West For Love (A Mail Order Romance Novel) (4 page)

Anna finished the letter and this
time let a tear fall from her eye.

How beautiful.

How poetically beautiful and
powerful.

“Do you understand why I haven’t
shown that letter to just anyone?” Mary asked.

“No,” Anna said, “but I’m happy you
showed me.”

“Anna, if I gave that letter to
anyone, they’d write back in a hurry. In fact, I could almost promise you that
dozens of women would right back. They’d beg. They’d lie if they had to. Thomas
is a strong man. But he’s in pain. He’s vulnerable. And he needs the right
woman.”

“I agree,” Anna said. She opened
the letter to read it again. It was a letter that deserved to be memorized in
her heart forever.

“No, Anna, you aren’t understanding
me,” Mary said. She plucked the letter from Anna’s hand. “Thomas needs the
right woman. And I firmly believe, with everything in me, that you, Anna, are
the right woman for him.”

Anna stood, shaking her head. “No.
I couldn’t.”

“You could, my dear,” Mary said.
“You long for what Thomas does. You two can share pain. You two can heal each
other. He’s got the means and he’s got something you want but couldn’t have...”

“A baby.” Anna closed her eyes.

“I’m truly sorry about your
marriage to William,” Mary said. “But this a chance to understand why it
happened. Just write back to him. That’s all I’m asking. Write back.”

“Then what?” Anna asked.

“Then we wait.”

“What if he writes back?” Anna
asked. Mary opened her mouth as Anna asked another question. “What if he
doesn’t?”

“Relax,” Mary said. “There is no
cost to you, I’ll pay the postage. I believe in this that much. Just sit here
with a pen and your thoughts.”

“I’ll need a cup of tea,” Anna said
with a flicker of a smile.

“Of course.”

Mary shuffled away and returned a
moment later with tea. It was the perfect temperature, suggesting to Anna that
Mary had made the tea and let it cool, as though she were plotting to keep Anna
happy and there.

It wasn’t the tea that kept Anna
there as much as it was the sincerity in Mary’s eyes. Anna believed what Mary
believed. And so Anna went to work, telling herself she would just write a
quick paragraph or two, introducing herself and explaining her divorce. What
happened was that Anna lost track of time. When she finally stopped writing,
she had more than she intended.

“That’s good,” Mary said.

“You don’t know what I’ve written,”
Anna said.

“I don’t need to. I watched you
write it. You weren’t proper in your seat and you weren’t proper in how you
approached it. Which is good. That means it’s honest.”

“Would you like to read it?”

“No,” Mary said. “But I would like
you to read it to me.”

Anna hesitated.

“I assure you,” Mary said, “it’s
just us.”

“Okay,” Anna said. She looked at
her letter and took a deep breath. She looked at Mary and smiled.

“Dear Thomas,

I’ve come across your letter and
the one from Josephine. I would much prefer to write ‘Jo’, but since I haven’t
met her nor made her laugh, I cannot properly call her that! I write to you
with a heavy heart not just based on my story - which you will soon read - but
yours too. I cannot express my sorrow for your loss. But, I must say, you
gained from your loss, too. The birth of a child is nothing short of a miracle.
I hope you can believe in that, and remember it.

I speak so highly of your son,
Thomas Jr., an infant I’ve never met, because I have been unable to birth a child
of my own. You see, I am divorced. Not by my wanting, then again, the marriage
wasn’t by my wanting either. A successful businessman with the cleanest suit
and smile you’d ever see made my parents an offer they accepted. My hand in
marriage gave them financial freedom in exchange for my ability to birth a
child. I was given one year to become with child. Imagine that, one year! The
pressure from day one was overwhleming.

Both letters I’ve read made me weep
in their own way. I write with hesitation in my heart and hand because I fear I
will either over promise you, Thomas, or perhaps not promise enough. I cannot
promise to nurture your child. But I can promise to love Thomas Jr. and help
him grow. I cannot promise to love you because I know the heartache of implied
love. But I can promise to nurture you. I am a very good cook. I am a great
housekeeper too. I am excellent at fixing pants, which is a sorrowful story in
itself, but I would be happy to take care of you in any way that I can.

I understand hurt and loss. I’m
sure you read this and aren’t sure how truthful it is, but I suffered through a
forced marriage and was left a year later after I couldn’t conceive a child.
Also, my dear sister lost her husband in a tragic accident. I’ve had to look
into her eyes and see the loss and suffering. It won’t bother me to see it in
your eyes, Thomas, and I would never ask you to hide. I would never ask you to
change, and I would never put a time limit on your grief. I’ve lived under a
time constraint and it’s like someone is stealing your life.

As far as my appearance is
concerned, I will admit my sister is much prettier than I. However, I have been
told I am pretty too. I’m not quite 5’6, I have blonde hair and it’s normally
straight, but sometimes it curls at the very of end. My eyes are a rich blue;
not the bright, piercing blue of my sister, but a shade or two darker. My skin
is fair and I have a hopeful smile. Most of all, Thomas, I have slender but
strong hands, a good mind, a heart that still beats, and the want to be a wife,
a mother, a family. I honestly admit I will not be bringing money nor will I
ever inherit any.

I hope, if anything, you read this
letter and know someone is out there, Thomas. Someone like you. I would love to
meet you, to meet Thomas Jr., and to meet Josephine. I can board a train at
anytime without needed arrangement other than your word.”

Anna took a breath and held the
letter to her chest. She looked at Mary, who had beamed. Anna couldn’t remember
the last time someone looked at her with a proud look on their face.

“Should I keep going?” Anna asked.
“I mean, I don’t want to get too personal...”

“It’s perfect,” Mary said. “It’s
honest and perfect. If that’s what you wanted to say, you’ve said it. Now it’s
time to send it.”

Anna felt her hand open and press
the letter hard against her chest. She wasn’t sure she should let the letter
go. She tried to imagine Thomas reading it. Would he laugh? Would he care?
Would Josephine read the letter first or even give it to him? Or would Thomas
read it and just throw it out?

“You look scared,” Mary said.

“I am,” Anna admitted. “What
happens next?”

“We send the letter and we wait.
You understand how long this could take, right?”

Anna nodded. She wanted to believe
in weeks but knew she should be prepared for months. If an answer ever came.

“I just,” Anna started to say but
stopped.

Marry stepped to her and took the
letter out of her hand. She didn’t look at the letter, but instead folded it
up.

“You just what?” Mary asked.

“What if he reads it and feels I’m
too much?”

Mary touched Anna’s face and
smiled. “You know, maybe someday you and I can exchange letters. I used to be a
lot like you, Anna. And when my brother came to me with an idea for arranging
marriages I wanted to slap him. But when I started reading the notices and the
letters and saw women going off to become brides, mothers, and create families
out west, it started to touch my heart. With each letter I send, I could be
sending lies. I could be receiving lies in return. I could receive nothing in
return. I could send a hopeful woman back home in tears. There’s one thing that
holds it all together for me... that one thing that made my brother whistle in
his horrible whistling tone... the one thing that made you stop to look at him
and listen... the one thing that gave him his personality to see you, know you,
and bring you here... and the one thing that gave Thomas the courage to write
the letter he did...”

“And that is?” Anna asked.

Mary smiled. It made Anna feel warm
and safe. “Faith, Anna, faith. I have faith in everything I do. My brother,
Henry, is the businessman. He enjoys the money. But I enjoy seeing families
come together.”

“Thank you,” Anna said.

She blurted it out so sudden she
really didn’t understand what exactly she thanked Mary for. Even after Mary
hugged her and Anna left, hurrying back through to town to get the items she
originally came for, she couldn’t figure out why she had that impulse to thank
Mary.

After getting eggs and the cloth
needed to fix her father’s pants, Anna began her travel home. The ride gave her
plenty more time to think. By the time her house grew out of the horizon, it
finally hit Anna. She knew why she had thanked Mary.

For the first time in longer than
she cared to admit to anyone - including herself - Anna had hope. Even if it
was based on nothing more than a few words in a letter and faith that Thomas
would write back to her, it was still something.

And something was better than
nothing.

Chapter Five

The first week was the hardest.
Each time Anna looked into her parents eyes, she felt some sort of guilt. It
wasn’t the same kind of guilt she felt when it came to her divorce from
William. This was a different kind. The guilt of knowing she had plans and
didn’t share them with anyone. The guilt that if things went the right way,
she’d be gone soon. Then who would cook? Fix her father’s pants? Clean the
house? She wanted to believe that when the time came for her to leave, her
parents would snap back to normal, but Anna couldn’t be sure of it.

The hardest part though was not
sharing anything with Abigail. Abigail must have read it in Anna’s eyes and
dared to ask a few times if something was bothering Anna, but Anna held back.

Once two weeks came and went, Anna
made a casual trip into town to get some supplies for her father. The second he
mentioned going into town, Anna almost tripped over a chair to offer to go to
town for him. He obliged and gave Anna a list, with money.

Anna’s first stop was to see Mary
and Henry.

When she stepped back into the
building, she saw Henry standing over a fresh pile of mail. His arms were
folded, his lips puckered, and the gleam of dollar signs in his eyes. He didn’t
seem to be a greedy man, just a good businessman.

“Morning,” Anna said.

Henry saw Anna and his eyes lit up.
“Anna! Come here. Right away.”

Anna went to Henry who welcomed her
with a big hug. Anna felt wrong for hugging Henry because she didn’t want to ruin
his expensive clothing.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Waiting,” Anna said.

“Everyone is. Any chance you want
to look at some of these letters? There’s so many men...”

“No she doesn’t!” a voice called
from the back of the building.

A second later, Mary appeared, her
big glasses around her neck. She moved as fast as Henry, taking him by the arm
and pulling him away.

“No she doesn’t,” Mary said again.
“Anna and I have an arrangement of our own, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Anna said. “Which is why I’m
here...”

“I haven’t received anything yet,”
Mary said.

Anna smiled but her heart ached in
pain. She blinked, swearing to herself she wouldn’t cry.

“It could be months,” Mary said, so
soft and comforting. “I know you’re hopeful and so am I. Just remember, Anna,
when he gets the letter, he’s going to be shocked. I’m sure in his mind he
feels nobody would step into his life. He’s going to have to make a big
decision and part of that is going to be coming to terms with what happened to
his wife...”

“I understand,” Anna said.

“There’s so many young, good
looking men though,” Henry said. “Not that Anna doesn’t deserve what her hearts
wants...”

“Henry,” Mary snapped.

“He’s right,” Anna said. “I could
just take one of these letters.”

Mary’s face dropped.

Anna reached for Mary’s hand.

“But I won’t,” Anna said. “I’ll
wait.”

“Something good is coming, I know
it,” Mary said.

Anna hugged Mary and then Henry. She
spent the rest of the afternoon buying the supplies her father needed.

After that, more weeks went by. The
pain and regret didn’t subside one bit for Anna because her life was based
around it. Each morning she woke, she stood at the window and thought of
Thomas. It seemed strange thinking about a man she never met and a man who
hadn’t even written to her yet. But he was always on her mind.

It started to get warmer out and
her father worked with the sunlight. It seemed each day added another minute or
two. Anna also worked around the sunlight, ensuring everyone was fed the best
she could provide. Her mother helped, which Anna enjoyed, only her mother
didn’t really speak to her. The conversations were about food and nothing more.
Nothing about life. Nothing about love. The pain of the divorce still hung in
the house.

Abigail started to distance herself
too. Anna wanted to tell Abigail everything but just couldn’t. Not without a
definite answer. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her again.

Then came what felt like Anna’s
fiftieth visit into town. She had no purpose other than to visit Mary and
Henry. It was the only place where Anna could go to smile and feel the stress
of the world leave for a few minutes. But this time, the second Mary saw her,
she jumped from her chair so hard it flew back and fell over with a thundering
thud.

“Anna!” she cried out.

A second later she waved an
envelope in the air.

Anna saw it and her knees grew weak
and started to give out. She leaned against the wall and felt her entire body
shaking.