The door was left ajar. Isaac pushed it open. Rosalie sat on the bed, smoothing out a set of wrinkled embroidered pillows. He knew she heard him come in, even though she refused to look up. “Rosalie, I must have said something to upset you. I’m sorry. I’m truly not bothered about the roast.”
She traced the line of an embroidered lily on the pillow. “It was a small matter. There’s nothing further to talk about.” She lifted her eyes to his before resuming her casual inspection of the pillow.
The matter wasn’t too small, else she wouldn’t have stormed away. Isaac decided it was wise not to voice his observation. He made a sincere apology. Why wouldn’t she cheer up? “There’s still bread from this afternoon and the beans you cooked on the stove. Beans are filling.”
His efforts to remedy the situation produced little result. His wife merely nodded her head and reached for the sewing kit beside her. “I’m not very hungry. I think I’ll do some embroidering.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Isaac closed the door to the bedroom. He ran a hand over his forehead. He didn’t know what else to say to her. He said he was sorry. His attempt to make amends fell short. Rosalie would rather keep company with a pillow than have supper with her husband. Her behavior left him befuddled.
Isaac sighed again before heading back to the kitchen to salvage what remained of the meal.
***
Two weeks went by, and Isaac became more puzzled at Rosalie’s behavior by the day. She attended church in town with him on Sundays, where she sat still and silent beside him in the mercantile. When they were on the homestead, she was pleasant enough, greeting him in the morning with coffee and hot biscuits and keeping small conversation during their other shared meals together. It was the extent of her involvement with him.
Rosalie had the uncanny ability to slip into the background while she cooked, cleaned, or took her leisure at reading and sewing. There were moments where Isaac thought she left the room, only to find her nestled in a chair, her deep and thoughtful eyes staring at the wall as though she could see through it. If it wasn’t for the fancy tablecloths and the embroidered pillows decorating his sitting room furniture, he could almost believe he lived in the house with an imaginary wife.
Tim came around for a visit in mid-October. Isaac was out riding the pasture, checking on the autumn calves. He waved to his friend as Tim drove alongside the property on the dusty road in a wagon. “Afternoon, Tim. Haven’t seen you in a spell.”
“I’ve been busy getting the hay and wheat ready for market. I’m headed to town for feed for the sheep. How are you and the missus?”
Isaac knew this was one of those questions people asked but didn’t expect a detailed, honest answer. He wouldn’t divulge the truth, anyway. It was too raw and personal to admit he and Rosalie weren’t on the best of terms. And it was only two months to Christmas, when the fate of their marriage would be decided once and for all. “Rosalie and I are still learning about each other.”
Tim offered a sage nod. “Being married takes some getting used to. Pauline and I have been together for eighteen years, and I’m always learning new things about her.”
Isaac saw the look of love and admiration pass over his friend’s face at the thought of his wife. If only he and Rosalie had hope for such a future. “What do you say to bringing your family here for Sunday supper? I’d like for Rosalie to meet them.”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll ask Pauline if she had plans to visit folks in town that day. If not, I know she’d enjoy meeting your wife. She’s asked about her ever since I told her you got married.”
A new sense of optimism took hold of Isaac. Maybe being introduced to a female friend would help Rosalie. Homesteading was hard, lonely work. It took time for him to get used to the relative isolation when he first settled on his land. It would’ve been worse had he not had the friendship of Tim and his family. “Bring Pauline and the boys here around four. That’ll give them time for introductions before we eat.”
“Sounds good to me. Pauline will probably want to bake one of her famous cinnamon pound cakes.” Tim waved to him and continued on his way towards Angel Vale.
Isaac nudged his horse to return to the pasture. A great weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. Yes, a social meal with Tim’s family would be just what Rosalie needed.
***
When Rosalie heard Isaac tell her about having visitors over on Sunday, she initially looked forward to it. However, when the day came, she found herself a bit nervous to entertain four guests. Tim’s wife Pauline soon put her at ease, though. She enjoyed the older woman’s company.
Pauline was sociable, quick with a joke, and possessed a genteel spirit. Through the course of the meal, Rosalie listened to her stories of traveling across the west from Pennsylvania to Kansas, from Kansas to California, and then finally to Wyoming.
“I traveled by rail,” Rosalie said to her after supper when they carried the dishes to the sink. The men ventured outside to look at Isaac’s autumn calves. “I can’t imagine going across the country in a wagon. You were very strong.”
“I did it while carrying my oldest son.” Pauline stacked the plates in the sink. “If you asked me when I was seventeen whether I would marry a man with a pioneering spirit, I would’ve cried ‘nonsense’ and laughed outright. Now I can’t think of any other life I’d want to lead.”
Rosalie looked down. She wished she could say the same for her own circumstances. She reached for the pail of water. “You’re a brave and adventurous woman.”
“So are you.” Pauline’s face, lightly lined by middle age, brightened with a smile. “It takes nothing short of courage to travel thousands of miles to marry someone you’ve met through correspondence. But Isaac is a good and godly man. He risked his own life to help Tim when he got trapped in one of the gold mines years ago. Isaac was the only man willing to go in there after him.”
