Sanctuary Among Strangers

by Josie Finch

  There are sunrise people and there are sunset people. Warren had always thought himself a sunset person. He was never enthusiastic to be anywhere early in the morning and the years he had spent forced to rise early and travel on Westward trails had been the most aggravating of his life. Warren also preferred the colors in sunsets. He found them sacred, something he could never capture with his camera lens.

  But on this morning, Warren was could see the appeal of a good sun rise. He was even feeling sentimental enough to regret not being able to take a photograph. He wanted to remember every second of this day for the rest of his life.

  After all, it wasn’t every day a person woke up at daybreak to get married.

  As Warren stood watching the sunrise, he half expected the heavens to part and for some entity of logic and reason to descend upon him and boom out a million reasons he should not entering into holy matrimony with a person he had only known for three days.

  But no such thing happened. The sun just rose over the Kansas plain, bringing a sense of hope and certainty.

  Warren was brought out of his thoughts about the sun when he heard Sophie’s voice amid the clutter in her wagon.

  “Aha. Found it.”

  She climbed out and jumped down, proudly holding a dark brown coat. She rushed up and helped Warren pull the garment up over his shoulders. The coat fit him perfectly. Every seam felt like it was made just for him. Warren buttoned the coat tight at his waist, ever grateful to have his figure back. He would leave the stolen sack coat at the church for someone else who needed it.

  “There you go. Much better,” Sophie said, brushing off the shoulders and straightening the collar.

  “I can’t thank you enough for how generous you’ve been to us.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Sophie said, beaming. “But consider this a wedding present.” A mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes. “Think of me when you take it off tonight.”

  Warren’s face felt hot and he knew he was blushing.

  Both of them jumped as they heard the back door to the church slam open. From it emerged a little girl around 6 or 7 years old with a green shawl haphazard on her shoulders and her hands on her hips.

  She stomped across the yard toward them and a moment later Charlton was stumbling and running after her.

  The girl made it to Warren and looked up at him.

  “You the other one getting’ married?”

  “I… yes?” Warren looked between the girl and Charlton who had just arrived.

  “Ah, yes, this is Hattie,” Charlton explained, “Her family just got here and she really wants to be a flower girl.”

  Hattie ran a hand across her nose and sniffed. “The first one said yes but only if you said yes.”

  “Ohh,” Warren said, hoping the first one was, in fact, Joseph. “Well, yes, that’s fine with me.”

  Hattie’s face broke out in a smile brighter than the early morning sun.

  Warren shifted. “That is… if we have any flowers around here.”

  Sophie and Charlton spoke at once. “We do.”

  With that, Sophie was back in the wagon, digging through the odds and ends.

  Charlton turned toward Warren. “Joseph asked me to stand up for him, you know, as a witness. It’s not really a part of angel ceremonies but for humans….”

  Warren smiled. “I think that’s great.”

  Charlton nodded. “Yeah, me too. And Clara will be on your side. And now we have a flower girl so…”

  “I’d say we’re ready!” Sophie finished for him. From her wagon she had miraculously procured a basket of dried petals and a sprig of dried lavender.

  “You two run along now, we’ll be in soon,” Sophie said, handing the basket to Hattie. She skipped off toward the church. Charlton flashed a good luck sign before ambling after her.

  Warren pushed aside some nerves as Sophie carefully nestled the dried flower in his lapel.

  “All right, my dear,” she said. “It’s time.”

  Warren let out a calming breath. “So it is.”

  She took his arm. “If we’re adding a few human touches, do you mind if I mother you and walk you down the aisle?”

  “I would be honored.”

  They went around to the front door of the church to allow for the ceremony of actually walking down the aisle. As soon as they entered, the warmth and love and spicy scent of morning cinnamon rolls made the moment completely perfect. Life on earth could be heaven, for moments such as this.

  The church benches had been set up in a more traditional arrangement with pews on each side of the aisle. The only real audience were the church ladies, all seated in the front row and ready with their handkerchiefs.

