by Linda Ellen
“Oh, he’s doing better. Learning to navigate with his crutches,” she answered, working to tamp down the embers of her earlier upset.
He looked down at the paper in her hand. “That your list?”
She started and cleared her throat as she handed it over. “Oh! Yes, thank you. We need quite a few things. I’m afraid Finn’s pantry was barely stocked with only the most basic of essentials.”
The older man tipped back his head and laughed. “Typical bachelor. I think he usually took his meals at the Blue Bird...that’s the café over on 1st Street,” he clarified as he moved to a shelf on the wall to begin filling her order. “I’ll get these things together for you in no time—I imagine you want to get back to him right fast.”
Charise opened her mouth and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Oh no, really. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” At his somewhat surprised glance, her face flushed at her blunt reply and she turned to begin perusing the store. She’d made it all the way around the walls and examined most of the center tables, barrels, and display shelves when the bell over the door jingled and a man in a long, black frock coat along with a woman in an attractive rust colored dress came in, followed closely by the familiar face—and voice—of Elvira Davis.
Good heavens, her again? Her conscience instantly pinched at her uncharitable thought and she winced. Okay, time to scrape up some Christian charity, Charise Olivia, and smile at the woman. Like you admonished your husband just minutes ago, you need to show a little gratitude...after all, the woman went out of her way to take care of Finn before you got here. Try to ignore the fact that her incessant jabber-mouthing drives you to distraction, sets your teeth on edge, and makes you want to run away screaming...
Forcing a smile at the three newcomers, Charise murmured, “Hello, Elvira,” before raising her eyebrows to the couple.
Elvira jumped right in, of course. “Morning, Charise! Why, how’s our patient this morning? I’ll bet he’s grouchy, just like always, huh? That man just seems to get grumpier by the day. Have you met Reverend McKnight and his lovely wife, Rachael? Reverend, Rachael, this here is Finn Maynard’s new proxy mail-order-bride, Charise. Reverend McKnight is the pastor of the First Baptist Church down at the other end of Main, don’t you know. He’s been pastor there for nigh on three years, now, ain’t that right, Reverend? And Rachael—”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Maynard,” the man in the black coat blessedly interrupted the barrage of words and stepped forward, holding his hand out. “The wife and I were just saying that we needed to pay you and Finn a call, but we were giving you a few days to settle in.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Charise shook their hands, breathing a bit easier as Elvira made a beeline for the back of the store where a woman with salt and pepper hair wearing a full storekeeper’s white apron over a plaid work dress was just coming through a doorway. “Miz Hodge! I just have to tell you something!”
Charise turned back to the Reverend and his wife, the three of them exchanging looks that let each of them know they were of one accord.
Reverend McKnight smiled kindly and glanced at his wife with knowing amusement before engaging Charise’s eyes again. “Miss Elvira is one of Brownville’s more...shall we say...loquacious citizens.”
Stifling a chuckle while being pleasantly impressed that the kind man of God had found a nice way of saying the obnoxious woman was unreserved...chatty...gossipy...gabby...windy...or downright motor mouthed, Charise agreed, “Yes, she certainly is that.”
The three laughed together softly, the ice effectively broken.
“Well, how do you think you’re going to like living in Brownville, Mrs. Maynard?” the parson’s wife asked warmly.
“Oh, please call me Charise. And, I think I’m going to like it just fine. In some ways it is quite different from where I’m from, of course...but in other ways I see similarities.”
“And where are you from, Charise?”
“Louisville, Kentucky.”
“Ahh, a beautiful city, right on the Ohio. I spent some time there during the war,” Reverend McKnight put in with a pleasant smile.
“Really? How interesting,” Charise replied, searching his amiable gaze.
“I was a chaplain for the union army during the war and was stationed in Louisville for a short time,” he answered her unspoken question.
“What a wonderful coincidence,” Charise was delighted, already feeling a connection with the kind couple.
“Yes, happily so,” he charmingly agreed. “But now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I don’t mean to rush off, but I’m afraid that I need to consult with Sebastian about a matter. Very nice to meet you, Charise. We look forward to having you join us for worship on Sunday...unless you’d rather wait for Phineas to be able to accompany you, in which case, we’ll see you as soon as you can.”
“Yes, thank you,” Charise smiled as the Reverend tipped his hat, kissed his wife lovingly on the cheek, and set off across the store to where Mr. Hodge was putting several jugs of lamp oil into a box for Charise.
Mrs. McKnight turned back just as Charise was unexpectedly hit with a pang of conscience at how she had yelled at her husband and stormed off out of the house, angry as a wet hen. Now, the whole thing seemed almost silly.
Beaming demurely, the woman placed a hand on Charise’s arm. When Charise peered into her eyes, she saw within their wise gaze a lady who had been married a long time and was a kind, caring person.
“Is everything all right, dear?”
Charise felt herself blush once again and looked down at her fingers that had suddenly begun twisting the strings of her reticule. “Oh...I...” she paused and then looked into the woman’s understanding eyes. For some reason, she heard herself blurt, “I’m afraid I’ve only been here two days and Finn and I have already had our first fight—and oh my, was it a barn burner.”
