by Annie Lane
“Oh, Junior, here…” Louise rushed to the opposite end of the table and took Junior’s cutlery from his hand. “Let me help you with that or you’ll get it all over yourself.”
But when Junior snatched them straight back again and shook his head, offering the plate over to Beth instead so she might do the honors of cutting up his meat, Louise couldn’t stop the hurt from hurrying through her entire body. Her eyes pricked with tears and she turned away again before anyone else noticed.
On any other day she would be overjoyed that Beth had become such an important part of Junior’s life, but there was another part of her — a part she seldom let anyone else see, a part that longed to be needed and appreciated by the people that mattered to her the most.
And while she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, today she felt neither of those things, and her heart grew a little heavier with the sudden realization that life as she knew it was about to change completely.
Chapter 3
Monday morning rolled around and Alice stepped behind the counter while Bert flipped the open sign to its rightful position. Mrs. Banks was the very first customer through the Postal Office door and Alice watched with interest as the woman frantically rushed toward her, breathless, panicked and altogether frazzled. Mrs. Banks came to a sudden stop and grabbed the railing to balance herself, lowering her flushed cheeks and sucking in air like her lungs were about to burst.
“Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Banks?” exclaimed Alice.
Bert scurried across the room and handed Mrs. Banks a glass of water, which she swallowed down hard and fast before she said, “I’ve just come from … from the … from the bank where the most awful scene has just played out. Mr. Banks is beside himself with worry. If you ask me, I don’t know how my dear husband manages that place as well as he does! The abuse the poor man is subjected to, I … I just don’t know how he copes.”
While Alice was genuinely concerned for the elderly woman’s welfare, frail and frantic as she was, she still had to suppress the small bubbles of laughter that wanted to rise up and spill out. Was she the only one who found it amusing?
Mr. Banks … the bank manager? Yes. The bank manager. What next?
Mr. Smiley … the dentist? Mr. Crust … the baker? Mr. Cod … the fisherman?
Alice bit her tongue and offered a sympathetic smile instead. Guiding the poor woman to the spare seat in the corner of the room, Alice listened on as Mrs. Banks continued to speak in a weak and rickety voice, “Terrible men they were, just marched on in and started demanding information. My dear George couldn’t make sense of anything they were saying. They might as well have been speaking a foreign language for what it’s worth. Never could understand that weird southern drawl.”
Mrs. Banks took another gulp of water and then shook her head while she gathered her thoughts.
Bert, not one for liking much fuss and bother, headed back over to behind the counter, in the hope that it might all soon blow over. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the conversation anyway, and didn’t care to waste his time figuring it out. He started sorting through the day’s mail. The previous few weeks had been very tiring and he hoped for a much quieter morning, but from the look of the mountains of boxes and envelopes spread out before him, he certainly wasn’t about to get his wish.
“Southerners ya say?” asked Alice.
“Well yes, I think so. I guessed as much with all their, y’all and dangs and fixin’ tos…” Mrs. Banks’ eyes dropped nervously to the floor. “No offense or anything, Alice. It’s probably right judgmental of me to lump all you lot together, but they were definitely from the south and most definitely a vile and nasty pair of critters. I hope dear George kicked them out before they caused too much trouble.”
Being that his niece was anything but vile or nasty or in any way a critter for that matter, Bert couldn’t help but look up and ask, “What’d these southerners look like, Mrs. Banks?”
“Oh, terrible … just terrible. If you ask me, they were an odd pair. A very odd pair. One was exceedingly tall — with a big long bushy beard right out to here…” Mrs. Banks extended her arms out in an exaggerated fashion, “…and the other one was short and round and crooked. When I say crooked, I think he had a limp. Yes! Now that I think about it, he had an unmistakable limp. A very odd pair indeed!”
Alice couldn’t breathe.
