A Promise to Love

by Serena B. Miller

  “No more of that, please, Mrs. Young.” The judge’s voice was firm. “I repeat. Is there anything you want to add or subtract from Joshua Hunter’s testimony?”

  “Well, she didn’t make no complaints until about ten o’clock. I started out back to get me some greens for our dinner, and Agnes comes to the back door and she says, ‘Grandma, come in here quick!’

  “When I come in, Diantha was lying on the floor. I asked her what was wrong. She got up, brushed herself off, laughed, and said that nothing was the matter. I asked if she had fainted, and she said she didn’t think so. She started peeling some apples I was going to bake and then I heard her make a real curious noise. I looked over, and she had her head laid down against the table and her eyes shut. I shook her and asked her what was the matter. But she didn’t say nothing. That’s when I told Agnes to run get her pa.

  “When Josh come in, he talked her into laying down on my bed.” Virgie’s eyes narrowed. “I know it sounds like he was all helpful, but he was just trying to make us think he hadn’t done nothin’ to her.”

  “I’ll come to my own conclusions,” the judge said. “Was there anyone else on the place?”

  “Besides me and Richard?” Virgie thought. “Right after Diantha died, Almeida walked in.”

  “Who is Almeida?”

  “My sister. She says to me maybe Diantha had some kind of spasm. ‘Let’s rub her,’ she says. Sometimes people come out of it if you rub them. So we rubbed her and put camphor under her nose, but it didn’t do no good.”

  “Where was Mr. Hunter all this time?”

  “In the other bedroom just a-talking to the children. He weren’t helping us try to bring Diantha back to life at all.”

  “Did the doctor mention a need for an autopsy?”

  “Dr. Allard said he didn’t think there was any reason for one. He seemed worried about a baby he had to deliver, and he was in a big hurry to go,” Virgie said bitterly. “He didn’t stay no time. Just up and left. Next thing I know, Richard and Joshua are a-putting my daughter in the coffin.”

  “Did you ever hear her say that she wanted to kill herself?”

  “Yes, but I think that’s just ’cause she was afraid of Josh.”

  Virgie hesitated, and Joshua was afraid he knew what was going to come out of her mouth next.

  “Go on,” the judge instructed. “Explain what you mean by that comment.”

  “That last Sunday, when she come for dinner, she said that she thought Josh was a-trying to kill her.”

  There was a rumble in the courtroom at this information.

  “Ma’am.” The judge shot a sideways glance at Joshua. “Do you have any idea why your daughter would say such a thing?”

  “No sir.” Virgie stared innocently at her entwined fingers. “But them’s her exact words. She said, ‘That Josh, he’s gonna kill me one of these days if I don’t get away from him.’”

  Joshua wished he could say that his mother-in-law was lying, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t lying. He was quite certain that his wife had said those words to her mother. She had said them to him.

  Diantha was tired of bearing and caring for their children. She hadn’t even wanted little Bertie, and she had informed Josh there would be no more children between them ever again.

  He had agreed to her terms. It was not what he wanted for their relationship, but he was willing to do without physical intimacy if it would make Diantha’s black moods go away.

  Then one night, a few weeks after Bertie’s birth, during one of Diantha’s brief, sparkling, joyful periods that she sometimes had for no apparent reason, she had turned to him in the night whispering love words, and he had responded.

  Was he going to have to explain all of this in front of his friends and neighbors? In front of his daughters? In front of the men with whom he had served? Did a man have to strip himself naked in a court of law?

  The one thing he had chosen not to share with the court or anyone else was that on the day Diantha died, she was certain she was with child once again, and she was furious about it.

  Ingrid had stopped paying attention to the court proceedings. It was late afternoon, and after Richard’s testimony, the words were becoming repetitive. The headaches. The chilling. The dizziness. The death. Even the doctor had little to add except to hold to his original diagnosis that Diantha had died of something bursting inside her brain. He even said that his comment about strychnine had been the mere musings of an overworked physician. A.J. Rogers reported that a search had been made of both the Hunter and Young farms and no strychnine or any other poison had been found.

