by Amanda Boone
“You don’t understand, Mum. There’s a man there who asked Elise if she knew of somebody suitable for him. She said that I am, and that I would like him.”
“Like isn’t enough for marriage,” Patrick pointed out. “Love is the only reason to marry someone.”
“I tried love, Da. It ended with me finding him in bed with another woman. I can’t go through that kind of humiliation again, Da. And I can’t fall in love again because it hurts too much when it ends.”
“But, dear,” her mother said, “you shouldn’t go through life without someone to love.”
“I’m fine without love, Mum. I just want to start a new life where nobody knows what happened, where I’m not embarrassed by the looks of people who know what happened. I hate that they look at me with so much pity.” She turned her gaze to her father. “Please, Da? I just want to start over.”
“I can’t support you when you get there. What will you do to put a roof over your head and food on your plate?”
“I’ll do something. I have skills for cleaning, doing laundry, sewing. I have very good penmanship, and thanks to working for the suffragist movement, I can use a printing press. Not many people can do that. So you see, I have plenty of skills that they might need in a small town. Maybe I could open a newspaper—with somebody to back me, of course. And before you say anything, Da, I don’t mean you. I’ll find somebody or a group of people there.”
“It does sound like she’s thought this through, Mary,” Patrick said.
“Do you really want to see your daughter leave us like that?” Mary replied. “She’ll be so far away.”
“Now, Mary. She’s a grown woman. We need to let her make her own mistakes.”
“It won’t be a mistake, Da,” Bridget said, offended that he thought it would be. “I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he agreed. “But I still want you to have one of your brothers escort you. Michael isn’t married. Why don’t you ask him? I’m sure he would love to see Elise again, and he might even like a chance to start a new life, too.”
“Now you’re sending my son away forever?” Mary shrieked. “How could you?”
Patrick raised his hand in a halting gesture and smiled. “That’s not what I mean, dear. If he wants to stay, he can, but I would prefer that he return to New York.”
Chapter 2
Elise had said that she would be waiting when they arrived in San Francisco, but as Michael helped her from the train, Bridget saw her friend nowhere.
“Do you see her, Mike?” Bridget asked as she stepped off the last step of the train stairs.
“Not yet.” Michael picked up the bags they carried with them and headed toward the terminal. “Maybe she’s in the depot. Come on.”
They made their way into the train station, where Bridget was thrilled to see Elise. Running to her, Bridget wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly. Elise responded in the same manner. For several minutes they just hugged and cried, glad to be reunited.
“Is this hug just for the ladies?” Michael asked, laying his hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “Or can a lonely man get in on it?”
Bridget stepped away, and Elise flew in to Michael’s spread arms.
“Michael!” she exclaimed. “Bridget didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Da wouldn’t let her come alone,” he explained as they embraced briefly, “so she asked me to escort her.”
“Well, I’m glad to see both of you again.” She pushed away from him and turned her gaze back to Bridget. “Are you just here for the wedding, Bridget? Or are you planning on saying? You didn’t say in your last letter.”
“I’m here to see if your gentleman friend is as good for me as you claim,” Bridget replied.
Elise embraced Bridget again, this time for only a moment. Then she linked her arm with Bridget’s.
“Do you have more baggage?” Elise asked, looking over at Michael.
“We do,” he replied. “You two wait here, and I’ll see if it’s been unloaded from the cargo car.”
Michael started out of the station, and Bridget led Elise to some nearby benches.
“Did you bring your fiancé, Elise?” Bridget asked as she scanned the large room for a man who might be watching them.
“No, he was too busy. You’ll meet him as soon as we get to Forestville, though. I’m having him, Jared and Emily for dinner so everybody can meet at one time. With everybody around, you won’t be as nervous meeting him.”
“Who’s Emily?”
“His daughter,” Elise explained. “And of course, Stina and Karin will be there.”
“The girls you lived with in Illinois, right?”
“That’s right.”
To Bridget’s surprise, Elise hugged her again. Elise had always been reserved and had never embraced anybody so spontaneously, and Bridget wondered why she did now.
“You’re awfully huggy,” Bridget teased with a smile.
“Moya’s brought a lot out in me that I didn’t know I had. That’s just some of it.”
At that moment, Bridget saw Michael approaching them and rose to help him carry their luggage. Chatting amicably, Elise followed her. She was very glad that they’d come; she couldn’t wait for Bridget to meet her fiancé; she loved Forestville and just knew that Bridget would, too.
“What about you, Michael?” Elise asked. “Surely, you didn’t come all this way to San Francisco just to turn around and go back home. Tell me you can stay for a few days.”
“I go by Mike now, Elise,” he said as he toted three bags while Elise took two and Bridget took two. “And I’ve decided to stay in Forestville—if the town will have me.”
Bridget and Elise chuckled.
“I think they’ll let you stay,” Elise said, “even if they would rather have women in town.”
“He thinks we might be helpful there,” Bridget inserted. “We’ll explain our ideas on the way.”
