Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1)

by Jan Holly

  “We can go back, any time,” he said earnestly. “And don’t forget, I have another place I want to bring you soon. We could go next Saturday, if you’d like. There are so many beautiful spots around here.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said, sitting back. “Well, my goodness. Looks as though I woke up just in time to turn around and go back to sleep.”

  It was dark and very quiet except for the riotous string music of crickets and the soft bass of a moth thumping against the window, drawn by the glow of the kerosene lamp.

  She stood to clear her place, and he got up, taking her plate. He held it, not turning to the sink, gazing down at her. She stilled, looking up at him. He took a quick breath and turned away.

  “I’ll just wash these,” he said, his voice sounding somewhat strained.

  Again, Rose felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. “Good night.” She went to her room.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said softly, without turning around.

  †

  Charles Smith

  His Doorway

  Cutler’s Pass, California

  Dear Charles,

  I find that one of the many unexpected delights of Cutler’s Pass includes the postal system, which surpasses any in its rapid delivery time.

  But the admirable workings of this wondrous postal system cannot compare to the actual letters that I receive. I dearly treasured the letters that I received while in Boston. I found myself growing increasingly curious about, charmed by, and attached to their sender. This cannot compare, I find, to the increasingly warm regard with which I now hold the writer.

  God bless you, my own husband.

  Your wife,

  Rose Smith

  Charles read the letter while sitting on the edge of his bed. The smile that spread over his face was so big, it almost hurt. Words from the Bible came into his mind: Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord. For the first time since he was a child, he knelt at his bed to say his prayers. But, instead of his childish prayers from the past, his words to God were those of a grateful but anguished man. His prayers came straight from his heart as he poured out his fears for his wife, his gratitude for her presence in his life, and his fragile hopes for their future.

  Chapter Twelve

  “When do we leave for church?” Rose asked.

  Charles looked up from pulling on his boot. He didn’t answer. Staring at Rose, he let it drop to the floor. When it landed, he blinked. “Rose. Gosh, you look really pretty.”

  “Thank you,” she said, glancing at him and smiling. She was wearing her Sunday best dress. “It’s so nice to have something brand new to wear to my new church. I can’t wait to get there.”

  Charles’ heart sank. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, see here. Yesterday’s trip sure took it out of you. We’ll do some reading here at home together today. I’ll stay home with you. Next week, I’m sure we’ll go.”

  “I’m definitely feeling well enough, Charles. We can go,” she said, smiling.

  He swallowed and took a breath. “Not this week. Church will be there next Sunday.”

  “Charles,” she said, frowning. “Believe me, I’m well enough to go to church today. I planned to go and I will. I am all dressed to go!”

  “Rose,” he said, calmly, although he felt his chest get all tight feeling. “Please listen to reason.”

  “Oh! I’m not reasonable?” Her eyes flashed sparks.

  “Now, I didn’t say that,” he said, feeling frustrated. “I just want to make sure you get enough rest, like the doctor said.”

  “I know what’s best when it comes to myself, Mr. Smith. You don’t need to make decisions for me.” She crossed her arms.

  “I’m not trying to do that, I’m just trying…” He couldn’t think of what to say. She was glaring at him. It made it hard for him to think. He felt miserable and angry, all at the same time.

  “Well, there’s no need,” she said firmly.

  “Rose! Seeing you get so tired yesterday, I just about went crazy worrying it was my fault! Now, I’m your husband and I want you to listen to reason.” Why was his voice getting so loud?

  “Don’t yell at me!” Rose yelled. “Just because you are my husband doesn’t mean you are more reasonable than I!”

  Just then they heard wagon wheels approaching; it sounded like more than one wagon. Charles had a horrified notion that their raised voices had brought down the wrath of Cutler’s Pass.

  “Hello!”

  Charles heard the voice of Pastor James. He looked at Rose, who shook her head, her eyes wide. Together they went out the front door. Several wagons and buggies were pulling up to their house. Their friends and neighbors from Grace Church smiled and waved.

  “Their eyes are snapping and their cheeks are as red as can be,” said Mr. Chadding from his seat on the buggy beside Mrs. Chadding. “They’ve either been pitching woo or having their first fight.”

  Charles looked anywhere but at Rose, which seemed to amuse Mr. Chadding to no end, for he let forth with a peal of laughter while his wife tried to hush him.

  Pastor James had gotten down from his wagon. “We all figured that it might be nice for you if we brought church to you instead of you needing to travel to church.”

  “Thank you,” said Rose said quietly, looking at her feet. “Thank you, all of you, so very much.

  “I appreciate it,” said Charles, looking directly into Pastor James’ eyes.

  Pastor James looked at each of them and nodded. Everyone else gathered around and sat in their wagons, either in front or in back, or in their buggies. Charles sat on the front steps and Rose sat in the rocking chair. Pastor James stood in the center, and spoke about following Jesus Christ. The pastor described how in Matthew 4:19, following him was so often the hardest thing to do, but it made life better. Far from making life easier, it made life more worthwhile. He described the context of being fishermen back in the time of Jesus, and what Jesus had meant by being fishers of men. Charles was riveted by his words, and when he looked over at Rose, he saw that her expression was absorbed and thoughtful. She caught his eye and colored, looking down. He looked back at the pastor, feeling as though his stomach was one big knot. After a song and a prayer, church was done. Charles was surprised that everyone had brought something to share, and they all ate together while the sun climbed higher overhead.

