Wedded for the Baby

by Dorothy Clark

  “I’m Asa Brant. So happy you came.” He looked down at her, holding her hand in both of his as if frozen at the sight of her.

  Blushing warmth enveloped Judith as she gripped his gloved hand. “Asa.” That’s all she could say, her voice failing her.

  “All the arrangements are made as promised,” Asa said, sounding strained. He edged back slightly as if not knowing how to behave.

  Judith felt the same awkwardness. They’d corresponded over the past few months, so they were strangers but not complete strangers. What a confusing feeling.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Ashford agreed. “Now, you two ladies come with me. I have everything ready for the bride in our quarters above the store. Is your wedding dress in your trunk?”

  Judith stared at the woman, unable to reply. Why was the woman asking for her wedding dress? She glanced up at Asa and found him staring at her as if he wasn’t quite sure she was real.

  “Where’s my intended?” Emma spoke up in the gap. “Where’s Mason Chandler?”

  Everyone fell silent. The crowd all looked away as if embarrassed.

  “He hasn’t jilted me, has he?” Emma asked in her usual frank way.

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Mrs. Ashford assured her. “Come now, ladies. It’s freezing out here. Everyone, you know the plan. We’ll see you all at the schoolhouse as soon as the bride is ready.”

  Judith tried to make sense of what was happening. She still clung to Asa’s hand. What plan was Mrs. Ashford talking about?

  “Don’t worry,” Asa assured her. “Just go with Mrs. Ashford.” He squeezed her hand and turned away.

  The men in the crowd gathered up the sisters’ belongings and departed as Mrs. Ashford drew them out of the wind through the general store, then up the back stairs to the living quarters. Judith felt as if she were an oarless boat being swept along helplessly in a strong current.

  “Now come stand by the fire,” Mrs. Ashford instructed, “while we unpack your wedding dress and press it.” The woman glanced at Emma and worried her lower lip. “I’m afraid Mason Chandler couldn’t be here.” With her daughter standing just behind her, the woman drew a letter from the mantel above the roaring fire and handed it and a slender opener to Emma. “Things happen,” the woman said sympathetically.

  This forced Judith out of her daze. She moved beside Emma, who had navigated through all the furniture to stand closer to the window for more light. Judith slid her arm around Emma’s narrow waist. Emma stared at the letter and then slit it open. She held it so Judith could read it with her.

  February 28, 1873

  My dear Emma,

  It grieves me that I will not be in Pepin to meet you as arranged. I have received a letter from my father and have gone to be with him in his final days. The Ashfords have promised to make sure you have a place to stay until I can return. I am so sorry, but this could not have been foreseen when we made our plans to marry. I will stay as long as I must to be with my father at this sad time and settle up matters of business here.

  Your obedient servant,

  Mason Chandler

  Judith read the letter twice before it made sense. She tugged Emma closer still, uncertain what to say.

  “Well, that came out of the blue,” Emma said.

  Judith thought she might have heard a trace of relief in her daring sister’s voice. Had Emma been granted a grace period, whereas Judith must marry today?

  “Don’t you worry,” Mrs. Ashford said. “We have a guest room for you, and you can help out in the store till he comes home.”

  Emma folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. “Thank you.”

  “Now that’s taken care of,” Mrs. Ashford said, “let’s unpack the wedding dress and get it pressed. Everyone’s waiting at the schoolhouse—it doubles as our community church—to see Judith and Asa marry.”

  Judith’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Marry? Today? But she and Asa had just met. Again she felt the sensation of being swept along.

  “Come. Come.” Mrs. Ashford waved at them. “Where’s the wedding dress?”

  Emma moved forward. “In Judith’s trunk, wrapped in tissue paper.” Emma went to the right trunk and undid the clasp. Soon the two women hovered over the trunk while Judith stood by the window, frozen. She’d never thought they’d marry the day she arrived. A sinking feeling gripped her.

