Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “It’s happened again,” he murmured as he once again looked down at the timepiece.

  Snapping the watch closed and returning it to the pocket of his embroidered blue satin waistcoat, which had been specially ordered for this occasion, he resolutely walked toward Maura’s room and rapped loudly on the door. Several minutes had passed when, just as he raised his hand to knock once again, the door swung open.

  Maura stood before him in the same dress she had been wearing when they had parted company last evening. It appeared wet in places and stained in others; her hair was damp, and the waves from the night before were straight and unkempt. Dark circles under her eyes made them appear sunken into her head, and her limp as she walked away from him seemed even more exaggerated than he remembered.

  “Come in and close the door if you care to stay,” she said, not looking back to see if he’d entered or not.

  “Would you care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, slamming the door.

  His answer came from the adjoining room—the lusty cry of a newborn who had struggled into the world only minutes before.

  “I’ve been acting as Georgette’s midwife all night. Ob-viously, I’ll not be ready for a wedding at eleven o’clock,” she stated, confirming the obvious.

  “You mean we’re going to be held up until tomorrow? I don’t even know if the preacher is available then. How long will it take you to get ready? I can go and see if he’ll wait another hour. Can you be ready by noon?” he asked, his questions fired in rapid succession.

  Maura walked back and stood directly in front of him. “Luther, I just told you that I’ve been up all night. Look at me. Do I look like I can be ready for a wedding in less than an hour? As soon as things quiet down, I plan to clean up and then get some much-needed rest. So if you’re determined to get married today, you’ll have to find another bride,” she answered, for the first time looking directly into his eyes.

  “Well, can you give me some idea when you’ll be able to find time to attend the wedding?” he inquired, running his hand through his thick brown hair while meeting her gaze.

  “I’d prefer to wait for at least two weeks,” she calmly replied.

  “Two weeks!” he shouted. His protest was quickly followed by the robust cries of the infant.

  “Would you please refrain from shouting and slamming doors? I’m sure that Georgette would appreciate it, and I know I certainly would,” she said, annoyed that he had wakened the baby.

  “My humble apologies, Miss Thorenson. It would be nice if you’d remember who is paying for these rooms. It isn’t Miss Blackburn or her newborn. It would also be appreciated if you would remember just why you came to California!”

  “I know who is paying the hotel bill, and I know why I came to California. How could I forget? But you see, Mr. Buchanan, I would be failing miserably if I were to leave this girl alone with a newborn. She has no one. Who will help her? To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll be able to force myself to leave her in two weeks,” she continued.

  Luther fell into the large wing chair that had threatened to swallow Georgette only the night before. In contrast, he seemed to dwarf the overstuffed piece of furniture as he folded his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “It seems as though we’re once again going to be forced to make some difficult decisions,” he commented.

  “Obviously your idea of joint decision-making is different than mine. As I recall, there weren’t any real choices to be made.”

  “Well, in that case, why don’t you go first? Tell me your plan for resolving this situation. Believe me, I’d love to hear your solution.”

  Maura hadn’t expected him to turn the tables, but now she was confronted with presenting a workable arrangement when her mind was barely functioning from lack of sleep. She seated herself across from him on the brocade settee.

  “Why can’t you just wait for several weeks before we leave for Placerville?” she asked, unable to offer anything further at the moment.

  “Why? I’ll tell you why. I own a store in Placerville that is being operated by a man who is more interested in returning to the gold fields than taking care of my business. When I left, I was sorely in need of supplies, and I’ve already been gone three weeks what with my travel time and waiting for the supplies and your ship to arrive. I was expecting to be back before now, and you want me to remain here several more weeks? Time is money! I have a schedule to keep. For some insane reason, I thought having a wife was going to help me run my store more efficiently. If I listen to you, I won’t have a business left to run!”

  “Is that what I’m to be, then? Someone to act as your hired help in the mercantile?” she challenged.

  “Let’s not even get into that,” he replied angrily. “We’re supposed to be looking for a solution, not finding additional problems to argue over. If you have any other ideas, this is your chance to air them, because it is out of the question for us to remain here,” he said, giving her one more opportunity to solve the matter.

  “If the preacher is available to marry us tomorrow, we can leave shortly after the ceremony. Before we depart, you’ll need to make a bed in the back of the wagon for Georgette and the baby,” she answered.

  “What?” he bellowed, jumping from the chair. “You think I should take that woman and her baby with us to Placerville? Are you planning on them living with us, too? I can’t believe this,” he continued ranting as he paced back and forth in the small sitting room.

  “You want to return immediately, and I can’t leave her here alone. It’s going to be difficult for her to make the trip so soon after the baby’s birth, but I think she’ll agree.”

  “You think she’ll agree? You think she’ll agree? Well, of course she’ll agree. Why shouldn’t she? All of a sudden she has an instant family to take care of her. If it isn’t being too inquisitive, might I ask just what this woman had in mind when she set sail for California in her condition? Or is she totally mindless?”

  “Keep your voice down. She doesn’t need to hear your caustic remarks; it’s quite enough that I must tolerate them. She’s young and made a mistake. Her family disowned her, and her father’s final gift to her was passage on the Edward Everett with the admonition never to contact the family again. Someone told her that men greatly outnumbered women in California, so I suppose her plan was that she would find a husband after the baby was born.”

