Laurel: Bride of Arkansas (American Mail-Order Bride 25) (12 page)

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, stood, glanced at Laurel and went to his daughter’s side. “I was holding her like I do you sometimes.”

“Did she have a bad dream?”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He sat on the bottom step and lifted his little girl onto his lap. “You see, I love Laurel like I love you and Josie, and it makes me happy to hold her.”

“Can I have a drink of water?”

“Yes, go on up to bed. I’ll be right behind you with a glass, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

“All right, Papa.” She hesitated for just a second, ran to Laurel and hugged her around her knees, and then padded up the stairs.

Laurel swiped a tear from her cheek as she waved goodnight to Coral.

Griffin came over to her, a glass of water in his hand. “Why are you crying?”

“Because, Coral willingly gave me a hug, and you said you love me.”

“I did?” he teased. “Are you sure you heard me right?”

“Of course, I did.” She grinned and swatted at him.

“Well, while I deliver this promised glass of water, here’s something for you.” He put something in her hand, and then leaned down and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “And while you’re at it, give that a think.”

She watched him disappear into the darkness at the top of the stairs and tried to catch her breath. When her heart stopped hammering and the fog cleared from her brain, she saw what he’d slipped into her hand. It was a letter from Patience! She grabbed a lamp from the buffet, pulled her glasses from her pocket, and sat at the table to read.

November 10, 1890

Dear Laurel,

I was so relieved to hear that you are happily married to Mr. Benning and, due to his two daughters, already have a lovely family. We pray that your marriage brings you fulfillment and dims the memories of being trapped in the factory fire. I hope your nightmares have ceased now that you are away from Lawrence and wed to a kind man.

Yours sounds like a wonderful life. I confess to being ignorant of the logging business other than the details you included in your letter. Due to your husband’s work, your home must be surrounded by beauty from all the trees.

We were able to contact my cousin, Jessie, in South Carolina before she left to come to Lawrence for a job in the factory. We have not heard from any of the other mail-order brides yet. Have you heard from Violet, Rachel, or Cora? I had hoped to have a letter from Roberta McDaniel by now, but I’m sure she is busy with her new family in Wisconsin. We do miss chatting with you and the others at our Sunday afternoon literary discussions. Our lives—except for work—are rather dull of late.

Work is another matter, unfortunately. My sister Mercy and I have not been successful at finding replacement jobs. No one will hire me as a secretary or accounts clerk without a reference from Mr. Brown. No one has seen him since the fire, so I can’t obtain a letter of recommendation. None of the other factories are hiring, so I have taken several jobs as a housemaid. Even though many of our former coworkers have left as mail-order brides, there are still many women in Lawrence who are out of work.

Papa says Mercy and I should take the test to get our teaching certificates. Honestly, the thought of spending all day with children like the neighborhood Davis twins is too terrible to consider. I would rather scrub chamber pots—which I’ve done on many occasions since the fire.

Yes, we’ve each had several jobs as housemaids. Laurel, you cannot (or perhaps you can) imagine the problems housemaids encounter. Constantly harping females who are never pleased are not the worst situation. Much more annoying are the male employers with lecherous minds and octopus tentacles for arms. Mercy and I have each lost a job for the latter reason. Why do some men believe a maid is prey for their depraved, lascivious appetites?

My response to surprise groping has almost undone Papa. You know I am slow to anger but, once riled, I lose control. I confess to dumping the contents of a chamber pot over Mr. Harmon’s head. Yes, the same Harmon who owns that fancy home on Wilcox Street. Fortunately, Papa was able to persuade Mr. Harmon the notoriety of a lawsuit would not show the man in a favorable light.

Papa’s cough is growing worse, although he pretends he’s getting better. Mama, Mercy, and I worry about him because he seems frailer each day. Unlike him, my brothers are hearty and growing rapidly. Mercy and I just finished three new pairs of pants for Jason as he shot up several inches in the past month. I suppose you will be sewing lovely dresses for your daughters. What fun that sounds. We look forward to hearing further updates and anecdotes of your daughters.

Thanks for your letter and all your news. Mercy and I read it several times to commit every detail to memory.

Fondly,

Your friend, Patience Eaton

Laurel finished reading the letter and then read it three more times. She didn’t want to miss a word of news and, as she read, she realized how hungry she’d been to hear of news from her friends. She hoped it wouldn’t be long before she heard from the others.

Griffin observed Laurel from the top of the stairs. He’d recognized the name in the upper left corner of the envelope as one of her friends from the mill in Lawrence, when Ansel had handed it to him earlier today. He watched closely as the range of emotions played across her face. She smiled, frowned, and then a huge grin lit up her face as she continued to read.

It had been obvious to him the trauma she’d been through in the last few days, not to mention the previous two and a half months, had taken its toll. It was nothing she’d said, unlike his first wife who was never satisfied, Laurel played the hand she was dealt and made the best of any situation. There must be something he could do to keep that smile on her face.

All of a sudden, an idea popped into his head. It was so simple he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Griffin pulled his chair nearer to Laurel’s and rejoined her at the table. “Is your friend doing all right?”

“After a fashion.” She referred back to the letter. “Patience says neither she, nor her sister, Mercy, have found work other than as housemaids with lecherous male employers and their demanding wives. She also mentions her father is ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear of their troubles.”

