Faith

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"You're what?" The tip of Thalia Grayson's cane hit the
floor with a whack. Riveting blue eyes pinned Faith
Marie Kallahan to the carpet like a sinner on judgment
Day.

Faith swallowed, took a deep breath, and confronted her
auntie's wrath with steeled determination. "I'm sorry, Aunt
Thalia, but it's done. We took a vote; we're going to be
mail-order brides. There's nothing you can say to change
our minds."

Thalia's eyes pivoted to Faith's sisters, Hope and June.
"Don't tell me you go along with this nonsense."

June nervously twisted a handkerchief around her forefinger. "We've prayed diligently about it."

"Well, I never!" Thalia blustered. The pint-sized figure
could turn into thunder and lightning when agitated. Faith
didn't relish the coming storm.

A cold wind banged shutters and rattled dead branches
of weathered oaks outside the window. Snow lay in dirty
patches along leaning fence posts. March wasn't a pretty
sight in Michigan.

Faith took a tentative step toward her aunt, hoping to
temper her wrath. She knew the news came as a shock, but
Aunt Thalia was old, and she couldn't bear the financial burden of three extra mouths to feed. "Aunt Thalia, I know
the news is unsettling, but it's the only solution."

Thalia's hand came up to cover her heart. "Marry complete strangers? Thomas's children-mail-order brides?
Have you lost your minds? Faith, your papa always said
you were rowdier than any two boys put together! Mailorder brides." Thalia shuddered. "How can you break
your auntie's heart like this?"

"Faith. The size of a mustard seed. We are embarking
upon this journey with faith that God answers his children's
needs." Faith hugged her auntie's stooped frame. "Isn't it
wonderful!"

"No, it's not wonderful! It's a terrible idea!"

Faith sighed. Yes, Papa had said she made Belle Starr, the
lady outlaw, look like a choir girl, but her tomboyish ways
had never hurt anyone. She might favor bib overalls rather
than dresses, but the last thing on earth she wanted was to
worry or upset anybody-especially Aunt Thalia.

Hope rose from the settee and moved to the hall mirror,
fussing with her hair. "Aunt Thalia, it isn't so bad, really.
We chose our mates carefully."

"Answering ads like common-" Thalia fanned herself
with a hanky. "And just how did you decide who would
get what man?"

Hope smiled. "By age, Auntie. Faith answered the first
promising response. Then I took the next, then June."

"We've prayed about it, Auntie. Really we did," Faith
said.

Opening the magazine in her lap, June read aloud from the classified section they'd answered: Wanted: Women with
religious upbringing, high morals, and a strong sense of adventure,
willing to marry decent, men. Applicants may apply
by mail. Must allow at least two months for an answer.

Smiling, she closed the publication. "Shortly after Papa's
death we decided to answer the ad."

Thalia turned toward the window and made a sound like
a horse blowing air between its lips. "Father, have mercy on
us all. Thomas would roll over in his grave if he knew what
you're planning."

More proud than ashamed for solving what once seemed
an impossible situation, Faith calmly met her sisters' expectant gazes. They had agreed. Becoming mail-order brides
was the only reasonable way to handle their circumstances.
Aunt Thalia was approaching seventy. Although her health
was stable, her financial condition wasn't. Her meager funds
were needed for her own welfare.

Papa's untimely death had shocked the small community.
Thomas Kallahan had pastored the Cold Water Community
Church for twenty-six years. While in the midst of a blistering "hellfire and damnation" sermon one Sunday morning
three months earlier, Thomas had keeled over dead.

The impassioned minister dead, at the age of forty-two.
The community could scarcely believe it.

Mary Kallahan had died giving birth to June sixteen years
earlier. With Thomas gone, Hope, Faith, and June-the
youngest, so named because Thomas had felt anything but
charitable toward the baby at birth-had no one but Aunt
Thalia.

Aside from his deep, consistent faith, Thomas had left his
daughters with nothing.

Faith had taught school in the small community while
Hope and June had taken in sewing and accepted odd jobs.
Each had a small nest egg they had earned, but their combined funds could not support a household on a continual
basis. For now, they lived with Thomas's elderly sister,
Thalia, aware that the arrangement was temporary. Faith
had reasoned that they were grown women; they should
be starting their own families.

At nineteen, Faith was the oldest. Hope was seventeen;
June, sixteen. It was high time the girls found suitable husbands, an unenviable task for any woman in a small community where men were either married, too young, or too
senile to be considered matrimonial prospects.

Kneeling beside Thalia's chair, Faith tried to calm her.
"We'll be fine, Aunt Thalia. Why-" she glanced at Hope
for support-"God truly must be smiling down upon us,
for all three of us found a husband within a month."

Hope brightened. "Three fine gentlemen have asked for
our hands in marriage."

"Rubbish." Thalia sat up straighter, adjusting her spectacles. "You've agreed to go off with three strangers! Three
men you know nothing about! What has Thomas raised? A
gaggle of hooligans?"

"They're not complete strangers," June pointed out. "All
three gentlemen have sent letters of introduction."

"Hrummph. Self introductions? I hardly think they
would write and introduce themselves as thieves and misfits. There's no telling what you're getting into." Her
weathered features firmed. "I cannot permit this to happen. As long as there's a breath left in me, I will see to my
brother's children. Families bear the responsibility to care
for one another. The Lord says those who won't care for
their own relatives are worse than unbelievers."

Stroking her aunt's veined hand, Faith smiled. "We know
you would care for us, Aunt Thalia, truly. And it would be
ideal if there were three young gentlemen in Cold Water in
need of wives, but you know there isn't an eligible man
within fifty miles." The good Lord knew Papa had tried
hard enough to get his daughters married.

Thalia's lips thinned to a narrow line. Her blue eyes
burned with conviction. "Edsel Martin lost his wife a few
months back. Edsel's a good man. Hardworking. Deacon in
the church."

"Sixty years old," June muttered under her breath.

"Merely a pup," Thalia scoffed. "Lots of good years left in
Edsel."

Edsel made Faith's skin crawl. She'd never seen him wear
anything other than faded overalls and a soiled shirt to cover
his enormous belly. His pea-soup-colored eyes cut right
through a person. She shuddered. The corners of his mouth
were always stained with tobacco spittle. Edsel was looking
for a wife all right, and she only needed to be breathing to
meet his criteria.

Faith was plain worn out avoiding Edsel's invitations. The
past two Sunday mornings, he'd been insistent that she
accompany him home for dinner. She knew full well she'd end up cooking it, but she went, cooked, cleaned his
kitchen, then hung his wash, even though it was the Sabbath. And Edsel a deacon! It wasn't the kind of "courting"
she'd expected.

Edsel might be a "good man," but Faith wanted a young,
strong husband to work beside. She could chop wood, plow
a field, or build a fence as well as any man. What she didn't
do well were womanly things: cooking, cleaning, tending
house. She'd attracted a fair share of criticism because of it,
but she was a tomboy at heart and just once she'd like to
find a man who valued her help-her ability to seed a field
or shoe a horse as good or better than any man.

A gust of wind rattled the three-story house, sending a
shower of sparks spiraling up the chimney. Faith shivered,
rubbing warmth into her arms. Aunt Thalia's parlor was
always cold. Bare tree branches rapped the windowpane;
frigid air seeped through the cracks.

Hope left the mirror to kneel beside Faith at Thalia's feet.
Arranging the old woman's shawl more securely around her
shoulders, Faith said softly, "When I get settled, I'll send for
you, Aunt Thalia. You can come live with me."

"Hrummph." Thalia looked away. "Best not be making
such promises until you know how your new husband feels
about that."

"Oh, I can tell by his letter he is most kind." Frosty shadows lengthened into icy, gray twilight as Faith shared her
future husband's promises of a good life and a bright future
when they married. "He said he would always look after me, I would want for nothing, and he promised to be a
wonderful papa to our children."

Hoarfrost covered the windowpanes as darkness enveloped the drafty old Victorian house. Patches of ice formed
on the wooden steps. A pewter-colored sky promised heavy
snow by dawn as the women knelt and held hands, praying
for their future-a future none could accurately predict.

"Father," Faith prayed, "be with each of us as we embark
upon our journeys. Stay our paths and keep us from harm.
We pray that we will be obedient wives and loving mothers. Thank you for answering our prayers in a time when
we were most needy of your wisdom and guidance. Watch
over Aunt Thalia, guard her health, and be with her in her
times of loneliness. May we always be mindful that thy will
be done, not ours." With bowed heads and reverent hearts,
they continued to pray, silently.