Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  “I…I…” she looked at the floor. “I’m just concerned. About…you know.”

  “Our first night together?”

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Listen,” he said softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. He could feel her body, taut beneath his fingers. “You don’t need to worry about that. We will take things as slow as you need. It’s normal to feel awkward the first time. After that, you’ll wonder what all your worry was even about. I promise to be gentle. I would never hurt you.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and he gathered her into his arms. Her body thrummed with tension. “I don’t know how other men are with their wives, but I’m not a callous man. I want you to be comfortable—to enjoy everything right along with me. There’s no joy in anything for me, if you aren’t enjoying it, too. And you will enjoy it. If not the first time, then most likely the next. I will make it my highest priority.”

  She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her. It hurt him, to see those comely eyes filled with tears, but he could feel her body slowly relaxing. She eased into him, accepting his embrace, and he was glad. He was worried that she was feeling stress because she didn’t want to be with him, but it must be only angst over their first night together.

  Everyone is different, she’s just more edgy than most, I guess. He hoped she wasn’t so skittish about everything. He wasn’t typically an anxious man, so having a mouse of a wife would be…difficult. Well, she came all the way to Montana to marry a stranger, so she can’t really be that skittish, can she?

  He comforted Lilly for a few more moments, then let her get back to packing. She was done quickly, as promised. Jake paid her final hotel bill on the way out and they set off for home, which was only a few blocks down Main Street.

  Jake couldn’t wait to be alone with his bride, and signaled Charley and Paca to pick up the pace.

  Chapter 9

  Lilly sat beside Jake in the wagon, her hands clenched and palms sweaty.

  I can’t do it. I can’t. Her eyes wheeled about, as if there were some way to escape. Maybe I’ve made a mistake. I just can’t be married. I’m ruined. He’ll know. He already knows something is wrong. He saw that I was hiding something. He’ll take me to bed and know right away, and he won’t want me anymore.

  The fear of being rejected and put on a train back to Boston filled her with dread. I won’t go. I can’t go back. Even if he divorces me, I won’t leave. No matter how humiliated I am, I will stay. I’m safe here. Facing daily humiliation as a divorced mail order bride in a city full of strangers was a far better option than the alternative.

  She glanced up at her new husband, taking in his strong jaw line, broad shoulders, and the strong hands that held the reins. Would those hands truly be gentle, as he promised? She thought they would. I should want to be with him—I do want to be with him. I find him so very attractive. But the very idea twists my stomach in knots. I just want to be a good wife for him. I need to meet his expectations.

  She fretted the whole way, and didn’t stop until Jake turned the corner at a bakery, and she knew they had arrived at his home. Their home.

  Jake guided his horses down a side-street and pulled into the narrow dirt alley behind the building. As they came to a stop, she saw that there was a recessed part in the middle of the block-long set of attached brick buildings. The recessed area formed a yard area almost like a little courtyard, filled with bushes and plants that were in dire need of pruning, and a picket fence with an arbor gate. It was a fantastic little yard nestled into the recessed part of the building, and the arbor gate was loaded with pink roses.

  “Oh my, Jake, it’s splendid! I didn’t expect very much when you said the apartment was behind a row of stores. I know you said there was a little yard area, but I honestly expected to see nothing but a fence and dirt. But this!” She climbed down quickly, on her own, before Jake could even set the wagon break. Leaning forward, she took a rose blossom in her hand and inhaled the rich perfume. “Mm, they’re magnificent.”

  Jake came up behind her a moment later. “I’m glad you like them. You mentioned your fondness for gardening, so I decided not to tell you, and let it be a surprise. I wanted to trim things up for you—I know the garden is a mess, and really needs tending—but to be honest, I don’t know much about gardening. I was afraid I’d mess it up somehow.”

  “That’s alright. I’m happy to do it. That way I can have it exactly how I want it. Mother has an exquisite rose garden, but she was so particular about it, that she never let us touch it. I had to be satisfied with working in the vegetable garden and with the herbal flowers.”

  The image in her mind of her mother’s perfect rose garden, with roses swaying on their stems in the breeze, melted into another scene—the dead, late-winter canes spiked with thorns that grabbed at the torn hem of her mangled dress, while she bloodied her hands trying to pull herself free in the dark and cold of a March evening.

  An acrid taste filled her mouth, and the rose didn’t smell sweet anymore—it became cloying and overpowering. She stepped back, turning away so Jake couldn’t see her expression. “But my mother’s garden is irrelevant. This one will be mine—ours—and I’ll make it so enchanting, you’ll be proud to have guests over for supper.”

  “We’ll have guests?”

  “Yes. I thought we could invite Madeline and Clay Porter over, once we’ve gotten settled in. Is that alright?” She turned back to him, now that it seemed her mood shift had evaded his notice.

  He wore a puzzled expression. “Sure. I’m not against it. We just…I mean, I’ve never had anyone over.”

  “Sadie never entertained?”

