Brides of Grasshopper Creek Page 18

  As I stepped away from the train I noticed the men lined up along the back of the platform. Some looked distinctly nervous while others had the put-upon expression that I was familiar with from the wealthiest men at home, as if choosing a wife were just another thing that they had to do on their long list of burdens and obligations for the day.

  There seemed to be no organization to how the pairs came together. As the hired men who traveled with us unloaded our trunks and other belongings, the women drifted closer to the center of the platform and met with the men who had stepped forward. The men evaluated us, and then one by one they started to step closer and introduce themselves.

  For the first time in my journey I noticed that I wasn't like the other women who had chosen this path. I was several years younger, had never been married, and seemed to be far more privileged than the others, which made me feel somewhat blatant and uncomfortable as I stood there, slightly separated from the other women. It was as though the men were scrutinizing me even more intently, wondering what could possibly have led me down this path, one that I learned was often the last resort for women who did not want to wait any longer to find their husbands.

  After nearly an hour the platform was all but empty. The men had selected the women from the group and led them off to start getting acquainted and the only people left there was a young man wearing a wedding ring and me. He approached me with a softly sympathetic look and offered his hand.

  "Hello," he said, "I’m Aaron. I own one of the hotels in Bannack. If you'll be wanting to stay, I would be happy to bring you there."

  I looked at him incredulously for a moment.

  "I do not think that I have any choice but to stay, at least for a time while I determine how I will return home."

  "I don't suppose you do," he said with a warm smile. "Bannack would be pleased to have you for even a short time, though."

  I didn't directly agree to go with him, but he reached down and picked up the end of the trunk at my feet, leaving the other two behind.

  "Will someone bring my other luggage?" I asked before following.

  "Yes, Miss. I'll send one of my men up here to get it for you just as soon as we get back to the hotel."

  We were silent as we rode in Aaron's small carriage toward the hotel. My mind was reeling. I had been so confident in this plan, so sure that this would give me the life that I had been trying to find, and now I was caught in some earthbound purgatory where I felt I had no options and nowhere to go.

  A lovely woman was standing outside the hotel as we pulled up. She beamed at Aaron and I felt a twinge in my heart. I remembered that smile so clearly on the faces of the young women who visited on the front porch what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Aaron hopped down and helped me off of the front seat.

  "This is my wife, Hannah," he said, gesturing toward the woman and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Hannah, this is Miss…" he trailed off and I realized that I had never told him my name.

  "Betsy," I said. "Just Betsy."

  "This is Betsy," Aaron said, giving a wider grin. "Do you know where Emmet is?"

  "He should be right inside."

  Just as Hannah said this, the door to the hotel opened and a man stepped out. He had broad shoulders and thick, dark hair, but it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were so green I could see their color reflecting the late afternoon sunlight toward me and held a kindness that I had not seen in many years.

  "Emmet, this is Betsy," Aaron introduced. "Emmet is our right-hand man. He handles just about everything for us." He turned toward Emmet. "Would you go on back to the train station and get Betsy's trunks?"

  "Absolutely." Emmet walked toward the carriage and took a moment to smile at me. "It is very nice to meet you, Betsy."

  "It is nice to meet you, as well, Emmet."

  Chapter 11

  November, 1863

  Dear Valerie,

  I apologize for not having written since arriving in Bannack. There has been so much happening that it seems each day blends into the next and I have to stop and think to even remember how long I have been here. Though it has been less than a month, I feel like I am a lifetime away from when I first got here. I barely know where to begin.

  I suppose I should admit upfront that I have not found my husband. I am the only woman who joined the bride train who was not chosen from the platform. Though not all of those women have actually married their suitors yet, they were all selected and are intending on marrying in the next few weeks.

  I have been living in one of the hotels in town. It is owned by a kind man named Aaron and his wife. Would you believe that she was a mail order bride as well? They have only just married, but seeing them together does give me hope that love does still exist in the world.

  Well, dear friend, it is time that I tell you that though I have not found a husband here as I intended, I will not be returning. The people of Bannack have been quite welcoming to me and I feel that I will be happy here. There is a house for sale right outside of the main center of town and I am considering purchasing it. Emmet, the handyman of the hotel, will be bringing me to see it later this afternoon, and if I like it, I will be able to move in within the week.

  How I miss you, though. I wish that you were here with me and we could sit on the balcony overlooking the main street as we did your front porch. The people here are so kind and I have become friends with Hannah, the wife of the hotel owner, and the other brides who came to call Bannack home, but it is not the same as you. There is so much that I want to talk to you about, Valerie. I cannot even write it here. I wish that I could understand it better myself. Something may be happening, and I can only pray that I will know what to do.

  Pray for me. Send me the encouragement that I know you would give me if you were with me. This letter will not get to you until after Christmas, so I am sending all of my love and wishes for a beautiful season and all of the joy that it brings.

  With love,

  Betsy

  Chapter 12

  "Do you like it?"