  Mrs. Ashford rose, holding the full dress over both her arms. “The perfect shade of blue. A good choice. You’ll look lovely, and it will serve as your best dress for years to come.”

  Judith shook herself and came toward the woman as if wading through cold water. When Asa had assured her in his last letter that he would take care of all arrangements, she’d assumed he’d meant finding her a place to stay and something to do while they got to know each other. She ruefully thought that she’d just learned the first lesson of marriage—not to take for granted that what she assumed he meant was what he actually meant.

  She gazed at Mrs. Ashford, seeking some kind of reassurance.

  And the lady read her expression aright. “Asa Brant has lived here almost two years. He is an honest man, always pays his bills. He attends church regularly, and whenever the community needs to do something as a whole, he always pitches in. He is well respected and well liked, though he usually keeps to himself.” The woman frowned on this last bit of information. But no doubt to a woman such as Mrs. Ashford, a desire for privacy and quiet might be seen as unusual.

  Judith digested this and drew in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Ashford came nearer. “Miss Jones, you’ll find that no woman really knows what kind of husband a man will make until they are married. You are pledged to an honest, well-respected man. That’s a good place to start.”

  Judith nodded, mentally clinging to the final phrase, a good place to start.

  “Now, let’s get this dress pressed. Everyone’s waiting!” Mrs. Ashford carried the dress into the kitchen to the ironing board. “Amanda, take the ladies into Miss Jones’s room so they can freshen up.”

  The young girl moved out of her mother’s shadow and showed them to a cheery but small room with a comfortable-looking bed that took up most of the space. Amanda pointed out the pitcher and copper bowl filled with warm water. Then she left them.

  Judith and Emma exchanged glances. Emma held up a hand. “We’ll discuss my odd turn of events later. Let’s wash up and get our hair back into order. That dress will be ready before we know it.”

  Judith let Emma pull her along, preparing for this unexpectedly immediate wedding. But doubts still swirled in her stomach. The one man she’d loved had spurned her. Now she, who’d previously given up on marriage, was going to marry a man she knew only through letters exchanged over the fall and winter. The nuptials would happen today, within the hour. I’m going to be married today, she repeated to herself, trying to believe it.

  * * *

  In the schoolhouse cloakroom, Asa shed his winter coat and muffler, still stunned by seeing Judith Jones. For a moment, he saw her again stepping off the boat and then looking up at him. He had not expected to recognize his bride, but he had—from a tintype he’d seen long ago. The tintype had belonged to her brother, his comrade in arms. But she hadn’t recognized him, which was a relief.

  Surely she would never realize that she’d seen him twice before, never learn of their connection. The shock of recognizing her equaled the shock of seeing that his bride was not what he’d expected. He hadn’t anticipated the wave of instant attraction to her. He’d had trouble saying the few words to her that he’d managed to voice.

  “Well, you have a neat-looking bride,” said the town blacksmith, Levi Comstock, slapping Asa on the back.

  Asa nodded. Judith was a lot more than neat. She was trim and pretty with thick dark hair and deep brown eyes.
He’d expected a woman who couldn’t attract a man and had prepared himself for someone plain. He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind of his preconception. He’d wanted someone plain, a woman who would fill the lonely hours and demand nothing from him deeper than kindness and respect. Judith Jones was not that sort of woman, commonplace, unremarkable. She was the complete opposite of those terms. His pulse sped up. He clamped down his reactions.

  “Miss Jones appeared to be a pleasant and modest young woman,” said Noah Whitmore, the town preacher, leading them through the schoolhouse, where people were already gathering. The three of them went into the teacher’s quarters in the rear. The teacher had invited them to use it as a place for them to await the bride, out of the public eye.

  “I don’t know how I’d handle marrying a woman I’d just met,” Levi said, buttoning himself into his suit coat.

