Wilson's Hard Lesson (92 page)

The grapes were the best I ever tasted, foxy and wild like
the countryside. I ate them slowly, knowing I had more than two days ride ahead
of me.  The young girl and her generous mother got off at the next station we
stopped at. I thanked them as they departed, and the mother smiled sadly at me.
“It wasn’t that long ago that I was in your shoes, young lady.” She patted her
flat belly as if there was a babe inside. “Take care of yourself. And your
little one.”

Then she was gone, leaving me astonished. It was amazing to
me how many people misinterpreted why a young woman would be travelling alone.
Already I’d been misidentified as a prostitute and as a girl in trouble. Surely
something was making people think those things about me, and I wasn’t sure what
it was.

I thought about it all night long, in between fits of
uncomfortable sleep propped upright in my seat. When dawn arrived, I remembered
my Shakespeare.  “All the world’s a stage,” he’d written in
As You Like It
,
a caution that none of us are necessarily who we appear to be. I decided then
to play the role of a confident young woman on her way to meet the man she
loved very much and was looking forward to marrying. It was time to stop
worrying about what I left behind me and look forward to what was coming. I
straightened my spine, put a big smile on my face, and tried to cultivate an
aura of eager anticipation.

It made all the difference in the world. As new passengers
got on the train, they looked at me and smiled. The train crew changed, and in
the place of the foul-eyed conductor was an older fellow who, when I asked if
there was any way to get a drink of water, said “Of course!” and never
mentioned anything about a dollar a glass charge.

Someone even left their copy of the Cleveland Leader on the
train when they departed. After a quick glance around the train car, I snatched
that up eagerly and whiled away the better part of a day slowly reading it.

 A man named Rockefeller had apparently set up a company in
those parts that other people were calling an unfair monopoly; the editorial I
read argued that Mr. Rockefeller was being punished for being too successful.
There were a number of questions the article raised for me, and I spent many,
many miles pondering whether a man could be both financially successful and
virtuous. If one couldn’t, then which was more important? The Iowa agronomist
was much on my mind. I didn’t know if science was a lucrative field; if I was
heading into a life of poverty as a farmer’s wife, it would be good to know
that going in.

Everyone who’d tried to talk me into marrying Benson had
emphasized his wealth. We’d never been a rich family, but I’d never known want
either. Dealing with the unsavory train conductor had made me acutely aware of
how little money I had. Financial concerns had never been utmost in my mind;
like any girl, I assumed that I’d marry well enough that it wouldn’t be a
worry. But now, having spurned a fortune, was I ready to deal with whatever
fortunes awaited me?

The Cleveland paper had a story about young female factory
workers, and how conditions for them needed to be improved.  This was an eye
opener for me; I’d no idea that women worked in factories at all. If the Iowa
agronomist were not to my liking, or if he wasn’t able to support a bride, I
mused, then I had at least one option open to me. It wasn’t much of an
alternate plan, but it was a plan, and I felt much better for having it.

The Sioux City train station was far larger than I expected.
The brown brick building dwarfed the train station back home; the platform was
long, wide, and almost completely empty when I got off of the train, clutching
my black leather satchel.

There were two elderly women there, clad in black and
clucking to each other.  Beside them, a haggard looking woman tried desperately
to keep control of four rambunctious children. Further away, near the train
station building, stood two gentlemen.

One was tall and well-dressed; he had a suitcoat and waist
coat on. My heart sank when I saw he was nearly Father’s age. Of course, it
took some time to become a scientist, I should have expected this. He was clean
and his affect seemed kindly enough.  The other man was incredibly handsome,
tall and broad with short blond hair the color of wheat in the sun. He was
wearing dungarees and a white shirt with a denim vest over it; his pockets
bulged and even at a distance, I could tell his eyes were an incredible blue.

I started walking toward the older man, plastering a bright
smile on my face. First impressions matter, and I wanted my husband to be to
know me from the first as a cheerful, good hearted woman.

As I approached, the younger man stepped forward and smiled.
“Abigail?” he said.

“Yes…” I paused, not quite believing what this might mean.

“Hello!” he said, extending his hand. “I am William.” He had
a bit of an accent; he sounded almost German. “It is such a pleasure to meet
you at last!”