  I turned toward Emmet where he stood in the front doorway to the home, the look on his face balanced somewhere between sad and hopeful, as if he was truly invested in the answer that I would give him to that question. I glanced around the house again and then smiled at him.

  "Yes," I said, "I do. Very much."

  "It isn't very big," he said, the hint of concern on his face become more blatant in the sound of his voice.

  "That doesn’t matter," I told him honestly. "It is just me. I do not need so much space."

  He laughed and took a single step further into the home. He was right about it not being very large. Having just one large room in the middle, two small bedrooms off of the sides, and a kitchen, the entirety of the home would have fit on the lower floor of the house back home, but it was perfect for me. I sighed and walked over to the door of one of the bedrooms. It hung from one leather strap, the other two that had originally held the door in place long broken.

  "I can fix that for you," Emmet said as I reached out to touch one of the broken straps. "I noticed that there are a few things that could use some fixing up around here, and I would be happy to do them for you."

  "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that for me," I told him, shaking my head. "I know that Aaron and Hannah keep you quite busy up at the hotel."

  "It would be my pleasure to help you, Betsy. I know that I speak for more than myself when I say that I am so happy that you decided to stay in Bannack, and I would very much like to do what I can to help you make your home here."

  For the next three weeks Emmet came to the house every morning and evening to handle repairs while I tried to settle in as best as I could. With the cold weather coming strong it was becoming more difficult for him to do the work on the outside of the house that he wanted to do, but I was finding myself eagerly anticipating the moments that he would come inside and drink coffee with me as he thawed by the fire.

  I knew that ba
ck home having a gentleman alone in the house with me would have been completely out of the question and would have sent eyebrows soaring on every older lady throughout the city. Here in Bannack, though, things seemed different. I suddenly didn't feel like I had to prove anything to anyone, and the people seemed somehow easier and more welcoming.

  Despite the happiness I was beginning to feel, there were moments when I felt so alone and lonely for my old house, my old city, my family. It was less than two weeks before Christmas when this overwhelming sense of emptiness took over in the most intense way since I had arrived in Bannack. I had been going through a few of the trunks that had been shipped to me from my house when I found my father's handkerchief.

  Something about that single small piece of fabric seemed to tear my heart to pieces and I sat on the bench at the table in the center of the main room and cried. As the tears fell down my cheeks I touched my hand to the handkerchief, running my fingertips over the stitches that my mother had so carefully embroidered into the cloth for Papa. It was as though I could still feel her in those stitches and him in the weave of the white cloth. They were still there, holding the cloth between their intertwined hands while we sat in church, dabbing my tears when I would hurt myself playing as a child, and covering coughs as the spring weather rose up and irritated Papa's lungs as it always did.

  I had my head buried on my arms on the table, the sobs wracking my body, when the door to the house opened and I heard boot steps rush across the floor toward me.

  "Betsy!"

  Emmet's voice was comforting in the midst of my darkness, but I didn't want to raise my face to look at him, I was so ashamed of my tears.

  "I'm alright," I said, trying to sound stronger than I was actually feeling.

  "No, you aren't," Emmet said, taking the place beside me on the bench.

  I felt his hand touch my back and then pull away.

  "What is it, Betsy?" he asked softly.

  I slid the handkerchief over to him, finally opening up and letting everything pour out to him. I had never intended on telling anyone again what had happened in the city that I had left behind. I didn't want anyone to know about the family I had lost, the home for the boys, the hospital, any of it. I had hoped that when I stepped out of that state for the last time that I would leave with it all of those memories, but I knew now that those memories defined me and that I could not escape them no matter how desperately I wanted to at times.

  Finally, I finished and I felt like I could truly breathe for the first time in weeks. It was as if I didn't know I was holding my breath and now suddenly the air was swelling my lungs and surging through my body, refreshing me and filling the places now empty since I purged all of the pain and heartache I had held so closely inside.

  Chapter 13

  December, 1863

  Dear Diary,

  Could this truly be happening to me? I do not even know if I am brave enough to write down what I am feeling for fear that it will shatter the beautiful spell that seems to have fallen over me. Perhaps I am just being silly, allowing a moment of compassion in my pain to sway me and convince me of things that are not truly there.

  Is it possible, though, that it is there? Could that softness in Emmet's eyes be the reflection of the feelings for him that have been building inside of me? He is such a kind, gentle, and caring man, Diary, a man unlike any that I have ever known. I feel safe when he is around and I find myself missing him when he is away. I know it is improper and that I should not be thinking of him that way, but it is as if the house feels emptier without the sound of his boots on the floor. Even if he does not say a word, I know that he is there and it brings me great comfort.

  I lay awake last night, huddled under my blankets as I watched a fresh snow fall outside. I prayed that the Lord would hear the cries of my heart and help me to understand what I am feeling so that I may make the choice that he intends for me. Is this where he led me? Could this have been his plan all along?

