Pearl of Promise (A Sweet Mail Order Bride Western) (The Brides of Carville) (4 page)

As they drove up the winding mountain road toward their claim, Nora was all too aware of Arlen giving her the cold shoulder.  She continued to ignore it.  She was having a hard enough time pushing away the melancholic thoughts she was having.  All she wanted to do was reclaim the happy feelings she’d had while they were at the social. 

She kissed the top of Gwen’s head and snuggled her closer. 
At least I have Gwen,
she thought.  All her dreams may have vanished, but she would always have her daughter.

Chapter 5

Weeks later, Arlen was still avoiding Nora.  She had asked him on several occasions what was wrong—whether she had said or done something, or if she had somehow neglected him in some way. 

His answer was always the same; nothing was wrong. 

She didn’t believe him.  It was far too obvious.  He was leaving early and staying late at the mine.  When he finally came home, he’d work until dark, mining their claim or doing other work around the property.  Despite the extra hours of work, he wasn’t finding any more silver ore than usual, and that only served to raise his ire more. 

The isolation was taking its toll.  When she asked to go into town, he refused.  They went in for only one supply run in the month after the social, and Arlen had prevented her from socializing with anyone when they were in town.  She felt like a prisoner in her own home.

The one day she walked down to Louise’s house, Arlen had gone on a tirade, complaining that she was shirking her responsibilities and it was her job to be home taking care of her daughter and the house.  He’d left her in tears and gone out to work on repairing the sluice. 

Nora found herself crying every day.  Her misery was taking a toll on Gwen, as well, because Gwen seemed more fussy and demanding, which only added to her stress. 

The tender Arlen—the one who made her laugh and surprised her with little things he’d made or brought her wildflowers—was gone.  In his place was a surly stranger, who Nora didn’t even want to share a bed with at night, much less a lifetime together. 

Is this why Sylvie left? she wondered.  Did he isolate her from the world, until she couldn’t stand it anymore?  Nora believed that marriage was forever.  Not only was divorce a shocking and unseemly thing to contemplate
, but she knew it wasn’t right in the eyes of God.  She knew some women had husbands who beat them, or drank, or gambled—she’d read of such things in her books—so what right did Nora have to complain, because her husband wanted her to stay home and keep the house?

But it was more than that.  Arlen was only getting worse.  He was miserable, and inflicting misery on her. 
Maybe he regrets marrying me,
she thought one day, as she sat by the window stitching up a hole in one of Arlen’s shirts. 
Maybe he realized that he was happier alone, but he’s too afraid to ask me to leave. 

Nora stared out the window, her sewing repairs forgotten, and imagined what might happen if Arlen did ask her to leave.

She imagined herself crying, looking at the train ticket he had thrust in her hands.  Would she argue?  Or merely turn away and begin packing?  She wasn’t sure.  If things had come so low, she would probably assume there was nothing she could say to change his mind.  She would turn away and pack.

She imagined herself packing her things, and then all the tiny clothing she had stitched for Gwen.  She would cry for the pain she knew her daughter would feel at the loss of her father.  But there was no way she would leave Gwen behind—surely Arlen would know that, if he bought a ticket to send her away. 

She imagined herself getting on the train, and holding Gwen in her arms as the train chugged slowly away from the platform.  How many miles would it be before those tears stopped?  Then she imagined the many strangers who would stop and offer her comfort, and keep her company along the way.  Old women who would coo and smile at Gwen, and older men who would give Nora a grandfatherly smile and pat her on the head, and say
you’ll be alright, your family will take good care of you, I’m sure
.

Would they? she wondered.  Would her mother welcome her with open arms?  She had been quite upset when Nora announced she was becoming a mail order bride.  Tears and threats and begging ensued over the next few months
, but Nora had been moved by none of it.  Over the last year of letters, her mother and father had forgiven her, but how would they react if she showed up on their doorstep, forsaken by her husband?

Or what if I turned up by my own will, unable to take life with Arlen anymore?
  She gasped aloud, then covered her lips, glancing around as if to make sure no one could have overheard her thoughts.  Then she laughed.  She was alone in a cabin on the mountain—there wasn’t likely a soul around for miles, except for Gwen. 

