Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) (14 page)

I never dreamed that, when the factory burned down, my life would turn in this direction. I thank God every day for all the blessings he's given me. Sometimes I wish I could live here with my new family, but still have my wonderful friends from Lawrence around.

I hope that Alaska and Dr. Turner are everything you need to be happy. I pray for you daily. May our paths cross again someday.

Much love,

Roberta

Tears filled Poppy’s eyes that Roberta had found such happiness. While she counted all her roommates as her best friends, Roberta held a special place in her heart for watching out for her all those years ago.

The tears started falling when she picked up the next letter and saw that it was from Gabrielle. Sweet Gabby, who deserved so much more than being forced to choose between marrying a stranger and the poorhouse.

Dear Poppy,
 

I wish you were here. I miss our late night conversations when we figured everything out together. I need someone to talk to.

I made it to Texas tired, but safe and sound. There was a little mix-up when I first arrived but it all got straightened out eventually. My husband to be, Boone Dillingham, suffered an injury and was unable to meet me. A lovely couple were there to help, though, and I was escorted to my new home soon thereafter. Boone and I married that night while he lay recovering in his bed!
 

Poppy, make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into if you agree to marry a fellow “in name only.” I never imagined that Boone would be so polite and perfectly handsome! My heart pounds when he’s near. I’m sticking to my plan, though. He may be good-looking, but I’ll stand firm. I don’t need affection to be happy. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. I’m just saying I’ll be strong and true to my agreement.

I hope you get this letter and can write and let me know what has happened to you. Please stay in touch.

Much love,

Gabrielle

Poppy laughed out loud that Gabby was having the same trouble keeping herself distanced from her new husband. Her next letter would no doubt admit to giving in to what her heart yearned for, at least Poppy hoped so.

The last letter was from Sarah, who could never be dissuaded from thinking marriage was the most wonderful thing in the world.
Maybe she was right all along
, Poppy mused.

Dearest Poppy,

I miss you, my sweet friend. Marriage is all at once nothing like I thought it would be and more than I could've dreamed it would be. Remember when I was so convinced that all immigrants were romantic? Karl, though a good man, is very much the antithesis of romantic. It seems German immigrants are anything but romantic.

Much to my surprise, when I arrived in Minnesota, Karl had told everyone that I was hideous. He couldn't imagine a reason for a woman to be a mail-order bride unless she was too ugly to marry. He was more than a little surprised when he met me.

It was a rocky start, but things have gotten much better. I love the man so much, quirks and all. Somehow, after less than a month of marriage, we find ourselves adopting a teenage boy. He's been through so much loss in his life, and he needs stable parents. We can be that for him.

I'm so excited you finally get to see Alaska! I know it's your dream place, and I hope Dr. Turner is your dream man. I'll be praying for your happiness every day.

All my love,
 

Sarah

When the tears began pooling in her ears, Poppy sat up, sniffling and happy. Her friends were doing well, and so was she. There wasn’t enough time to write them all at their new addresses before the ship left, but she couldn’t wait to tell them her own happy news. The next month would be spent writing
very
long letters to each of them. In the meantime, she’d spent far too long reading and now she needed to get back to her temporary classroom.

As she stood, something crinkled under her skirt. Feeling around, she pulled out another letter, setting her heart to pounding. Could it be from Ma?
 

Flipping it over, she saw Matthew’s neat print, setting a flutter in her stomach while also drawing a sad smile. She was desperate for news from her mother but a love letter from her husband — !!! — might take her mind off that.

My darling Poppy,

I have no words to express the deep sorrow at what I have to tell you. My father has died and I must return to Boston to take my place as the head of the family. I know this news will bring you terrible pain, which you of all people do not deserve. I will never forgive myself for that, but I also must see to my family’s needs.
 