  I am too afraid to even speak the words, Diary. Too afraid that if I even breathe them, it will all disappear and he will become only a memory that I will need to tuck aside with the others and cry over when I am alone.

  Betsy

  Chapter 14

  "Merry Christmas, Betsy!"

  I smiled and waved at Hannah as she rushed out of the front door to the hotel to greet me. Her face was even more radiant than usual and as she reached out to take me into a tight embrace I noticed she smelled of gingerbread and peppermint. I breathed the smell in deeply, allowing it to fill me with the type of beautiful memories of my childhood that I would always cherish and could look back on with a smile rather than a tear.

  "Good morning, Hannah," I replied. "Merry Christmas."

  "Please," she said, stepping toward the front of the hotel, "come in. Breakfast is ready and we are going to read the Christmas story."

  I followed after her and as soon as I stepped into the lobby, I gasped. They had managed to fill the already lovely hotel with the magic and beauty of Christmas in just the two days since I had been there last. Garlands draped across the front desk and wove through the railing of the stairwell. Crystal ornaments hung from greenery and sparkled from the wall sconces, making them dance like fairy light against the floor. And in the far corner, tucked away like the perfect miniature in a dollhouse was a lush, gorgeous Christmas tree.

  "It is amazing," I told Hannah, crossing to the tree and touching it gently. "I do not even have so much as a sprig of holly in my house."

  Though I tried to laugh, I knew a hint of sadness had come into my voice. Christmas had once been my favorite time of the year, but just like last year I was not feeling the holiday spirit this year. This made me even more glad for the invitation Hannah extended to me to join her, Aaron, and a few select members of the town for Christmas morning festivities.

  I had just settled in front of a tremendous plate of pancakes when I looked around and noticed that Emmet wasn't there.

  "Have you seen Emmet this morning?" I asked Hannah.

  "I did," she said, tilting her head as if thinking back to when she had seen him. "I spoke to him a few hours ago. He said that he might miss breakfast this morning because he had a very important errand that he needed to run."

  "On Christmas morning?" I asked.

  Hannah shrugged.

  "He was carrying a wrapped package. I can only guess that he was bringing it to someone."

  I felt my stomach drop slightly at this admission. It suddenly seemed clear that everything I thought had been building between Emmet and me was just crafted in my mind. He was a friendly man who agreed to help repair a house for a lonely woman who had been left on a train platform, nothing more.

  I finished the rest of my breakfast in silence and listened to Aaron's animatedly retelling of the Christmas story with only partial attention. The rest of my mind was wandering elsewhere and as soon as I could, I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself again, thanked Hannah and Aaron for having me, and left for home.

  I was so distracted as I walked through the snow that I almost didn't notice the glow of candlelight washing from the windows of my house out onto the sparkling ground, the light evident even in the morning hour because of the thick white clouds that blotted out much of the sunlight. I stopped and stared at the house for a moment, wondering if I had somehow forgotten to extinguish the flames before leaving that morning.

  Walking cautiously toward the house, I caught the scent of gingerbread. I had left a tray of cookies out with the plan of baking them that afternoon, but now I could smell them distinctly. Filled with curiosity, I opened the door and stepped into my home.

  The interior that I had left bare that morning was now bursting with red and green. Ribbons hung along the walls, garland and holly covered nearly every surface, and on the far wall stood a tree even larger and more beautiful than the one in the hotel. I walked up to it and reached out to touch the needles. A moment later I noticed a reflection appear in a shimmering orname
nt above my shoulder and turned around to see Emmet standing a few feet away.

  "Emmet!" I gasped.

  "Do you like it?" he asked, stepping toward me.

  "It's incredible," I said, "but I don’t understand."

  From behind him, Emmet withdrew a wrapped package and held it out to me.

  "You had mentioned to me that when you were younger you loved Christmas and now that you were away from home you wondered if you would ever have a real Christmas again. I wanted to give you that Christmas."

  My heart soared and I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

  "Thank you, Emmet," I said softly, not feeling like the words could even begin to express what I was feeling.

  "I made this for you," he said, still holding the package out to me.

  I took the gift from his hands and looked up at him.

  "Oh, Emmet, you already did so much. You didn't need to give me a gift."

  "Please," he said, "open it."

  I carefully removed the twine and unfolded the paper. Inside was a thin box. I opened it and discovered a stunning stained glass ornament in the shape of a heart. My hand came up to cover my mouth and I lifted my eyes to him again.

  "You asked me a few days ago why you thought that you were the only woman on the bride train that no one chose, why you were left alone there on the train platform. I know why."

  "You do?"

  "Yes," he said, stepping closer again and resting his hand over mine. "No one chose you because I was not there, and you were intended for me."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  Emmet took his hand from mine and reached into the box to withdraw the beautiful ornament. I was stunned that he was able to create something so intricate and exquisite.

  "You were like these pieces of glass," he said, touching the front of the ornament gingerly. "Broken and scattered. When I put all of the pieces together into this heart, they were made strong again. I believe that I was meant to do the same for you."