  Hattie had already made the most of her role and Warren smiled inwardly as he saw the flower petals scattered everywhere, not just the aisle.

  Despite the plethora of volunteers to wed them, Reverend Pendle stood in the honorable spot at the altar to minister the wedding. Clara was on one side, holding Leona. Charlton stood on the other side.

  And there was, of course, Joseph. Standing tall, he had shed his protective wool coat. He looked calm and ready and perfectly human. And for the first time Warren sensed he had no fear to take away.

  Sophie delivered Warren safely to the presence of his betrothed and gave him a big hug before taking a seat among the church ladies. They gave her a handkerchief, which she used to dry her eyes.

  Warren reached out his hands and Joseph took them. Warren was cold from being outside, but the warmth of Joseph’s touch soon eased the ache over his skin.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Warren and Joseph in a holy union…”

  Warren knew Reverend Pendle was doing his best to make up lots of important sounding words. Angelic weddings were short and concise. It only took twenty seconds for two beings who really meant it to enter into holy union. But Warren appreciated the Reverend’s ensuing speech reminding everyone of the special bond between all living things, between humans and angels, and how weddings were a nice metaphor for all of that.

  Joseph was listening to every word the Reverend said, but Warren’s mind wandered in his own thoughts. When Warren needed help the most, he had found angelic selflessness in Joseph’s human form. When Warren needed a leap of faith he had been blessed with it freely. And in their time together, Joseph and Warren had cared for each other in every way. Emotionally, spiritually, physically. They had rescued each other.

  Reverend Pendle’s tone changed and Warren knew he had gotten to the part where he had better pay attention.

  “Warren, do you take Joseph as your everlasting companion in all things of world and spirit?”

  “I do.” Warren answered.

  “Joseph, do you take Warren as your everlasting companion in all things of world and spirit?”

  “I do,” Joseph said, his deep voice just a whisper.

  “From now on, unto each other be gentle, consistently kind, and honor one another in everything you do. In our presence you have pronounced yourselves bound together in sacred, everlasting bond.”

  Several beats of silence passed before Reverend Pendle realized what he needed to say next. “Oh, yes, I forgot we were doing the human version. Sorry… You may kiss now.”

  Warren pulled Joseph close and felt all the tenderness, kindness, and honor they had just vowed to each other on his lips.

  Hattie had managed to save one last fist full of petals, which she threw as they broke their kiss, and Warren saw the celebratory flutter of handkerchiefs from the corner of his eye.

  But he turned his attention to his husband, in his arms.

  “Well, Pastor Ellis,” Warren whispered into Joseph’s ear. “Welcome to your next circuit.”

  “Thank you,” Joseph said. “But, you should really know… it’s Pastor Harting now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Joseph and Warren’s wedding reception comprised of the best breakfast Joseph had ever feasted upon, along with lots of laughter
and stories, and everyone taking turns holding Leona-Pearl.

  But they couldn’t stay very long into the day. There was a depot at Cunard, and an angel at the church assured them there would miraculously be four available tickets on the first train headed toward Denver. But they would have to arrive at the depot before the train left.

  Reverend Pendle had a covered carriage and hitched his team to it from the carriage house to drive their little group to the depot. The travelers would have to stop at several towns along the line as the train ride would be a few days. But they were provided with enough money to pay for their lodging along the way. Clara would see Joseph and Warren through to their arrival in Mount Etna before heading back to another world.

  In one last turn of angelic events, Sophie and Charlton had no horses to pull their wagon as they ventured to Iowa. They had planned to buy a team in Cunard, but now the Appaloosa and Belle needed a place to go.

  Joseph watched as Charlton led the Appaloosa to a hitching line next to their wagon. Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat as he followed, leading Belle.

  Fortunately, Sophie was there.

  She smiled just as wide as she did every time she had held Leona and patted Belle on the underside of her mane. Belle turned her long nose to her and Sophie pressed her forehead gently against the white stripe above her nostrils.