Rosalie paused from tilting the pail into the sink. “Isaac said he used to mine for gold, but he never told me about rescuing Tim.”
“Your husband is too humble to talk on about himself.”
Rosalie picked up a cake of soap and created suds in the water. Pauline’s intent may have been to provide her with an entertaining and informative account of Isaac’s heroic deed, but it made her uneasy. Tim and Pauline admired their friend, and she clearly saw why. Why, then, couldn’t she find it within herself to fall head over heels in love with Isaac, or at least be resigned to the idea of a simple married life on a homestead?
She supposed her feelings gave themselves away in her facial expression, because Pauline reached over and patted her hand. “It gets easier with time. Tim and I married very young. Our courtship wasn’t long by anyone’s estimation, but it doesn’t matter whether you have a two-year or two-week engagement. We all change and learn. Just be patient and let God guide you.”
Rosalie moved her head up and down. There was no point in telling her new friend that she didn’t have the luxury of time. If she and Isaac didn’t manage to become husband and wife in every way by Christmas, then their marriage would be annulled. Isaac’s strong muscles and good looks made her body respond whenever he was near to her, but her heart and mind were steady. She could never give herself to Isaac without being absolutely certain she loved him and he loved her in return.
The men returned to the house shortly after Rosalie and Pauline finished washing and drying the dishes. Tim’s family said goodbye and set off for home. Isaac closed the door after they left.
“Did you enjoy their company?” he asked her.
“I did. Tim and his boys tell humorous jokes, and Pauline is very pleasant to talk to.”
“We’ll have to invite them to come again soon, then.”
Rosalie assented with a nod instead of a verbal reply. “I’m going to make a pot of tea and read by the fire. Would you like a cup?”
He shook his head. “I need to gather wood from the back of the house before it gets too dark.” He strode in the direct
ion of the rear door.
Rosalie turned to go towards the stove. Isaac called her name. She looked at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
He stood between the kitchen and the hallway. His hand rested on the wall. His large body rested in a state of reflection between movements. “I hope you can learn to be happy here with me.”
A lump arose in her throat. She once again found herself unable to say anything. Isaac spared her the trial of finding the right words. He disappeared down the hall.
***
One week later
Another Sunday came around and Rosalie was no less anxious about her predicament than she was the week before. At least on Sundays, though, she was able to rest from her work and experience a change of pace by going to Angel Vale to attend church. She donned one of her better dresses and rode to town in the wagon with Isaac.
On Main Street, a good number of wagons and tethered horse lined one side of the road near the mercantile. Jake Underwood’s sound biblical teachings and sermons drew more people every Sunday.
Rosalie entered the mercantile with Isaac. The merchandise on the floor had been rearranged since her last visit to make room for the people gathered today on the sitting planks. It was strange to be inside a store on a Sunday morning, but she learned from her short tenure out west thus far that life was vastly different from Merville. Angel Vale had yet to build a structure to house a church. Until then, Underwood Mercantile served as the local place of worship, and its owner, Jake Underwood, served as the preacher.
She and Isaac were a few minutes early. The church attendees turned to look at them when they heard the door open and close. A few gave a friendly nod to Isaac. Rosalie readjusted her gaze to stare ahead without appearing to make direct eye contact with anyone. Traces of guilt and sadness lingered in her heart. Since she and Isaac made appearances together, the church attendees probably thought they were happily married husband and wife, a true pair. If they only knew. She felt like a liar. Even worse, she was carrying on like this among fellow Christians. Surely it couldn’t be right.
Isaac squeezed her hand and leaned to speak in her ear. “I see Jake sitting towards the front. I’d like to say hello to him before church begins.”
“Alright. I’ll look for a place for us to sit.”
Isaac’s lips formed a smile to warm her heart. He gave her hand another squeeze. “I’m so happy you’re here with me in church.”
Rosalie bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from focusing on the sadness that threatened to make her eyes water. As he moved forward towards Jake, she rubbed her arms up and down as though fighting a chill. How she desperately wanted to talk with someone, another woman who might understand. She looked side to side at the people seated. She could count the number of women on her fingers. Was there no one present she could confide in?
She heard the door open behind her and turned to see Becky walk in. Rosalie remembered Becky from the train and wagon ride to Angel Vale. She was Jake’s mail-order bride. That also meant she was the preacher’s wife. Rosalie got an inclination to approach her. Maybe Becky could help her. She had nothing to lose by asking.
She reached the woman and touched her arm to pull her aside. Becky looked a little surprised, but followed. Rosalie didn’t wait for her to speak first. “Oh, Becky, please pray for me. I never suspected life on the homestead would be so hard. I want to be a good wife, but I don’t know if I can.” The words spilled from her mouth out of the hurting wellspring of her heart.
The preacher’s wife’s original look of surprise turned into one of compassion and sympathy. “Rosalie, I’m so sorry you’re having a difficult time. Adjusting to this new life isn’t easy. Would it be alright if I said a prayer with you now?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t know what to do.”
