A Mail Order Bride for the Miner: Sarah & Hank (Love by Mail 2)

by Christina Ward

  “I’m sorry,” she said, still on the ground. “I – I’m afraid of – of fire.” She ran a hand down her scars. “I never told you how I got these.”

  Hank sighed and went down on one knee in front of her. She noticed he placed the lantern to the side, away from her.

  “I’m so sorry I deceived you,” she insisted through tears. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again after this. What good is a wife who can’t cook, who can’t manage a home… I’ll tell the pastor right now–”

  “Sarah,” he repeated as he gently grabbed her face with his hand. He titled her chin towards him. “I – I have something t-to tell you.”

  She pursed her mouth. Her heart was about to be broken. Here it comes.

  “I’m not- not a-angry. In fact, I’ve – I’ve always ad - admired you - your courage.”

  She teared up again. Hank was so kind. He must have been so disappointed, yet he didn’t want to upset her. But she sensed the anger boiling inside him. He was so angry that he couldn’t even speak properly.

  “It’s all right, I understand.” She sniffled and gave him a small smile. It felt like lifting a ton of rocks. “I – I should’ve known, when you didn’t speak to me…”

  “No!” Hank grabbed her hand with both of his. “I – I didn’t s-speak with y-you b- because–“

  He gritted his teeth and squeezed her hand again. Was he angry at himself for having chosen the wrong bride?

  “–b-because I… I didn’t w-want you to know this.” His face turned red.

  “You didn’t want me to know…?”

  “Th-this.” He sat down beside her, shoulders slumped, and waved his arms pointing at his face. “M-my – my condition.”

  She raised a brow and inched closer.

  “My thut – my s-stutter. My lithp. Urgh.” He clenched his fist. “My lisp.”

  Sarah raised her brows and opened her eyes wide open.

  He took a deep breath. “I – I had it when I was a child, b-but my father taught me to c-control it. It – it was difficult, so I barely spoke.” He took her hand. “S-single words are e-easier. I didn’t mean – I didn’t want you to know – I wath – I was afraid you’d leave if – if you found out.”

  Praise God for this blessing! Hank hadn’t been disappointed in her. But straight away she felt bad for rejoicing at Hank’s problem. Sarah opened her mouth to say something, when a huge gust of wind lifted Sarah’s bonnet clean off her hair. At the last second Hank snatched it from the breezy thief.

  “We b-better g-get inside.” He helped her to her feet and they trudged back to the house.

  She feared facing the candles again, but the house was all dark when they reached it. Hank or his sister must have put out the lights. At that moment Sarah realized Betsy must heard her screams too and she blushed anew. How would she face Betsy tomorrow?

  Hank entered the house first and placed the lantern on the table right next to a kerosene lamp. Sarah took a deep breath and found a spot on the ceiling to focus on.

  “I’ve…” Hank turned to her. “Well, my s-sisters had prepared a room for – for you.”

  Sarah gulped. She wondered if she should’ve said something about separate rooms, or separate beds even, but she didn’t want to be presumptuous.

  Hank grabbed her hand, but he didn’t lead her upstairs. Instead, he led her to one of the two rooms just a few steps from the front door. He let her through into a spacious bedroom. The house was bigger than it seemed from the outside.

  “This w-was my parents’ r-room.”

  He stood next to the big bed and let her take in the insides illuminated by the lantern. There wasn’t much there in terms of other furniture. Sarah thought about Hank’s Ma spending her last days there, and he must have realized that too, as Hank quickly added “the mattress – is new. Betsy picked the blankets.”

  “Grand,” Sarah muttered a bit overwhelmed by the day’s events.

  “Do you – want me to…?” Hank placed the lantern on a low table in the right corner of the room.

  Sarah immediately took in a huge gasp of breath. “I – I can manage without it.”

  “Are – are you sure?”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ve learned how.” And I’ve learned how to hide that from other people. But she did not say that out loud. Instead Sarah drew the curtains aside. “There, see. There’s plenty of moonlight.”