  Joseph felt silly asking if Sophie really could talk to animals, so he just waited patiently.

  “Ah!” Sophie said, with a light laugh as though her best friend had just told her a clever joke.

  “She’s happy the wagon isn’t as heavy as it looks. Perks of knowing the right angels, you know.”

  Joseph smiled. “Is she going to be ok?”

  Sophie glanced into Belle’s big brown eyes. “You bet. She says she put in her time on the circuit and now she’s going to retire with an old angel... Ah, and a young one too, of course.” Sophie nodded. “And she says she always knew Warren was good.”

  Joseph pressed his hand to Belle’s velvety warmth one last time and handed Sophie the reins. He was going to miss Belle but he couldn’t think of a better way for them to part ways. He gave a prayer of thanks.

  Joseph was about to turn to walk away when Charlton ran up to say goodbye.

  “Congratulations,” Charlton said, “…again.”

  Joseph reached out to shake the young man’s hand. “Thank you… and thank you. For everything.”

  “No problem.”

  “Um.” Joseph released his handhold. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Anything I can,” Charlton assured.

  “If you could find someone to pop in and check on a very old part-angel… her name is Leta Anderson. She lives on a homestead outside White Spring, just a day’s journey to the east. She only has a small time left, but I want to know she and her husband will be taken care of. They’ll appreciate the company.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Charlton nodded. “Easy trip. I can do it myself. No trouble at all.”

  “Thank you,” Joseph said. “Take care. Enjoy your new life.”

  Charlton grinned. “You as well.”

  “Yes,” Joseph said. “I intend to.”

  Joseph turned and headed away from the church. He made sure not to look back—he wanted his last memory of the place to be the angelic version, not the human one.

  Joseph was the last to get loaded up into the reverend’s carriage. It was cozy inside. The three of them had to scrunch in together, with Warren in the middle holding Leona, but they kept each other warm.

  Clara had traded her decorated pantaloons for a carpetbag and they had filled it with all their things they were taking with them, which wasn’t much—mostly what the church ladies had made for Leona. Mount Etna would be a brand new start. The church ladies had also bestowed upon them a haversack stuffed with the best cornbread muffins and pound cakes this side of the Missouri river.

  Joseph pulled the carriage door shut tight and the wheels lurched forward. They headed into the sun—full and bright.

  *

  Joseph turned his gaze out the train window, catching a glimpse of the world going by. He hadn’t been looking out the window because it was his turn to hold Leona-Pearl while Warren and Clara slept—Warren next to him and Clara across from them. Leona was proving to be a well-tempered infant and Joseph felt fortunate that he had been blessed not just with a child, but an angelic one.

  He was captivated by her indigo eyes as she took everything in with the rumble of the train. But eventually she fell asleep.

  Joseph had only ever traveled by foot or on horseback. The train going so fast made him feel a little dizzy when he looked out the window. Fortunately, the view inside was much better.

  Warren didn’t look very comfortable sleeping sitting up, but he managed fairly well. Finally, however, Warren tipped over onto Joseph’s shoulder and it was enough to rouse him from his slumber.

  “She all right?” Warren murmured.

  “Yes,” Joseph answered.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes. You can go back to sleep,” Warren said, shifting enough to let Warren settle in on his shoulder. “Everything’s perfect.”

  “I love you,” Warren said as his eyes fell closed.

  Joseph smiled even though no one could see. “I love you, too.”

  *

  After seven hours, the weary travelers disembarked from the train at the depot in a town called Shubert. Joseph was acutely aware that they were once again putting themselves at the mercy of a town full of strangers and he hoped that there would be some kindness to be found.

  Fortunately, there was a boarding house only three blocks from the depot.

  Business must have been slow, because the whole place sprang to life when the young family arrived in the plum-carpeted parlor.