  “No. I wish she had. Maybe…well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid to talk about your life, Jake. Naturally, I wouldn’t want to hear her name all the time, but if something comes up in conversation, you don’t have to change the subject.”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t know exactly how to handle all of this. It’s awkward, and I don’t want to upset you. I know I wouldn’t be too keen on you talking about old beaus of yours.”

  “Well, that’s not something you need to worry about.” The bitter taste of bile returned, as scenes from the church social flashed into her mind. The claustrophobic feeling of too many bodies in a small room, her dizziness, the bite of the fresh, cold night air, and the dank smell of the cellar…

  “Are you feeling unwell? You look pale.” Jake took her by the arm, and she nearly jumped, but stopped herself in time.

  “No…I’m fine, really. It’s been a long day, though. Let’s go inside.”

  “Good idea. I think you need to rest. I’ll get your bag and show you around inside before I put Charley and Paca away.”

  Jake pulled her satchel out from under the wagon seat, then opened the garden gate for her.

  Lilly followed the brick path up to the gingerbread-trimmed door and let Jake unlock the door and open it for her. She stepped inside and took in her new home.

  The door opened into the kitchen area. A small cast iron cookstove stood across from them, just to the right of a door that she assumed led to the rest of the apartment. The stove’s metal chimney bent and disappeared into a brick wall section that Lilly assumed must be the building’s central chimney. A baking cabinet stood just to the right of where she stood. To the left there was a coat stand and an oak ice box, in front of which was a round table with four chairs. Beyond the table, against the far wall and to the left of the doorway across from them, there were shelves full of pantry goods.

  “The parlor is just through there.” He pointed to the doorway straight in front of them.

  Lilly walked through into the parlor and saw a parlor stove just to her right, which also appeared to vent into the main brick chimney that stood behind it. The stove was topped with an ornate nickel finial. It was the type of stove a woman would have picked out.

  There was an Oriental rug on the floor of the par
lor—another woman’s touch, though obviously neglected and in need of a good cleaning. The rest of the house was much cleaner than she would have expected from a bachelor blacksmith. There was a settee that also stood out as a non-bachelor piece of furniture, along with a wooden rocking chair, a tea table, and a bookshelf.

  The bookshelf was almost empty, but for a Bible and a few other, worn books.

  The entire room bespoke Jake’s life for the past two years—the life of a man whose woman had left him and their entire life together behind.

  “It’s very nice, Jake.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

  “No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “I like it very much. It’s much nicer than you described.”

  “I didn’t want your expectations to be too high.”

  “You’ve surpassed my expectations. And I admire how clean it is.”

  “Well…” Jake stuck his free hand into his pocket, looking sheepish. “I’d be lying if I said it was always this clean. I probably should have warned you that being married to a blacksmith means a lot of extra cleaning.”

  She smiled. “I rather expected so. Don’t fret.”

  “Well, then, let me show you around the rest of the place. Though we’re almost done,” he laughed. “The bedroom is through here.”

  She was glad he led the way this time. He didn’t see her halting steps as she forced herself to follow him.

  The bedroom was small, but cozy. The iron bed was just big enough for two. There was a dresser across from the bed, with an oval mirror above it, and two small night tables, one on each side of the bed. A narrow closet door was to the left of the dresser.

  Here, in the bedroom, there was no woman’s touch. The bed was made neatly, but with nothing more than sheets and wool blankets. There was no quilt, no crocheted coverlet. She had almost expected to see something hand-made by Jake’s first wife.

  “She left the furniture, but took the coverlet.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. “Oh, Jake, I’m sorry!” She covered her mouth, horrified at her blunder.

  He looked sideways at her with a pained expression. “It’s alright. I understand. I know the house looks strange—like she just up and left in the middle of the night. Even this many years later. Really, except for the fact that it was daytime, while I was at work, that’s just about right. And I haven’t done much to it since. Except for the blankets—she didn’t take them, I burned them.”

  A tiny, choking sound came from his throat, and Lilly felt terrible for bringing it up. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, you should know.” He set her bag on top of the bare dresser top, then sat on the bed with a sigh almost as loud as the creak of the mattress springs. “I came one day and found the house empty. Well—empty of all her things. Her pictures, her jewelry, her clothing, her books, and anything else sentimental to her. She left behind only the furniture, the bedding, and…the photograph on the wall of us together.”

  “That’s awful.” She sat on the bed beside him, putting a comforting hand on his forearm.

  “All she left me was a note on the dresser, telling me she wasn’t happy and that she needed to move on, and not to try to find her. I didn’t listen, though. I searched for her in Billings, where her mother lives, but her mother wouldn’t tell me where she was. After a couple of weeks, I tracked her down and found her living with another man.”

  “You’re kidding! Just right out in the open?”

  “I think they were pretending to be married. Even so, I begged her to come back. I told her I was willing to forgive her, if she would just try to make things work. She was very cold, and asked me to just leave. But I wouldn’t, though. Not until she told me she was with child.”

  “His?”

  Jake nodded. “I didn’t even notice the slight swelling of her belly until she said it. Then I looked down, and I saw…and I knew it wasn’t mine. She hadn’t…we hadn’t…not for a few months. She wouldn’t let me touch her. So it couldn’t be my child.” He turned away, hiding his face from Lilly.