  When everyone had departed, Rose and Charles stood on the porch together, waving.

  “I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time, turning to one another.

  “No, I’m sorry,” said Rose miserably. “I realize you were concerned about me. I’m truly grateful for that.”

  “No, I should have said it better,” said Charles, feeling a huge sense of relief overtake him. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do. I should have explained what I meant.”

  “Charles, I have some bad news,” said Rose, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m stubborn. You have a stubborn woman for a wife. And, I can’t abide the sense that someone is bossing me. It makes me fly off the handle.”

  “I’ve got worse news,” he said ruefully. “I’m too bossy by far, and I’m awful stubborn.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Rose faintly.

  “We’ll have some disagreements ahead of ourselves, I would wager,” he said.

  They looked at each other, their expressions mirroring each other: worry. Then they started to smile, tentatively.

  “Oh, Charles,” she said, sitting down into rocker. She put a hand to her head. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

  He knelt at her feet. “I’m sorry I got so mad. I wasn’t mad, really. I was just afraid you’d over-do it, and I wanted to make sure I kept you from getting sick. I was worried, that’s all. I got to make sure you’re well. You’re my wife. Not as though I’m your boss. I’m your husband. I’m supposed to look out for you.” He had taken one of her hands and directed his words to it, unable to look up into her face. She was silent. He looke
d up. Her other hand reached to rest against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand. He lifted her other hand to his lips and pressed a kiss onto it. He heard her catch her breath. It was such a little sound but it went straight to his heart. Standing up, he braced his hands on the arms of the chair. He rocked her slowly toward him, and kissed her cheek slowly, relishing the softness of her skin. So close to her, he was overwhelmed. Then he gently let the rocker ease back and he stood upright. Her cheeks were flaming and her mouth was open. Their eyes met until she smiled. It was a small, trembling smile and its sweetness made him feel as though he just might be able to fly. He turned and walked into the house, straight through, and out the back door. He went straight to the pump and stuck his head under it, gasping when the shock of ice-cold well water poured over him. He straightened up, wiping the water from his face, when he heard the screen door slap shut.

  There was Rose, striding toward him. She stopped right in front of him, and then took another step closer. Charles stood still, catching his breath, water dripping into his eyes. She reached her hands up to cradle his jaw while rising up onto her toes.

  “Rose.” It felt as though the word was ripped from him as he gathered her close and lowered his face to hers. Their lips met in a brief kiss before Rose fell back hard onto her feet. She took a step back, laughing breathlessly.

  “I lost my nerve,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” he said, grinning down at her.

  “I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said, biting her lip.

  “That’s all right,” he said. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this happy.

  “All right,” she said, laughing a little, her face red. “I’m just going to go… Just going to…” She took an awkward step back and then whirled around, walking quickly into the house.

  “We’ll I’ll be,” he said softly, unable to stop smiling.

  Dear Rose,

  Kiss me again. Anytime.

  Love,

  Charles

  He left the note for her in her sewing kit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rose hid in her room. She kept going to the door, then turning back. The longer she waited, the harder it became to leave her room. All she wanted was to be right in front of Charles again. Even if she didn’t have the courage to be bold again, she simply wanted to be with him. Yet, she felt very shy. Finally she fell onto her bed and pulled the quilt around her. She thought she’d rest and recover some of her bravery. Perhaps she would regain the peace of mind she felt when listening to the pastor’s sermon. Her eyes drifted shut and she fell asleep.

  She must have been more tired than she realized, because before she knew it morning had dawned and she could hear the sounds of Rascal’s hoof beats growing fainter. She had missed Charles and he had left for work. She felt terrible, and embarrassed, too. What must he think of her awkwardness?

  The morning was warming up rapidly. After she washed, dressed, and ate breakfast, she planned to sit down in the rocking chair. However, once she had cleaned her room, she looked into Charles’. It was tidier than it had been the other day, but his dressing gown was sloppily sliding off of a chair. As she lifted it, she noticed there was a small tear at the hem. She took it and her sewing kit to the rocking chair outside. In a few moments, she saw a note. Her fingers trembled at she opened it. When she read what Charles had written, she smiled. Just those few words made her feel relieved. She took a deep breath and let it out. He must have somehow understood and forgiven her need to hide away. He must have found her awkwardness not so very off-putting. She read it again, blushing and smiling. Charles.

  While she mended the torn hem, she composed a note in return in her imagination. When the repair was completed, she hung up the robe and got the stationery, bringing it back to the rocking chair. Placing a sheet of paper on top of the stationery box, she began to write.

  She was just signing her name when she had the sense that someone was near. Looking up, she gasped. There was a woman standing at the bottom of the porch stairs.

  “Hello,” said Rose, faintly.