To Bridget’s surprise, Elise had booked passage on a schooner along the Pacific Coast to Forestville. Not knowing that Mike was joining them, though, she didn’t have a ticket for him. After paying for his trip, they boarded the ship and settled into two separate cabins.
Finally, they left port and began their journey northward.
On the two-day ride to Forestville, Bridget and Mike explained their plans for earning money there. If the town didn’t have one, they wanted to start up a newspaper. This was what Mike had always dreamed of, even when attending the university to study banking and accounting. Bridget was thrilled to know that they didn’t have a newspaper and that several people had expressed an interest in one, Jared Coleman being one of those people.
“I even know how to run a printing press,” Bridget said enthusiastically. “I worked with one when I was volunteering for the suffragist movement in New York.”
“Do you think I could do a smaller version of the newspaper for the Swedes who live there?” Elise asked.
“That would be a great idea,” Bridget replied. “Don’t you agree, Mike?”
“That is a good idea,” Mike agreed, “if it’s cost-effective.”
“Always the banker,” Bridget said in a taunting tone.
They all laughed and settled in for a lively conversation about their time together in New York City.
***
Upon their arrival in Forestville, Elise took them to the hotel and made sure that they had comfortable rooms. Then she left them to freshen up, telling them that she was headed home to begin their dinner that night. She promised that she would return later to escort them to her home.
After Elise left, Bridget turned to Mike and said, “Elise has certainly changed, hasn’t she?”
“She has,” he agreed. “She was always so quiet, almost shy, but now she’s chattier than I’ve ever heard her.”
“That’s what I told her. I can’t wait to meet Jared Coleman. Elise thinks I’ll like him.”
“I know, I know,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve mentioned it enough.”
Then he turned serious. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to marry a man just because he wants a wife? This big brother isn’t very fond of the idea you and Elise have cooked up.”
“We didn’t cook it up,” Bridget said, offended by his words. “Jared wanted to meet a woman. Nothing is definite yet. I don’t have to marry him if I don’t want to. Elise told me that Jared said so. And I can go back to New York if I decide not to marry him. He’ll even pay my way home.”
“That makes me a little more comfortable, but I’m still not fond of this situation.”
“I don’t care. It’s my life, Mike, and I’ll live it my way.”
With those words, she stormed upstairs to her room, determined not to let Mike spoil her good mood. But Mike’s words echoed in her mind as she ascended the steps.
“That suffragist movement has changed you as much as Elise’s new life has changed her,” he called after her.
Bridget used the key the clerk had given her to unlock the door to her room. When she was finally inside it, she slammed the door. At last, she could get rid of some of her irritation.
Looking into the mirror, Bridget examined herself. That bright red hair always set her apart from everybody else, and her alabaster skin, which burned in the sun then faded into its original color, always made her look sick. The one thing she did like was the unusual color of her eyes, a mixture of her father’s green and her mother’s blue eyes.
With a sigh, she plopped down onto the bed and lay on her back. Hopefully, Jared liked red hair enough to still want her as his wife. They hadn’t met yet, of course, but she already liked him from everything Elise had told her during their trip along the California coastline. Hopefully, he would like her, too.
According to Elise, an ocean voyage had been the fastest, straightest way for them to get from San Francisco to Forestville. The train went out of their way by at least a hundred miles, and the stagecoach would have taken them several days. Even though she’d been a bit seasick on the journey, she was glad Elise had chosen that route. Now she could rest for a few minutes before she prepared herself for meeting the man she hoped would be her future husband.
Chapter 3
A knock on the door startled Bridget, and Elise turned from her chore of making biscuits, asking, “Would you please get that, Bridget? My hands are messy.”
“Okay,” Bridget agreed, rising from her seat at the long table in the kitchen area.
When she opened the door, she stood there, stunned. The man before her was one of the tallest she’d ever met, and he had a head of blond, curly hair. The smile adorning his lips brightened his entire face, including the shockingly blue eyes.
“You must be Bridyet,” he said with a heavy Swedish accent. “Elise talks about you all de time. I’m Mauritz Sten, but call me Moya.”
“You’re Moya?” she asked in surprise.
“Ja. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He thrust his right hand toward her, and they greeted one another with a handshake.
“Come in, Moya,” Elise said from the counter near the cast iron, wood-burning stove.
“Excuse me, Bridyet,” he said as he passed her and strode over to Elise.
Elise lifted her head and accepted his quick kiss on her lips. Bridget was a bit stunned by Elise’s reaction to Moya. The one person Bridget could always count on to be reserved was Elise. Now her friend was kissing a man in front of her. Granted, it wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it was a public kiss nonetheless. As far as Bridget knew, Elise had never even kissed Lars Olsen, let alone publicly.
Using a towel to avoid burning her hands, Elise put the biscuits in the oven of the cast iron stove. The action released a blast of hot air in the already warm room, which lessened when Elise closed the door again.
They all went into the living area where Mike sat on the Victorian chair. He rose as they approached and held out his hand toward Moya.
“Moya,” Elise said, “this is Bridget’s brother Mike.”
“How do you do, Moya,” Mike said pleasantly as they shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. On the way here from San Francisco, Elise couldn’t stop talking about you. She’s clearly smitten.”