Her temples pounded and fear settled deep in her bones — the sort of fear that seized her muscles and nailed her feet firmly to the floor. She should never have trusted she was safe in Seattle. Of course they would come looking for her. Why had she doubted that? The truth of the matter was they would continue to look for her until the score was settled.
Alice felt her lips move ever so slightly and then she thought for a moment that she heard herself speak, but she couldn’t be entirely sure either way as the voice she heard didn’t sound like her own. “Did they … did they say what they wanted?”
Mrs. Banks glanced up and noticed the girl’s face slowly turning a sickly shade of green. She hadn’t meant to frighten the poor thing and suddenly felt guilty for embellishing the encounter with such dramatic flair. “Let me assure you, Alice, you are perfectly safe. These drifters and vagabonds are after one thing and one thing only … money. I am sure my George has set them straight and sent them on their way. So, dear girl, there is no need to worry. No need to—”
But before Mrs. Banks could finish, Alice did what she did best. She ran.
She found her feet, and just ran. She ran as fast as she could.
She ran straight out the door and she didn’t look back.
Chapter 4
“Come on, Ma. I’m not a child anymore.”
Gabe hung his head in his hands, frustrated by the constant squabbling.
Louise and Gabe had been arguing since the previous day’s lunch, and had only shelved it when Henry demanded some peace and quiet so’s he might find a good night’s sleep. But the low winter sun soon found them again, and now they were all huddled around the breakfast table in such a heated tussle of words that Henry was sure they hardly needed to stoke the fire to fight off the frosty air. If they weren’t more careful they’d find Mabel Clay standing on their doorstep, complaining about all the noise.
“If it’s good enough for everyone else, then why isn’t it good enough for me?”
Louise couldn’t hide her bitterness. “Well … because…”
“And I expect you to be nice to her too, and treat her like part of the family, and remember your place in all of this. Whoever this woman turns out to be, she’ll be my wife and hence she’ll become the lady of the house … my house … the house I’ve spent months and months fixing up so we can be happy together just as any other man and woman might. It may only be a barn, but I’ve been working my level best to ensure it’s serviceable and modest and a place I’m proud to call home.”
Louise narrowed her eyes. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing.”
“You’re wrong about that, Ma.”
“No, I am not!” she snapped. “I’m never wrong about anything.”
“But you just said—”
“That’s enough,” barked Henry, standing to his feet. He had reached his limit and his muscles fixed like the coiled spring buried deep inside a set trap. He jabbed a finger into Gabe’s chest. “I don’t care who’s right or wrong. I won’t have you speaking to your mother like that. Apologize immediately!”
Gabe hung his head and his lips twitched with remorse. He’d been so caught up with the emotion of it all that he’d forgotten himself momentarily. It wasn’t like him at all to behave in such a disrespectful manner, but getting his mother to see reason sometimes was akin to asking a cobbler to go barefoot … it just wasn’t going to happen.
Gabe had spent the majority of his life alone. He was fiercely independent and never one to shy away from a hard day’s work. Sure he had Thomas, and other friends, and was likely the most sociable of them all if the truth be told, but i
t didn’t change the fact that at the bottom of it all, buried deep beneath the surface, was an indescribable feeling of loneliness that he had spent years trying to shake. He was sick and tired of being the odd man out — still living at home and all, and without a woman to call his very own — and so he’d taken it upon himself to rectify the situation.
Why couldn’t she understand that?
“I’m right sorry, Ma. I just want you to be happy for me. I don’t know what the problem is. You were thrilled when Thomas and Earl took wives, why you even had Miss Charlotte stay here at the house in preparation for her wedding. So how’s this any different?”
“It’s a different matter altogether and you know it. And before you get any more bright ideas, the young lady can just go ahead and make other arrangements, I’m far too busy to be taking in houseguests.”