I fear you will think that this was my plan all along. I need you to know that it was not. Yes, in the beginning, I was eager to leave yet I was forced to remain. Now, I want to stay but I must go home, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return. I wonder if you would come with me if I asked. I won’t because I know what this place means to you and I would never ask you to make such a sacrifice.
 

Instead, I will leave on the same ship that brought this dreadful news to me, and I will miss you every day, every hour, every minute until we meet again, even if that is in Heaven.

Your husband,

Matthew
 

Big, fluffy flakes of snow did nothing to cool Poppy’s burning skin as she stood on the front steps of the school and watched smoke curling up from the smokestacks of
City of Topeka
. It still sat at the wharf, but it would soon leave, taking her heart with it.
 

The temptation to run down there and try to stop Matthew from leaving only held her for a brief moment. As soon as she stepped outside into the biting cold, the full weight of his decision settled on her, rooting her to the spot. Each foot seemed glued to the wooden boards, and for that she was grateful. He made his choice; she wouldn’t beg him to stay.

Her body felt heavy and light at the same time, almost as if she was pulling out of herself, looking down on a wretched, empty shell. Tears should be streaming down her face but all she felt was…nothing. Not the snow, not the cold, not the pain. Oh, it was there alright, but the shock left her mercifully numb.

What a fool she’d been to think he’d stay. No matter what his letter claimed, he never wanted to be here. He was made for city life, not the hard-scrabble existence Alaskans endured. He wanted an easier life, one with prestige and power. Love mattered little to men of his standing, choosing their wives solely on the basis of how her breeding, beauty or wealth would affect their own status.
 

She knew all this, yet she allowed herself to fall in love with him anyway. From the moment they met, he’d been very clear that he would be going back east as soon as he could, so why was she surprised that he kept his promise? The worst part of it all was that the heartache she felt — or would feel, once sensation returned to her body — was all her fault.

Poppy couldn’t tell if the burning in her nose was from the frigid air or the onset of tears.

Tears.

Wiping the tears and snow from her cheeks, she turned to go back inside. She longed to return to their —
her
— room and throw herself on the bed in a fit of self-pity. She’d bury her face in the pillows and cry and scream and wail until she was spent. Then he would rebuild that carefully constructed wall around her heart until no other man could penetrate it ever again.

“Missy! Missy!”

Young Kalemste ran up the road from town as if the devil himself was after him, waving his arms frantically and shouting for her. Any concern for her own situation evaporated when she saw his distraught face.
 

“Kalemste, what’s wrong?”

“Brother very sick. Come quick!”

Poppy’s first instinct was to rush off to fetch Matthew and a fresh wave of pain stopped her in her tracks. Pushing it aside, she wracked her brain. The school was without a doctor now, but Dr. Felton might still be at his office in town. Glancing up at the sky, Poppy didn’t like the dark clouds rushing ever closer. A thick curtain of softly falling snow had already made it hard to see the wharf, and those clouds promised something even more fierce.

“Must hurry, missy!”

In any other situation, her heart would have flared with joy that Kalemste trusted her enough to fetch her. Trust of whites didn’t come easily to the Tlingits, and for good reason, in Poppy’s opinion. But the important thing now was getting medical help for the boy’s brother.
 

The urgency in Kalemste’s voice made her dismiss the idea of running back to grab her coat. He was already halfway down the street, beckoning her to follow. Tearing after him, she caught up in time to stop him in front of Dr. Felton’s office. Pounding on the door, she held her breath.

An old woman — almost certainly his wife — answered.
 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am, is the doctor in? There’s a sick boy at the Rancherie who needs help.”

Deep wrinkles smoothed when she smiled kindly.
 

“Sorry, dear, he’s off deliverin’ a baby out north of town. Hope he makes it back before the snow starts.”

Poppy looked over her shoulder and could barely see the water of the bay.
This isn’t snow?
No time to try to decipher what the woman was talking about; a child needed help fast.

“Mrs. Fletcher, is there anyone else in town that could help?”