  Hank smiled and took the lantern. “I’ll be in – in the next room.”

  Sarah smiled back, as Hank closed the door behind him. She closed her eyes and a teardrop rolled down her cheeks. She went down on her knees beside the bed for a prayer of thanks. She was truly blessed not only to find a husband, but one so understanding as Hank.

  * * *

  She wiped the window… for the fourth time. The crystal clear glass let in the afternoon sun. The furniture shined, no sparkled, in the light and so did the floor.

  She looked out the window taking in the view of farmlands down the hill. She should be cooking dinner, but so far she’d done everything except get near the stove. Betsy helped her the first few days while she was still around. Once she travelled back home the leftovers lasted another day. Sarah glanced at the matches taunting her on the kitchen counter.

  Time to face my fear. She sighed and took a step closer when a knock on the door stopped her in her tracks. Must be a sign, she thought and went to greet whoever was knocking.

  Sarah barely cracked the door open when Claire bolted in to give her a big hug. They have grown fond of each other quickly.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Finally getting some peace and quiet,” Sarah joked. “Come in, come in. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Oh, no, don’t worry about me,” Claire began, “I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

  Sarah couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.

  “Not so good, I take it, then?” Claire said with a raised brow.

  Immediately, Sarah shook her head. “No, I mean, yes. I – I’m fine. I was just cleaning the house and getting ready to prepare dinner. Would you like something to eat? To drink?”

  “Oh, a hot cocoa would be fine.”

  Sarah nodded stiffly and turned on her heels, heart hammering in her chest. She dashed to the kitchen and stared long and hard at the stove. How was she going to do this? Just light the fire… Just light it…

  “Everythin’ all right here?”

  Sarah turned. Claire was behind her. “I, uh, I was just…”

  Claire touched her shoulder. “You look worried. Is there something wrong?”

  Sarah looked at her, then at the empty pot standing on dry wood. She touched her scars. “These scars… They’re from a fire. I almost died…”

  “Oh, Lord almighty,” Claire gasped and hugged her.

  Sarah’s face reddened. “Hank knows, but I don’t know how I can be a wife – cook for him and –”

  “Then it must be God’s will that I’m here!” Claire declared.

  Sarah’s face brightened. “Maybe you are right. I was praying just a moment ago for help with my fears!”

  “Bless your heart, dear. Then it’s settled!” Claire said rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll help you get the fire started and we can pray together for you to get stronger. With God’s help you’ll surely be cooking yourself in no time!”

  “Thank you, Claire.” Sarah was nearly in tears. Everyone in town was so nice to her. She couldn’t believe her luck.

  Together they chopped the vegetables and seasoned the meat. Once all was ready Claire grabbed the matches. She looked at Sarah. “Ready?”

  Sarah nodded and stepped back a little bit. “Lord, give me strength,” she whispered. She was determined to keep her eyes on the little stick.

  The flames came alive and Sarah gasped. Despite her best intent she took several steps backward and struggled to keep a sob from erupting. She averted her gaze from the fire.

  “It’s all right,” Claire sa
id, and rubbed Sarah’s back once the fire was set under the pot. “We’ll get there eventually.”

  Sarah nodded mutely, not daring to look over Claire’s shoulder at the fire. She walked swiftly to the living room and all but flung herself on a chair. Here she was, lady of the house, letting the pastor’s sister cook for them – without pay! Maybe she should offer Claire something in return for her help.

  Sarah hid her face behind her hands. Hank might’ve been accepting, but how long will his patience last, when the rest of the town learns that his wife can’t even do her job? She gripped the front of her blouse and began, “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear…” A moment later she heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and Claire joined in the prayer.

  Chapter 6

  Hank stopped just outside the door of his house and took in the warm, spicy scent lingering in the air. It left a slightly tangy taste in his mouth. Hank couldn’t guess what the devil was cooking in his house.