“Aw, come on, Ma, where will she—”
“That’s not my problem, Gabe,” Louise interrupted him before he gave her some long-winded sad story. “She can stay over at the saloon for all I care. And unless you plan on wasting perfectly good pie — just like you seem intent on wasting your life with some trashy piece of goodness knows what — then I’ll thank you to hush your bucket and eat up in silence. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Louise dropped the deep pie-dish down in front of him with such force that the crust burst open and the filling spilled over the edge.
“Apple Pie? For breakfast?”
“Yes, apple pie for breakfast!” she said. “Since you’re still living in my house, you’ll do as I say. I’ve got an aching head and I can’t be bothered cooking so you better dig in or you’ll right well starve to death!”
Henry sighed. “Louise, please.”
But with the mood Louise was in, no amount of his beseeching was going to work — a fact she wasted no time in pointing out to her husband. “You can ‘Louise please’ me all you want, but the boy’s living in a fantasy world. Where beautiful young ladies get plucked right out of the air. Wouldn’t surprise me if this little trollop’s after something, and mark my words, Henry, it’s your good name he’s about to run through the mud.”
“Come on, Ma…”
“Just take a slice of the pie so I can tidy this mess up and go take a long, hot soak in the tub.”
Henry, who wasn’t nearly as upset about his son’s announcement — in fact he was a little excited about the whole idea when it came down to it — decided not to stir the pot, and instead, slid his plate across the table.
Perhaps she would take a little while to warm to the idea or just needed a good long bath. He knew Louise better than anyone and he sensed it was something more. Something much more.
Chapter 5
Mrs. Fredrick sat alone on her front porch, pressing the heel of her foot into the wide timber slats beneath her winter boots, gently rocking back and forth. The small fascinator she had pinned to the side of her head bobbled some with the movement and while the garish accessory did absolutely nothing to thwart off the cold, Mrs. Fredrick knew the silvery cluster of diamantes looked absolutely fabulous against her chestnut hair and she insisted on wearing the silly thing no matter how blue her ears turned. She pondered over her never-ending mail. She’d spent the majority of the afternoon sorting the letters into two distinct piles.
The first consisted of hard-working, law-abiding, straight-shooting men who were genuinely looking for love and marriage. The second was what Mrs. Fredrick labeled her just for laughs lot. She called on that stack occasionally at the end of a tiresome day, when she and Mr. Fredrick would sit back in front of the fire, each sipping a glass of sherry, and she’d let him read out a little something from the just for laughs lot.
“Good afternoon, Alice,” called Mrs. Fredrick, after glancing up and noticing her forlorn figure scurrying along the street. Alice’s signature curls were tucked away tightly under her flimsy hat, but it served as no disguise. Mrs. Fredrick noticed her coming a mile off and figuring she might enjoy the company asked politely, “Would you care to join me for warm apple cider?”
Alice halted suddenly and peeked up, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She’d been wandering around the streets of Seattle all day, ducking into alleys and hiding behind lampposts when anyone drew too close, her eyes endlessly searching for a sign of trouble. “Uh, no thank you, Mrs. Fredrick, I should really get—”
Mrs. Fredrick suddenly gasped and sprung to her feet. “Goodness me!
You look like death warmed up, child. Whatever is wrong with you? You must come and sit down at once.”
Ill-equipped to face Uncle Bert and his deluge of questions just yet, Alice decided to take kindly Mrs. Fredrick up on her offer and seek shelter at the Fredricks’ place for a short time. She doubted anyone would ever look for her there. “A cup of warm cider sounds wonderful, Mrs. Fredrick. I think it might be just what I need.”
Alice hurried through the front gate and took the stairs two at a time. She wasn’t game to look behind her for fear of who might be watching, so she kept her head down and her eyes directed at the floor. “Would you mind if we went indoors though?”
Mrs. Fredrick simply nodded and gathered up her belongings.
