“Charles is a scatterbrain. All he thinks about is hunting and catching fish. His days are boring, to say the least. But he’s only fifteen. In time, he’ll realize the importance of falling in love. Meredith is different.” Tillie leaned in toward Lula and reduced her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I heard her sniffling a bit when she was finishing Roxie’s wedding dress.”
“Perhaps there was dust in the air. Maybe she wasn’t sad at all.”
“Oh, she was distraught, all right. She kept pulling the dress toward herself, and I could see the wistful gaze in her eyes.”
Lula shot a suspicious glance Tillie’s way.
All right, so maybe there was dust in the air, and maybe Meredith’s wistful gaze was because she would not be spending as much time with Roxie as they had in the past once Roxie married Perry. Tillie had overheard Mama and Meredith speaking about how things change once a woman marries and her husband takes top priority in her life. But Tillie wouldn’t admit all of that to Lula.
“Gabe is content running his new ranch. I don’t think he cares about—wait a minute. I did happen to see him staring at Meredith at church Sunday.”
“Really?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Tillie?”
“And are you thinking what I’m thinking, Lula?”
Both girls nodded. “We must arrange for them to fall in love,” Tillie proclaimed.
“A most excellent plan, indeed! When do we start?”
“Tomorrow. Tonight, we will each come up with a plan on how to deliver the letters and how best to keep this a secret.”
“And,” added Lula, “what to write in those letters.”
Tillie pointed her thumb at herself. “You leave that to me.”
The following day at lunch recess, the plans were in place to arrange a falling-in-love between Meredith Waller and Gabe Kleeman.
“We mail the first letter to Meredith,” Lula announced.
“Do we have two cents for the stamp?”
“I have a penny saved. If we can come up with another penny, this plan could very well work.”
“I have a penny.”
Lula grinned. “Perfect! But I haven’t an idea about the rest of the letters. We need to write several back and forth.”
They had come this far. They couldn’t let this minor obstacle block their path. “I know!” Tillie announced. “We can hide the letters in that sliver of a space behind the big knot on that huge oak tree at the edge of town, just past the Jones’ place. It would be a perfect hiding place. We can tell Meredith in her first letter that each letter thereafter will be at the tree. She can place her return letters to Gabe there, as well. It’s an excellent hiding place if no squirrels haul off the letter, and no one in town will know since the tree is off of the main road.”
“Yes, but you forgot something.”
“What’s that?” Tillie panicked. What of her well-planned idea?
“You forgot that Gabe is a boy. Do boys even like writing letters?”
“Some must. Our McGuffey Readers were written by William Holmes McGuffey, who was a man. Or look at Noah Webster. His dictionary is one of my favorite books of all time.”
“True. But…Gabe is neither Mr. McGuffey nor Mr. Webster, and I’m not sure Gabe will be all right with the idea. He might be embarrassed. He’s a reticent fellow, after all.”
“That is true.” Tillie bit her lip and pondered their latest hindrance. “I have a splendid idea! Why don’t we write the letters for Gabe? At least until he warms to the idea. Then he can begin writing his own.”
“When do we tell him?”
“After ten letters at least.”
“When do we start?”
“We’ll write our first letter right now. It won’t do for me to pen it, as Meredith will recognize my penmanship, so you’ll have to accomplish that task. This will meet with imminent success. I can feel it in my bones, as Grandmama Waller would say.” The contents of the letter began to crowd her mind.
“This is quite thrilling. Can you imagine if our plan works? I declare, the way Gabe stared at Meredith in church could put us one step closer to being sisters forever.”
This truly was more exciting than just about anything Tillie had experienced as of late. She removed a piece of writing paper that she had pilfered from Meredith’s stationery pile, and together, she and Lula wrote the first of several letters.
After all, if they couldn’t discover a new world like Christopher Columbus or sew the American flag like Betsy Ross, they could certainly make a difference for all humanity in their own small way.
