A Blessed Song for Their Love by Olivia Haywood
Chapter Five
Thomas entered the study. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts and compose himself for the task that lay ahead. His father would be back from the station soon, bringing the woman he would supposedly marry. He scoffed at the thought. As if he could be forced into a marriage of convenience against his will.
The memory of the conversation with his father the day before over breakfast made his temper rise.
“I’ve been corresponding with a young woman who has agreed to come and be your wife,” Arthur had announced over coffee. “I’m fetching her from the station tomorrow afternoon. She is aware that it will be a marriage in name only. You do not have to love her, but please, Thomas, be kind to her.”
Thomas had stared in abject horror as his father continued.
“Miss. Berry is a God-fearing woman who will be an asset to this family and a mother to Robbie.”
An argument had ensued that brought Buena Gideon rushing into the kitchen to try and calm the quarrel. Robbie had awoken amidst the yelling and lay screaming in his crib as they fought. Arthur Stratton was not a confrontational man by nature, but his patience had been wearing thin over the past few months. Thomas knew that he was partially to blame for that, and the thought made him even angrier.
Yet he could still see no reason for his father to force his hand in such a blatantly ridiculous manner. He would not let the guilt of his recent behavior push him into a situation that he didn’t want, and would likely never be ready for.
He clenched his jaw and forced his thoughts back to the task at hand, trying but failing to calm the storm that was raging within. The sun was hanging low in the sky and he could hear Buena Gideon in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal after giving Robbie his bath and settling him in his crib. The sounds of pots clanging and knives chopping helped center his thoughts.
He’d rehearsed over and over again in his mind what he would say to Miss. Berry when she arrived.
Thank you very much for coming, but this was not my idea and I will reimburse you for the travel expenses and the inconvenience caused by my father. I am sympathetic to your plight, but will under no circumstances be marrying you.
Not wanting to cause her any kind of embarrassment, he would allow her to rest for the night before putting her back on the train in the morning.
Nobody in town needed to be any the wiser of her journey, saving her any embarrassment. It was a solid plan that he felt completely justified in carrying out.
Lovely and God-fearing as his father made her out to be from her letters, he would not be forced to love another woman. His wife was the only woman he could possibly love. Six months had been more than enough time for him to be sure of that. It was downright disrespectful to his wife’s memory to even suggest otherwise. Even if he did not have to love her in that way, he still couldn’t find it in himself to live with her and be kind to her.
He looked around the neat little room that served as the study. It held a simple wooden desk and bookshelf that held the meticulous ledgers his father kept of the ranch’s accounts. The leather-bound volumes lay slanted on their shelf. This room had always helped him organize his thoughts in the past, but now it brought back memories he’d rather forget.
The drapes were pale blue cotton, hand-stitched by his mother. She had wanted them to be comfortable when they did their work, frequently placing fresh flowers in the vase on the desk that now stood empty.
The rug was brown and rough from months of neglect, not having seen a lick of soap or even a broom. Buena was far too busy with the food and looking after Robbie to take care of all the cleaning as well.
He made a mental note to hire a girl from the village to come in and clean once this matter with Rosaline Berry was settled. There were plenty of young women in town looking for a job. He’d look for one that was happily married so that nobody could get any ideas.
His attention was drawn to the solid spruce guitar that lay forgotten in the corner next to the shelf of ledgers. Thomas crossed the room and lingered just in front of it, his hand reaching out and hovering inches above the neck as the varnished wood glinted in the light of the evening sun.
His wife had given him the guitar as a birthday gift, presenting it to him in this very room as he sat working at the desk.
“Happy birthday, my darling!” she had beamed as she handed him the guitar. “May God spare you many more,” her voice had chimed. She had this way of bringing the sun with her wherever she went, her eyes crinkling at the corners whenever she smiled.
His heart clenched at the memory as he withdrew his hand and walked over to the window that overlooked the entrance to the ranch.