I need to get ahold of my thoughts.  I’ve spent far too much time making up stories in my head, or having conversations with people who aren’t here with me.  If I don’t rein myself in, I’m going to get myself into trouble.

But only a minute later, she found herself thinking again of what life would be like back in Harrisburg, in her parents’ large and comfortable, and a library only a short walk away.

Soon, she was humming as she stitched.

**

A week later, Arlen decided to go home early.  Well, not early, he thought.  He’d been looking for excuses to stay late, volunteering to do all the little jobs of shutting things down at the mine, putting equipment away, and anything else the bosses would allow.  When he could, he’d stay and chat with some of the men.  Sometimes they’d stick around, pulling out a hidden jug of whiskey and passing it around. 

Arlen passed on the whiskey, but stayed for the conversation.  Or, at least, he stayed for the opportunity to avoid Nora.

I ought to just tell her to go on and leave, he thought.  He was miserable.  Every day he came home, he expected her to be gone.  He’d watched the light slowly die in her eyes, until he was genuinely shocked every time he found her still there when he came in at night.  She was so obviously unhappy—why did she stay?

Could it be only because of finances?  They didn’t have much money, but there was enough in their savings jar to get her to Pennsylvania by train.  He had taken that money, initially, and hidden it from Nora.  He wasn’t sure if she knew or not.  But eventually, he put it back.  He may try to keep her away from the books that might give her ideas about leaving, but he didn’t want to actually force her to stay.  She wasn’t a prisoner—she could leave whenever she wanted.

S
ometimes he wondered if that wasn’t a mistake.  Maybe hiding the money again would give him some peace of mind. 

As he rode up the trail, crossing onto his own land, the cabin came into view.  He could see
fresh laundry hanging on the line, and Nora sitting on a nearby tree stump, with a laundry basket at her feet.  She cradled Gwen in her arms, and Arlen could tell from the position that she was nursing the baby. 

He swung himself down from his horse, then led it by the reins and walked the last bit.  She didn’t look up—she was singing a tune softly as she held Gwen.  Tendrils of hair escaped Nora’s bun, trailing down her neck.  A sweet smile played about her lips, and it was the first glimpse of happiness he’d seen since the social.

He missed the sunshine of her smile.  He missed the sweet words, the tender looks, the warm hugs. 
Why can’t she look at me with the same love shining in her eyes?

Why would she?  You’re never home. 

The responding thought startled him. 

It was true.  He was never home, and he hadn’t shown her any tenderness in a long time.  He’d been so sure she was ready to leave.  But it had been three weeks since the social, hadn’t it?  If she’d have had a mind to leave, surely she would have done it by now.

So why are you giving her reason to leave?

Watching Nora sing sweetly to their child made him realize just how much he had to lose, if he didn’t stop alienating her.  He knew on some level that he was just trying to protect himself.  He couldn’t seem to help it.  Maybe it was time he put a little more effort into their marriage.

“Hey there,” he called out when he was twenty feet away. 

Nora jumped, then relaxed when she looked up to see
him leading the horse up to them. 
“Arlen!  You’re home early.”

That sent a surge of guilt through him.  He was actually no earlier than he would normally be, if he wasn’t staying away longer and longer every day.  “Well, I’ve been staying at work too long.  It’s time I spent a little time with you and Gwen.”

Nora blinked in surprise.  “Really?  Well…that’s good.  Dinner is cooking, but it won’t be ready for a while.  I was expecting you later.”

Another surge of guilt.  He hadn’t even thought about the fact that she’d been waiting on him for dinner every night.  “Well, I won’t be making you wait on me for dinner anymore.”

She smiled up at him.  “I’m glad.”

Instead of awkward silence that night, they ate dinner with stilted—but quickly improving—conversation.  It struck him that he really missed the time he used to spend with her.  He’d spent so much time being afraid or angry that he hadn’t let himself think about it. 

Things are going to change,
he thought. 
Starting today.