Chapter 4
Not since Meredith had corresponded with Grandmama had she received any mail. When Mr. Norman waved her down on the boardwalk, she thought he must be mistaken. “Miss Waller, I have a letter for you!”
Perhaps the letter was for Mama. Meredith turned and started toward the elderly postmaster.
“This here came for you just today.” Mr. Norman held the envelope in his wrinkled hand.
Arching an eyebrow, Meredith took the letter. “Thank you, Mr. Norman. It isn’t often that I receive mail.”
“I always feel like I’m giving folks a Christmas present. Unless, of course, the letter is bad news.” Mr. Norman grinned, his aged face showing his years. “Am I to assume you have received good news, Miss Waller?”
Meredith turned the letter over in her hands. She didn’t recognize the penmanship. “I do hope it is good news, Mr. Norman. I’m not expecting anything to the contrary.”
“Well, I’ll leave you be then to open your letter. Tell your folks I said hello.”
“I will, Mr. Norman. Thank you.”
Mr. Norman waved and ambled back to the post office.
Meredith claimed a bench outside the mercantile to open her letter. The stationery looked rather familiar, like her own cream-colored writing paper. The two-cent stamp had been placed rather haphazardly and crooked in the corner.
Who could be sending her a letter?
She carefully opened the seal and unfolded the ivory sheet of paper. Her eyes traveled across the words, not once, not twice, but three times:
Dear Miss Waller,
It has taken me considerable courage to write to you. I believe you are not only lovely but also kind and charitable.
Yours Truly,
Your Secret Admirer
P.S. If you would like to write back and forth, please check the sliver of a space behind the big knot on that huge oak tree at the edge of town, just past the Jones’ place. I will place another letter there for you in the coming week.
Meredith shook her head. Was the letter written in jest? She looked around at all the people walking up and down the street, down the boardwalk, and into the stores. Who in Ellis Creek would send her such a letter? And did she want to write back and forth? How could she if she didn’t even know who had sent the letter?
On the other hand, she allowed herself, just for a moment, to believe that someone really did find her lovely, kind, and charitable. A handsome prince of sorts, only in the modern times of 1884. As quickly as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. For who in Ellis Creek was a handsome prince? And who in Ellis Creek would call her lovely, kind, and charitable, and wish to write to her? Perhaps the writer of the letter hailed from another town in the Montana Territory or beyond. If so, how had he known to write to her? How did he even know her?
Questions filled her mind in rapid order as she folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. One thing was certain: she aimed to discover the author.
Meredith removed the pan of biscuits from the oven. Mama had invited the Kleeman family over for supper, thinking it a good idea and adding that it was the perfect way for them to welcome Gabe Kleeman back to Ellis Creek after his time in Missouri. Meredith hadn’t seen Gabe in at least three years, possibly longer. In her mind, he was the very same boy Roxie spoke of in their conversation a few days ago. Puny in stature, sickly, and shy. The poor man. H
ad he improved in health? Meredith recalled someone, Mama maybe, mentioning that Gabe Kleeman hadn’t been healthy as a child due to a long illness.
Mama, Meredith, and Tillie set the table while Papa and Charles finished the outside chores. Before long, the Kleemans arrived at the front door. Mama and Mrs. Kleeman eagerly greeted each other as if they hadn’t just seen each other in church a few days ago. Tillie and Lula squealed in exuberance and immediately began whispering and giggling. Mr. Kleeman shook Papa’s hand, and talk of the prices of cattle began.
Meredith was about to shut the door when a large foot blocked the door, causing her to jump back in surprise. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.” Her face was just inches from that of a young man in the doorway. One of those salesman touting fake remedies that had been rumored to be arriving in Ellis Creek, perhaps?
“May I help you?” Meredith asked.
The man fiddled with the button on his shirt cuff. “Uh, I’m Gabe Kleeman.”
“Gabe Kleeman?”
“My family…was…invited over for supper.”
A flush found its way up Meredith’s neck. How embarrassing! Could I just disappear now and avoid this whole humiliating course of circumstances? “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kleeman. Do come in.”