“I’m sorry, dear. Since the Army pulled out, it’s just poor ol’ Frank Felton to take care of the folks ‘round here. ‘Course the Indians have their own medicine man. He ain’t around or somethin’?”

Poppy glanced back at Kalemste, whose wide, frightened eyes tugged at her heart. At his grave head shake, she turned back to the woman.
 

“I guess not. What should I do?”

“Pray,” she replied and gently closed the door.

Poppy gaped at the door for a moment, then grabbed Kalemste’s hand and sprinted for his family’s house. Off in the distance, a ship’s whistle screeched, alerting the world that it was pulling away from the wharf and piercing her heart with the cruel reminder that Matthew was gone forever.
 

The snow was really coming down now, quickly making walking, much less running, difficult but they ran as hard and fast as they could. When they finally reached the house, she was soaked to the skin and shivering, trying to remember any tidbit of medicine she picked up from watching Matthew tend to students.

Warmth enveloped Poppy like a blanket when Kalemste escorted her inside but her attention focused on a large group of women huddled together. Kalemste’s brother, Kukka, had to be at the center of the cluster. Kalemste looked up at her with pleading eyes, then began pushing the women aside to make room for her. They probably knew far more about herbs and healing than she ever could but she couldn’t just sit there and watch.
 

One by one, the women shuffled back, a few throwing distrustful looks at her, but she pressed inward, trying to get to the boy. After an eternity, they reached the center of the group to find a figure bent over Kukka, tending to him. What breath she had left after running all the way from the school was nearly knocked out of her, and her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. What she saw made no sense.
 

It was crazy.
 

It was impossible.

It was Matthew.

* ~ * ~ *

Matthew glanced behind him at the commotion and locked eyes with Poppy. What was she doing there? And why wasn’t the silly woman wearing a coat?
 

The five-year-old boy on the floor moaned, drawing Matthew’s attention again. Nothing else mattered but cooling his fever. If he understood the women correctly, he’d been sick for a couple days, but the fever hit him hard that morning. Minutes counted with a fever as blazing as his, and he’d been suffering for hours.

Glancing back up at Poppy, he said, “Find the bottle labeled ‘sodium salicylate’ in my bag.”
 

Without a word, she set to her task. He breathed a quick sigh of relief that she was putting the needs of this boy before her understandable need to physically hurt him.
 

“Glass of water?” he asked Kalemste.
 

He blinked then disappeared between the legs of the Tlingit women hovering over them.

Mixing a small spoonful of the powder into a rusty tin cup of murky water, Matthew pulled Kukka into a semi-sitting position and dribbled the liquid into his mouth. He coughed and spit out a fair amount but Matthew figured enough had made it down to help.
 

The boy mumbled incoherently, thrashing his head from side to side. A pile of animal skins covered him and a roaring fire burned hot in the center of the room, keeping the house toasty. They needed to get him out of here and cooled down quickly to allow the medicine time to work.
 

Throwing the skins off the boy, Matthew collected him in his arms. He weighed next to nothing! As he turned to carry him outside, the scowling women formed an impenetrable wall. The boy’s mother said something in a harsh guttural tone that needed no translation. She wouldn’t allow him to take her child.

“I only need to take him outside. He is too hot. We need to cool his body or he might die. I swear I will not take him away from you.”

As Kalemste translated, the mother’s scowl of anger turned to a grimace of fear. The other women reached out, touching her with soothing hands. For a moment, Matthew wondered if she would believe him. Lord knew, they had plenty of reasons not to.

Then Poppy stepped forward, pressing a small knit cap into the mother’s hands. She smiled wanly and nodded encouragement. Yes! Poppy was acquainted with many of the women at the Rancherie. If they wouldn’t trust him, maybe they would trust her.

With a choked sob, the mother stepped back, allowing Matthew to carry her son away. Somewhere inside, he felt her terror of losing her child, that he might walk out the door with the boy and never return. Looking back, he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and jerked his head for her to follow.