Eye of the Beholder Read online

  Eye of the Beholder

  Ruth Ann Nordin

  Eye of the Beholder - Smashwords Edition

  Published by Ruth Ann Nordin at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2009 by Ruth Ann Nordin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please do. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Photo © Copyright Dreamstime (www.dreamstime.com). All rights reserved – Used with permission.

  Wedded Bliss Romances, LLC

  http://www.ruthannnordin.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Coming Soon: Richard Larson’s Story!

  If You Like Mail Order Bride Romances…

  Chronological Order of Ruth Ann Nordin’s Books

  Where to Find Ruth

  Join Ruth’s Email List

  Dedication

  For Cheryl Koch: http://cherylsbooknook.blogspot.com/

  Thank you for your input on this book while I was writing it. It is a privilege to know you.

  Chapter One

  Maine

  April 1874

  Wife Wanted

  Nebraska farmer looking for a hardworking and dependable woman to marry. Ability to have children a must.

  Mary Peters reread the ad in the newspaper. Ads asking for a wife were fairly common, but this particular ad caught her eye for a variety of reasons. One, the man who wrote it seemed straightforward, a quality she admired because she didn’t trust people who uttered flowery language which could be deceptive. Two, the man was realistic about his expectations. A farmer would benefit most from a woman who could handle the harsher elements of living on a farm. Three, the part boldly stating he expected her to bear him children told her that this was not a man who minced words. He knew exactly what he wanted and sought it. Such a man might not be overly concerned with how a woman looked.

  She glanced at her reflection in the store window. She often passed the dress shop on her way to the restaurant where she helped Mrs. Jones cook meals for her hungry patrons. Her plain face with an unusually big nose that made her eyes and thin lips look smaller than they actually were didn’t draw any interest from men. Her pale smooth skin would have been her best feature had it not been for the freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose. Her frizzy mousy brown long hair that she unsuccessfully tried to tame with her brush was mercifully forced under a bonnet.

  Plain Mary Peters. She heard the term used often enough by her family and friends. Certain that they meant no harm in the adjective used to describe her, she didn’t take offense to it. Besides, she was plain. Considering that they could call her ugly, plain was actually a kind word.

  Biting her lower lip, she turned her attention back to the ad. Unlike other men requesting women who were pretty, this one simply required hard work, dependability and willingness to bear him children. She wasn’t afraid of any of those things. Pretty, she couldn’t give him, but the others she easily could. Though she never spent a single day on a farm, she was willing to learn what she needed to do to help him. Her mother had borne her father twelve children, so she was sure that she wouldn’t have any problems with getting in the family way.

  She’d send him a letter, and if he wished to marry her, she’d go to him. Fear of the unknown did not hold her back. She welcomed the adventure of leaving her old world behind for a new one. A fresh start might even be a welcome relief after living in her sisters’ shadows all of her life. Her sisters were beautiful. They found husbands well before they turned eighteen. She recalled the wedding of her closest sister who was only two years her senior:

  Grace had just turned sixteen, and she was thrilled to marry her childhood sweetheart. Before the wedding, Mary decorated Grace’s silky brown hair with pink rose petals. Her sister wore a long flowing white gown trimmed with lace, which was a labor of love that Mary spent the past two months creating. Mary wanted her favorite sister to look her best during the ceremony, for it was a day Grace had eagerly planned with her from the moment Calvin proposed.

  While their other sisters decorated the church, they had the moment to themselves in the small church room to the side of the sanctuary.

  “You are beautiful,” Mary smiled as she glanced at her older sister.

  “I feel beautiful,” she confessed as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. “That’s what love does to a woman, Mary. When Calvin looks at me, it’s as if I can see myself through his eyes, and I know when he sees me, he sees the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on.”

  That’s because you are pleasing to gaze upon. Grace wasn’t plain. She didn’t have to deal with the snickers from the young men when they thought she was out of hearing range. Men practically worshiped the ground Grace walked on.

  “Someday, you’ll know what I’m talking about,” Grace told her. She reached out and took Mary’s hand just as Mary was ready to put another petal in her hair. “Love is the most wonderful feeling in the world. Your time will come.”

  Mary smiled, gently pulled her hand away and returned to her work. She knew better than to hope to be beautiful in the eyes of a man. She caught sight of the contrast between her and her sister and the difference was like looking at night and day. If she married at all, it would be a miracle.