  “Hello,” said the woman. She was Native American. Her long dark hair fell loose around her shoulders and her dark, almond shaped eyes were bright. Barefoot and wearing a simple dress that looked as though it was made from an animal’s hide, she radiated grace. She was holding a small, intricately woven basket.

  “I’m Rose Smith. Please, come in,” said Rose. She stood up. “Would you like some tea?

  “All right,” said the woman softly. She walked up the stairs while Rose opened the door.

  Rose made tea as quickly as she could, using Charles’ late mother’s tea set. She wished she had somehow known that the woman would be arriving so that she would have made a cake. She added a jar of dried applesauce and a small tin of peaches to the tray, and hurried back to the parlor.

  The woman was sitting calmly, looking about herself. Rose served the tea and asked if she would like something to eat.

  “No, thank you,” she said, sipping the tea.

  “May I ask your name?” Rose said, feeling breathless. She was trying to be gracious and hide how incredibly moved she felt. At the lecture she had attended about traveling west, she had learned about the wonderful variety of cultures of the native people in America. Longing to know more, she had also discovered how Native Americans had endured horrible injustices. She had such a sense of respect and compassion for them.

  “My name would be hard for you to say,” said the woman. “It means, well, the short version means leaping. So, you can call me Leaping.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you, Leaping, and very glad you’ve come to visit.” Rose smiled, pouring more tea.

  “I like how your name means something, too. I heard about you. I brought you this,” Leaping said, holding out the basket she had carried with her.

  “Thank you!” Rose took the basket reverently.

  “Open it,” said Leaping encouragingly.

  Rose lifted the top and inside she saw some dried leaves with a very strong, pleasant aroma.

  “It’s to make a tea,” Leaping said. “You call it… yerba buena. It’s good for you.”

  “Thank you so much,” Rose said, closing her eyes and inhaling the fragrance of the tea.

  “You like it,” Leaping said, smiling.

  “Yes, I do. I’m sure I’ll love it prepared as a tea, as well.” Rose took a breath. She had so many questions she wished to ask Leaping, but that would be rude. She wanted to know her whole life story.

  “Well, I have to go now,” said Leaping, standing up.

  Rose felt so disappointed. “Do you? Can’t you stay for a while? We could have lunch together.”

  “No, my husband is in town, trading. I just came to see you and give you the tea.” Leaping said, smiling happily. “But I’m glad you want me to stay. I can come another time.”

  “Please do!” Rose said.

  She watched Leaping walk down the road until she could no longer see her.

  Charles Smith

  On Rascal’s Bag of Feed

  The Barn

  Cutler’s Pass

  California

  Dear Charles,

  I’m sorry you’ve got such a bashful wife. I only had one moment of boldness. Then I got shy. I don’t know how to kiss.

  Love,

  Rose Smith

  †

  Rose saw Charles approaching, and she ducked into the house before he could see her. She looked out the window, and saw him lead Rascal into the barn. She stepped outside, using the back door, and began to walk toward the barn. Knowing that Charles would check Rascal’s hooves and feed him, she walked slowly. Charles walked quickly out of the barn and stopped short.

  “Rose!” He seemed out of breath.

  “Hello, Charles. How was your day?” Rose tried to speak calmly and look him in the eye. It wasn’t easy. She felt her cheeks beginning to heat up. Oh, please, no blushing, she implored her cheeks silently
.

  He resumed walking until he was in front of her. Slowly, he reached out and held her upper arms. “I’m a mess,” he said softly, his eyes locked on hers.

  “You look fine to me,” she said, biting back a smile.

  He took a step closer. “Can I kiss you hello?” His voice was a whisper, his face bending towards hers.

  She nodded jerkily.

  He gently pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her. Unlike yesterday’s quick kiss from Rose, this one Charles lingered over. When he lifted his head, and looked into her eyes, she felt stunned.

  “I never knew a kiss could be so lengthy,” she said, feeling as though she could not get enough air into her lungs.

  “Lengthy?” He grinned slowly.

  “Or perhaps that was not one lengthy kiss. Perhaps it was several kisses. A dozen?” Stop talking, she implored herself silently. She had butterflies in her stomach and her knees shook.

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, stroking her hair from her forehead. “I’m not rightly sure. One long kiss or lots of kisses at one time? Seems to me we should figure that out. Mind if I kiss you again? This time, keep count, all right?”

  She nodded breathlessly as Charles kissed her again.

  She lost count.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The week passed by quickly, full of visits from friends. It was also full of kisses to mark the end of each workday outside of Rascal’s barn. Rose knew she would never forget her first summer in California. She would always remember how the long, warm days stretched into hot afternoons and the taste of yerba buena tea. And while the sun was still high in the sky, the light would shift, and Charles would come home. The embraces they shared, and the tender words they said, made his daily homecomings sweetly sacred moments for Rose. They’d walk hand in hand into the house, pray and eat together. Once in the house, Charles would keep his distance apart from holding her hand. After dinner, they would sit in the parlor together. Charles and Rose would talk, and read from the Bible until her head nodded. She would then go to her room and pull her blankets up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she would listen to Charles close the front door and the back door. She had such a feeling of safety, drifting off to sleep while hearing him.