  He thumped loudly on the door.

  "Coming!" his wife called from inside. His wife. Hank smiled to himself; he still wasn’t quite used to the fact he was now married.

  Sarah opened the door and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home.” She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled him inside.

  He followed eager to try the food that left such an intriguing scent in the air. Though after a day at the mines he could eat just about anything.

  Hank was about to place his hat and tools on the hallway floor, when he noticed the trail of grime and dust he led inside.

  "Oh ya big lug," he muttered under his breath.

  But Sarah must have heard it as she followed his gaze and then looked back at Hank.

  "Oh don’t worry, that’s all right. It’s just dust." She waved her hand dismissively at the footprints.

  "After all the t-trouble you - you went to..." Hank rubbed his face. "Sorry. I was - I shoulda placed the t-tools in the shed first. I - I forgot."

  "No, really, it’s all right. You can put your tools on the floor or wherever they usually live."

  He studied the big smile on her face. Sarah didn’t look upset, but maybe she was hiding her annoyance or disappointment with him. Land sakes! Did his Pa have such a hard time with Ma when they got married? He put down his sack on the floor next to the tools.

  "There’s a basin of water near the kitchen. You can wash your hands there. Gumbo’ll be ready.”

  “Gumbo?” and she was cooking, too…

  “Claire helped me,” she said and then quickly added. “But I told her what goes in the pot.”

  Hank went to the basin and washed his hands, neck, and face. In the corner of his eye he watched Sarah moving from the kitchen to the dining table and back. When she stood close to pick a few plates from the cupboard he caught a whiff of jasmine. She smelled so nice…

  He glanced up and caught his own reflection in the well polished silver platter. His hands were clean but his clothes were in a right state! He looked down at the plaid shirt stained with sweat and grime. A whiff of his armpit made his nose wrinkle. On his way to the table he took it off leaving just the dark undershirt.

  Sarah waiting for him patiently at the set table ready to say Grace as they always did before the meal. Hank eyed the small pot of thick soup in the middle as Sarah gave him a small bowl and poured some in.

  “Smells delicious!” He inhaled the strong scent before placing the bowl before him.

  “My family used to have this every fall.” Sarah said down with her own portion. “It’s called gumbo. It’s made of some pork, celery, bell peppers –"

  “Sounds like you worked hard on this.”

  Sarah blushed. “I had a lot of help from Claire.”

  “Claire?”

  “Yes, she came to visit. I tried to set the fire…” Sarah paused and went quiet for a moment, but continued before Hank could get a word in. “I couldn’t do it Hank. But Claire, bless her soul, was there, so she lit the fire and we cooked together.”

  She put on a smile, but her eyes were dark. But you’re so brave, don’t you see? he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her a lot of things, but he didn’t want to trip on his own tongue and make dinner awkward. So instead he just held her hand and squeezed it gently.

  “It’s a-alright. Will you say Grace?”

  They bowed their heads together and she thanked the Lord for the food and the help she received. Thank goodness he wasn’t the one to say the word, as he wasn’t sure his grumbling stomach could wait any longer.

  "I love it," Hank said half of his bowl already gone. The thick, hot, spicy, and sweet meal went down a treat. He’d never had anything like it.

  “Thank you.” She said, but he could see there was something else on her mind as her eyes wondered out the window.

  “What is it Sarah?”

  "Uh," Sarah began, "Hank, I was wondering... Back home, I had a job - I was a physician’s assistant. I helped the town doctor."

  Hank nodded and took another sip of his soup.

  She stirred her soup and took small bites of the meat. "I was thinking about asking the town physician for a job."

  Hank raised a brow. "Why?”

  Sarah blinked at him. "Why? I - I want to help. I mean, I’d like to do something with my time."

  Hank furrowed both his brows. His Ma had never worked outside the home. She cooked, fed the chickens, grew vegetables in their backyard, made all their clothes, and raised the children. Why did Sarah need to work? Did he not earn enough to provide for them both? Sure Sarah wasn’t his Ma, but...

