The next morning Elena rose at the crack of dawn; slipping into the fabrics of a simple work dress of red and green plaid calico; one whose modest appearance she hoped would not betray the tender yearning that now burned within her.
Soon she ventured out into the fields to work once again by the side of her ever attentive, endlessly talkative companion.
Keeping her head bowed low above a fragrant crop of roses that caught the tint of the sun overhead in its long, lush petals, she avoided both the words and the gaze of the man beside her; one who seemed to have not quite mastered the concept of working in silence.
“So tell me, Miss Elena,” he inquired at one point, his blue eyes searing her with a quizzical stare. “What first spurned your intense interest in growing yellow roses?”
Elena shrugged.
“Well my ma and I did grow these flowers in our garden back home. And she still grows them in a garden that she keeps at a corner of the ranch she runs with my pa,” she revealed, adding as she kept her gaze trained on the robust blossoms before her, “And back when he was courtin’ me, my dear husband Blake brought me fresh bouquets of bright yellow roses with baby’s breath, picked from his own family garden and tied always with a shiny red ribbon. When he proposed to me, he presented me with a single yellow rose as a token of his—of our—love.”
With these words she conjured in her mind a lush mental portrait of her flower bed back home; forcing herself also to conjure a vision of the man with whom she planted and tended these ebullient florals.
“We chose yellow roses as our principle crop, not only because of its potential value to our growing ranch,” she insisted, “but because of its incredible value to us a couple. These flowers really served to symbolize our love.”
With these words she dropped her sharp metallic garden shears to the floor of the flower bed beneath them; covering her face with her hands as she let loose with a telltale sob.
Immediately putting aside his own shiny work tools and taking her gentle into an all-encompassingembrace, a cooing Justin held her closer than close as he ran a soothing hand through her long blonde hair.
“I know how hard it is to let go, baby,” he whispered, adding as he cradled her soft in his arms, “You think that you’ve escaped the pain, and gotten past the loss—and then it all comes back. All of the memories—all of the misery—come flowing back to haunt you.”
Even as she rested her head on his massive muscled shoulder, Elena shook her head back and forth in response to her words.
“It’s not just that, Justin,” she insisted, her voice cracking audibly as she continued, “Last night, as I slept in the bed that you supplied me, I did not dream about my dear departed husband—as I have every solitary night since he left me. Those nights that I could sleep, that is.”
Justin arched his eyebrows.
“So what exactly did you dream about?” he queried, adding in a softer tone, “Or should I say, who?”
He cringed in spite of myself as the woman in his arms broke sharply and suddenly away from him; retreating to a far corner of the rose bed as she shook her head.
“I dreamt of you,” she confessed, voice soft and halting as she continued, “Oh, we did nothing sinful mind you. I at the very least did not abandon the morals and values that my ma raised me to embrace. Yet I did dance with you—and not like two casual friends would engage in a reel at a barn dance, just for laughs and frolic.” She paused here, trembling outright at the memory of her dream. “We—really danced.”
She said these last words on an anguished groan that ripped at her very heart.
And his, apparently.
“Oh Elena,” he released on a whisper, moving forward to place a soft gentle hand on the surface of her trembling shoulder. “Please do not take any shame in the dream that we both shared. I thought and dreamt of nothing but you, from the moment that we parted last night to the instant that we came together this morn. And I could tell by the way that you avoided my eyes this morning, by that sweet adorable blush that colors your lovely cheek, you were thinking of me as well. Dreaming of me, even, just as I dreamed of you.”
“Stop it!” Elena interrupted him, once again breaking their grasp as she raised a firm hand between them. “We were supposed to keep all this nice and professional, remember? I cannot and will not welcome one more complication into my life.” She paused here, kicking the dirt beneath her as she declared with one delicate fist raised high into the air, “I tell you, I will not!”
Showing no surprise and anger in the face of all her drama, Justin instead heaved a weary sigh as he raised a tentative hand to stroke his own forehead; seeming eager to jog and stimulate the thought processes that would help them resolve this complex dilemma.
“Of course I never would force myself on you, or pressure you to do anything you didn’t want to do,” he insisted, raising his hands before him in what seemed a defensive stance. “All the same I must ask you, how long are we going to keep up this charade? When, Elena, will you finally acknowledge the strong, undeniable affection that we have for each other? When will you finally answer the ad that drew you to my home in the first place?”
With these words he walked the length of the garden in brisk, determined strides; stepping in front of his frowning guest as he commanded her attention.
“Elena?” he asked her, taking her hand in his, “Will you be my bride?”
Elena looked at him for a long moment, a slow, loving smile spreading across her face as she considered this fateful question.
Squeezing his fingers tight between hers, his lady friend stared deep into his eyes as her smile spread to shine downright radiant; nodding in seeming agreement with his impulsive but heartfelt proposal.
Then she parted her pearl pink lips and answered, “No, Justin. Absolutely not.”
Stepping back with a sharp defined snort, Justin broke their grasp as his hands instead clasped both sides of his addled head.