  “What did you do?”

  “I turned around and walked away. I never looked back, not once. I came back to Helena and the first thing I did was strip the bed and burn it all—right down to the pillows and mattress. I wouldn’t sleep on the marriage that she had sullied with another man. I just couldn’t. It was one thing for her to run off with another man—I’m not sure if I could have really forgiven her, but I was willing to try. But the fact that she was carrying another man’s baby—that it hadn’t just been a whirlwind thing, but had been going on for months, sometimes in my very own bed—that, I couldn’t abide.”

  “You thought she had just run off, spur of the moment?”

  He nodded again. “I thought she was just running from her problems, like maybe she’d met someone who swept her off her feet, and offered her a change from the life that was somehow making her so unhappy. She had been miserable for months. Really, the whole last year. She wanted a child so bad, and it just never happened. She got very melancholic, kept to her bed for months, barely cooked or kept house, and didn’t see anyone. Before all that, she’d kept really busy, cooking all the time, doing errands, sewing, spending countless hours in the garden.”

  “She planted the garden, then?”

  “Yes. It was nothing but a dirt lot when we moved in. I put in the fence for her, and she started the garden from scratch. Does that bother you?”

  “No. I’ll make it mine. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m going to save up enough money to buy you a real house. Not this year, but maybe next. A new place of our own, with a huge garden space.”

  “That would be delightful. Though really, it isn’t necessary.” She paused. “You said that she took to bed?” Lilly couldn’t help herself—she wanted to hear the rest. She was curious why any woman would abandon her husband in so cruel a way.

  “Well,” he went on, “one day, a few months before she left, her spirits picked up. I was relieved. We were never…together…anymore. I had hoped things would improve, since she seemed a bit happier, but they didn’t. The crying had stopped, and she was cleaning again, but just barely. Sometimes I wondered if she was just in bed all day, as before, but putting on a brave front when I came home. Because I couldn’t see what she was doing all day, if she wasn’t in bed. The garden was barely tended, and she still wasn’t sewing or doing any more cooking than she absolutely had to. Of course, now I know what she was doing.”

  “How on earth did she even meet him if she was in bed all the time?”

  “I suppose at the mercantile, or somewhere else along the way when she bought supplies. She traveled twice to see him in Billings—I figured that part out, later. She had told me at the time that she was visiting her mother. I thought it was good for lifting her spirits, because she came back looking happier. I had no idea what she was really up to. After I confronted her in Billings, when I came home, I saw the bed—our bed—which I realized she had brought a stranger into, while I worked hard every day to provide for her…” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “That night I burned the bedding. Just cut it to pieces and fed it into the stove, until it was gone, along with our photograph. I burned the mattress and pillows the next day, out in the alley. I felt like such a fool.”

  Lilly took his hand and squeezed it. “You shouldn’t. It’s not your fault. It sounds like she did a good job of hiding it. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.”

  “It’s hard not to. As I sat there, burning the bedding piece by piece, I racked my brain, trying to figure out where I went wrong, what I could have done differently, going over things in my mind and trying to see all the clues I had missed. That’s why I made it clear in my letters to you that I was looking for an honest woman. I don’t think I can go through that again. It just about killed me when it happened the first time—I won’t put up with betrayal again. I’ve been lied to enough.” He squeezed her hand. “Which is why I’m glad I ma
rried you. I can see that you’re different.”

  Lilly tried to swallow over the lump in her throat as the guilt washed over her. How can I lie to this man? Or keep things from him? It’s the same as lying. I need to tell him about my past.

  “Jake…”

  “Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to put too much pressure on you. I know that there may be times when I’m feeling distrustful of you. After being hurt so bad, I guess it’s to be expected. But I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t trust you. So if you ever feel like that’s how I’m treating you, just let me know. I want to have a fresh start with you. I appreciate that you gave up your whole life to come out and marry a divorced man. That’s something most women wouldn’t do. You’re a very kind and charitable woman, and I aim to make sure that you know every day just how grateful I am to have you.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. This time, she didn’t jump. She wasn’t even skittish about sitting so close to him, holding hands, on their marriage bed. All she could think of was his pain, and how she didn’t want to cause him any more of it.

  “I’m grateful for you, too, Jake. You’ve saved me in more ways than you could ever know.”

  “How is that? I still don’t even fully understand why it is that you would come so far to marry a stranger—much less someone like me.”

  “Someone like you? You mean, a good, honorable man? They aren’t as plentiful as one might think. Especially when your parents have their minds set on you marrying someone who is thoroughly…unsuitable…as a husband.”

  “Well, I’ve told you about my poor choice for a mate. Maybe you should tell me about your parents’ terrible choice for you.” He nudged her arm in a teasing gesture.

  “Oh. No. You don’t want to hear about that.”

  “Yes I do. I want to get to know you. Completely. It’s my new mission in life,” he joked.

  “Well…the horses are waiting for you. They’re probably thirsty by now.”