by Vivi Holt
Ramona wondered what she had done to cause him to leave so suddenly.
“Goodnight Ramona. I hope you are feeling better in the morning.”
She smiled up at him. “Good night Michael.”
Ramona sat up in bed for a while, staring at the closed door. She tried to tell herself that she was feeling low because another day had passed and she was still no closer to finding her mother. She lay back against the pillow, her dark hair fanning out across it. Deep down, she knew the truth. As soon as their mission was over, as soon as they found her mother, then she would have no reason to stay in Austin. She’d have no reason to stay with Michael. She’d be returning to New York and would never lay eyes on him again. The thought made her jolt upright in bed.
Ramona sighed and lay back against her pillow again, reaching a hand to pull back the lace curtain. Outside she could see a clear star-filled sky.
For so long I’ve chased my dreams, and they’ve always seemed so far out of reach. As far away as those stars. But what if my dreams — my happiness — could be found elsewhere? Could I be content to live in a small dusty town? Is it possible that Michael still wants me?
***
Michael closed the door to Ramona’s room softly behind him and leaned back against it, his eyes closed. When Ramona had been trampled by the stallion, he was sure she had been killed.
He’d run to her, and held her limp body in his arms. The pain that had filled his gut in that moment made him realize how deep his feelings for her ran.
I’ve got to do something to tempt her to stay here. With me. I’ve got to find a way to tell her how I feel. If she doesn’t feel the same way, at least I will have been honest with her. I can’t do more than that.
Chapter Eleven
Michael
Even though Ramona seemed to be losing interest in their search for her mother, Michael grew more determined with each passing day to find her. He had gotten the idea into his head, that if he could just do this for her, if he could reunite her with her mother, that she would see him for who he was. That maybe she’d see him as the kind of man she might want to marry.
Every evening while they searched, Michael was attentive to her every need. He carried her through any muddy patches on the ground. He always found her a place to sit when she was tired. He told her stories as they rode in the wagon, and guided her gently through the rough streets of Austin. Every day Michael fell harder and harder for Ramona.
If only Ramona could see what I see. We could be so good together. I wish she’d give me a chance to prove that.
Each day Ramona seemed to let down another wall, opening herself up to Michael, and drawing him in at the same time. She told him about the heartache and ostracism she and her mother had endured after her father’s suicide. She spoke about their poverty and her mother’s fight to find a steady job.
“Sometimes we would have one meal between us. That would have to last us three or four days,” she said, as they rested in a park in the center of town. “Even so, Mother never made me give up on my dreams, she always supported me.”
“I’m sorry Ramona. That must have been hard on you.” Michael was quiet for a moment. “And you still want to find your Ma, don’t you? It just seems to me like you’ve almost given up lately.”
Ramona nodded as she bit her bottom lip. “I know now that she most likely doesn’t want to be found, I can’t give up hope just yet. My friend Elizabeth was right. I don’t think she’ll want to come back to New York with me. But I want to find her anyhow. To tell her, to tell her that I love her no matter what.”
Back to New York.
Those words pierced through Michael’s heart. He dropped his head and looked at the green grass beneath him. She has no intention of staying here, no matter the outcome. Tony was right.
Michael felt stunned as the full weight of her words hit him. The disappointment crushed his chest and he sucked in a deep breath.
I’ve been fooling myself. I should have known it from the start. Ramona came here with a mission. And it never included marrying me.
“I just wanted to tell you Michael, that I’m so grateful you haven’t given up on me or on Mother yet.”
“Of course.” He stared at the ground.
“I see how hard you work, how many hours you put in during the day on the construction site. And then, on top of all that, you take me out searching for Mother after hours.” Ramona’s voice began to break a little. “I don’t even know how to thank you Michael. Gosh, in all my life, no one has shown me the kindness that you have.”
Michael heard the emotion in her voice and he looked up, startled. “Ramona, please, what is the matter?”
Ramona collapsed in tears. “I just feel like we are never going to find her! Oh it all seems so hopeless! And I feel so badly that I have dragged you into this fruitless search.”
“Shhh.” Michael reached over and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him as she wept. “Please don’t give up. I haven’t.”
***
Michael hadn’t given up hope that they would find Maria. But he had given up hope that Ramona would ever want to marry him.
“What did I tell ya?” Tony said the following day as he drove his shovel into the dirt. “I warned ya Michael.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “You were right. I’ll help Ramona find her mother. Then I’ll drive her back to the stagecoach and move on with my life. I won’t try for another Mail Order Bride after this Tony. That ought to make you happy.”
Tony’s face grew a little red. “I’m sorry Michael. I don’t mean to take pleasure from your situation.” He stopped digging. “Though I must say I’m surprised you are still going to help her.” Tony let out a sigh. “You’re a good man Michael. Perhaps I ought to tell you something. I’ve been holding into it in the hopes that Ramona might come around after all and fall for you – heck you’re the best man I know. She’s a fool not to see it.”
Michael stood up straight. “What’s that Tony?”
Tony’s face had flushed a deep red.