  Asa fully agreed with this. But he’d had no choice. No young women flocked to this frontier town. Out of desperate loneliness, he’d offered marriage to this woman. He could not face another winter with hours of remembering the past he yearned to erase from his mind. Women talked, and he planned for Judith’s voice to fill up the long, empty, silent days. But Judith’s large, honest eyes warned him that this woman was more than he’d bargained for.

  “Sunny and I didn’t know each other very well when we wed,” Noah said, checking his reflection in the small shaving mirror on the wall and smoothing back his hair. “Being married is a special relationship. It might help to know a woman well before one weds, but many other couples have met on their wedding day.”

  Asa appreciated Noah’s calm voice. He also knew that Noah was a Union veteran like himself. Asa’s deep-down worry thrust up into his throat, preventing him from speaking. He’d spent four long years during the war killing men, destroying everything in his path. He’d seen things no man should see. How did a soldier put that behind him and become a husband and maybe a father? He felt himself seize up inside as battle memories surged through his mind and his arteries pumped his blood hard. He wished he could ask Noah how he’d come to a place of peace. But men didn’t ask other men those kind of questions.

  He drew in a deep breath. He’d come this far and he couldn’t back out, couldn’t jilt a sweet-looking, scared-looking woman like Judith. This was harder for her. She was putting her life in his hands, trusting him to be her provider and protector. He could do that, offer her that. But he had nothing more to offer. Did she sense that?

  “The ladies are busy in my upstairs,” Ashford, the storekeeper, came in, rubbing his hands together. “Wish we had nicer weather for the wedding. But we’ll manage. We’ll manage.”

  And that was what Asa must do—manage. He had gone along with Mason Chandler’s suggestion that they advertise for wives. No one had forced him. He’d done it of his own free will. He recalled Judith’s hesitant, shy letters and how he’d come to look forward to them, how he’d read and reread them. Straightening his back, he faced life. He would marry Judith today. He just wished that he was a better man for her and that his heart would stop pounding as if scolding him for not telling her what a poor husband he would make her.

  * * *

  Soon Mrs. Ashford knocked on the guest bedroom door and reentered. She and Emma helped Judith into the royal-blue dress with tiny mother-of-pearl buttons and hand-tatted lace at the high collar. Judith had labored over it for several weeks. She’d decided on a classic style, which, though it followed the new fashion of a slimmer profile, would indeed last her many years.

  “Such fine stitching,” Mrs. Ashford remarked. “You are quite a seamstress.”

  Judith managed a smile. Finally dressed, she was led to the hallway to a full-length wall mirror.

  “You look beautiful,” exclaimed the young daughter, Amanda, and Emma echoed the sentiment.

  Judith could only hope Asa Brant thought so. She’d never been deemed pretty, as Emma was, something people had found necessary to point out all through her childhood and teens.

  “Every bride is beautiful, but Miss Jones, you do look lovely,” Mrs. Ashford agreed.

  Judith finally let herself examine her reflection. She did indeed look well in her dress, but also stunned. Didn’t anybody notice that?

  Soon they were layering up coats, gloves, shawls to meet the winter cold that still lingered and then walking out to the church-schoolhouse combination.

  There the women paused just inside the cloakroom and shed their outerwear. After handing both twins bouquets of dried flowers that had been waiting on the shelf, Mrs. Ashford and Amanda hurried on inside to take seats, while Mr. Ashford offered to walk Judith down the aisle to her groom. He told them there would be no “Wedding March” since there was no organ or piano.

  The urge to bolt shot through Judith like lightning. But she could not go back home, so she had to go forward. She mastered herself and took the man’s arm.

  Emma slipped in front of them. “Ready, sister?”

  Judith nodded, unable to speak.

  Emma stepped into the open doorway to the large classroom, lifting her shoulders, and then she began to walk sedately down the aisle toward the front.

  Mr. Ashford paused with Judith and then started after her sister.