While opening the door, Meredith stumbled back, nearly losing her footing. Gabe Kleeman stepped through the door as she eyed him with suspicion. Where was the puny, sickly, small-statured boy she recalled from school?
Mama rushed toward the young Mr. Kleeman. “It’s so nice to have you back in Ellis Creek, Gabe. We can’t wait to hear about your time in Missouri.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Waller, for the supper invitation.” Gabe Kleeman took a seat at the table next to Charles.
“I heard you’ve been back about a week,” Pa said.
“Yes, sir.”
Meredith assisted Mama with the remaining food then took her seat next to Tillie and across from Gabe Kleeman. The humiliation of nearly shutting the man’s foot in the door still flooded her mind. What must he think of her? Thankfully, no one else in either family seemed to have noticed.
Pa said the blessing, thanking the Lord for the meal. Commotion then ensued as food was passed and plates heaped. “How was Missouri, Gabe?” Mama asked.
“I was thankful for the opportunity to be able to help my aunt and uncle.” Gabe moved some green beans on his plate with his fork, maintaining eye contact with Mama. “Reckon I am glad to be back though.”
“We are so glad to have him back,” said Mrs. Kleeman. “Gabe has purchased some land just west of ours and is going to have his own ranch.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mama buttered a piece of biscuit. “We are so proud of you, Gabe.”
Meredith watched Gabe nod, seemingly nervous, at Mama’s outburst of excitement. But then, Mama was nearly always excited about something. Pa said that was one of the things he loved about her the most—her cheerful fuss over everything from big things to seemingly mundane things. Gabe shifted in his seat and pushed more green beans to the side of his plate. The poor guy radiated nervousness under all the scrutiny.
“I see Tillie often, but, Meredith, how are you doing, dear?” Mrs. Kleeman asked.
“I am well, thank you.”
Mama beamed, her smile lighting up her entire face. “Meredith sewed another wedding dress, this time for Roxie Goff. She is getting quite well known for her elegant creations.”
“That is just delightful, dear. Perhaps someday you will sew one for yourself,” Mrs. Kleeman said.
While there was no unkindness in her words, Meredith wanted to shrink beneath the table all the same. Why did everyone make such a fuss about her spinsterhood? “Yes, maybe so,” she squeaked. Or maybe not.
The letter she’d received in the mail entered her mind, and she brushed the thought aside. That one lonely letter could hardly be considered an auspicious foretelling of her marital future.
The conversation turned to Tillie and Lula and their schooling. Meredith took a deep breath and sent a prayer of thanks to the good Lord for His provision in allowing the supper-table discussion to turn from her. Meredith needn’t be reminded of the imminent arrival of spinsterhood and the immense distress it caused her.
She took a bite of meat loaf and caught Gabe Kleeman’s gaze as it connected with hers. An unexpected shiver traveled through her. Mr. Kleeman hurriedly looked away, his nicely shaped ears turning red.
Nicely shaped ears? Where had that silly notion come from? Sure, the young Mr. Kleeman did have nice ears, a nice face, too. But why was she noticing? And how had a man changed so much in the past three years? Puny did not enter the description of this now over six-foot-tall man with strong arms.
Meredith had never been considered shy. Quite the opposite, actually. She was a lot like Mama in her outgoing nature, although more realistic. Sitting here at the table with the changed Gabe Kleeman, however, did something to her insides she couldn’t quite explain.
Gabe found sleep difficult that night. He tossed and turned, thinking of Meredith Waller and her pretty face across from him at the dinner table. He beheld in his mind the way a few strands of loose hair, the color of freshly upturned topsoil, hung around her shoulders. Her blue eyes had glinted every time she spoke, and Gabe had tried not to stare.
She had almost shut his foot in the door, not that Gabe minded. For a chance to court her, he would allow Meredith to shut his foot—both of his feet—in the door once a day if she desired. If only there was some way to make his intentions known. If only there was some way to know if she’d ever feel the same for him as he felt for her.