“I think I know where Ramona’s mother is.”
“What?” Michael threw his shovel down. “What are you talking about?”
Tony lifted his hands up. “Hey, I don’t know for sure. But, the Italians in town, they tend to stick together. Gossip about each other, you know. Anyway, I heard about this Italian woman who moved here from New York. Married some snooty Professor or something.”
Michael’s face was dark as thunder. “Tony why did you keep this from me?”
Tony looked at the ground and shrugged. “Like I said, I was tryin’ to help you. I thought that if she spent a bit more time with you, she’d fall hard. I’m sorry.”
Michael shook his head. But she is leaving, no matter what. He walked over to his friend and growled, fiercely. “Tony, you tell me where she is! Right now!”
***
“Here,” said Tony, handing the letter to Michael the following day. The sky was threatening and black with skidding clouds. The air about them was heavy, and they both had sweat dripping down the sides of their faces and soaking their shirts. Tony avoided eye contact with Michael, looking everywhere else but his face. Just then, the heavens opened up and fat drops of cold rain pelted down on them, causing the ground beneath their feet to become muddy and slippery within moments.
“I don’t know if you’re going to like what’s in there.”
“What are you talking about Tony?” Michael didn’t seem to notice the rain.
Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. “My Mama,” he whispered. “She knew Maria. Sort of. They ran in the same circles. They weren’t close. She got this letter from her husband.”
Michael looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, she ‘knew’ Maria? What happened to her? Where is she now?”
“Just read the letter Michael.”
Michael unfolded the sheet of paper in his hands. His eyes scanned over the contents. He quickly re-folded it a
nd closed his eyes, shaking his head.
“I can’t tell Ramona this. And you can’t breathe a word of it to her either. You got me? You owe me that much at least!”
Tony nodded. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting Michael’s. “I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
Ramona
Michael avoided Ramona all that evening. He came home from work late, and ate his supper in silence.
“Are we going out tonight?” she asked eagerly.
“No. It’s raining out.”
“Oh.”
I’ve pushed him too hard. Taken his patience and good nature for granted. Of course he’s tired of searching. Tired of helping me. He probably just wants me to leave, so he can get back to his life.
Ramona retreated into herself and sat quietly on a whittled wooden chair, knitting. She wondered what she could do, if anything, to get back into Michael’s good graces. She’d made him supper and a pudding for desert, but he didn’t even acknowledge her effort. Mary and Fred seemed to sense the tension between the two of them, and had disappeared to their room directly after the meal. After cleaning up in the kitchen and knitting for as long as she could stand to, Ramona spent the rest of the evening tiptoeing around and staying out of Michael’s way.
What can I do to show him that I appreciate everything he has done for me?
Ramona looked around and saw Michael’s muddy work clothes. I know — I’ll scrub his boats and clean his trousers and jacket then lay them by the fire to dry. Michael will be surprised when he wakes up tomorrow morning.
It wasn’t long before Michael excused himself for bed, striding out of the room with a scowl on his handsome face. Ramona hastily grabbed his work clothes from the floor where he had left them by the door. Before she put the coat through the ringer she made sure the pockets were empty.
That’s when the note drifted to the floor.
Ramona saw only one thing as she picked up the letter. The signature on the bottom that read, “Art Franklin.”
“Ramona what are you doing?” Michael raced into the room and grabbed the coat from her grasp. Too late, he saw the letter in her trembling hands.
“Ramona, please.”
“You know where my mother is?” Ramona’s eyes flashed as she waved the letter in front of his face. “And you kept it from me? For how long, Michael?”
She took a step backwards, moving away from him, her curls swirling about her shoulders.
“How could you do this to me? You know how tormented I’ve been about it all.” Her voice broke and she sobbed loudly. She stopped, and her eyes widened. “Did you keep this from me because you wanted me to stay? Or do you just not care about me at all?”
“Ramona it’s not like that.”
Michael lifted his hands toward her, reaching for her. But Ramona backed further away.
“Did you think if you just kept lying to me and hid Mother’s location from me that I would stay here with you forever? Did you think that I would give up and marry you? Or were you trying to punish me for hurting you?”
“Ramona please, let me explain. I only got that letter today. Please, you have to believe me.”
Ramona studied Michaels’ face, looking for a sign that he was telling the truth. “I don’t know what to believe. How can I trust you?”
She pressed the letter to her chest, and headed for the door. “Maybe I’m just too naive. Here I was trying to think of ways to repay you for all of your kindnesses to me. I never thought you would stoop to something like this.”
Ramona opened the front door and rushed through it into the stormy night.
Michael ran after her, grabbing her by the arm, the falling rain soaking them both to the bone. “Ramona! Where are you going?”
She tried to shake off his grasp, waving the letter at him. “I’m going to find Art Franklin, and don’t try to stop me!”
“Ramona you can’t.”
“Of course I can! You’ve kept this from me long enough! I’m going right now!” Ramona tried to wriggle free of Michael’s grip on her arm, but he held on too tightly.
“Let me go Michael! You’re hurting me!”