  Ingrid wasn’t really listening. She was far too absorbed in watching the four little girls squirming in their seats beside their daddy. Her hands ached to take a needle and thread to the one child’s torn pantalets, and she wished she could neatly braid the other girl’s hair that was coming undone once again from the braid the big sister had tried to do. She could tell that the oldest girl was doing her best, but no twelve-year-old could care for children like a real mother.

  If only she could work for Mr. Hunter, she would be so good to those little girls!

  The judge finished questioning the doctor and checked his pocket watch. Ingrid suspected that a man as important as Judge Carver could not linger long in any one spot.

  “Does anyone else have something they want to say to the court?” the judge asked. “If not . . .”

  “Your honor?” A lone man stood at attention in the back of the courtroom. His left arm had a hand hook on the end of it. There were scars about his left lower jaw and neck.

  “Yes?”

  “Private Lyman Wilson, your honor. I just want to say that I fought with and followed Captain Hunter for more’n three years when I served in the First Cavalry. I never saw a braver soldier or a more honest man. He saved my life, sir. Saved it at the risk of his own. When we weren’t fighting, he’d tell us about his pretty wife back home, and the one little girl they had then, and how bad he wanted to get back to them. There’s not a one of us who served with the captain who thinks there’s a word of truth in whoever’s been telling folks that he kilt that poor woman.”

  The former soldier lifted his chin and looked around the courtroom. “Anyone who says Josh Hunter hurt his wife is a yellow-bellied liar, and I challenge ever’ last one of you to a fair fight!”

  A raucous cheer went up from the back of the room where the knot of former soldiers stood, all of them evidently itching for a chance to lick somebody on Joshua’s behalf.

  “I fought with the Third Infantry myself, Mr. Wilson.” The judge gazed thoughtfully at the remnant of the First Cavalry that had come to support Joshua. “In my opinion, no one knows a man’s nature better than those who have fought alongside of him. Your words carry a good bit of weight with me.”

  “They do?” Private Lyman Wilson looked startled.

  Judge Carver picked up the gavel he had brought with him and twirled it in his hands.

  “Based on the fact that there has been no evidence whatever of foul play, based on the fact that there has been no evidence provided of strychnine or any other poisonous substances found upon the premises of the Young or Hunter farms, based on the fact that the doctor who examined the body saw no basis for doing an autopsy or for believing Diantha Hunter was poisoned, based on the character witnesses I see today in the presence of the men who served with Mr. Hunter, and based on the fact that I am due in Port Hope in four hours—I am hereby ruling Diantha Hunter’s death one of unknown causes.” He hit the table with his gavel. “Court is dismissed.”

  Ingrid saw Mr. Hunter whisper a few words into his oldest daughter’s ear, and then he walked to the back of the room to talk to the former soldiers who had come to support him. Several people pumped his hand and patted his back as he made his way through the crowd. People in the courtroom, tired from sitting and surfeited with about as much drama as they could absorb, began gathering their things for their journey home.

  Suddenly
, there was a stir up front. She saw Diantha’s parents in deep conversation with the judge, and then she heard the judge’s gavel come down hard.

  “Will everyone please take their seats?” the judge said.

  People sat down but looked at one another, puzzled.

  “Another serious matter has been brought to my attention regarding this case,” the judge said. “Richard and Virgie Young are accusing Joshua Hunter of negligence in his parental duties and have petitioned the court for protective custody of all five of the Hunter children.”

  “You can’t take away my children!” Mr. Hunter exclaimed. “They’re all I have left!”

  “I sympathize with you, Mr. Hunter,” the judge said, “but it is not the court’s responsibility to protect the parent’s feelings. It is the duty of the court to protect the best interests of the children. From what little I’ve seen today, the Youngs’ accusation that you are overwhelmed and unable to give your children the care they need is justified.”