He deemed admiring Meredith Waller from a distance much safer.
Sure, Gabe was shy toward a few people, but he did quite well articulating his thoughts to those he had known for a good portion of his life. With Meredith, however, the words barely rose past his throat. She likely thought him a bumbling fool. Ma would remind him that muttering wasn’t gentlemanly, and Gabe would chastise himself once again for his apprehensive disposition.
God had richly blessed Gabe with a loving family, a good-sized spread of a ranch, and, after so many years, the healing of his body. Gabe would never take good health for granted, not after having lived as an unhealthy boy without the ability to walk far without tiring, only to become a robust man with energy to spare.
Lord, I reckon this is a bit out of the ordinary, but could You please help me find words to speak to Meredith? And if it’s Your will, Lord, might I ask that she be favorable toward me?
Chapter 5
The second letter arrived a week later. Meredith had checked the hole in the tree every day, not that she’d admit to anyone her curious obsession with an old tree on the way to town. Or why she made numerous trips to town when she had more important matters to tend to.
She scrutinized the obscure writing that she recognized from the prior letter. Her heart thumped loudly as she unfolded the letter:
Dear Miss Waller,
The rose is red, the violet’s blue,
The honey’s sweet, and so are you.
Yours Truly,
Your Secret Admirer
Meredith blushed at the words. Yes, she knew they weren’t original, but to have been copied by this mysterious secret admirer’s hand and placed in the tree thrilled her.
Reaching into her reticule, Meredith retrieved her own envelope. Opening the flap, she read it one last time before depositing it in the secret place in the tree:
Dear Secret Admirer,
Thank you for your kind letters. Can you give me a hint as to your identity? Are you from Ellis Creek? Elsewhere in the Montana Territory? Do I know you? How do you know me?
Yours Truly,
Meredith Waller
Perhaps she had asked too many questions. What would etiquette books say of her superfluous curiosity?
At the notion of the etiquette books addressing the topic of conversing by letter with a secret admirer, Meredith laughed. Perhaps she should pen
her own etiquette book and discuss such an unorthodox topic.
Weighing her options, Meredith finally persuaded herself to place the letter in the tree. If the questions in her letter were answered, the list of names Meredith had compiled for possibilities could be considerably narrowed.
Not that her mental list proved lengthy. No, it contained just four possibilities: Leopold Arkwright, Mr. Griggs, Marvin Pratt, and an unnamed, unknown man from outside Ellis Creek. Not good choices. Well, except for the man from outside Ellis Creek; he could have potential.
Meredith sighed. Maybe she didn’t want to know the identity of her mysterious suitor, after all.
Meredith slowed the wagon in front of the home of Widow Jones. A humble home, the one-story whitewashed house provided just enough room for the widow and her two young grandchildren.
Clutching her basket of sewing in one hand and two loaves of bread in the other, Meredith prayed she would bless the widow who had lost her beloved husband of fifty years and her son and daughter-in-law all in a year’s time.
“Widow Jones?” Meredith called while tapping on the door.
“Meredith, what a delight to see you.” With fingers gnarled from painful arthritis, Widow Jones opened the door and beckoned Meredith to enter.
“I brought your mending and two loaves of Mama’s bread, fresh out of the oven.”
Widow Jones smiled, bringing more prominence to the fine wrinkles that lined her soft face. “You are a dear, Meredith. Do come in.”
Meredith followed Widow Jones into the home, placing the loaves of bread on the table. She reached a hand toward the widow’s shawl-covered arm. “How are you doing today?”
“I am blessed. I don’t know what I’d do without the body of Christ,” Widow Jones continued. “You have all been so gracious to me in my time of need. How do people go through rough times without Jesus and the ones He calls to help us?”
Meredith and the widow chatted for some time until a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. “I wonder who could be paying me a visit. Would you mind seeing for me, Meredith? Getting out of this chair is a mite difficult anymore.”
The Secret Admirer Romance Collection Page 54