He dropped her arm, both his own hanging helplessly by his sides. The rain ran in rivulets down his face, and his eyes, filled with sadness, found Ramona’s.
“Ramona your mother - she passed away.”
Ramona stopped struggling. All the color drained from her face. Her lips were turning blue from the cold, and her teeth chattered silently. She staggered toward him, and he caught her by one arm.
“No.” Ramona whispered with a shake of her head. “You’re lying again.” Her voice was hoarse. “You just, you’re just trying to keep me from finding her!”
Michael’s face fell. “Ramona, do you really think I would lie about something like that? Don’t you know me at all?”
Ramona dropped to her knees, overcome with emotion.
Michael crouched down beside her, and pulled her into his arms but she pushed him away. Then, she fell in a heap on the muddy ground, her sobs muffled by the thunder of the downpour. Michael pulled her close to him again, lifting her cheek and placing it against his chest. This time she didn’t resist, and nestled in closer still. He laced one hand through her thick hair and rubbed her back gently with the other. Overwhelmed and dazed by the news, Ramona wondered where she would go. She had nothing and no one. She didn’t even have the money to return home. She’d never see her mother again. What would she do?
Chapter Thirteen
Ramona
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Michael said gently.
Ramona took a bold step forward and knocked on Art Franklin’s front door.
God, give me strength.
“I have to,” she whispered. “I need to hear it for myself. I need to know what happened to Mother.”
Michael nodded. “I understand. I’m here with you, if you need me,” Michael whispered.
Ramona nodded. Her hands were laced in front of her as she waited for Mr. Franklin to answer the door. She was expecting a kind man, much like her father had been. Someone warm and sincere, who would have taken care of her mother during her last days.
“Yes?”
The door opened, and a man with thinning hair and a stern face stood on the threshold. He seemed aggravated by their presence, tapping the doorframe with his fingers as though it might hurry them along.
“Hello. My name is Ramona Selmer. And this is a friend of mine, Michael Newhill. My mother was Maria Selmer – I believe you knew her.”
“Oh my!” he peered down at Ramona through squinting eyes. “Well, well. I was married to Maria, yes, but she certainly never mentioned a daughter.”
“Never?”
“No, not once. I assure you. And you are here because?”
“Well, I heard that she died. And I want to find out what happened.” Ramona’s voice trembled as she spoke, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself.
Art sighed. “Would you like some tea?” he asked in a way that made Ramona feel as though the correct answer would be ‘no.’
She nodded her head and followed Art into his sitting room, Michael trailed along behind them. Ramona shot a look at him over her shoulder. She could tell from Michael’s face that he felt uncomfortable in Art’s home with the rows of bookshelves and store-bought furnishings.
I’m so glad he’s here with me. I don’t know if I could bear it alone.
Art fetched a tray with a kettle full of steaming tea and teacups. He served them each a cup of tea, then he grabbed a pipe from a side table, and packed it with tobacco before seating himself on a stuffed brown corduroy chair. Ramona settled into a sunken chair with green and gold upholstery, and Michael stood uncomfortably by the window, looking out onto the street beyond. Art peered down his thin nose at Ramona as he spoke, the freshly packed pipe hanging from between his lips.
“Scarlet fever,” he said simply. “I’m afraid it was nothing more glamorous than th
at.” He cast a disapproving look at Ramona as he spoke. “It took hold of her quickly.” Art stood, and banged the contents of the pipe out onto an ashtray, shaking his head slowly. “Barely worth even getting married. Although I suppose she was desperate. Especially after what that coward of a man did to her.”
Ramona opened her mouth to speak but only a squeak came out. She had to clear her throat and try again.
“And did she - did she leave me anything?”
Ramona sat very still as she waited for the answer.
Art rolled his eyes. “I was wondering when that would come up. Looking for money are you?” He shot Ramona a look of disgust. “No. Nothing. She came here with nothing and she left this world with nothing.” His eyebrows shot up. “I suggest you go back to New York. There’s naught here for you.”
Ramona’s lips began to tremble. Michael was staring at her in distress. “Ramona, let’s just go.”
She stood to her feet and approached Art, who was leaning against the mantle with the empty pipe dangling from his bottom lip.
“I’m not here for your money. I just wanted to know if she left me anything of sentimental value. If only she’d stayed with me, she should never have married you – you didn’t deserve her!” She held her voice steady as she stepped toward Art, her eyes never leaving his. “My father was a kind man, who got himself into some awful trouble. And my mother was a beautiful woman. You should be pleased to have been married to her no matter for how long! And she didn’t leave this world with nothing. I loved her, and that is something!”
Art stepped back, stumbling over a poker beside the fireplace, as Ramona inched forward. But she was finished. She had nothing more to say.
“Ramona was only here to find out what happened to her mother,” Michael said, with a fierceness that Ramona hadn’t heard before. “She wasn’t looking for money. Especially not from you.” He reached for Ramona’s arm, tucking it gently under his own. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Outside, the very last of Ramona’s courage dissolved. She made it around the corner before she collapsed.