Chapter 6

A week later, Nora was much happier with the way things were between her and Arlen.  She had thought, prior to the social, that things were as bad as they could get in her life.  But then—for
reasons she couldn’t begin to figure out—he had started to avoid her.  He was cold, silent, and spent much of the time looking angry. 

Her attempts to find out what he could be upset about had met with stoic silence, or a sharp retort of “nothing,” and she knew a far deeper level of misery than she had thought possible.  She had escaped into her fantasies of leaving Carville more and more often. 

But in the week since Arlen had come home early, she had seen a shift in his demeanor.  Whatever was bothering him seemed to have gone away, because he made sure to come home right after the mine shut down for the day, he was more attentive, and he smiled a lot more.  Conversation was normal again, and she looked forward to snuggling together every night and talking about their day.

She was taken completely aback when Arlen arrived home one day and pulled a package from behind his back.  “For you,” he said, with a sly grin.

“A present?”  Nora felt a surge of excitement.   Their anniversary had already passed, and her birthday wasn’t for months.  Not only was she thrilled to be receiving a present for “no reason”, but she could tell from the weight and the shape that it was likely a book.

I hope it’s one I’ll like,
she thought. 
Then again, it’s been so long, I’d likely read a book on mathematics with great eagerness, at this point!

She untied the jute twine and tore open the thick brown paper, revealing a brown leather binding.  There was no title stamped on the cover, and when she opened the book, the pages were blank.  “It’s a journal.”

“I traded one of the fellas at work for it.  He brought it out west with him to record his experiences, but he’s been so hard at work, he hasn’t found the time for it—or so he says.  It’s nicer than anything I could have bought in town for you.”  He stepped closer, and put a hand on her shoulder.  “I know you haven’t been able to read as much as you like to, lately, and I thought this might be helpful for those times when you’re not able to get a new book.  You have a wonderful imagination, and you always used to tell me that when you got bored, you’d make up your own stories in your head.  I don’t know if you still do that, but if you do, this might be a way to pass the time.”

“I do, from time to time.” 
But you wouldn’t want to know what they’ve been about,
she thought.  The leather binding was finely stitched, and the cover was embossed with a pattern of swirls and leaves. 
If he knows I want to read so much, why doesn’t he just take me into town for new books?
  She shook her head, and pushed the thought away.  It was a kind gesture—a first step.  Who was she to look askance at a gift?

“Then you like it?” he asked, hopefully.

“It’s beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the textured leather.  “I love it.  Thank you, Arlen.”  She stood on her tiptoes to give her husband a soft kiss.  “It means a lot to me.  I’d never thought to write down my stories before.  I suppose I never had the patience.” 

Writing took much longer than reading—even with her heavy workload, she could speed through a thick book in a week.  Writing even one chapter would take far longer, so the pages of the journal would last her a very long time.  Perhaps Arlen did plan to buy her more books soon, and this was just an intermediary gift.  If so, it would certainly come in handy keep her from being bored when Arlen was gone on his long days of work in the summer.

“I’m glad you like it.”  He caressed her cheek with one finger.  “Listen, I know I’ve been difficult lately.  I want you to know I’m going to do better.”

She smiled up at him.  “You already have.”

**

In the days following Arlen’s gift, Nora
began to hope that things would be returning to normal—the normal of their early marriage, when she wasn’t forced to stay at home all the time.  The gift of the journal was so thoughtful, and after what Arlen said about intending to do better, she felt like it was time she gave him a second chance. 

From now on, I’m going to assume that he has the best of intentions, instead of expecting the worst,
she thought. 
And no more made-up fantasies of moving back home.
  She knew she needed to trust her husband, and believe that he wanted things to be better.

She thought about the festival that she knew was coming up in a few weeks.  Was there any chance he’d want to go?  They could make a day of it, and rent a room at the inn, so that they could stay to the very end, without having to rush to get back to the homestead before sunset. 

The idea excited Nora.  She was almost afraid to ask, but he’d been so solicitous for her comfort lately that she thought surely she had her old Arlen back. 

She made his favorite meal—roast pork and baked apples
with buttermilk biscuits—and made a cherry tart for dessert.  It took all day to fix the meal, in addition to her other chores, but it was worth it.  She couldn’t wait to see the look in Arlen’s eyes when he took in the feast.

