Stranger's Bride

by Denise Hunter

  ❧

  Before bed that night, Sara studied the verses the reverend had read, as well as the chapters that contained them. The fifth chapter of Romans held special significance for Sara. It spoke of tribulations and how they give rise to patience. It also referred to the “free gift” Sara had received not so long ago. It was encouraging to have her faith reaffirmed through the Scriptures.

  That week she and Hetty spoke often about those verses. Hetty was a seasoned Christian and had a wisdom that Sara prayed for. She didn’t confide in Hetty about Nathan and Mara, for she didn’t think it was her place to confess Nathan’s indiscretions. She did, however, spend much time in prayer, asking God to guide her and help her endure the pain of betrayal.

  Her anguish didn’t vanish, but through God she found hope, and the capacity to forgive Nathan. She was even able to put herself in his place and realize the awful pain he must be suffering. To be in love and have to marry another. It was agonizing to think on this—that her husband felt a deep, abiding love for another. Sometimes it felt as if her heart would rend in two. The love she bore for her husband was not returned, for he had given his heart to someone else.

  The ache was almost too much to bear at times. It was during these moments that she leaned upon the Lord, asking for strength to sustain her. She didn’t allow herself to think about the difficult years that might lay ahead, but instead she merely took one day at a time.

  She tried to maintain her relationship with Nathan that week, not wanting a wall to be erected between them again, but it was impossible to overlook the heavy gloom that had descended upon the house. She was sure Nathan felt it, too, although he didn’t question her, and he continued his nightly pecks. He seemed in every way the loving husband, and if she hadn’t known about Mara, she would consider herself the most blessed woman in the world.

  Inevitably Friday arrived, and Sara woke with a sense of foreboding. She was uneasy all day. Chores were done and meals attended to, but underneath, Sara’s stomach churned with apprehension. When Hetty asked about her distraction, Sara just asked her to pray for Nathan and left it at that.

  It was 4:00 when Sara heard Nathan ride in from the west pasture. She was working in the garden, up to her elbows in dirt. Nathan disappeared into the stable and came out sometime later with their two bays, which he hitched to the wagon. When he was finished, he walked over to the garden.

  Sara ran a sleeve across her dirt-smudged face, realizing she was probably making a bigger mess of it. Her hair was mussed, and wet around her forehead. Long, damp strands had escaped their pins and lay plastered to her face and neck. She sighed, knowing she must look a fright.

  She watched Nathan trek down the long row toward her, stirring up dust as he went.

  “Garden’s coming along real nice.”

  “Yes, it won’t be long now, and we’ll be tasting the ‘fruit of our labor.’ ”

  His eyes twinkled with humor. “And all this time I thought you were growing vegetables.”

  Sara managed a weak smile at his joke.

  “I wanted to let you know I have an errand in town. I might be late for supper, so don’t wait on my account,” he said.

  “Fine, Nathan.” She inspected the leaves of a tomato plant, neatly avoiding his eyes.

  “So. . .I’ll see you shortly after suppertime,” he said as he shifted his weight.

  “All right. Bye now.”

  As he walked away, she wondered if she had imagined the guilt in his voice.

  ❧

  The wagon jolted as a wheel hit a rut on the dry dirt road. Nathan pulled the rig to a stop in front of the Lawtons’ house. It was a massive two-story structure on the edge of town. Mr. Lawton owned the new carriage works shop, which, from all appearances, was doing quite well.

  He vaulted down and inspected his rear wheels. Sure enough, there was a cracked spoke.

  Mr. Lawton came out onto the porch just then and ex-tended a hand to Nathan. “Evening, Nathan. How are you?”

  “Evening, sir. Well, I’m fine, but I’m afraid my wagon isn’t. I hit a rut and cracked a spoke.”

  “Lucky for you, I own the carriage works! I’ll have William take it over there when he gets home.”

  Mr. Lawton was a proud man, and Nathan knew he looked upon this as returning a favor for Nathan’s help. “That’ll be fine, Mr. Lawton. Do you reckon it’ll take long to fix? Sara’s expecting me shortly after supper.”

  “Well, Frank will have to get the rest of his work done first. Can’t be giving certain customers preferential treatment. Bad for business, you know!”

  Mara, who was playing the piano in the front room, stopped to greet Nathan as they passed. She would have gone on and on, but Mr. Lawton cut her short, saying they had work to do. He guided them up the stairs and showed Nathan the room where the water closet was to be.

  “Here’s the supplies I ordered,” Mr. Lawton said. “Finest available. Letitia can’t wait to get this installed. Been pestering me about it for weeks.”

  Nathan took stock of the supplies. Everything seemed to be there. When he’d offered to help with the task, he hadn’t realized they were thinking of the second story. He’d helped Pop install theirs, but it was on the ground floor. This would take more time that he’d allotted, but since his wagon needed repairs, he had nothing else to do. He had offered to help Mr. Lawton in a Christian effort to befriend him. He and his wife hadn’t attended church since they’d moved to town some months back, and Nathan was hoping a show of friendship would make them feel more welcome.

  He was almost half finished when William came in. Mr. Lawton, who had spent more time watching Nathan than helping, addressed him. “William, I need you to run an errand.”