When I took William’s hand, a spark passed between us, an
electric moment that caused us each to pause and look at each other with fresh
eyes. I saw that he was older than me, but not by much; at the very most, he
was thirty years old. It was clear he spent a great deal of time outdoors.
Despite his fair hair, his skin was very tan. He wasn’t nearly as big as Robert
Benson, but there was no question he was a strong working man.

“You have brought the Shakespeare?” he asked with a smile.

“I have,” I said.

“Then it will be welcome in our library,” he said, taking me
by the hand and leading me off the platform. “And you are very welcome to come
to my home.”

You would think that two people who had never met before
would be awkward with each other, but William and I were comfortable right from
the start. The fact that his dog loved me immediately helped: the small brown
hound leaped from the wagon seat and danced all around me, wriggling his butt
and barking joyfully as I approached.

“Shotsi! Stop that!” William said, with a laugh. He beamed
when he saw I bent to pet the hound. “You like dogs?”

“Absolutely,” I said. Shotsi was licking my hands and face,
and I laughed. “They aren’t shy about saying how they feel about a person,
that’s for sure.”

“Shotsi certainly isn’t,” William replied. “She likes you,
but there are those…well.” He shrugged. “She will show you her teeth and then I
know maybe this is a person who isn’t so kind.”

“Your horses are beautiful too,” I said. His team wasn’t
matched; there was a gray and a paint, but each looked hale and hearty.  I
scratched the gray between the ears.

“So you’ve been around animals,” William said. He held out
his hand to help me up into the wagon. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure if an East
Coast girl would truly be ready for farm life.”

I cocked my head. “An East Coast girl?”

“It is all cities out that way,” William announced. “New
York. Philadelphia. A different world.” He spoke very confidently, as if he’d
spent every day walking the streets of the towns he named. “If that is what you
are used to, it may be hard for you to be happy here.”

“The Shenandoah Valley’s not like that,” I said. “We have
plenty of farms. And woods. And mountains.” Father and I had lived in a
relatively small town, certainly nowhere near the size of Sioux City. “It’s not
even like this.”

William smiled. “Well, I do not have the mountains for you.
But the farm, you will see.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and
I could see he was nervous that I wouldn’t like him. “There are no woods, but I
am doing a project with plum trees; there are 120 of them.” He frowned.
“Although there are four that aren’t doing as well as I might have hoped.”

I laughed and reached for his hand. “120 plum trees! That’s
wonderful. Tell me about your project.”

I must have said the magic words, because William was off to
the races. As we drove through Sioux City and into the countryside beyond, I
learned more about plum trees than I ever believed possible. There is a disease
called plum pox, he told me. “It travels from tree to tree the way a cold will
go from person to person. But not every tree will get the pox. Some cultivars
are stronger than others; the pox can touch every other tree in the orchard but
these ones grow untroubled. I am trying to figure out why.”

“Are there some types of plums that are naturally immune?” I
asked.

William’s face lit up with delight. “There are individual
trees within the species – the type of plums – that will succumb, but yes, some
species are more resistant than others.”

“What do those species that are more immune have in common
with each other, I wonder.” I said.

“You did not tell me you are a scientist also!” he
exclaimed.

“I’m not,” I protested. “I’m just a girl. I’m ordinary.”

William shook his head. “In the little time I know you, I
can tell you you are not just a girl. And you are far from ordinary.”

What can I tell you about William’s farm? Coming onto the
land was like riding into paradise. Everything was green and healthy, vibrantly
growing. The gardens were not like any I’d ever seen before: instead of long
rows, William had many small plots divided into squares. The wheat and corn
grew in curving, arced lines that traced around the field in a lacelike
pattern.

“This is called contour planting,” William explained. “I am
trying to see if it helps reduce the amount of soil the wind steals away from me.” 
He pulled the team to a stop in front of a small, tidy home.  When he looked at
me, it was clear he was still nervous. “And here we are.”

Shotsi leaped out of the wagon and ran up onto the porch.

“It’s lovely,” I said to William.

“Let me show you the inside.”  He helped me out of the
wagon, and we followed the dog. The house was surprisingly similar to the one
I’d left behind; it had two stories, white clapboard siding, and a front room
lined with bookcases.

“You know what made me answer your ad?” I asked William.