Becky took Rosalie’s hands in hers and bowed her head. “Dear Father, thank you for Rosalie’s honesty and bravery. We pray you bring comfort and understanding to her. Bless her and Isaac in their marriage. May Your love show them the way. Amen.”
“Amen.” Rosalie murmured, breaking the joining of hands. A portion of her unease still lingered, but she felt a little better knowing she had another woman willing to talk with her and pray for her.
Becky smiled. “I’ll keep you and Isaac in my thoughts and prayers.”
Rosalie thanked her and went to join her husband, who found a place to sit at the end of one of the rows. Please God, she prayed again. Help me. Help us.
Chapter 5
November, 1877
Rosalie fought off a shiver after she hauled the pail of frigid water into the house and closed the door on the brisk wind. The first of the November frosts arrived last night, spelling an end to the tolerable autumn weather. Winter lay ahead. In Maine, she would be dressed in her warmest clothes and avoiding the rough coastal waters. Here, she didn’t know what to expect from the wild plains.
She pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. The house was chilly this morning. Isaac stoked a fire in the fireplace before he left to work in the fields, but the wood was burning down to embers. She reached into the stack of tinder by the fireplace and laid three pieces on the fire. She took two more to light the stove.
It seemed she had three key duties to perform daily. The first was preparing food. The second was cleaning the house of ever-present dust that managed to creep through the crevices from outside no matter how much she wiped the floor and furniture surfaces. The third activity that kept her hands, if not her mind, busy was mending articles of clothing. Wyoming’s terrain and work on the homestead had a knack for putting holes in the cuffs of shirt sleeves, fraying skirt hems, and tearing off the buttons of perfectly good coats.
Rosalie stared at the contents of her mending basket next to the chair before the fireplace. Was there ever a week where she and Isaac didn’t add at least two garments to the high pile?
She went into the kitchen with the firewood under one arm and the pail of water in her grasp. Hard to believe she hadn’t seen another soul on the homestead other than her husband since they last invited Tim and Pauline’s family over for supper. Isaac kept to himself for most of the day, save for suppertime, when he would engage in small talk about the weather or the work he accomplished outside. She did her best to show a smile and willingness to converse, but she figured he could tell she was struggling with coming to terms with her new life. Would it always be filled with drudgery? Would she always feel so lonely?
The front door creaked on its hinges. Rosalie turned to see Isaac enter. He didn’t remove his hat. “I came to get more bullets for my rifle. I saw animal tracks in the mud. Could be coyotes.”
She took a step towards him. “I should have a meal ready to eat in about an hour.”
He moved his head from side to side. “I’ve got a lot of work to do if I want to salvage what’s left of the crops from the frost. I won’t be home until late tonight.”
Rosalie exhaled. “I understand. I could help you with the crops,” she offered. “My uncle was a gardener. He taught me a little about harvesting when he was alive.”
“No. The field where the crops are is much larger than a garden. You might grow tired.”
“Then I’ll rest for a while and start again. Let me help you.”
He finally assented. “I’ll be in the field. Come out when you’re ready. Make sure the fire in the stove and fireplace are out.” The front door closed, and Isaac’s footsteps retreated on the porch steps.
Isaac acted like he wanted to be left to himself. Rosalie could hardly blame him. She probably drove him to it after all the awkward days and frigid nights dancing around the subject of intimacy between husband and wife. He never spoke of it again to her since their wedding day, yet it was obvious the subject had been on his mind ever since. Hers, too. She just wasn’t ready for such a lasting commitment, and didn’t know if she would ever be.
Rosalie stooped over to lift the pail of water. Her reflection on the clear surface stared back at her in tir
ed, worn out observation. One more month until Christmas. The rapport between her and Isaac wasn’t getting any better. In fact, Rosalie thought the distance between them widened from a little fissure to a deep chasm. Help me, God, she prayed. Show me how to get along with Isaac. I don’t know what to do.
She poured the water into a large pot to boil for later. Then she doused the fires in the stove and fireplace before grabbing one of Isaac’s spare coats from the wall peg. As her fingers closed around the door knob, she prayed again. Teach me how to be happy here.
***
Rosalie was not happy here. Isaac could see it as clearly as he did the frost-covered field before him. Without saying a word to his wife as she walked from the house towards the field, he got on his knees and dug for the potatoes.
What could he do about Rosalie’s discontent? He tried everything he felt was within his power. He gave her a home, provided for her needs, and treated her the way God commanded a man to treat his wife. Isaac knew his responsibility. He’d risk his life for Rosalie if the need was ever required.
Isaac ruminated while he flung soil through his fingers. He introduced Rosalie to his friend’s wife so she could have another woman to talk to. He was not a terribly talkative man by nature, but he made sure to have at least two topics to discuss with Rosalie over supper. Could he help it if she managed a few words for every question he asked?
Eventually he gave up the attempt at extended conversation, but it wasn’t as though he never tried in the first place. If only Rosalie would truly speak to him, reveal her true feelings, and let him know the woman she was on the inside. He felt like he was missing a large part of her, like she was bound and determined to keep her mind and heart locked away all to herself.
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 25