“Me, too. They are so sweet and deserve better. I must write her back and keep in touch.” She folded the letter and placed it into the envelope. Removing her glasses, she said, “Griffin, I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh, is that good or bad?” He sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to tell him she’d had enough and wanted to go back to Massachusetts. He‘d gotten used to having her here and had fallen deeply in love with her. Going forward without her was out of the question.

“It isn’t bad . . .” She smiled and covered his hand with her own. “At least I don’t think it is.”

He leaned his elbows on the table, crossed his forearms, and encouraged, “Tell me.”

“The last few days, you and the men have made remarkable progress repairing the damage to the house.”

“We’ve at least roughed it in to where we won’t feel like we’re living outside. The windows won’t be delivered until after the first of the year, but we’ll be able to stay warm and dry.”

“I’m very grateful and we should do something special for them.”

“We will the next time any one of them needs help. We’ve already planned to shore up the walls of Ansel’s barn in the spring, and Edna’s asked Sam to add on a couple of rooms to the back of their house. It’s how we repay each other.” He gazed into her blue eyes that shimmered in the light of the lamp. “So, what’s this think you’ve been having?”

“It’s nice having Henry and Gwenda here, they’re wonderful people, and I’m so glad they’ve decided to stay with us for a while.”

“Me, too. It seems they’ve been able to work through some of their issues with Ora Lee’s problems and her death.”

“Gwenda told me about Ora Lee and her constant battle with her illness. I wish you had been able to tell me about it yourself.”

“It’s difficult to talk about, even now. I simply couldn’t help her.”

“I know.” Laurel caressed his cheek. “In my heart, I know she was lucky to have you. Just remember the good times and the bad will eventually fade.”

“I hope so, I’m happy you’re here.” He leaned in close and kissed her. “Now, what’s this think you’ve been having?”

“Well, since the recent storm and fire, Gwenda and I have had a few talks about mothers and daughters and family relationships, and she’s helped me realize how much I miss my mama, sisters, and even my papa.” She placed both her hands in one of his and grazed her thumbs over his knuckles. “I’ve figured out most of the sleeping arrangements. Gwenda and Henry are set in their room, we can move Josie and Coral in to sleep with us, giving Mama and Papa the girls’ room. I just can’t figure out where to put Emmeline and Adeline.”

“I can get Clem and Otto over here to finish out the attic. That’s a large space and would make a nice place for them. You can decorate it anyway you wish.”

“Thank you, Griffin. That’s so generous of you, although there are no guaranties they’ll come.”

“Go ahead and send them an invitation to visit for Christmas. I guarantee you they’ll be here.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Their little girl has married a man they know nothing about.” He grinned at her. “Trust me, as soon as they’ve read your letter, they’ll be on the next train out of Philadelphia.”

“I wish I could be as positive about it as you are.”

“Wait here.” Griffin stood, pulled the lamp closer to her, retrieved paper, pen and ink, and set them on the table. “Write your letter, sweetheart. As soon as it’s ready, I’ll get it into town for you. That should give them plenty of time to respond. I’ll also purchase the tickets for their travel.”

“That’s so generous, thank you, Griffin.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be awake when you come up.”

“I won’t be long.”

Laurel put her glasses back on, sliding the ear pieces over her ears. She watched Griffin, as he went up the stairs again, until he disappeared into the shadows. She positioned the pages of stationery, removed the stopper from the pot of ink, picked up the pen, and wondered how to begin the letter since so much had happened in the last few months. Had her parents even realized she wasn’t in Lawrence anymore and hadn’t been for a while? Probably, which meant she’d caused them undue worry.

Just as she and Griffin had talked about, a few nights ago, honesty was always best. So that’s where she should start her letter.

November 26, 1890

Dearest Mama and Papa, Emmeline and Adeline,

I am in hopes this letter finds you all in good health. I regret not staying in touch with you after the events in Lawrence and miss you terribly. My stubborn attempts to maintain my independence have interfered with my responsibilities to family.

I have wrestled with myself as to where to begin this letter and decided to start after the fire at the Brown Textile Mill. First of all, I am doing well and am enjoying good health. I have married and am living with my husband, Griffin Benning and his two daughters, Coral and Josie, in Flat Rock Point, Arkansas. He is the managing partner of the Sealy Lumber Company and is a good provider.

Papa, I believe you and Griffin will get along well as the two of you have many qualities in common. Like you, he has a good head for business and takes care of his employees. He also cares for his family and I am very happy.

Oh, and Mama, you’ll be surprised, and I hope pleased, at the things I’ve learned to do around the house. First, I’m learning to cook, but that’s not all. I can go out to the coop, grab a chicken, and process the bird from the backyard to the table all by myself. Griffin’s quite fond of my fried chicken. I’ve also practiced making Cook’s French toast. Someday I’d like to try her Eggs Benedict. The hollandaise sauce seems quite difficult.

Christmas is coming soon and we would like very much for all of you to come visit us. We have plenty of room for everyone. We are including four train tickets for you, so please come. I love you and miss you more than I ever thought possible.

Your daughter,

Laurel

When the ink was dry, she carefully folded the letter, placed it into the envelope, and addressed it to her parents. She placed her letter in the middle of the table, laid the pen beside it, and then replaced the stopper on the ink bottle. Feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she picked up the lamp and headed upstairs to join her husband.

***

Thanksgiving morning came earlier than usual and there was so much to do to get the dinner on the table. Despite the hour, Laurel was well rested. The letter she’d written to her family had a lot to do with her feeling of wellbeing, but mostly she was content because she lay cradled in Griffin’s arms.