“Now I finally understand, my dear, just why you came to my ranch on that ever fateful day,” he deadpanned, adding as he crossed his eyes to near desperate effect, “You came to kill me, didn’t you? To drive me mad with the love that you mean to deny me, and then—when I finally just keel over from the misery of it all—you aim to take possession of my ranch and all of the oil, roses and valuable crops that come with it.” He paused here, adding as he waved a scolding finger straight in her direction, “I am well and onto you, Miss.”
Elena looked at him for another long moment, her wide eyed gaze this time indicating that she questioned his very sanity.
Then she started laughing. Hard.
“I swear it, Justin,” she chortled outright, doubling over as her sides continued to shake with a sharp torrent of released mirth that threatened to overwhelm her. “I never have laughed so hard in all my life, as I do when I’m with you.” She paused here, adding as she graced him with an affectionate smile, “And that is only one of the reasons that I love to spend time with you—and, for that matter, that I would love to spend far more time with you.”
Justin nodded.
“OK then,” he assented, adding as his blue eyes now narrowed in a show of complete and total confusion, “So then you do plan to accept my marriage proposal?”
After pausing for a moment of keen contemplation, one in which she stroked her delicate chin to adorable effect, Elena shook her head fast and brisk in response to this query.
“Nope,” she replied, “Not at this time.”
She grinned in spite of herself as her frustrated host pawed the ground like an angry bull; bowing his head in a show of confused frustration as he plead outright, “Would you stop that—please? You’re driving me mad, Girl!”
Elena chuckled.
“Well as is usual with many members of the male population, Justin, you are not listening to the lady before you,” she chided him, adding in a softer, more serious tone, “I said that I cannotaccept your marriage proposal at this time. And here’s the reason: I
have no earthly desire to be a mail order bride, Justin; or, for that matter, a bride of convenience. I do not want to marry you because I need a man to support me. And I do not want you to marry me just because you feel sorry for me, or perhaps because you need a little help around the ranch. Most of all, I do not want to be some pretty little prize that you order up and show off, like a lovely little filly or a lamb you show at the fair.”
Justin nodded, visibly relaxing as he heard and processed this perfectly logical explanation.
“Well I suppose that makes sense,” he allowed, adding as he made a broad gesture between them, “So how can I convince you that I really and truly want to be with you, Elena? How can I convince you that I want you as my wife and companion? Not as a ranch hand, as an ornament, or as a mail order favor—but as the amazing, wonderful, beautiful woman that you are?”
Elena smiled.
“Well let me tell ya something, Cowboy,” she informed him, adding as she aimed an affirming finger straight in his direction, “Describing me in such glowing terms does quite a bit to set you on the right track to winning my heart. As far as what else you can do?” she paused here, adding as she stroked her chin in a show of mock contemplation, “Well how’s this for a wild idea? Court me!”
Justin grinned.
“Well that, Miss, I would be more than pleased to do. Honored, as a matter of fact,” he told her, adding as he pinned her with a pensive look, “Now you said earlier that, last night, you and I danced our way through your dreams. Well why don’t we make your dream come true? Why don’t I take you to the barn dance being hosted this Friday, at Old McDougall’s Farm?”
*****
Accepting his invitation, if not his proposal (not yet, anyway), Elena delighted the next day as her doting companion took her to a dressmaker; picking out a gown that she would wear to the much anticipated barn dance—refusing to let Justin see the gown before the night of the big event.
On the night of the dance, Elena slipped with quiet delight into the fabrics of this lovely frock; a lush eye catching azure hued concoction of floral print cotton and lace boasting a fine tailored bodice, wide sleeves embossed with lace trim, and a flowing fully made skirt.
Gathering her smooth, soft wheat blonde hair stop her head in a graceful upsweep, she affixed a shiny pearl choker around her neck and some dainty ivory slippers onto her feet; stepping forth into Justin’s sitting room to meet her date for the evening.
And never had she seen anyone more handsome, dressed as he was in a sleek white cotton shirt accentuated by the presence of a sharp black bolo tie and matching wool pants.
For once electing not to wear his signature ivory hat, Justin’s silky ebony hair fell full and free across the surface of his broad muscled shoulders; framing the smiling, handsome face that she’d come to adore.
“Miss, I must say it,” he praised her, adding as he bowed his head reverent before her, “You are beyond beautiful.”
Elena beamed.
“Why thank you,” she told him, adding with a gracious curtsy, “And I must say it. So are you.”
Soon the couple found themselves standing at the center of a massive red barn; yet for once they did venture into the barn to feed horses and livestock, bale hay, or conduct any of the other everyday duties that punctuated their days together.
Now that night had fallen, all the two of them yearned to do was dance in one another’s arms.
Sweeping her up in an all-consuming embrace, Justin swayed his lady across the surface of a curious hay strewn floor; the two linking their arms as they stared deep into one another’s eyes.
“Miss, I am so pleased that you agreed to accompany me this evening,” he told her, adding as he gathered her to him, “You’ve added so much to my life—so much laughter, so much light. I just can’t get enough of our time together, and I hope to spend much more.”
With these words he bent her body backward in a thrilling dip; their beings growing closer as she wrapped her arms tight around his muscled shoulders.
