, Collin. How come ya ain’t at work with Latham? No bad news I hope.”
“No ma’am.” He spoke with his eyebrows raised all the way into his forehead. “Latham sent me. He said you had an abundance of eggs and told me I should take them to the general store to sell ‘em.”
Sorcha shrugged her shoulders.
“I could’ve done that. But he doesn’t talk to me. Won’t say a word.”
“What?”
“I’m just complainin’, Collin. That’s all. It’s me own fault. What does a woman like me expect?”
“I don’t quite reckon what you mean.” Collin scratched his head.
“Mr. Teeds isn’t happy with me. We both made a mistake.” Sorcha hung her head and bit her tongue so as not to cry in front of Collin.
“Isn’t happy with you? Where did you get a silly notion like that?” Collin chuckled. “He’s constantly talking about you to anyone who’ll listen.”
“Yer daft!” Sorcha snapped. “He don’t say two words to me every night when he parks his keester in his chair.”
“Miss Sorcha, I can’t explain what a man does in the privacy of his own home, all I know is that he brags about you all the time. Says the farm finally feels like a home. Only thing missin’ is the children.”
Sorcha blushed a thousand shades of red. But when she looked at Collin she couldn’t stop herself. She gave him a big hug, handed over two dozen eggs to take to the general store, and charge Mrs. Planne two cents each instead of one. She also wrapped up the left over cornbread from breakfast and gave it to him for his trip to town.
Chapter 5
That night when Latham came home, tired and sweaty he opened the door to a surprise. Instead of sitting at the heads of the table like they had been, Sorcha had her plate next to Latham’s. There were flowers and candles and the whole house smelled like apple pie.
Sorcha came out of the kitchen with a plate of chicken she’d cooked over the fire along with boiled potatoes. She pulled his seat out for him and smiled her crooked smile.
Latham, blushing himself, took a seat.
“Did I tell you about the boat we took from Scotland to git here?” She began loading up his plate with food. “It was called the Oceanic. My sister Annis was sick the entire time. She was as green as my frock, my hand to heaven she was.”
Latham ate and listened, his eyes slowly creeping up further and further until finally he was looking into Sorcha’s eyes. Catching her in mid-sentence he put his hand on hers and smiled his own crooked smile.
“Sorcha, I could listen to you talk all day.”
“Oh yeah?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “I don’t have anytin’ really that interestin’ to say.”
“It's how you say it that I like.”
“You do?”
“In fact, I love it.”
The End
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Copyright
© 2017 by Kate Whitsby
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.