“No,” he said, quite seriously. “What?”

“The must love to read part.” The cases were full of titles;
some I recognized, but others, particularly those of a scientific nature, were
new to me. One name was familiar. “You have Origin of Species!”

William went very still. “I do.”

I clapped my hands. “That’s wonderful! I’ve heard about it,
of course, but have only been able to read what the papers say about it.”

“Does it bother you,” William asked slowly, “that the papers
say that Darwin’s work is counter to how God works?”

“God works in mysterious ways,” I replied. “And I’m not at
all certain we should be sure we know what those ways are. So who are we to say
what’s counter to them, and what’s merely a revelation of his hand at work?”

I was shocked by William’s sudden embrace, and doubly
shocked by how good it felt to be in his arms. “You may be the first miracle I
have ever encountered,” he said, before pressing his lips to mine. “A beautiful
woman who thinks for herself.”

William was the first man I had ever kissed besides my
Father, and of course, that was entirely different. But it turns out that I
must kiss passably well, because he kissed me again and again. I could feel my
heart leaping in my throat, a jumping in the veins that he quickly covered with
his lips; this sent an electric shiver through my body. William noticed and
clutched at me tightly. His body was so foreign to mine and yet felt so
familiar; I leaned into his strength with ease.

“Ach,” he said, stepping back after a moment. “If we’re
going to do this properly – and I am a man who likes to do things properly – we
will have to wed.” He cocked his head. “That is if you’re willing?”

“I am,” I said confidently. I’d never felt surer of anything
in my life. Compared with all my other options – Robert Benson back home, or
trying to forge a life entirely on my own – marrying William was an absolute
no-brainer. “And sooner, rather than later.”

“I am happy for you, William, that you have found such a
beautiful bride,” Pastor Hofmann said. “But why is there such a hurry to the
altar?” His gaze fell to my stomach briefly before searching William’s eyes.

William blushed scarlet, while I rushed in to explain.

“Oh, no, Father. Reverend. Pastor.” We didn’t have Lutherans
back home in the Valley, so I was not sure of the proper term of address. “It’s
not what you may be thinking.”

Pastor Hofmann smiled kindly. “Then tell us what it is. For
William is dear to our church and our family. If you are going to be part of
his life, there should be no secrets between us.”

“Otto! You are scaring the girl.” This came from the
Pastor’s wife, a short, stout woman who introduced herself as Patience. “You
mustn’t mind my husband. It’s just that we’ve known William since he was a
young man.” She laid her hand on the Pastor’s shoulder affectionately. “It
makes him too protective. He needs to remember what it is like to be young and
in love.” She smiled at me in a way that made me feel as if I’d known her for
always. “We cannot wait to be with our sweethearts.”

“That is true,” I said, “but it’s not the only thing.” I had
determined that I was not going to come to William with any secrets between us;
if my history was such that he didn’t want me in his life, I had to respect
that. He was too good of a man to have my problems with Richard Benson suddenly
sprung upon him unawares. “It all started when my Father needed a new printing
press for his shop.”

The trio – William, Pastor Hofmann and his wife – all
listened attentively as I told the tale of the print shop fire, the devilish
bargain Benson had forced my father into, and how quickly he’d returned from
Boston to claim my hand in marriage. Their expressions grew more and more
serious with every word, and by the time I’d finished relaying my concerns about
what had truly happened to Kitty Benson, it was clear that William was
incensed.

“Money is the root of all evil,” he said. “These wealthy men
think they can do anything, and never face the consequences of their actions!”

“Be at peace, William,” Pastor Hofmann said. “Benson will
face his judgement day when the time comes, the same as the rest of us.” He
turned toward me. “Marriage is a sacred vow, young lady. You shouldn’t feel
forced into it. If you’re not ready to marry William of your own free will, you
should know that we are willing to shelter and protect you.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear, and tears sprang
to my eyes. “Thank you,” I managed to whisper. “That means a lot to me.” I
reached out and took William’s hand. “But I am quite certain that it is in my
heart to marry William. If we are rushing, so be it, but this is the same
choice I would make a week from now, or even a month from now.”

“So long as all that?” Patience said with a smile. She
clapped her husband on the shoulder. “These two need to be married. Go put on
your good suit. I’ll get the church opened up.”