  “Aw, Father, I just got home!”

  “Now, none of that! I need you to take Mr. McClain’s wagon over to the shop. Tell Frank to get to it when he can, but it needs to be finished tonight.”

  “All right.” He shuffled away, displeasure evident even in his walk.

  Mara peeked around the corner. “How’s it coming, Father?”

  “Just fine, princess! Your music sounds lovely on that piano. I could listen to you play all day! Isn’t she talented, Nathan?”

  “Oh, yeah, you play real fine, Mara.”

  Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “That’s such a sweet thing to say, Nathan. I’d love to play for you all night, but I’m afraid Mrs. Franklin is expecting me soon. She wants my advice on some gowns she’s having made.”

  “You certainly have an aptitude for that sort of thing. Do have mercy with Mr. Franklin’s wallet, though! The last gowns you had made set me back a fortune!” Mr. Lawton said.

  They talked awhile longer. Nathan continued to work, hoping Mara would forget about him, but she continued to draw him into the conversation.

  William returned with bad news. “Frank says it’ll be a while before he can get to Mr. McClain’s wheel. Says he’ll have it done by midnight.”

  “All right, son.”

  William sauntered off, and Nathan addressed Mr. Lawton. “I’m not sure what to do. Sara will be expecting me shortly, and I don’t want her to worry.”

  Mara cut in with enthusiasm. “I’ll drop by and let her know! Mrs. Franklin lives out that direction. Why, it’s practically right on the way!”

  Nathan was skeptical about this plan, for he didn’t think Sara would want Mara dropping by for any reason. Mara must have noticed his hesitation.

  “I insist! It won’t be any trouble at all!”

  “All right, then. Thank you.” At least Sara wouldn’t worry.

  Mara flew out the door, her petticoats swishing behind her. Mr. Lawton laughed and boasted about his generous daughter.

  At last the water closet was finished, and Mrs. Lawton insisted he stay for a late supper. They ate on fine china around a smooth, varnished table. He hadn’t spent
much time with Mrs. Lawton, but that night he saw many similarities between mother and daughter.

  Wanting to be gone by the time Mara returned, he said his good-byes and walked out into the warm, humid air. He was tempted to walk home, but he had left his rifle at the house and didn’t want to be supper for a hungry wildcat.

  It was going on 8:00, too late to call on neighbors. But then he remembered that Reverend Hill was a night owl, and Nathan knew he would be welcome there. So he set off with new purpose to the little cottage on the other end of town.

  ❧

  Sara glanced at the mantle clock for the fifth time in ten minutes. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but it seemed much later. Never had time dragged so slowly!

  Her feet were folded under her as she sat on the settee, working halfheartedly on her needlepoint. She’d taken a bath after supper—as much to pass the time as to remove the garden grime—and now she sat in her pristine white nightgown, long damp curls cascading down her back.

  Nathan is with Mara right now. She struggled to think of something else, but her mind kept returning to this crushing reality. She wondered where they were, what they were doing at that moment. Her eyes burned as her imagination ran rampant. She wasn’t completely naive about the ways between a man and woman. True, her knowledge was vague and untried, but she knew the stirrings she’d felt when Nathan had kissed her. The very thought of him causing another woman to feel that way. . . ! There was a burning in her stomach, like fiery coals.

  She set aside the material and lay down on the cushion, as tears rolled down her face and soaked into the soft fabric. She remained there, curled up in a ball, until sleep came, like oblivion, finally delivering her from her cruel thoughts.

  The striking of the clock startled Sara awake. She was disoriented at first, unaccustomed to waking up on the settee.

  Then she remembered.

  Turning up the lamp, she peered at the clock as it delivered its final stroke. Twelve o’clock.

  Sara’s heart dropped. He was not yet home. The terrible fluttering in her stomach grew worse and she feared she would vomit. If only that were all it would take to stop the wrenching pain in her heart.

  Nathan. She knew he didn’t love her, but he seemed to care for her a little. Didn’t he know she’d worry when he didn’t come home? Questions filled her mind until they overflowed. Pointless questions, for there were no answers.

  This could not go on. She couldn’t continue in this manner—loving him—while he unknowingly flayed her soul.

  She stood up and paced the floor with nervous energy. She had to confront him, tell him she knew everything. Confess her love for him. It would be painful to admit her feelings when she knew they were not returned, but it couldn’t be worse than this torture she was enduring tonight.

  She dried her face with the sleeve of her gown. She would just be honest with him. He couldn’t get angry at her for that. And if she lost him? She didn’t know she hadn’t lost him already. Another woman held his heart, and wasn’t that the part she desired above all?

  Oh, Father, if You could just cause Nathan to love me!

  She stopped in front of the fireplace and stared beyond the hearth into the cold grate. There was a scattering of dead ashes there, but neatly stacked above them was a pile of freshly cut logs, waiting to be ignited.

  A thought took root in her mind, and she seized onto it.

  God, if You would just send a spark into Nathan’s heart and fan it to flame, so that his love would burn for me, as mine does for him!