  Ingrid saw Agnes try to tuck the torn lace of Ellie’s pantalets out of sight.

  “Pa’s doing the best that he can,” Agnes said, unwittingly hammering the nail deeper into her father’s coffin. “He can’t help it if he can’t cook nothin’ much but corn mush and Polly don’t have no diapers on most of the time when she’s playin’ outside. He can’t help it if he can’t iron Trudy’s dress without burning a hole in it. That’s no call to make us go live with Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “It will only be temporary,” the judge said kindly. “In a year I’ll come back through here and reevaluate the situation. Perhaps your father will have found a new mother for you by then.”

  “But Grandma won’t even let Pa see baby Bertie!” Agnes protested. “If you do this, she won’t let Pa back inside the door. She won’t let us see him at all, and Judge . . . our pa really needs us.”

  “You girls need a competent woman taking care of you.” The judge’s face grew stern. “I’ve made my decision.” He raised the gavel.

  Ingrid saw Mr. Hunter’s eyes dart around the courtroom, as though desperately searching for an answer. She didn’t blame him. She would not want her children being cared for by someone who hated her, either. His soldier friends mumbled among themselves, but this was not a fight they knew how to wage.

  Her eyes fastened upon the gavel as it began to descend, almost in slow motion. Joshua bowed his head—whether in prayer or defeat, she did not know. Instinctively, she knew that if the children were wrested from him, it would destroy him. She also knew that if Virgie was as hateful to the children as she was to him, the girls would be permanently damaged by living with her. Ingrid was only a witness to this terrible thing, but it was tearing her apart.

  “Stop!” She surprised everyone—including herself—by leaping to her feet amidst this room full of people she had originally hoped would not even notice her. “I take care of children!”

  There had been no conscious thought before she jumped up. It had felt almost as though an unseen hand had propelled her there.

  Her face burned as everyone swiveled to stare at her, but in spite of knowing she was probably making a fool of herself in front of dozens of witnesses, she lifted her head and squared her shoulders. Ingrid knew her own worth—even if no one else in the room did. She knew she could absolutely make a good home for those little girls—and their father—if given the chance.

  “I take care of children,” she repeated. “I marry him.”

  In spite of the fact that dozens of people were openly gaping at her, she had eyes only for Joshua.

  “I . . . marry you,” she said, praying that the Lord would open Mr. Hunter’s eyes and allow him to see into her heart. Praying that Mr. Hunter would see the woman she was.

  They were practically strangers, but she had never felt so sure of anything in her life than that she could build a good life with this man. She had seen the kindness in his eyes when he had stopped to inquire about her well-being this morning—when he had bigger things to worry about. She had seen the esteem in which his men held him. Most of all, she had watched him fight for his children when too many men would have gladly handed the responsibility over to their in-laws.

  Well, she would help him fight. Even if it meant making a fool of herself in front of all these people. She looked hard into his eyes, willing him to see past her ragged clothes and the whip marks on her face. Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she held her breath, waiting for his response.

  When she had awakened this morning, it had never occurred to her that before nightfall, she would propose marriage to a widowed stranger with five children.

  Someone sniggered on the front row. The judge cast a warning glance at them and they stopped, but Ingrid knew that if Joshua did not speak soon, the whole courtroom would burst into laughter.

  She had taken a desperate gamble.

  “This is ridiculous!” Millicent stood and pointed at Ingrid. “That girl is my servant. She doesn’t even know the man!”

  “Is this true?” the judge asked.

  “Now, everybody just hold your horses.” Hazel shot to her feet and put a protective hand on Ingrid’s shoulder. “And I’m talking to you too, Judge. How about you just put that little wooden hammer down and give us a minute to sort this out.”