  "I – I d-don’t know."

  Sarah continued to look at him as if waiting to hear more. This marriage business sure was harder than mining for gold. Was he supposed to say something else? He didn’t want to outright say ‘no’. He was lucky to have such a pretty and smart wife who could read and write and cook. But work? What would the townsfolk say? He didn’t know what to say, as to not offend his wife, so he just focused on his meal and finished the gumbo.

  He was about to get up from his seat when the lantern dimmed out.

  Hank let out a loud sigh. "Needa ch-change the kerosene."

  He expected some response, but Sarah stayed silent. He could make out her still as stone silhouette against the moonlight shining through the windows.

  Hank shuffled over to the kitchen and felt around for a thick candle and a matchbox. He found the later, but the candles were gone from their usual place.

  “S-sarah, where did you p-put the candles?” he called out to her.

  “They’re in the other cupboard.” Her voice was right behind him.

  “W-what –” he said surprised she came over.

  “I want to help. What use am I otherwise?” She sounded scared, but also quite determined. He heard the cupboard door squeak open and the close. “Here.”

  Her hand shook but she held a candle in her outstretched arm.

  “You – you don’t have t-to look at it,” he said. She nodded and looked away.

  Hank lit the candle. “Now we just - just need a h-holder.” He looked around the kitchen illuminated by the flickering flame. Where was that unused tin cup?

  Suddenly he heard a gasp behind him and the light went out.

  “Wh-what happened?” He turned around. “Are you – are you all r-right?”

  “Sorry,” Sarah said, “The wax melted onto my hand, I looked and saw the flame and I – I dropped it.”

  Hank sighed and crouched down. “N-no problem.” Except now he had to feel around for the candle in the dark.

  “I’m so sorry.” He heard Sarah’s skirt ruffle as she shuffled around. “Here, I – I think I found it.”

  “Good.” He took the candle from her and placed it in the tin cup.

  “D’you need any help?” she asked.

  He shook his head, then remembered she wouldn’t be able to see it.

  “No, it’s f-fine.” He lit the candle and took it to the table. Sarah followed behind him.

/>   “A-are you – all right?”

  She nodded and smiled briefly. “I’m fine.”

  Actually, she looked like death warmed over. Hank worried about his wife, if she couldn’t even hold a candle, how hard must it be for her to run a house. It pained him to watch her in such a frail state. He wished he could give her strength somehow. All he could remember is how he overcame fear when things went bad or accidents happened at the mines,

  “M-maybe we – we should pray.”

  Sarah nodded slowly. Hank gripped her hand and bowed his head. “F-for we are thaved – saved by h-hope, but hope that is – seen is n-not hope.”

  “For what a man seeth for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?” Sarah continued.

  And together, “But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.”

  Sarah took a deep breath. Hank felt the warmth on their joined hands.

  “I’ll – I’ll clean up.” Sarah let go of him quickly and went to the table, leaving Hank with the memory of the warm hands previously in his grasp.

  * * *

  Hank stood by Sarah and smiled and nodded at the people passing by through the large church door. He let his wife do the talking and he was very much grateful for that.

  “See ya, Hannah.” Sarah waved at the young couple leaving the church yard.

  The service was a lively one that day, and it certainly left everyone in high spirits. The wind picked up and Sarah grabbed hold of her bonnet. It was time to go home.

  “You all – all right?” Hank muttered.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled, linked their arms and started walking. “Oh, I think we’ve run out of potatoes and we’ve only got a couple of cabbages left.”

  Hank nodded. “Mr. Dubson sells –”

  “Wonder if they still keep the mirrors in their house.”

  Hank’s head swiveled to the right in an instant. Two young men in tatty clothes hammered at a rocking chair outside their workshop. The brown haired lad grinned at his blonde friend. As soon as Hank glared at them, they quickly went back to their work.

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.