  The familiar clattering of a wagon drew her eyes to the door. She stood there in the middle of the room, fixed, waiting for him to enter. On the outside she was unmoving, but everything within her trembled with dread. She wondered if he would be mussed up from a passionate embrace, and if he would look guilty when he found that she had waited up for him.

  Her eyes teared up, but she locked her jaw, determined to see this through to the end.

  She heard the doorknob as it turned and saw Nathan’s form as he stepped quietly inside and shut the door. He turned and was removing his hat when he saw her.

  “Sara!”

  The room was dim, with only one lamp lit, but she saw him coming closer.

  “What are you doing up? I didn’t. . .”

  He must have seen the tears in her eyes for he stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His voice vibrated with tension, and his eyes searched hers, as if he could extract an explanation from them.

  Sara swallowed, trying to dislodge the giant lump in her throat. “I–I know where you were tonight,” she whispered.

  He looked completely caught off guard. “You know where I was tonight. . . ?”

  “Yes. I know you saw Mara.” A tear escaped and ran a crooked trail down her face.

  “Sara, I did see Mara, but—”

  “Please, Nathan! There’s something I need to say, and I want you to let me finish.”

  “All right. Go ahead.” His brows furrowed, and he looked for all the world like he didn’t know what she was about to say.

  She turned to face the heatless fireplace so that he wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to course down her cheeks. “Mara approached me weeks ago and told me about the two of you. Everything. I’ve known almost all along—about how you asked her to marry you, about her father rejecting your suit, about me being second choice as a wife. . .”

  “Sara! That’s just—”

  “No, Nathan! Let me finish!” She turned to face him, letting him see her anguish. “I know you’ve been seeing her, even after we married,” she whispered. There was no censure in her voice, just raw pain. “The night Mara came here—I was outside when she left. I heard her say she’d see you tonight. I’ve known all along where you were going tonight. I knew all along it was her you loved, and still. . .still I lost my heart to you. When you didn’t come home tonight, I thought my heart would break in two!”

  “Oh, Sara. . .” He took a step closer, but she held up a hand to stop him.

  Her lip quivered, and she bit down to still it. “I made a decision while I waited for you tonight—it’s time I told you how I feel. I love you, Nathan.” She rushed ahead. “I know you don’t feel the same about me, but if you just give it some time, maybe someday you can find it in your heart to love me.” Her eyes pleaded with him, and he closed the distance between them.

  He gently took her face in his hands. “Can I speak now?” he asked.

  She gave a small nod and lost herself in his intense gaze.

  “You don’t have to wait for someday, Sara. I love you now.”

  She tore herself away from his hands. “Don’t torment me, Nathan!”

  “Look at me, Sara!” It was a command she obeyed. “Everything Mara said—it was a lie! I’ll admit she was smitten with me when her family moved here. She was very forward, letting me know she was interested. But I wasn’t. I never courted her, or met with her—much less fell in love with her!”

  “But tonight. . . What about tonight?”

  “Oh, Sara. Tonight I installed a water closet at the Lawtons’ house! When you heard her say she’d see me Friday, she was just talking about that. I promised her father months ago that I’d help him.”

  “You were so late!”

  “One of the wagon wheels got a crack in it, and I had to wait until it was fixed. I take it Mara didn’t come by and tell you?”

  “Mara?”

  “Yes. When I realized I would be delayed, I didn’t want you to worry. Mara offered to stop by and let you know. Some help she was!” he scoffed. “While I waited for the wagon to be repaired, I visited with Reverend Hill, never knowing you were worrying! I’m sorry, Sara, I should’ve known what Mara was up to.”

  “No, Nathan. It’s I who am sorry. I should have had more trust in you. . .”

  “None of that matters
right now. All that matters is that I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  Nathan gathered her tiny frame close for a kiss before sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her up the stairs to his room.

  epilogue

  October 1887

  The walk to town had been more tiring than ever before. In fact, everything seemed to be more tiring lately. Naps in the afternoon had become a habit, and Sara was sure Hetty must suspect what Sara herself was convinced she knew.

  The cool autumn air was a welcome change, even though Sara dreaded the coming winter months. For now, she would enjoy the colorful leaves fluttering to the ground and the crunchy carpet they made.

  As she approached the house, she saw Nathan disappearing into the stable. Her stop at the post office had yielded a rare letter—to Nathan, from a Mr. VanCleeves. She knew he’d want to open it right away, so she headed to the stable where Nathan stood in the doorway.

  “’Afternoon, Sara,” he said with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Hello! You got a letter!” She extended her arm to-ward him.

  “Hmm. . .wonder what this could—Mr. VanCleeves. . .”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s the attorney I told you about—the one who drew up my father’s will.” He removed his worn work gloves and opened the envelope. “I wonder what he could want.”

  Sara watched as Nathan unfolded the pages and began reading. Suddenly he tore away the top page and looked in shock at the one beneath it.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “It—it’s a letter from my father.” He gave her the top page, and she read it.

  Dear Mr. McClain,

  As per your father’s wishes, I am sending this letter on to you six months following your marriage. He wrote it at the same time that he hired me to draw up his will. I hope this letter finds you and your new wife faring well.