  From nerves, Judith’s vision wavered, but she was able to see the preacher holding an open book in front of the room, flanked by Asa Brant, obviously in his Sunday best. Another man stood beside him, no doubt the best man.

  Emma arrived at the front and moved to one side to leave room for Judith next to Asa. Mr. Ashford squeezed her arm, released her and moved to sit with his family in the front row.

  Judith’s heart was leaping beneath her breastbone. She felt a bit light-headed.

  “Please join hands,” the pastor said. “Miss Jones, I am Noah Whitmore, and it’s my honor to join you in holy matrimony to Asa Brant.”

  The man’s calm voice soothed her. She managed a smile but could not bring herself to look up into her groom’s face. If she did, then she might panic, so she concentrated on Noah Whitmore’s voice and Asa Brant’s firm grip on her icy kid-gloved hand.

  * * *

  Asa held on to his bride’s hand like a lifeline. His mind brought up the face of a woman whom he’d courted before the war and who’d sent him a letter in 1862 telling him she’d married another and was bound for California to leave the dreadful war behind. She’d wished him well. He’d been sitting in an army tent buffeted with cold wind and rain, exhausted from burying dead comrades.

  He shoved this memory out of his mind. He barely remembered her except for that moment when she’d cut their connection. That day he’d been hoping for a consoling letter. He’d burned hers.

  He forced himself back to this important occasion. The wedding ceremony proceeded along the usual lines. He faced his bride, determined.

  Noah’s words penetrated. “Asa, repeat after me, please.”

  Asa swallowed to clear his throat and voiced this pledge. “I, Asa, take thee, Judith, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish till death do us part.” He felt guilty promising things he might not be able to do. But he’d do his best.

  In a voice that trembled on some words, his bride voiced her vows to him. And she accepted the simple gold band he slipped on her finger.

  “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder,” the pastor intoned.

  Behind him, Asa felt a relaxation of tension. Had the assembly expected his bride to flee? He couldn’t blame them. The pastor continued, “Forasmuch as Judith and Asa have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company of witnesses, and thereto have given their pledge, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands, I
now pronounce you husband and wife.” The pastor beamed. “You many now kiss your bride, Asa.”

  Asa leaned down slowly, self-consciously. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so long. His bride gazed up at him as if stunned. He pressed his lips to hers lightly. The unexpected shock of the contact whipped through him. He ended the kiss and tightened his hold on her hand. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.”

  His bride barely nodded in reply.

  The pastor brought him back with “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Asa Brant.”

  There was loud applause and some foot-stomping, and a few children shouted, “Hurray!”

  Asa couldn’t help himself. In the face of everyone’s obvious enthusiasm, he smiled though his lips felt tight, unused to the expression.

  The next few hours passed in a blur of a festive meal; a special and delicious cake provided by the local baker, Mrs. Rachel Merriday; and many well wishes and gifts. Finally, just as darkness was stealing over the sky, Asa brought the wagon to take his bride home.

  He halted the team just outside the door and got down.

  Judith’s sister, Emma, stood by her side. “I wish all the best to the best sister,” Emma said. The two sisters clung to each other for a moment. Then Emma stepped away.

  Asa helped Judith up onto his wagon. Someone had already loaded on her baggage and all the presents. The schoolhouse emptied, and people shouted congratulations to them as Asa drove up the uneven trail through the town and forest, very aware of his bride on the bench near him.

  She shivered.

  “My...our place is a little over a mile from town,” Asa said as they left everyone behind. “Won’t be long and I’ll have you by the fire. Warm enough under the lap rug?”

  Judith nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

  “Soon as I talked to Noah Whitmore, the women just took over. I tried to rein them in but got nowhere. I decided just to stand back, sure they’d do a better job of planning a wedding than I would.” He couldn’t believe how he was babbling. He shut his mouth. What might come out if he kept this up? He needed to guard his tongue. He couldn’t let her connect him to her brother. Doing so might bring up matters he didn’t want to discuss, didn’t want known here.