To her surprise, Rachael McKnight tipped back her head and let out a delightful laugh. “Oh my dear, believe it or not, that is a good sign.”
Charise’s brow furrowed. She had thought her and Finn’s exchange that morning anything but good.
“I beg your pardon?”
The older woman slipped an arm around Charise and gave her a sideways squeeze. “My wise old granny used to say that any couple that doesn’t have a tiff once in a while has a dull, boring marriage. She called it having a good old-fashioned ‘rhubarb’. It sounds like you and our dear Finn are off to a rousing start—and your marriage will be anything but dull!”
Charise tried to respond in the affirmative, but right then, she could think of better ways to keep her and Finn’s marriage interesting.
Chapter 8
C harise walked slowly and thoughtfully down the boardwalk, dreading the moment when she would see her husband again.
Was he still angry? In truth, did he have a bad temper that she would have to watch out for or try to placate throughout their entire marriage? Would this put a permanent chink in their relationship?
Now that she had calmed down, she was a bit surprised at herself that she had figuratively jumped on her new husband with both feet as she had and bawled him out—in front of his brother, no less. She had no doubt shamed him, and as Rachael had warned, a woman needs to be careful not to shame her husband and hurt his pride, especially in front of another man. Rachael had also astutely surmised that Finn had developed jealous feelings and they had erupted in a rather volcanic manner. The whole thing had happened so fast; she hadn’t taken the time to think it through. She had just reacted, jumping to Sam’s defense.
Mrs. McKnight had been wonderful; a godsend, actually. She had invited Charise to step outside of the mercantile to speak privately, and they had strolled together down the wide, dirt street and settled onto a bench, built around the base of a huge oak that was situated on the bluff overlooking the river. Charise had found herself unreservedly confiding to the kind woman who was so easy to talk with and such an obliging listener. More t
han that, she had been able to give Charise some much-needed marital advice.
There had been no pattern that Charise could follow in order to be a good wife, and no one had ever provided guidance on what, indeed, made a good marriage. Having lost her mother at a young age, and even before that, her mother had not had the time to council her young daughter on the ways of men and marriage—she had been far too busy going out and having fun. For her mother, life had been all about parties, the latest fashions, and what new bauble she could talk her husband into buying for her next. For the most part, Charise and her brothers had been left to the care of a very strict, all business housekeeper and nanny.
But God knows our needs and He had now sent a mentor into Charise’s life. After her heartfelt talk with Rachael, Charise now felt she had some tools with which to go about this thing called marriage.
But first, she needed to know something about her husband that only an outsider would be truthful about.
Now, she turned to Toby, who was pushing a wheeled cart down the boardwalk at her side, laden with her purchases.
“Toby...may I ask you a question?”
His eyes rounded and he glanced at her as he maneuvered the cart along, narrowly avoiding a pole holding up the porch in front of the bank. “Sure, Miz Maynard. You can ask me anything.”
Charise breathed in deeply, steadying her resolve. If she had married a hot-tempered man, so be it. She would cope. Still, forewarned is forearmed, her father used to say.
“Does Finn...does Finn normally have a bad temper?”
Toby seemed to mull the question over before answering. Finally, with a small shrug, he answered, “Not really, ma’am. I mean, he gets mad sometimes, sure, like everybody else. But, I’ve never seen him hit nobody, or be violent like some men get—especially when they’ve had too much to drink over at the Lucky Buck or the Whistle Stop. Heck, he didn’t even get mad at me when I caused his leg to get busted!”
Relieved on that score, Charise smiled at the young man. “I’m relieved to hear that. Thank you, Toby.”
All too soon, they were at the door of the building and there was nothing for it but to go inside. Bolstering her determination, she pushed open the door and entered, then held it wide for Toby to pass with her purchases.
Taking hold of a bag, each of flour and sugar, she headed up the steep, narrow, winding steps, carefully holding her skirt out of the way and silently blessing Sam for his willingness to build them a real staircase. Arriving at the landing, she took a deep, fortifying breath and marched forward, heading for the kitchen. As she passed the bedroom and parlor she glanced in, but Finn wasn’t in either room, nor was he in the kitchen.
On the table, however, were two coffee cups, a stub of a pencil, and several crumpled sheets of paper. She looked toward the porch door. He must have gone back out on the porch...did he send Sam home?
Charise turned as Toby came in carrying a large box, and she proceeded to begin the process of finding places to stash the items she had purchased at the store. Perhaps she could talk Finn into building her a small pantry in the corner later...
She took her time, stalling before seeking her husband out. She knew she had to face him, but she needed the time to gather her nerve.
Finally, when everything was put away and the kitchen tidied, she sent Toby home for the day with a thank you for his invaluable help, and several muffins that had been left over from yesterday’s baking.
Approaching the back door, Charise smoothed her hair and ran her hands down her blouse and skirt to relieve them of wrinkles, then reached out for the knob—and stopped. Through the thick wooden door, she could hear Finn laughing out on the porch. He’s laughing! Well, that’s a relief.
Moistening her lips, she turned the handle and opened the door to a delightful and unexpected image of brotherly camaraderie.
