Isabella_Bride of Ohio

by Debra Parmley

  Isabella: Bride of Ohio

  By

  Debra Parmley and Robert Arrow

  Copyright © 2015 by Debra Parmley and Robert Arrow

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Art Copyright by Belo Dia Publishing © 2015

  Published in the United States of America

  Publish Date: December 5, 2015

  Editor: Tamara Hoffa

  Formatting: Julie L. York

  Cover Artist: Sheri McGathy

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

  Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.

  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Belo Dia Publishing

  P.O. Box

  Ellendale, TN 38135

  https://www.facebook.com/BeloDiaPublishing

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Isabella Ragnhild Milner.

  My thanks and appreciation to the ladies of the American Mail Order Bride series and to Kirsten Osbourne for inviting me into this project. It has been an honor and a blessing to be able to pay homage to my home state of Ohio and Yellow Springs the old stomping grounds near my home, as well as to be able to bring a bit of my grandmother and her Swedish background to life within these pages.

  Thank you to my writing partner Robert Arrow, to my sister Kimberly Lear for her genealogy research on this project, to Tamara Hoffa our editor, to Sheri McGathy for the beautiful cover, to Julie L. York our formatter, to Nicole Kuhn of NK Author Services and to Kathryn Faulk for her support.

  Infinite love and gratitude to you, my readers. I treasure you all.

  Everything Debra said. I also want to thank God and her for this amazing opportunity and my family and friends for their unending love and encouragement. Finally, thanks, Becky for those last minute thoughts. ;)

  Chapter One

  September 1890

  Lawrence, Massachusetts

  Here in America nothing lasts.

  Isabella Britta Stolt stood with her four friends Lilly, Tabitha, Hope and Trinity as she glanced around at the other women gathered in the small park on the banks of the Merrimack River. The women had gathered to hear what Roberta McDaniel, their former mill manager had to say. The Brown Textile Mill on Canal Street had employed every one of them, like her, until the fire a week ago, which had changed everything when the building burned down to the ground.

  Nothing lasts.

  Isabella had lost both her parents right before moving to Lawrence, Massachusetts two months before. Right after arriving at Ellis Island on the boat from Sweden which brought them to America along with the illness that had taken her parents lives.

  Nothing lasts. Grandmother always said trouble comes in threes. Every time someone Grandmother knew went to heaven, she would start counting.

  But Isabella had no family left to lose.

  The fire would be three.

  She could only pray that it was the last of her troubles.

  Isabella had dreamed a repeat of the fire last night, after knocking over a candle in the kitchen, which had caught a towel on fire. Such a small fire compared to the events of that night, but it had been enough to bring on the dream. She needed comfort today.

  She’d dreamed she was back working in the factory, on the fifth floor. The clanging and banging of equipment, which rang throughout the enormous room twenty four hours a day drowned out any sounds coming from outside the factory. Keeping her head down as usual, concentrating on her sewing and hoping Mr. Brown would not stand near her again, leering and trying to touch her, Isabella brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen down from her Swedish braids and sewed the next seam.

  Her father’s Bible lay on her lap and she had placed her left hand upon it when she felt Mr. Brown cast his gaze over to her. Her hand pressed against the worn leather as his gaze pressed down upon her, making her feel squeamish. She peered at him beneath lowered lids, not wanting to fully look at the man who appeared to her as if he could be the devil himself with his slicked back hair as black as coal and his pointed Van Dyke beard. Though he wore a suit, and as the owner of the factory was respected in this town, she disliked and distrusted him.

  His gaze lingered and then shifted as Roberta McDaniel walked up to him. He turned his attention to her and away from Isabella, who was forgotten for now.

  She returned her attention to her sewing and away from the potbellied man in the fancy suit, hoping this was the end of his attention today.

  With so many women in the factory, why does he keep singling me out? There are nearly six hundred people who work here, most of them women. Yet his gaze always finds me.

  She watched as Roberta climbed the steps up to the upper room where the manager’s office was. Mr. Brown made his way over to Isabella and her hand found the Bible again.

  What does he want? It looks as if he has something to say to me. Please God make him go away and leave me alone.

  This time her prayer was answered, and soon he mounted the stairs and headed to the manager’s office to meet with Roberta.

  It wasn’t long after Mr. Brown and Roberta McDaniel met in the office that Mr. Brown left the building. He’d paused once more, looking at her with the strangest expression before he’d turned suddenly and left.

  Isabella breathed a sigh of relief and pushed her hair back out of her face again. Today the heat in the building was worse than usual, strange for September. The air was stifling, and the noise unrelenting. Isabella wished her shift would end soon, a wish which would be granted with the setting of the sun just now past the many windows which lined the factory walls. She worked from just before the sun came up until just after it went down. The only time she saw the sun was through the factory windows, unless it was her day off.