  The memory ebbed from her consciousness as Mary contemplated her situation. Grace and Calvin moved to New Jersey where he got a good paying job, and the departure of her closest sibling left a hole in her heart. As much as she loved her other sisters and brothers, Grace’s presence had been the one reason she lingered on in Maine as long as she did. She heard of men out west seeking wives and had been tempted to go to one, but she couldn’t bear to be apart from her sister. It seemed that fate dictated the separation anyway, leaving her free to pursue her own dreams for the first time in her life.

  Slipping the ad into her pocket, she hastened to the restaurant so she could start her work on time.

  ***

  As soon as Mary arrived home from work, she hung her hat on the hat rack in the entryway and noted that her parents occupied the parlor. Her father sat in his favorite blue chair, reading another book, while her mother worked on her knitting. She often knitted clothes for her thirty-one grandchildren. The house remained silent, as was often the case since her siblings left to marry and have families of their own.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room, her shoes seeming to echo on the hardwood floors, though the pounding in her heart distracted her from the sound.

  They looked at her as she shifted from one foot to the other in front of them.
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  “Mary, is something on your mind?” Her father closed his book and waited for her to speak.

  It was now or never. After handing him the ad, she braced herself so she could speak before she lost her nerve. “Today I made an important decision. I am going to answer one of those ads asking for a wife. I found one that is of particular interest from a farmer in Nebraska, and from the sound of it, I believe he and I will make a good match.”

  Her father read the ad, handed it to her mother, and stared at Mary as if she suddenly grew a second head. “You intend to marry a stranger?”

  She sat on the edge of the wooden chair, close to the open window. Since she broke into a sweat under their intense stares, she was grateful for the breeze drifting into the small room.

  Her mother loudly sighed and patted her graying brown hair that was neatly tied back into a bun. “Honey,” she began, “are you sure this is a wise idea?”

  Her father nodded his approval at her mother’s question. His frown deepened the wrinkles around his gray eyebrows.

  Mary licked her lips nervously. “I thought you might be relieved,” she softly admitted, her heart racing with a sense of urgency she wasn’t familiar with. All of her life, she never displeased them. “As it is, none of the men here will marry me, and I know you worry about what will happen to me once you die.”

  “Mary, this man could be older than your father,” her mother said.

  “I plan to write him a letter asking him his age. If he responds, then I’ll know if he’s worth marrying. Besides, I would like to see the prairie. I heard it’s beautiful.”

  Her father made a shooing motion with his hand. “We have beautiful days in Maine. Every fall is witness to that fact when the leaves change into spectacular colors. I defy Nebraska to hold a candle to this state.”

  “I’m nineteen. No man has come by to court me, nor do I perceive that one will if I stay here. I don’t want to be a spinster. I want to get married and have children.”

  “But what about love?” her mother asked.

  “Love is for beautiful women, Mother. I understand why men ignore me. The man posting this ads needs a wife. This is my best chance. I don’t expect him to love me. I just want someone who can provide for me and my children.”

  “Still, an arrangement to marry someone you never met may not be the best avenue to pursue,” her mother countered as she gave the ad back to her daughter.

  Taking a deep breath, she stood up, clutching the ad in her hand. “I’m sorry but I am old enough to make these decisions without your approval.” The knot in her stomach tightened.

  “Let your mother and I discuss it and then we’ll talk to you.”

  Her father’s dismissal angered her but she kept silent as she strode out of the room. Her hands trembled as she climbed the narrow wooden staircase to her small bedroom that had once belonged to her and Grace. The room happened to be above the parlor and since the window was open, she could hear her parents as they talked. She sat on her springy thin mattress and stared at the bare white wall so she could detect their voices over the chatter from people as they walked past the house.

  “What if the man who wrote that ad is unsavory?” her mother asked her father. “He could be a criminal or abusive.”

  A long pause followed before her father spoke. “Or he could be a young man who wants a wife to help him with his farm.”

  “But how can we know?”

  “We can’t, but we do know Mary. She has always been a practical and smart girl. Though she has a heart of gold, men rarely look beyond appearances. You know how hard we’ve tried to find her someone, but no one will talk to her long enough to get to know her.”

  “Surely, they’ll grow out of that,” her mother said. “As men mature, they learn the value of a good woman. Looks do fade.”

  “And how old do these men have to be when they realize this? Would you have her marry someone as old as I am?”

  “Nebraska is far from here. We’ll probably never see her again. We’ll be lucky if she writes.”

  “Men out west who are in need of wives might be the answer to our prayers. We need to think of what’s best for her. Once this man gets to know her, he will be glad she went to him.”