“Tank you,” Moya replied. “Elise didn’t tell me you vere coming.”
“She didn’t know. I wanted to surprise my former dance partner.”
Bridget looked over at Elise and was pleased to see that she still blushed in embarrassment. At least, that hadn’t changed about her.
“Let’s sit down,” Elise suggested as she sat on the center cushion on the couch.
Moya sank down on one side of her and laid his arm on the back of the couch behind her. Bridget sat on the opposite side, while Mike returned to his chair.
“So,” Mike said, “you didn’t know that I used to escort Elise to parties and such. I can tell by her red face.”
Bridget checked and saw that Elise was blushing again. To curb her brother’s teasing, she said, “Stop it, Mike. She’s engaged to be married to the man. You’re obviously embarrassing her, and you might be embarrassing him, too.”
“It’s all right, Miss Bridyet,” Moya replied with a chuckle. “I don’t embarrass easy.”
“Easily,” Elise inserted.
“I don’t embarrass easily,” Moya said, grinning down at her. “Alvays de teacher.”
At that moment, the door opened and in strode a young, blonde woman with disheveled hair and a messy dress. Bridget glanced at Elise, who appeared as though this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Hi, Stina,” Elise said. “How was work today?”
“Tiring,” Stina replied with an accent, her gaze going from Bridget to Mike. “I guess you’re Bridget, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Michael O’Riley,” he said, striding over to her. “And you are?”
“Stina Bengtson,” she replied with a shy smile.
“I’m please to meet you, Miss Bengtson.” He took her hand and bent over it to kiss it.
Bridget stared at him. He never acted like that unless he found a woman either charming or beautiful. This woman was neither. In fact, she looked like a street urchin.
Pulling her mind back to the present, Bridget stood and said, “Yes, it’s nice to meet you. You live here with Elise, right?”
“Ja, and I should go clean up and change for dinner. I saw Karin headed this way with Jared and Emily, Elise. They should be here soon.”
And Stina escaped into her room.
That young woman held a job, but it certainly wasn’t one of any substance, like working with the suffragist movement was. She was some sort of laborer. Curious, Bridget started to ask Elise what job she held, but Mike beat her to it.
“What kind of job does Stina have, Elise?” he asked curiously.
“For a while, she was going house to house to do men’s laundry,” Elise explained, “but they got together and built her a washhouse. Now they bring the laundry to her and pick it up after it’s been washed, dried and ironed. She actually does very well for herself, although one couldn’t tell by how she looks when she gets home from work. The men even bought her the latest gadgets to make the washing easier for her. And this house? When we moved in it was already furnished with the icebox and stove. They’re so starved for females here that they spoil the ladies they have.”
“What about Jared Coleman?” Bridget asked. “Does he have the same conveniences?”
“He has a stove, but not an icebox.”
“I see.” Bridget was a disappointed that she would be living in a house without the same conveniences that Elise had, but an icebox was something she could probably ask for and receive.
“They’ll be here any minute,” Elise announced. “Are you nervous about meeting him?”
“Actually, I’m not. I decided when you told me about him that, if you thought he was a good man for me, I would accept your opinion.”
Again the door opened, and an even younger blonde woman entered, followed immediatel
y by a dark-haired child holding the woman’s hand and a pleasant-looking man, who removed his cowboy hat the moment he was inside.
His hair was dark, but not as dark as the little girl’s, and he was probably about five-feet-nine-inches tall. He had a nice head of hair, although he had a touch of a receding hairline. Not that Bridget cared that he was losing his hair. She’d just noticed it. And he had a pleasant smile when he looked over at her.
All of a sudden, those nerves Elise had been asking about exploded into action. Her body tensed. She was there to marry this man, but she didn’t even know him. What had she been thinking? Just because Elise thought they would make a good match didn’t mean they would. She needed to be wooed by a man; she needed to get to know him before she agreed to marry him. Granted, she wasn’t interested in love, but she certainly was interested in like. Right now, she didn’t even know if she would like him.
Chapter 4
Elise’s voice filtered through to her subconscious, and Bridget turned her stunned gaze to her friend’s face.
“I’m usually the one to go off into my own little world,” Elise teased. “Are you even going to say hello to Jared?”
Bridget stared at the male hand in front of her. Numbly, she reached out and shook it, saying, “How do you do?”
Mike’s rich laugh filled the house. “My sister has never been at a loss for words before.”
Glaring at him, Bridget said, “Stop it, Mike.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied in a teasing tone.
“I apologize for my brother, Mr. Coleman,” Bridget worded, turning her gaze to Jared. “Sometimes he teases me before he thinks of the ramifications. I hope he didn’t embarrass you.”
“Not at all,” Jared replied, still smiling. “In fact, I understand completely. My sister and I banter the same way when we’re together. I love your brogue, by the way. It reminds me of my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother was Irish?”
“Finola McLachlan,” Jared announced proudly. “You can’t get more Irish than that.”
“You certainly can’t,” Mike said. “I think that even beats Bridget O’Riley.”