Alice waited over by the mantel while the pot boiled — making sure to steer clear of the open curtains — and busied herself by flicking through some of the dusty old books on the shelves. Besides her love of writing in her diary, Alice was also a proficient reader. She enjoyed nothing more than curling up on a miserable day with a good romance novel. Mrs. Fredrick certainly had a wonderful selection too, filled with many of the classics Alice’s own mother had kept in their library back home. They’d spent hours together, reading books and discussing the characters like they were lifelong friends who never outgrew their welcome.
Once the cider was ready, Mrs. Fredrick came back into the room and placed the serving tray down on a side table. She pulled out a box from under the chair. “Come now, Alice, let me cheer you up. I’ve got just the thing. If one of these letters don’t put a smile on your face then I’m hard pressed to know what will.”
She closed her eyes then and stuck her hand blindly into the box, rummaging around like it was a lucky-dip. “Read it out nice and loud,” she giggled as she handed over a letter. “Trust me, these ones never get old!”
Alice nodded cautiously.
To Mrs. Fredrick,
My name is Richard Oliver Lestor Louis Ingleton but people just call me Rolli. I’m from Boise. That’s in Idaho. Not real sure if you know where it is, but if you want I could send you a map with some directions.
I’m near fifty-five years of age, but don’t let that scare you none ’cause I got a real good head of hair. Not as good as when I was twenty-one, but what I do have left is in tip-top condition…
Alice paused and covered her mouth with one hand. She wanted to laugh, but thought better of it. It would be rude after all. What an unusual man. When Mrs. Fredrick giggled again, Alice couldn’t contain herself any longer and the two ladies laughed until their eyes watered.
“Keep going, keep going,” said Mrs. Fredrick.
“I don’t think I can, the man might be unwell in the head. It feels plain wrong.”
“Wrong, yes … terribly wrong, yet amusing at the same time. Keep reading, Alice. I beg of you … please.”
Alice nodded and focused back on the page.
I live alone in a log cabin out in the woods. There ain’t anyone else around for days and days but that don’t really bother me none, being that I’ve got my squirrels to keep me company.
Mrs. Fredrick squealed. “Squirrels!”
I hunt for my food with a bow and arrow and get my water up out of a well. This would be the wife’s job if she agrees to marry me, so I hope she’s real sturdy and real strong and can carry half her weight in wood.
I’m needing a well-earned break. Life gets hard sometimes, being that I’m missing three fingers and just as many teeth, but I’d really like to meet some woman so a
s we can…
Alice stopped reading and buried her face in her hands.
It really was just going from bad to worse. Never in her life had she read such silly yet sad ramblings and if it wasn’t for the sight of Mrs. Fredrick buckled over at the waist and clutching at her chest like she was choking, Alice might just have given up on the whole idea in general. “Who knew such folks existed?”
Mrs. Fredrick slowly composed herself. “Would you like to read another?”
“Oh, Mrs. Fredrick, I couldn’t possibly.”
“Nonsense, my dear … here, read this one.” She handed Alice another sheet of paper. She’d read it many times before and it was one of her all-time favorites.
The second letter was from a man named George Todd from Rawlins, Wyoming. He was twenty-eight years old, had never been married and had no children. He ran an impressive and profitable property down by the border of Colorado and was looking for a wife to help him out around the house. While Alice thought George sounded perfectly fine so far, she braced herself for what was surely to come.
And it came. George was apparently interested in older women. Much older in fact. The older the better … were his exact words. It appeared George preferred a woman to have her fair share of wrinkles, thick rolls around the middle and most importantly, she must have a substantial bosom.
Alice screwed up her nose and tossed the letter back into the pile by the tips of her fingers. “Oh dear … I think I’m done now, Mrs. Fredrick. Let’s pick one out of the other pile, surely there must be a respectable man left in this world…”
Alice suddenly stopped and her eyes glazed over as she weighed up her options. She was struck by a thought. One she had never considered before. While she never liked the idea of marriage in general — trust didn’t come naturally to her and most men in her life had let her down at one point or another — the circumstances in which she now found herself had her thinking otherwise. After all, she really didn’t have many options left.