  “First we lose Grace and now Mary.” Mary could tell by the way her mother’s voice choked that she was crying.

  “Now Abby, do you really want the poor girl to spend her life alone because we were too selfish to let her go?”

  Her mother’s sobs increased. “She may be nineteen but she’ll always be a baby to me.”

  “The youngest child is usually the hardest to let go.” His footsteps echoed on the floor as he approached his wife. He most likely knelt in front of her and rested his hand on her knee, as Mary had often seen him do when he wished to comfort her. “She wants to have babies of her own. Her brothers and sisters have their families. Isn’t it her turn?”

  Seconds spanned to minutes that seemed to drag for what seemed like an hour before her mother finally relented.

  ***

  Mary experienced a mixture of feelings as she wrote her response to the ad. Anticipation, hope and curiosity. Surprisingly, doubt was not a part of her swirling emotions. Deep down, she felt that this was the best course of action for her to pursue.

  She didn’t know the best approach to answering a man she never met, so she decided to stick with the basics.

  Dear Neil Craftsman,

  My name is Mary Peters, and I am a nineteen year old woman who has never married. Though I grew up in town, I am willing to adapt to farm living. I am competent in cooking and sewing, so I can make you good meals and clothes. I have helped the midwife deliver babies, so I can assist you with the birth of your animals. I am not afraid of hard work, and you will find me most dependable. I also come from a family of six brothers and five sisters, so I am confident your request for children will be fulfilled as well. May I ask your age? If you wish to respond, please write to PO Box 54.

  Sincerely,

  Mary Peters

  The next day, she left the house to send the letter. Her heart raced with a sudden wave of fear that he would tell her not to come. The walk to the post office seemed to be quicker than usual, and she stood in front of the small building, wondering if it might be better to not answer the ad. Rejection from men who saw her happened often, but what if he didn’t like something in her personality? But how much could he learn from her in a short letter?

  And what if he asked her to marry him? Her family would miss her. She wouldn’t share Christmas with them anymore. She glanced at the envelope in her shaking hands. A raindrop fell on the white paper. Wiping the wet spot off the envelope, she glanced at the cloudy sky. She should have brought an umbrella. Apparently, she wasn’t thinking straight if she neglected to note the threatening storm.

  Her mother had offered to go with her, but she wanted to do this by herself in case she chickened out at the last minute. She could easily tell her parents she sent the letter and never got a response. No one would be the wiser and she could continue to live her life as she had up to that point. Wouldn’t it be better to dream that he said yes if she sent it rather than find a letter telling her not to come?

  Behind her, a child called out to her mother. She recognized Bertha Lindsey with her two-year-old daughter. Bertha stopped in front of the bakery a couple of buildings down from the post office. Looking up and seeing Mary, she waved. The daughter waved as well.

  Mary smiled, nodded and watched them as they entered the store. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the letter. If she didn’t send this, she might never be like Bertha. She had a husband, a child and another child on the way. Mary knew she didn’t need to fool herself into thinking Neil Craftsman would take one look at her and fall in love with her the way the men had fallen in love with her sisters and Bertha. But he might be happy to have her assistance on the farm, and perhaps, given time, he might be content with her.

  I won’t know unless I
try.

  The decision made, she went inside the post office to send her letter.

  ***

  A month passed and Mary fluctuated between running to the post office and dragging her feet. What if he accepted? What if he declined? Her stomach was a tangled mess, though she managed to hide this fact from her family and friends. Then, on a Tuesday, his response came.

  She didn’t dare open the letter in public. Instead, she hurried home, raced up the stairs and shut her bedroom door behind her so she could have some privacy. Standing in the middle of the room, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. This was it. Her future hinged on the contents in a single envelope. No, that’s not true. If he says no, I can answer another ad. If only other men weren’t so concerned with a woman’s looks.

  She carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the paper. Some money and a train ticket fell to the floor. Startled, she bent to pick the items up. As she did so, it occurred to her that his answer was yes. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears while she eagerly read the letter’s contents.

  Mary,

  I am thirty and grow wheat. I also manage a sizeable number of cattle. You sound like a woman who will suit me. Enclosed are the ticket for your trip to Nebraska and some money for anything you may need to buy for living here.

  Neil Craftsman

  Thrilled, she turned toward her bedroom door. The dollar bill stuck to her shoe reminded her that she needed to put the ticket and money in a safe place. She shoved them under her mattress before she flew down the steps.