  The keeper of the boarding house was a tall woman, round about the middle, who introduced herself as Mrs. Peterson. She was older, with her blonde hair pulled back and the gray shimmering through at her temples. She wore owlish glasses, pushed up by her cheeks every time she smiled, which was often. She was the kind of woman who knew work, with her sleeves rolled up and her apron tied tight and high.

  Assisting were her twin sons who looked to be in their early twenties. Both of them had shaggy hair, and Joseph could only tell the two apart because one of the young man’s ears poked out from under the mop of his hair and the other’s did not.

  The two young men were not the least bit interested in the fact that the travelers had brought a baby, but Mrs. Peterson practically sprang over the counter when she saw Leona-Pearl’s face. Joseph had to jump out of the way to finish signing them all into the ledger book on the counter.

  “Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Peterson cooed, “what is her name?”

  “Leona-Pearl,” Clara said proudly, slipping into the role of Leona’s mother to keep their cover.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Peterson gushed, “how old is she?”

  “Well, what time is it?” Clara mused. “Almost four? Exactly one day.”

  “One day? You sweet creature.”

  “Yup. She arrived on this earth yesterday afternoon and this very morning we hopped on the train.”

  Well, Joseph thought to himself. That was not technically a lie.

  “Oh, my dear, you must be exhausted!”

  “I’m doing well,” Clara said playfully. “All things considered.”

  “More than well, you’re glowing. I’ve never seen a woman look as good as you the day after delivering a baby.”

  “Why, I’ll take the compliment, only because I deserve it,” Clara said with a wink that only Joseph and Warren understood.

  Mrs. Peterson threw up her hands. “For you, anything you need is on the house. Extra hot water, no additional cost. Soak your feet dear, before you get some sleep, and again while you tend the little one in the night.”

  “That is delightful, thank you,” Clara said. She rocked Leona and her skirts swirled. “I don’t suppose you might have somethin
g I could use as a cradle? A desk drawer would be fine.”

  “Desk drawer, heaven’s no,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I have two cradles in the attic. Harry’s always creaked, we’ll get Randall’s.” She turned to one of her sons. “Harry, go fetch Randall’s old cradle from the attic.”

  “I will also need a little milk,” Clara said tentatively. “Cow’s milk or goat’s milk. Sometimes a bake shop will keep it on hand, or a neighbor. We can walk over—”

  “You are not walking anywhere.” Mrs. Peterson turned and yelled into the back, “Randall, run over to Old man Shanefelder’s and get some goat’s milk! And, Randall, tell Bertha she looks pretty!” Mrs. Peterson turned back to them and kept chattering away. “Bertha is Old Man Shanefelder’s daughter, just my boy’s age. She’s sweet on Harry but he’s not… so we switched in Randall. By the time they fall in love it won’t really matter which is which. You do what you have to do in a small town, you know. But, oh!” She glanced down at the ledger book. “All three Hartings, which of you gentlemen is her brother and which is her husband?”

  “They’re both my brothers,” Clara interjected quickly. The story she made up on the spot came out jagged. “They’re taking care of me on the trip, you see… because um… my husband was killed… in a bad accident… at the dentist office… three months ago.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Peterson was suddenly out of questions. “I’ll serve supper at 7:30, my darlings. Fried deer steak, cornbread pudding, and stewed tomatoes.”

  Clara blinked her eyes innocently. “Sounds lovely, Mrs. Peterson, you are most hospitable.”

  Warren quickly paid for their two rooms and added a handsome tip. Their business was wrapped up just as Harry delivered the cradle and Randall returned with a bottle of fresh goat’s milk. Rather than stay and get the update on the situation with Bertha, the travelers decided to make an escape to their rooms to get settled in before supper.

  In the room where the cradle had been brought, Warren filled a bottle and fed Leona and Joseph made up the cradle from the linens they had packed in the carpetbag. Clara washed her face and pulled her hair back. She loosened her dress and took Leona from Warren, waltzing about the room, rocking and burping her.