Finn and Sam were both on the porch. Finn was perched with his casted leg propped up—on a pillow, no less—and two impromptu saw horses in front of him. He was hard at work with a small hand saw, cutting notches in what would be wooden treads for the new steps. Covered in sawdust and wood shavings, he looked happy as a clam, with Sam in much the same condition and activity sitting close by.
Blissfully industrious, they both looked over when she opened the door.
As her eyes met her husband’s, he sent her a most welcome grin and held up the board he had been working on as both men called, “Hey Charise!” Finn added, “Wait ‘till you see what we’re building!”
What we’re building...how amazing those three little words sound. She stepped out onto the porch, switched her gaze to Sam, who had a smile so big plastered to his face even his beard seemed to be grinning, and back to her husband.
“Look how much we’ve got done for the new staircase,” Finn said, indicating a good-sized pile of precisely cut stair treads that were about four feet in length.
“Finn and I worked out a design for it that we hope you’re gonna love,” Sam put in, motioning her over so that she could see a paper drawing they had tacked to the porch rail. “The old steps went straight out and took up a lot of room from the space out back, so Finn came up with a better way.” The porch extended the full width of the building, and they had drawn the landing for the new steps to drop down from the porch on the far right end with an immediate ninety-degree angle and nice, wide steps going straight down to the ground, anchored to the porch supports. No curves. She couldn’t suppress a smile at that, knowing Finn had probably insisted upon it. There were full handrails drawn on both sides, complete with balusters.
“It’s a lovely design. Looks very sturdy,” she complimented.
“Finn had saved all of the usable balusters when he tore down the big front staircase, so if we use those, we should have it finished by the weekend,” Sam explained.
“And then later on, we thought we’d add a roof over the porch, replace some of the warped boards...maybe even screen it in. Would you like that, Charise?” Finn asked, catching her eye again. The look on his face was so hopeful and eager as a little boy, as if her answer meant the world to him. He was so different from the angry man she had left out here hours ago.
“That sounds wonderful, Finn...” Charise began, trying to take it all in. Finn laid aside the tread he was working on and held out his hand to her. She immediately crossed the space between them and took it. His hand already seemed familiar—warm and slightly calloused—as they had joined hands to say grace many times.
He tugged her close to his side and sat looking up at her, her hand cradled between his own hand and his chest. Sam chivalrously got up and went in the house to give them a bit of privacy.
When the door closed, Finn cleared his throat and moistened his lips and she knew he was probably as nervous as she was. That knowledge helped her relax a bit more.
“Charise, I need to apologize to you. This morning, I acted like a horse’s a—” he paused and altered his word, “hind-end. I’m sorry I got so mad at Sam—and lit into him in front of you like that. Truth is...” he paused, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at her, “truth is, I was feelin’ useless and downright jealous. But, Sam straightened me out—like only that big brother of mine can do,” he added with a chuckle. “I know we don’t know each other real well yet, you and I...but, I want you to know that the Finn Maynard you witnessed this morning ain’t the real me. Ask anybody—I’m usually a pretty happy go lucky kind of guy. And honey...I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t be around me.”
He paused as he watched her eyes begin to tear up, his words warming her heart and answering so many questions and concerns she’d nursed all morning long. Indeed, nursed them until they had grown like weeds in a vegetable patch. Tenderly, he continued, “I’m glad you stood up to me and set me straight, sweetheart. You just keep on settin’ me straight for the rest of our lives, and we’ll have us a good life together. All right?”
Enormously relieved and fighting a lump of emotion in her throat, Charise managed a smi
le and answered thickly, “All right, Finn.”
“Do you forgive me, darlin’?”
At that, she laughed softly and lowered herself down onto his good leg, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, my husband. I forgive you. And to prove that,” she added, peering around jestingly in the guise of making sure they were alone. “I’d like to get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted this morning—how ‘bout you?”
Finn grinned from ear to ear and then tipped back his head and hooted in glee. “Yes, ma’am, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”
With one more relieved look into one another’s eyes, each knowing they had weathered their first storm and come out better for it, Finn leaned forward and captured her lips.
Great day in the morning, their second kiss was even better than the first!
Two weeks later...
Sitting at her new desk that Finn had asked Sam and Toby to carry up for her and placed by one of the large windows in the front room, Charise tapped the end of her pen against her lips and contemplated what else to tell her friend back home. It was the first time she had taken the time to write, so she wanted to fill Beth in on everything that had happened in the interim.
Having lost her train of thought when the sound of wagon chains on the street below had stolen her attention, she gathered up the freshly inked sheets of paper to read over what she had written thus far.
Dearest Beth,
Greetings from Brownville, Nebraska!
Did I thank you, dear friend, for standing up with me at my proxy wedding and seeing Sam and me off when we boarded the train? If I was negligent, then I’m thanking you now.
Oh Beth, so much has happened in the past two weeks, I hardly know how to get it all down on paper. First, I know you’re dying to know about Finn, so I will tell you—he is wonderful. His leg in that enormous cast—and oh my word, Beth, you would not believe how big and heavy it is—has healed completely now and the doctor has said he will remove it in the morning. I think I’m almost as anxious as Finn for that to happen...well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration.