by Rose Jenster
“I’ll be getting you a ticket home, in case you should get there and find it’s a raw deal,” her father insisted and she nodded.
Back in her room, Felicity turned over the items in her hope chest and decided what she had was more than good enough for her trip West. She made a quick list of items she would buy with the money Alec sent. Felicity knew it would hurt him if she tried to return the money, so she made better plans for it.
The next day, she took half the bank notes she’d gotten from the cheque and pressed them into her mother’s astonished hand.
“I’m not taking this. It’s yours,” her mother argued.
“No. You’ve done without for too many years because of me, because I acted so spoiled and thought of no one but myself. Now it’s your time to have something,” Felicity insisted, feeling buoyant as her mother’s eyes turned from caution to light. She felt so much better giving to her mother than keeping for herself and this was a new realization.
Her mother embraced her, hugging her tightly. “I’ll miss you, my girl,” she said, her voice thick. She was not at this point going to think about Felicity living so far away in territory so unlike their home.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Felicity said, unexpectedly emotional as well.
Later, she took a walk to the mercantile on the way back from the post office. Felicity ordered a china teapot with rosebuds on it for her mother and subscribed to the newspaper for her father. Then she went to the dressmaker’s shop. Most of her life, she and her mother had made their clothes from durable yard goods and her mother hadn’t had a "nice" dress since the burgundy one she married in some twenty-six years before. Felicity looked at the samples made up with a critical eye and selected a rich emerald green cashmere dress with a pretty lace at the sleeves and ordered it fitted to her mother’s measurements. Then she went on to Mrs. Rochester’s and chose a dainty black hat which she trimmed with a wide green ribbon and a clutch of flowers and paid for it on the spot.
“It’s for my mother. I’m getting married,” Felicity said almost bashfully.
Mrs. Rochester nodded. “I knew you’d not be single for long, dearie. It’s happy news and I am for you, too. I want to make you a gift of a new bonnet for your wedding. Your talents will be sorely missed here.”
“Thank you. I’d love to have a nice straw with whatever trimming you think would suit me,” she said graciously, knowing it would please the older woman to make something up herself.
Felicity had settled on a train departure for the following day, seeing no reason for delay now that she had decided and received permission. So the next morning, she donned the traveling dress she had made the year before, a lovely dove gray with a row of matching braid at the collar and cuffs along with a modest bonnet and gloves. Felicity hugged her parents goodbye with so many mixed emotions and settled into her seat, watching as the landscape changed so rapidly from the city streets to forests, mountains and lakes.
Soon vast open lands with broad rivers appeared though she was drowsy and fell into some interrupted sleep patterns. For days she rode, her legs stiff from sitting, fidgeting a little with excitement. To pass the time, she wrote letters. One was to her parents to describe her journey, another to Beatrice to thank her and to say she looked forward to meeting her and finally having a sister. Then, she wrote one of phenomenal length to Alec, an ongoing diary of her journey peppered by her thoughts and hopes as she traveled. She added in humorous observations about a fancy lady sitting near her to amuse Alec.
The station was approaching and Felicity said a silent prayer.
Chapter 8
When at long last she arrived in Helena at the station, it occurred to her that she perhaps ought to have waited for Alec's reply before setting off, lest she be stranded one hundred miles from Fort Benton as she probably was. This qualm was the first alloy she had felt to her happiness at coming to meet Alec at last. Felicity stepped off the train, prepared to find an inn and then a stagecoach schedule. But, she knew at first sight that it was Alec Walsh she saw on the platform, his hat in his hand.
He had dark hair cropped short, dark eyes, and a look of such hope on his face that it nearly broke her heart to see it. She wanted to fling herself into his arms at once, but felt oddly bashful. Felicity approached him and held out her hand in an attempt to control her emotions.
“My name is Felicity Baxter. I wonder if you are here waiting for me,” she said, her voice sounding unusually shaky.
To her surprise, instead of taking her hand and introducing himself, he took her in his arms and embraced her, a quick hug of greeting such as one might give to a family member from whom one had endured long separation. Flustered, she pushed against his shoulder and he released her.
“Forgive me. I am overcome by the fact you’ve arrived,” he said, obviously a bit embarrassed. “My sister will assure you I am not often impetuous. It does not suit me, it seems. I do apologize. You are correct in guessing that I am the doctor who awaits you. I have been waiting for you, it seems, for a very long time.”
“What do you mean? I said in my letter which date I would arrive,” she said.
“I mean that when I saw you step off the train it was as if something shifted into place and settled in, and I felt, well, rather as if I had found something I’d misplaced. It was a recognition of something crucial like my medical bag or my father’s pocket watch, but infinitely dearer to me,” he said.
Felicity was moved by what he said and put her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “You need not fear misplacing me again. I will stay beside you,” she said warmly, her awkwardness and discomfort melting away.
Alec covered her hand with his and pressed it before letting it go.
“The stagecoach does not leave for Fort Benton until tomorrow. I’ve secured rooms at the posting house for us. Would you care for some tea or do you need to rest?” he asked solicitously.
“It’s kind of you to suggest it, but I’ve been sitting down for days and it would be the greatest relief to walk. Might we have a stroll?”
“Yes, of course. I know the area fairly well. My cousin Luke lives in Billings, but his uncle lives here and when we were younger we would visit. I hope you'll get to meet Luke and his wife in the near future. They also met through first corresponding by mail.”
“I’d like to very much,” Felicity said, curious to see he resembles his cousin.
“There is a spot along the main street which has very good lemonade if I remember correctly. It is—well, it is a tavern, but I would bring the lemonade out to you.”
Felicity nodded, wishing it were acceptable for her to go inside, as she’d never been in a tavern, and she was curious. It didn’t seem proper to say so, and she kept quiet about it lest she shock him within moments of their meeting.
“If your brave, you come inside. Luke’s uncle owns the tavern, and we used to play around here as boys, at darts and stacking up glasses into towers and things like that—do not think me a drunkard,” he said with a chuckle. “I do not believe your sensibilities would be too startled by anything you saw in the afternoon in a family pub where one or two old men are nursing their pints. They may fall off their chairs at the sight of you, but the shock may do them some good,” he said. Felicity nodded eagerly, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Alec offered her his arm, and she took it, promenading down the walk to a tavern at the end of the lane. He peeked inside first to see that it was not crowded nor was there anything untoward taking place. Felicity smiled at this protectiveness quality he exhibited.
“There is one old man drinking, and Luke’s uncle is at the bar. Otherwise, it’s empty. Are you ready?”
“Yes, it sounds a fairly tame adventure, but it’s the first one I’ve had,” she said with a smile.
Alec conducted her into the tavern as if they were going to the opera. His carriage was straight and tall, his manner formal. The man at the bar greeted him, coming around the bar, clapping him on the back and calling him Al
ly.
“I’ve not been called by that name since I was twelve, Bert,” he said.
“Now, you’re a doctor, I suppose you’ve got all important,” the man teased, and Alec nodded gravely.
“Yes, I’m dreadfully important and in need of lemonade. But first I’d like to present Miss Felicity Baxter, soon to be Walsh.”
The old barman bowed in a courtly manner and said he was pleased to make her acquaintance.
“Fresh off the train from Albany, I’m afraid, but I’m happy to meet you as well if you’ll accept me in my current state,” she said, referring to her travel stains.
“Your current state is pretty as a flower in May in Montana,” he answered, and she blushed.
“Before you start courting my betrothed, Bert, we’d like our lemonade. She could become scandalized at any moment at the sight of a tavern, and I’d like to rush past that possibility,” Alec said wryly, and Bert laughed.
Soon two cold lemonades were before them, and she drank thirstily without even thanking the man. Felicity looked about for a napkin to dab her lips and found none. Surreptitiously, she wiped her mouth on her glove and grinned cheekily at the seeming naughtiness of doing so.
“That was delicious,” she said. “Thank you. It was most refreshing.”
“You’re welcome. Your face is by far the most refreshing thing these old walls have seen,” Bert said and she giggled.
“He’s working the charm on you. I’d best hurry you out of here before you’ve a better offer than my poor troth,” Alec said, and they waved merrily and went back outside.
“That was a nice introduction to Montana,” she said.
“Bert is one of a kind,” Alec said fondly, “Were you too shocked?”
“Not at all. It was only a room with tables and drinks,” she said pragmatically, and he nodded his approval.
“Now I’ll not try to compromise you further. We’ll go to the posting house so you can freshen up, and then I’ll ask you to join me for dinner.”
“It sounds fine to me. Thank you for making the arrangements. I wondered when the train stopped at Helena if I’d made a mistake not waiting for a reply, if perhaps you could not be away from your patients to come fetch me or if it was an inconvenient time. I’d have found myself quite at a loss on my own.”
“You’re a clever enough girl to secure a spot on the coach, Felicity, so that’s nonsense. In truth, I should not be away from my patients for two days but I was—too excited to meet you and too anxious that Montana itself make a good impression on you to forgo the trip.”
“Are your patients being neglected then?” she asked playfully.
“No, I wrote a friend of mine whose father is a retired physician, and his father was more than glad to fill in for me for a day or so,” Alec assured her.
“I’m happy to hear that, as I’d have thought less of you if you’d abandoned the sick and wounded to fetch me,” she teased.
“Felicity, you know me well enough to be sure I would not do such a thing, at least I hope you do,” he ventured.
She nodded in agreement and held his arm as he squired her to the posting house. Felicity loved his dedication to his patients and the nobility of his profession. After washing up and having a short rest, she readied herself. Choosing a light cotton dress of pale pink and the straw bonnet Mrs. Rochester had trimmed for her with petal pink grosgrain ribbon, Felicity knew she looked well, her hair pinned up and her eyes shining bright.
When she went downstairs, she found that Alec was waiting for her, his hair still damp from combing. Somehow, the fresh comb tracks in his hair, the slight curl at the ends, endeared him even more, and she blushed. Then she reminded herself that this was a practical arrangement for two people with similar goals, not a match of affection. Felicity kept forgetting that bit.
At the restaurant, Alec entertained her with dry anecdotes of his patients back in Fort Benton and in particular the old military men who would insist they were perfectly well despite having an obviously dislocated shoulder or broken leg. Felicity admired their courage and pride at pretending they had no physical pain or injuries. She picked at her food, more hungry for his attention and conversation than the credible meatloaf the establishment offered.
After dinner, they walked the length of the street, and at her assent, walked beyond that. As the sun set, the trees parted, and they found themselves suddenly in a field of blue flowers. Felicity fell to her knees and buried her face in the blossoms with appreciation for their beauty, for the simple joy of finding them. This empty field of blue flowers under the setting sun seemed meant for them. What a gift from the Lord. After a moment, Alec knelt down to pick her a flower and she stopped him.
“No, leave them as they are. They’re perfect growing here. I wouldn’t want to disturb a single one!” she exclaimed rapturously, “Do you mind if we stop here—well, I suppose I’ve already stopped here—but do you mind if we watch the sun set right here in this spot? I’ve grown up in the city and never had green spaces, this sort of spot. I want to lie down in the flowers and watch the sky,” she said. Felicity was feeling some emotions similar to her childhood days that she hadn't felt in a long time.
“If it pleases you so, then we must,” he agreed, and taking the ribbons that secured her bonnet, he untied them and lifted her hat off. “This is surely not a formal occasion. You needn’t wear your hat.” He smiled as she giggled back at him. Their interaction was very enjoyable and Felicity wanted to take it in with the same joy as the blossoms that carried her away.
Readily, Felicity stretched out on her back, her hands behind her head, and watched the thin clouds skate across the violet sky. Soon, Alec lay down a respectful distance away and did the same. Together they saw the sky change to a brilliant wash of orange and gold as the sun melted toward the mountains, in companionable silence.
As if by mutual consent, his hand found hers, and they lay side by side in the twilight hush, holding hands. When at last the sky began to darken, Felicity realized (as she often did after being impetuous) how unseemly she must appear and struggled to her feet, brushing grass off her pink gown and patting at her hair self-consciously. She hoped she had not given Alec the wrong impression of her character.
“I haven’t done such a thing since I was a boy, and I am not certain I watched the clouds much even then. I was forever examining some leaf, some insect, and trying to become an expert on it,” Alec said with introspection.
“You were developing your scientific genius,” she said. “You hadn’t any time for clouds.”
“I wish I had taken the time then. I was glad enough to do so tonight. I’d best get you back to the posting house before your reputation is called into question. I have no wish to compromise your good name,” he said diffidently.
“Alec, I’ve done plenty to expose myself to censure today without your help. I’ve gone into a tavern, I’ve gone walking out on the countryside alone with a man, and now I’ve lain in a flower-strewn field with you as well!” she said. “I’d come nearer to embarrassing you than myself.” Felicity in no way wanted Alec to question himself for their special time together.
“You’re lovely, in every way, Felicity,” he said, standing closer to her and setting his hand on her shoulder to draw her near.
She looked up into his dark eyes feeling giddy, adrift, as if part of her was still up in the clouds. Felicity felt a thrill of certain anticipation—he was going to kiss her! She saw the feeling, the intent in his eyes. Then, Alec seemed to hesitate, about to kiss her perhaps, and he relented, drawing back. He offered his arm to her instead and they went in silence back to the posting house. The communion they’d enjoyed in the field of wildflowers was somehow spoilt, either by talking about it or by the fact that he hadn’t kissed her. Alec was a gentleman, she told herself sternly, not one to steal kisses. That was what she admired about him. Yet she found it hurtful and a little insulting that he hadn’t at least tried.
At the stairway to the rooms at the p
osting house, he paused and took her hand.
“You must forgive me. I’ve been at sixes and sevens all day. You are more beautiful than I expected. I had thought you’d be plainer and more sensible looking. I’m not sure quite what to do,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with caring for one’s appearance,” she said a little coolly. “There is nothing to forgive, unless you plan to judge my worth by my looks as others have before you.” She felt so much disappointment.
“No, not at all. I’m off my balance, I suppose. I had thought we would be more even, I think. That you would not be so stunning, that we might look like we went together well,” Alec said.
“We might if you would stop this foolishness about my face. Honestly, it is as insulting as if you’d found me too ugly instead. I must say it’s rather flighty of you, though I’m the one often accused of that fault.”
“I’ll grow accustomed to it, I suppose. It may take a few weeks,” he said awkwardly. Alec was not sure how he was being such a poor communicator, but he knew his words were not sitting well.
“Your sister wrote to me twice. If she had not warned me that you are a good and strong man but sometimes terrible with words, I would stomp off from you right now and get a ticket home. So you’ve that to thank her for—she warned me. I didn’t think you’d fumble quite so badly, though.
“We were doing so well, and then you had to bring up my looks. Though in my very limited experience, men never do leave well enough alone. I told you myself when I wrote that my looks were a nuisance, attracting all the wrong sort of attention. Jealousy from girls and distressing stares and even remarks from boys who act too juvenile and ill-bred to be off their mothers’ apron strings is what I had hoped to leave behind. I expected better from you, Alec Walsh. The man I wrote to, why he was frank but clever and sweet. I’d like him back in the morning if you can find him.” With that, she went up the stairs and shut the bedroom door behind her in a huff. She wondered if this was the beginning of the end.