  The fire had come so suddenly, the heat in the building rising. There had been a crash as windows were broken. Flames spread, licking up the walls like giant tongues of fire as thick smoke rolled across the factory floor.

  Women started to scream and rose from their sewing machines en masse to turn and run, trying to find their way out. Isabella grabbed her Bible and ran with them. The first door closest to them, which she and several other women raced to, was locked tight.

  Did he mean to lock them in?

  “Ah gud nej,” Oh God, no, she screamed. How will we get out?

  Lilly heard Isabella and hurried to her side. “Come,” she said. “This way.”

  She ran with Lilly to another door, at the opposite end of the cavernous room which was not locked, and they raced down the stairs among the other women who rushed down the stairs and out of the building into the fresh air. Thick smoke was now pouring out of the windows and machinery crashed through the floors as the wooden planks were devoured by the flames. The sight of the huge factory filled with flames blazed into Isab
ella’s sight as one she would never forget.

  “What a horrible accident,” a woman cried. “I hope everyone gets out.”

  “Jag tror inte det,” Isabella said.

  Lilly turned to look at her sharply, “You don’t believe it was an accident?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I saw Mr. Brown leave early and he gave me the strangest look before he went out that door which was locked. I think he didn’t want anyone following him. Not long afterward the fire began.”

  Lilly raised surprised brows. “You think he started it?”

  “Yes. I do.” Isabella nodded.

  “He is a horrible man. I’m glad you won’t have to fend off any more of his advances. But it’s best you don’t say any more about Mr. Brown. You don’t want to draw his attention.”

  They stood with the other women watching the factory that was their livelihood burn down. Fire engines hurried to put the flames out, but the flames were too large and the factory was too far-gone to save it.

  Now Isabella stood at the park near the river bank, remembering the fire and wondering why Roberta McDaniel had called them here today. Roberta was now speaking to the ladies about a mail order bride matchmaker.

  Isabella turned her attention fully to Roberta.

  “My sister recently went to Kansas as a mail order bride, and she’s written to me how happy she is with her groom. A matchmaker in Beckman found her future husband for her. I went to see this matchmaker yesterday to find out if she had any other prospective grooms and she gave me the newest edition of the Grooms' Gazette, listing men from all over the United States who are looking for brides. She gave me fifty copies, so if you’re interested in being a mail order bride, please come forward.”

  Yes, I can do this and when I marry, I will wear Mother’s wedding dress.

  Isabella pictured the beautiful dress packed in her steamer trunk.

  The ladies began murmuring among themselves.

  Roberta was passing out copies of a newspaper called the Grooms' Gazette—where men from all over the country advertised for wives.

  “I’ll get copies for us,” Hope said as she turned to walk toward Roberta.

  Hope moved to the front of the crowd, took a few copies of the paper from Roberta, and moved back to the small huddle of friends. “Here’s one for each of us,” Hope said as she handed a newspaper to each of them.

  But Tabitha wouldn’t take the paper when Hope held it out to her. “I don’t know if I could do this. I’d be scared to death I’d end up with a mean man.” Tabitha shook her head again to Hope’s offer. “I have enough savings to get me to my cousin’s home in Missouri.”

  Isabella noticed Hope biting her lip as if holding back what she wanted to say about Tabitha’s relation.

  Lilly opened the newspaper and began reading. Lilly, like Isabella, had come from Sweden. She had been in America for two years and when Isabella arrived to take the factory job, Lilly had taken her under her wing and become her roommate and confidant. Often Isabella had watched Lilly to see what to do next at the factory in the two weeks since she had taken the job and now she fell into that pattern again, as if she were following an older sister’s lead. Lilly was outgoing and outspoken where Isabella was quiet and shy, still working on confidence in her English speaking ability.

  Now she cleared her throat and spoke up. “Father tried to arrange a marriage for me before he decided to bring us to America,” Isabella said, “but the boy had another girl in mind. Without father …” her words and gaze drifted off as if thinking of him. Then she spoke again, more decisive now. “Father would have had any suitor investigated.” She reached for the paper and nodded. “That is what I will do. I will make sure he is a good man before I marry him.”

  “Sign up to be someone’s wife, not knowing who this person is? I don’t know what to think of the idea.” Lilly frowned.

  “What will you all do in the meantime while we wait to hear from these men?” Hope asked.

  “I should be able to leave right away,” Tabitha said. “I’m already packed, and all that remains is to buy my ticket.”

  “There is a family in town that is in need of a house-maid,” Isabella said.” But only for one month. Their maid just had a baby and she will return. The baker’s wife helped me get the job. I am to start tomorrow.”