  “If, and I’m just saying if, I agree to take her with us, what then? Do you plan on her living with us? Because I’ll not agree to that,” he weakly replied.

  He knows I can’t agree to that, Maura thought. I can see it in his eyes. Aloud she gave him the answer she knew he expected. “She’ll have to stay until she’s able to make other arrangements.”

  He slowly shook his head. “Maura, you know I’ve got to return and I’m bound to my pledge to marry you. I’ll take them with us and they can stay for two months. If she has any money, I expect her to pay for her board. I want your promise that at the end of two months, Miss Blackburn and her child will move from our home—with no excuses, no extensions, and no argument from you. Do we have a deal?”

  Maura thought for only a moment. “You have my word. After you’ve talked with the preacher, let me know when I’m to be prepared for the marriage ceremony. I’ll be on time,” she added.

  “I’ll not come back until dinner time so that you can rest. Hopefully, I’ll have finalized the arrangements by then,” he replied, once again removing his pocket watch, checking the time, and returning it to his waistcoat.

  Once he’d left, Maura leaned against the closed door, unable to believe that he had agreed to her terms but too tired to delight in the victory. She tiptoed into the bedroom, where Georgette and the baby were sleeping. Quietly she poured water into the china washbowl and bathed herself and, even though it was past noon, slipped into a soft cotton nightgown.

  Several hours later, the baby’s vigorous cries and Georgette’s voice
pulled her out of a deep sleep.

  “What time is it?” she called out from the sitting room, her back aching from sleeping on the small settee.

  “I don’t know,” Georgette called back, “but I’m getting terribly hungry. Is there anything here to eat?”

  “No, but I’ll get you something as soon as I get dressed,” Maura assured her as she walked into the bedroom.

  Certain that it must be close to five o’clock, she pulled a pale blue silk dress with navy piping and a lace collar from her trunk. Moving quickly, she brushed her hair and pulled it into a chignon at the back of her head. Somewhere in her trunk were blue ribbons that matched the dress, but in her haste she was unable to find them. Giving up, she pulled out her silk bonnet just as a knock sounded at the door.

  Luther greeted her while holding a covered plate of food and pot of steaming tea he had carried over from the restaurant. “I thought Miss Blackburn would be hungry,” he stated, extending the plate toward her as he walked in the door.

  “Thank you, Luther. I know Georgette will be most appreciative,” she said, caught off guard by his thoughtful gesture.

  “I just didn’t want you rushing me through dinner so that you could get her meal back here. I knew that was what would happen,” he replied.

  Now, that’s more in his character, Maura thought. What I momentarily mistook for kindness is not kindness at all—merely a continuation of his self-serving attitude.

  She took the platter to Georgette and waited until the new mother was settled with her dinner before returning to the sitting room. Luther was pacing back and forth, obviously irritated at having to wait an extra few minutes. Maura was tempted to tell him that she needed to change the baby’s diaper before they could leave but then thought better of purposefully irritating him.

  The restaurant wasn’t crowded when they arrived, and Maura requested that they be seated near one of the windows.

  “Being able to look outdoors while you’re dining is nice, don’t you think?” she ventured in an attempt to have a civil conversation while they ate dinner.

  “Personally, I don’t like people watching me eat,” he replied.

  “So much for civil conversation,” she murmured under her breath.

  “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you,” he answered.

  “Oh, nothing. Were you able to find the preacher?” she asked, intentionally changing the subject.

  “Yes, and I might add that he wasn’t very happy. Apparently he sat around for several hours waiting on us. He said he’d meet us at the church at eleven o’clock tomorrow and not a minute later. Of course, he expected extra compensation for his inconvenience,” Luther was quick to inform her.

  “Of course,” she answered.

  He waited, but when she said nothing further, he leaned forward in his chair. “You will be ready on time, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Luther, I’ll be ready on time. You will have the wagon prepared for Georgette and the baby, won’t you?” she rebutted.

  “I’ve already seen to it,” he smugly retorted.

  Why is it I allow him to make me so irritable? Maura thought. It seems as though he takes pleasure in making me angry. How can I spend the rest of my life with this cantankerous man?

  “The supplies are already loaded, so we’ll be able to leave shortly after the ceremony. We’ll be taking three wagons,” he said, jolting her back to the present.

  “Three wagons? How can we do that?” she inquired.

  “I’ve hired a couple of men. It’s got nothing to do with you and Miss Blackburn. I always need at least three wagons to get my supplies back to Placerville,” he added.

  “Well, it’s good to know that at least one thing isn’t our fault,” she replied, but then was sorry for not holding her tongue.

  ❧

  Morning arrived all too soon, and Maura carefully prepared herself. She had slipped into her chemise when Georgette offered to lace her corset, explaining that she could easily perform the task without leaving the confines of her bed.

  “You don’t even need this corset. I believe your waist is just as small without it,” Georgette dolefully remarked while looking at her own figure.

  “Don’t worry, Georgette. You’ll be back to a tiny waistline in no time,” Maura replied, beginning to run the brush through her hair.