  The sight of an old woman might not have been enough to stop the proceedings, but the sight of an old woman with a wolf-dog the size of a small moose standing beside her, with its hackles raised and teeth bared, definitely captured the judge’s attention. He laid the gavel to one side.

  “How are you involved in any of this, ma’am?”

  “My name is Mrs. Samuel Smith, your honor.” Hazel drew herself up to her full height. “Me and my husband founded this town, and before I say anything else, I got a question to ask you.”

  “Please make it brief.”

  “Were you serious when you said if these children get a new mama, they can stay with their daddy instead of having to live with a woman bent on punishing a good man because she’s hurting so bad?”

  “If it appears that the stepmother will make a good home for the children, then yes, I would allow them to live with their father.”

  “Welllll,” Hazel drew the word out as she cocked one eyebrow and gave Mr. Hunter a stern look. “It appears that there’s been some courtin’ being done around here that nobody but me’s known much about. Josh here has been sparkin’ my good friend Ingrid these past few days. From what I understand—and I might be wrong about this—but from what I understand, he was thinkin’ of popping the question his ownself in a few months.” Hazel once again cocked an eyebrow and gave Joshua a meaningful look. “Ain’t that so, Josh.”

  A dead silence fell over the courtroom as everyone gawked back at Joshua.

  “That’s a lie!” Millicent fumed. “Joshua Hunter has not been courting that girl!”

  “I don’t see as you can know that for sure,” the judge said. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to not know that her hired help was seeing someone behind her back.” He glanced at his pocket watch again. “What’s it going to be, Mr. Hunter? It appears that you have a serious marriage proposal from a woman you evidently care about. I can perform a quick ceremony right now or the children can go home with their grandparents until I come back—which won’t be soon. Your choice—but you’d better make it fast.”

  Hazel motioned for Ingrid to bend down, and the old woman whispered in her ear. “Sorry about that little bitty exaggeration of mine!”

  Ingrid knew that what Hazel had told the judge was a whole lot closer to a lie than an exaggeration, but she also knew that now would not be a wise time to correct her.

  Joshua saw the look of longing in the hired girl’s face and knew that she was only waiting for a word from him. It had taken incredible courage for her to do what she did—or incredible desperation. He had nothing but pity for the girl, but he had been placed in a terrible position. He could refuse and humiliate her and Hazel—and in so doing have all of
his children end up in Virgie and Richard’s care, where they would be well fed and well clothed. But with the venom that existed against him in that household, he did not want to gamble with how his children would feel about him a year from now. He knew that Virgie was capable of trying to turn all five of them against him.

  His only other option was to go along with Hazel in this charade of having been courting this poor immigrant girl.

  During the war, he had learned to use whatever means possible to win a battle with the fewest casualties. In this case, if he did not win the battle, the casualties would be the hearts of his children.

  Hazel knew the girl. She would only have spoken up if she believed the girl would treat his children well. He had little to offer except food and shelter, but apparently she had nothing at all. If he was very lucky, it might turn out that she could cook—which would be quite a blessing.

  It wasn’t the best solution, but it was better than having to fight Richard and Virgie every time he wanted to see his children. Another pair of hands to help around the farm would be a welcome thing, and it wasn’t as though he expected to ever love another woman after Diantha. One woman was as good as another to him—as long as she was good to his children. He had heard of men sending off for mail-order brides and of it working out. At least in this situation, she wasn’t a complete unknown. Hazel vouching for her meant something. That woman had an eagle eye when it came to assessing a person’s character.

  But if he was going to marry this girl in front of all these people, it was going to be on his own terms. He would not allow this courtroom to think that he had been railroaded.

  He rose, walked to where she stood, and leaned over to whisper into her ear. “What is your name?”

  She whispered back. “Ingrid Larsen.”

  He got down on one knee and took her calloused hand in his. He took in the battered men’s boots, the faded dress, and the emaciated body. Then the soldier within him said in a voice loud enough for the entire room to hear: “Miss Ingrid Larsen, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”