When Arlen arrived home, his eyes lit up as soon as he walked in.  “Is that roasted pork and apples?”

She nodded, with a shy smile.

“I can’t wait to dig in.  Just let me wash up first.”

When he came into the kitchen ten minutes later, she was jiggling Gwen in one arm while using her free hand to dish out his plate.

“Let me take her for you.”

“No, that’s alright—”

“I insist.  You’ve been working hard on this meal, I can tell, so you let me hold her while we eat.  Besides, I haven’t seen the little runt all day.”

She laughed at his term of endearment and let him take the baby from her. 

He sat at the table and cooed at his daughter while she finished dishing out the food.  She was pleased to see the reaction she had hoped for—he loved the meal, and relished every bite.  As she served him a large slice of cherry pie
, she took a deep breath and dove in.

“Arlen, I was wondering...you know that festival that’s coming up in a few weeks.”

He paused, fork poised before his lips.  “Yeah.”

“Well…” she suddenly found that her tongue was dry and thick “…I was wondering if you thought…I mean…I thought…I was thinking that maybe we could go?”

“You want to go to the festival?”

She examined his expression.  He didn’t look happy, but beyond that, she couldn’t discern his thoughts.  “Yes.  I was thinking we could rent a room at the inn—”

“Why would we do that?”  He set his fork down on the plate the bite uneaten.

This was a mistake.  “I…uh…was thinking that we could take our time and enjoy it.  They’ll be setting off a few fireworks after dark, and—”

“Nora, you know we can’t drive home in the dark—”

“I know, that’s my point—I thought we could rent a room so that we could stay late and enjoy the events right up to the end, instead of rushing back before dark.”

“So you want to spend a bundle of money not only on this festival, but on renting a room in town, just so you can see some colored sparks?”

“Please, Arlen, I didn’t mean to upset you.  I thought it would be romantic!”

“How is it romantic to spend all day with a bunch of other people, then fall into bed exhausted at the end of the night?”

“Please, I just—”

“Why am I never enough, Nora?  Why is our life never enough?  You’re always looking for something else, something more.  You have a husband with a good job, a mining claim, and a daughter.  Most women would love to be in your shoes, you know.”

“You act as if I’m ungrateful!”  Nora was stunned at his reaction.

“Aren’t you?  You always want more.  More time away from your duties as a wife.  More time with a friend.  More time in town.  More time with your books—your silly books, which probably gave you your wanderlust in the first place!”

“It’s just a festival, Arlen!  Everyone in town will be going.”

“Well we aren’t,” he snapped, wiping his lips on a napkin and throwing it down on the table.  “It’s about time you started being satisfied with the blessings God has given you.”

“Arlen Hunt, I could say the same thing about you!” she stood, crossing her arms.  “You treat me more like a servant than a wife.  For weeks, you hardly said a word to me, wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, and came home late every night for weeks.  And for months, you’ve tied me to this house, wouldn’t let me go to the store unless absolutely necessary, wouldn’t let me go to Louise’s, wouldn’t even let me darken the door of a
church!
  I’m tired of being locked up.  If you don’t want to go, that’s fine.  But Gwen and I are going!”

“Oh no you’re not!” he said, his voice loud.  Gwen whimpered
in his arms, her little face pinched as she roused from sleep.

“Don’t yell.  You’re upsetting Gwen.”

“
You
are upsetting
me!”
he snapped, in a hushed tone.  “And you are not going to that festival.”

“Oh yes I am.”

“No, you’re not.  I’m your husband, and you’ll do as I say.  If I have to hide every bit of tack from you, so that you can’t ride a horse into town, I’ll do it.”

Nora trembled with anger.  “If you’re trying to make me hate you, Arlen,
then you’re doing an excellent job.”  She strode from the room, her skirts swirling about her feet, and headed straight for their bedroom, where she slammed the door. 

She paced a few times, her chest heaving with distress. 
How can he do this?  How can he treat me this way, while pretending to be a good husband—and then tell me that I’m a bad wife?
  She threw herself down on the bed, dissolving into tears.