to marry for real was settled, and his trip here a formality out of respect for them. All they needed was to know my elation and be a part of our real wedding. John was the most wonderful…
My father stopped me this time. Silenced me so suddenly with the shout of my name as he rose to his feet that I thought the whole of us would die of fright. He cleared his throat when I stopped chattering and looked up at him. No one looked at me, not even my brother or sister. “You’ve been spoken for here,” he said solemnly, “promised, and it’s already been arranged.”
My skin turned to ice, my heart nearly exploded. I couldn’t breathe. Surely he was wrong. Surely this was a joke, something that could be altered.
“No,” I strained to say. “No, I won’t marry another. I’m promised to John. Even though it wasn’t official, I already said ‘I do’ and I meant it.”
My mother began to cry. My brother left the table. My sister leaned my way and squeezed my hand.
“You’re espoused to Isaac Crouse. It’s been arranged.” My father’s face was ashen beneath his tan. His eyes were on me, watery, shiny, and trying ever so hard to stay fixed.
“How can this be? He’s so old. I don’t know him. Why would you allow this?” My words were weak, my voice trembled, and I thought of the door, of the road back to the rail station, of the few things I’d left in Chicago at Henrietta’s house because I knew I’d return there soon to become Mrs. John Baxter.
“We fell on some hard times,” my mother said, relieving my father. “We lost money this year, and we needed help. Isaac helped us,” she said, looking away from me. “We owe him everything, and we couldn’t pay. He asked for your hand when we couldn’t meet our obligations. He’s a fine man, a preacher…” Her voice trailed away.
I remember the coldness that overtook the room. I remember their voices thinning and becoming grating as they tried to explain over my screams that this was the way it had to be. I remember shuddering and shaking so that I couldn’t stop gasping for air, crying out and pleading only for John.
Chapter 16
“For love is as strong as death,
jealousy is as severe as Sheol.”
Kyle stopped reading and deciphering our long chain of letters and words, and I yanked my fingers from the keys. They hurt. I’d been typing her story with such fury that I’d beat the metal tabs as if I could destroy Isaac and his cold proposition.
“I could hate him,” I whispered as I rubbed my fingers. I could hate him for binding me, my mother, and my great-grandmother in roles we may not have otherwise chosen. I looked at Kyle. He said nothing as I wondered if he would do the same thing to a woman someday, force her or allow her to think she was someone she wasn’t. I stood and went to heat some water. I needed something to drink, something hot to go with my ire.
Kyle stood. I knew he was watching me as I made a ruckus of finding mugs and digging through my tin cabinet for teabags and honey.
“She had good reason to leave for those two weeks,” he suggested behind my back.
I whirled on him, angry he would take the low road this way. Blame Julianne as if Isaac’s chokehold on her heart was acceptable. He saw the fire in my eyes, but he didn’t back down, didn’t try to excuse his statement; he just looked at me.
“But I don’t think that’s why she did,” he finished.
I eyed him. “Because you’ve read the letters?” I jammed my fists on my hips and glared at him. “Because you know something that excuses her, but if you didn’t, you’d blame her because she didn’t fulfill her role? As if what Isaac did to her wasn’t significant?” My voice took on a tinny tremor. I was angry. Maybe not at him, but definitely at Isaac. And Trevor. And everyone else, including me, who had made me feel like a failure because I’d postponed our wedding.
“No, Annabelle, not because of what I saw in the letters.”
I could see in
My father stopped me this time. Silenced me so suddenly with the shout of my name as he rose to his feet that I thought the whole of us would die of fright. He cleared his throat when I stopped chattering and looked up at him. No one looked at me, not even my brother or sister. “You’ve been spoken for here,” he said solemnly, “promised, and it’s already been arranged.”
My skin turned to ice, my heart nearly exploded. I couldn’t breathe. Surely he was wrong. Surely this was a joke, something that could be altered.
“No,” I strained to say. “No, I won’t marry another. I’m promised to John. Even though it wasn’t official, I already said ‘I do’ and I meant it.”
My mother began to cry. My brother left the table. My sister leaned my way and squeezed my hand.
“You’re espoused to Isaac Crouse. It’s been arranged.” My father’s face was ashen beneath his tan. His eyes were on me, watery, shiny, and trying ever so hard to stay fixed.
“How can this be? He’s so old. I don’t know him. Why would you allow this?” My words were weak, my voice trembled, and I thought of the door, of the road back to the rail station, of the few things I’d left in Chicago at Henrietta’s house because I knew I’d return there soon to become Mrs. John Baxter.
“We fell on some hard times,” my mother said, relieving my father. “We lost money this year, and we needed help. Isaac helped us,” she said, looking away from me. “We owe him everything, and we couldn’t pay. He asked for your hand when we couldn’t meet our obligations. He’s a fine man, a preacher…” Her voice trailed away.
I remember the coldness that overtook the room. I remember their voices thinning and becoming grating as they tried to explain over my screams that this was the way it had to be. I remember shuddering and shaking so that I couldn’t stop gasping for air, crying out and pleading only for John.
Chapter 16
“For love is as strong as death,
jealousy is as severe as Sheol.”
Kyle stopped reading and deciphering our long chain of letters and words, and I yanked my fingers from the keys. They hurt. I’d been typing her story with such fury that I’d beat the metal tabs as if I could destroy Isaac and his cold proposition.
“I could hate him,” I whispered as I rubbed my fingers. I could hate him for binding me, my mother, and my great-grandmother in roles we may not have otherwise chosen. I looked at Kyle. He said nothing as I wondered if he would do the same thing to a woman someday, force her or allow her to think she was someone she wasn’t. I stood and went to heat some water. I needed something to drink, something hot to go with my ire.
Kyle stood. I knew he was watching me as I made a ruckus of finding mugs and digging through my tin cabinet for teabags and honey.
“She had good reason to leave for those two weeks,” he suggested behind my back.
I whirled on him, angry he would take the low road this way. Blame Julianne as if Isaac’s chokehold on her heart was acceptable. He saw the fire in my eyes, but he didn’t back down, didn’t try to excuse his statement; he just looked at me.
“But I don’t think that’s why she did,” he finished.
I eyed him. “Because you’ve read the letters?” I jammed my fists on my hips and glared at him. “Because you know something that excuses her, but if you didn’t, you’d blame her because she didn’t fulfill her role? As if what Isaac did to her wasn’t significant?” My voice took on a tinny tremor. I was angry. Maybe not at him, but definitely at Isaac. And Trevor. And everyone else, including me, who had made me feel like a failure because I’d postponed our wedding.
“No, Annabelle, not because of what I saw in the letters.”
I could see in
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