  “Let me do your hair,” Georgette requested. “I’d like to do something for you after all you’ve done for me,” she continued when Maura didn’t immediately move toward her.

  Maura smiled and handed her the hairbrush. “Let me pull the chair close to the bed so that you can manage.”

  Patiently Georgette fashioned the thick auburn hair into long, plump curls that would accentuate Maura’s coronet headpiece of crystal-beaded flowers and waxed orange blossoms, which held her three-quarter-length veil. “There!” she proudly announced when she had finished. “It looks beautiful.”

  Knowing she dared not be late, Maura checked the time and carefully stepped into the silk wedding gown. Ivory silk lace edged the pleated bertha, and the gusseted bodice formed an exaggerated V-shape just below her waist. The long sleeves were accented with the same ivory lace that surrounded the bertha. The dome-shaped skirt was held in place by whalebone hoops, which were sewn into her petticoats, and her white lisle stockings were embroidered with blond lace. She slipped on a pair of low-heeled ivory shoes decorated with tiny lace bows. She carried a small bouquet fashioned from ribbons, lace, and waxed orange blossoms and leaves that matched her headpiece.

  “Oh, Maura, you look gorgeous. You even thought to make a bouquet before leaving home.”

  “Actually, my mother made it,” she replied while digging deeper into one of her trunks. “I can’t seem to find my handkerchief or netted mitts.”

  “May I help you look?” Georgette inquired.

  “Don’t you dare get out of that bed,” Maura retorted, pulling a silk reticule from the depths of the trunk. “Oh, look—my mitts and handkerchief are inside,” she said, finally feeling a sense of relief.

  She took a fleeting look into the mirror. “This certainly isn’t the wedding I imagined when mother and I were spending hours choosing fabric and lace. But I suppose it really doesn’t matter,” she commented.

  “Of course it matters,” Georgette told her. “You get married only once, and you’re a beautiful bride. I just wish I could be there,” her friend lamented.

  “I may be a bride, but it doesn’t appear I’ll ever be a wife or mother. This whole thing is a mockery, and if I had any sense at all, I’d tell Luther Buchanan that I’m not willing to settle for half a marriage. Please don’t waste your time wishing you could observe this travesty. I’d better leave. Mr. Buchanan is quite a stickler for being on time,” she said, leaning down to place a kiss on the baby girl’s soft cheek.

  “I’ve decided to name her Rachel Rebecca Blackburn. I named her after you and Rachel. I thought we could call her Becca,” Georgette said, her eyes filling with tears. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me. How will I ever repay you?”

  “You named your baby after me, and I’ll have the pleasure of being with the two of you a while longer. How could I ask for anything more? I think that Rachel Rebecca Blackburn is a beautiful name, and I know Rachel would be pleased as punch to have this beautiful child as her namesake. Now, get some rest and enjoy the comfort of that bed while you can. Soon you’ll be riding in a wagon and won’t think I’ve done you such a favor. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” she said, walking toward the door and holding the bouquet in her withered left hand.

  As expected, Luther was pacing back and forth through the foyer when she arrived. He looked up as she approached him at the end of the hallway.

  “You look. . .”

  “I look what?” she asked when he didn’t complete the sentence.

  “Oh, nothing. Hurry or we’ll be late. There’s a carriage outside. I thought we would look odd walking down the street in our wedding att
ire,” he told her, moving toward the front door.

  “My, don’t you make a beautiful bride,” the owner of the hotel said as he held the front door open for the couple.

  “Thank you, sir,” she answered.

  Luther made no comment, but she noticed that his face and neck reddened at the man’s flattering remark. Either he doesn’t think I look nice enough to receive a compliment, or he’s embarrassed since he failed to mention my appearance, Maura thought.

  It was a brief and unremarkable ceremony, each of them pledging to honor and obey the other, followed by the minister pronouncing them man and wife. Maura noticed the prea-cher’s perplexed look when Luther didn’t take advantage of his announcement that he could now “kiss the new bride.”

  Enjoying his apparent embarrassment, Maura couldn’t resist making the situation even more difficult for him.

  “Luther,” she sweetly implored, “didn’t you hear the minister say that you could kiss me?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked from the preacher back toward Luther, hoping he would feel an iota of the humiliation she was bearing due to his oafish attitude.

  “I’m sorry. A kiss—is that what you’re wanting?” he asked, the anger in his eyes directed at his new bride.

  Immediately she knew she’d gone too far and had just opened her mouth to apologize when she felt her body being crushed against his. The fullness of his lips covered hers with a reckless intensity that left her breathless. Leaning into him, she felt a passion rise inside that she had never known existed. Her whole body felt weak, and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. Without thought, she placed her hand around the nape of his neck, pulling his head toward her, never wanting the moment to end.

  Reaching back and removing her hand, Luther shifted away from her. “I believe one kiss was the requirement,” he coldly remarked.

  Maura felt the blood rush to her face and wanted to run from the church—as far away from his cruel remark as her legs would carry her. Seeing me run would really give him cause for laughter, she thought, wishing she could quell the fury and outrage rising inside her.