  “I’ve always talked my way into finding odds and ends jobs, be it cleaning fish or scrubbing laundry, so I know I can continue to scrape by…until I find me a groom to pay my way out of this city,” Lilly said with a sly smile, looking around at her circle of friends.

  Hope nodded.

  “Hope, you haven’t told us what you’re going to do while you wait to hear back,” Tabitha said.

  “That’s because I don’t know,” Hope replied with a forced joviality. “I’m about to have a great adventure, I suppose.”

  “Nothing lasts here in America,” Isabella said. “I have not even been here a year and now I must move again, a third time. I don’t know what the future holds or what is best, but I pray it will be good and that it will last. Adventures can be full of danger, Hope. I will pray for all of us to be safe and healthy.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” Hope said, waving off their concern. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’ll be all right.”

  “So how does this work? Do we write to each person?” Lilly asked.

  “I think you’d pick a few who might interest you, and start with them. Where would you want to live? Is there a man’s profession you’d feel comfortable with?”

  “I’d like to go somewhere there are more Swedes than here in Massachusetts. And more open country rather than the stifling smell of this factory town,” Isabella said in Swedish to Lilly.

  Isabella had only been in America for three months, arriving in New York then traveling to the Boston area to find work. Her time living alone in New York City, waiting on her parents to recover and be released from quarantine and after they passed had been overwhelming. Now she longed for the fresh country air and the quieter feeling of safety in a smaller town. Although Isabella worked diligently to learn English, she lapsed back to her native tongue when stressed.

  “I’ve heard there are more Swedish settlements in Minnesota, Illinois or Kansas than here in the Northeast. I wonder what the weather is out West?” Lilly said in English so the others could understand and Isabella blushed realizing she’d lapsed once again into speaking only Swedish which was so easy with Lilly.

  “Surely it’s not any worse than the northeasters we’ve experienced last winter. I think I’d prefer to go south if I had a choice,” Trinity said.

  “Okay, let’s go back to our apartment and pick out who we want to write to. We’ll never get husbands standing around here feeling sorry for ourselves,” Hope said as she picked up her skirt and started walking across the grassy park.

  Lilly looked around at the women leaving the park or still talking in groups.

  Isabella, noting this, glanced around and wondered how many of these women Lilly would miss. Though Isabella was too new to the factory to have grown close to any but her roommate and their three friends, Lilly had been there much longer. “It is like a painting, such moments,” Isabella said. “Never to come again.”

  These were all good women. Though Isabella did not know them well, having only worked at the factory for two weeks, she knew that much. They were good women who worked hard and only wanted to improve their lives. That feeling came over her again, the nostalgic feeling of loss and impermanence.

  Here in America nothing lasts. Moments were to be savored and treasured, for they would not come again.

  Lilly, never one to encourage Isabella’s lapses into melancholy brought on by missing her parents, linked her arm into Isabella’s as they walked out of the park. “Come on, Isabella, it’s time us Swedish girls find two rich American husbands.”

  Isabella smiled and said, “Yes, I am ready.”

&n
bsp; ****

  “I believe I have found one gentleman to write to. Here is the advertisement he placed,” Isabella read from the paper. She had read the advertisements for mail order brides through three times, thinking over what the men had written.

  “To the dear ladies looking to find a husband; I am a thirty-seven year old man of not inconsiderable means looking to find a wife for whom to provide a decent, honest living. I am six foot, two inches tall and not terribly thin, but certainly not running to fat. The black in my hair has not yet begun to gray, and my brown eyes are still sharp. I am an accountant by trade, with a small home out in the country near Yellow Springs, Ohio. Any interested lady may apply.”

  She glanced up from her paper over to Lilly. “A small home out in the country is just the kind of home I wish to live in. Mr. Donald Jenks is much older than I, but he sounds established and solid. I don’t want to have to move again should something happen.”

  “He sounds like a good choice.” Lilly nodded.

  “I will write to him then. Hjalp mig?” Without realizing it, she had lapsed into Swedish again.

  Lilly put her hand over Isabella’s and answered her in English. “Yes, I will help you.”

  “Thank you. I do not want to sound too much like a new immigrant. He might prefer a woman who is better at English.”

  “Isabella, your English is fine and it is getting better every day. You just have not had as much practice as some. He may find you enchanting, with your soft Swedish voice. I know listening to you sing makes me smile.”

  “Yes, but you understand me in Swedish and in English.”

  “He will learn to understand you too. Come I will help you write the letter.”

  ****

  Riding the train to Beckham to see the matchmaker, Isabella spent most of the forty-five minute ride, folding and unfolding and re-reading the advertisement Mr. Donald Jenks had placed as her nervousness got the best of her.