“All I have to say, Justin, is that I don’t feel any of this is a coincidence. We came into one another’s lives at just the right time,” she whispered, adding as she drew him closer, “Before meeting you, I never thought that I would love anyone but Blake. And although I always will adore that man—he was my first love, after all—my heart belongs to you now. I can’t deny it.”
Justin nodded.
“So is it safe to say that you are now ready to take that next big step?” he asked, setting her once again on her feet as he pinned her with an inquiring gaze. “Are you well and prepared to become my wife?”
Gracing him with an ethereal smile, Elena bit her lip as a becoming blush flooded her fair cheeks. Then she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “No.”
She grinned as Justin froze in his place, letting loose with a strangulated moan that seemed to indicate a man in extreme physical pain.
“So my original theory was correct,” he noted, nodding in a show of mock affirmation. “You are trying to kill me. Or, at the very least, cost me my earthly sanity.”
Elena chuckled.
“As I said before, Justin, I wish to be courted,” she asserted, raising a firm finger for emphasis. “And while this dance is certainly a wonderful start, it is just that—a start.” She paused here, adding with a shrug, “The journey down the aisle is so swift—that is why the journey to the aisle must take longer. We both have to be sure, Justin.”
*****
During the next few weeks, Justin went out of his way to make Elena sure; gifting her with lovely bouquets of ebullient, dew glistened golden roses, often intermingled with fresh sprigs of baby’s breath, and also gifted her with tokens of his affection; everything from heart shaped boxes of rich, sweet chocolates to glittery baubles that included shiny pearl bracelets and glowing diamond necklaces.
Although she thanked them profusely for these lovely gifts, showing her gratitude with a rain of sweet kisses and many expressions of thanks, Elena still refused the proposals of marriage that accompanied their giving.
Finally one evening he came forth with a bauble brighter and shinier than the rest; one that he presented to her on bended knee as he asked, “Dear Elena, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Elena’s smile shone as bright as the diamond on her finger as she let loose with something of a heated sigh.
“Thought you’d never ask!” she exclaimed, adding with a playful wink, “Properly, that is.”
*****
“I swear it. Sometimes I think if I see one more golden rose…”
Despite mustering this rather uncharitable thought, Elena nonetheless beamed bright at the admittedly dazzling vision ofan altar of golden roses; one that would mark the site of her wedding that day—a long awaited occasion that she approached with no small degree of trepidation.
Of a certainty she was the picture of serenity in her chosen gown—a sleek cream colored satin effort with a neckline formed from cascading ruffles, bows and white lace lining the shoulders, and a body shaping lace up bodice topped with a quaint pearl pink ribbon.
Her mind, by contrast, seemed a muddled conglomeration of doubt and uncertainty—intermingled with just a touch of genuine heartbreak.
“I’ve already walked this aisle, to join with another man,” she reasoned, shaking her head from side to side. “Should I be making the trip twice? And to someone I met through a newspaper advertisement?”
Just then she came to stand stock still before the altar; turning at once to face her groom.
Justin himself proved something of a visionin all of his wedding finery—a stylish but masculine ensemble that included a brass buttoned black wool frock coat with a blue brocade vest and white cotton shirt underneath. A pair of sharp black wool trousers and a matching, diamond studded cravat completed the ensemble, which adorned and accentuated every muscle of his tall, hard planed body.
Yet even the splendor of his form proved no match for the radi
ance of his azure eyes; sparkling blue gems that shone with love for the woman before him.
The moment that the couple joined hands between them, Elena knew without a doubt that she had made the right choice; that, as much she always would love her dear departed Blake, that the man before her truly stood as the divine lover of her heart and soul.
And as joyful and light as her heart had felt on the morn of her first wedding, the joy that suffused her being at this very moment made one thing perfectly clear: a second hand rose by any other name still smelled just as sweet.
A Bay for the Bride (by Mary Miller)
Joyce sat up in bed, stretching her arms up toward the ceiling and letting out a long breath. It was supposed to be one of the most beautiful days of the year, and she was excited about it. She and her aunt had a picnic on Glade Hill planned for the afternoon. She couldn’t wait. She hadn’t been able to sit down with her aunt Grace and have a talk for several weeks.
She slipped out of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. She pulled on her robe and stepped over to her desk to get her brush and tooth cloth. Her mother had told her when she was a child that if she brushed her hair every morning and night and rubbed her teeth with a small cloth, they would stay cleaner and look healthier. She had practiced those two traditions every day since she was ten years old when she and her family migrated from Ireland.
She pulled back her thick red hair after brushing it thoroughly with 100 strokes and tied it behind her head in a large bun. She pulled on her bonnet over it, then pulled it off and decided she was going without today. She didn’t have to wear a bonnet if she didn’t want to.
She put on her clothes and left the room, leaving the house with fifteen minutes to walk to the sewing shop in town where she worked. It wasn’t far from her room in the boarding house. On the way out, she picked up a ham biscuit from the kitchen. Each morning, one of the other tenants fixed ham biscuits and left them warm for anyone who wanted one. She delighted in them since they were the only meat she got until dinnertime.
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