He was momentarily plagued by guilt. What would his wife have said if she knew he hadn’t played a single note in months. What would she say if she knew he hadn’t prayed to God in all that time either? She would have been disappointed to see him as he was at the moment.
Daily prayer and evenings singing hymns with the family, as he played his guitar on the porch, had been part of their daily family traditions. Traditions that had been buried along with his wife.
His mother and wife had sung out their praises to the Lord. Afterward, his father would pick up the Bible and they would all gather around to hear the passages read aloud, the smell of their evening meal still hanging in the air as they listened in contentment.
He had so much faith back then. Now the memories were just a burden to his soul. His heart hardened as he recalled one of the verses he used to cherish.
(Proverbs 13:12) Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.
What hope did he have left? His wife was gone. That desire would never again be fulfilled. There was nothing anyone could do to fulfill that hope.
Did his father really think that a new bride would once again ignite the fire in his soul that had gone out?
He stiffened as he heard the hooves of the horses drawing near, followed by the sound of the buckboard pulling into the drive. The light was low and he could just make out the figures that were sitting atop the seat. A small hooded figure sat beside his father.
Thomas took a deep breath and rehearsed his speech for the last time, mouthing the words to himself. He would await their guest in the kitchen and tell her of his decision as soon as she came in. Quick and simple. No need for pleasantries.
The voices outside told him that Buena was there to greet their guest. He waited a minute or two as he worked up his nerve.
Reaching for the lamp that stood on the desk, he took the matches that lay beside it and lit the wick. The sun had set and the hall was dark as he made his way to the kitchen.
Buena was chattering away in her comforting voice when he entered the room. She was fussing about, getting some tea for their guest, her plump frame bustling as she worked. She was a pleasant woman with a mop of light brown curls tucked into her cap. Her cheeks were always flushed like two ripe apples and a sunny smile was never far from her lips.
Thomas placed the lamp on the table beside the door. The kitchen was brightly lit from the fire that burned in the hearth., and an iron kettle was steaming as it hung over the flames. The long gray table that ran down the center of the room had been set with two additional plates.
Buena had taken to laying their food on the table and settling Robbie for the night before heading home in the evenings, but Arthur had asked her to stay a few nights until Rosaline could find her footing. A plan that would last for only one night, if Thomas had anything to do with it. After all, Rosaline would be headed back home in the morning.
Arthur Stratton stood at the door holding a small, battered valise. He nodded to his son in greeting and stepped aside.
Thomas’ breath caught in his chest, the words he had rehearsed all but forgotten as he took in the scene. Behind his father stood a slight young woman with the most enchantingly green eyes he had ever seen. At least a head shorter than him, she drew back her bonnet to reveal a crop of auburn hair that was loosely pinned into a bun with whisps of loose tendrils framing her face. Her features were delicate and pale.
She was wearing a faded black dress that highlighted her soft, clear skin. The fabric of her dress shifted as she took off her cloak and smoothed down the sides.
Authur cleared his throat, snapping Thomas out of his dreamlike trance. “May I introduce Miss. Rosaline Berry.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, nodding at him casting her eyes down.
Her gentle tone threw him off guard.
Thomas noticed that her lashes were long and brushed against her cheeks as she tilted her head. Her auburn tendrils fell over her face as she lifted a hand to sweep them back. She was trembling slightly as she straightened and looked him in the eyes, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.
He stared at her as she held his gaze, heat rising unexpectedly up the back of his neck.
“Let me take your cloak,” Buena interrupted the moment as she bustled forward, having already made her introductions out in the yard. “Supper will be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she said pleasantly as she took the cloak and hung it on the hook behind the door.
Rosaline’s frame was slender and pinched at the waist, and Thomas felt his pulse race as she bent to take the seat that Buena held out for her. There was something about the way she held herself while she continuously brushed her hair behind her ears that muddled his thoughts. He had to reach for the words he wanted to say.
Despite his best efforts, he found his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, unable to move. He fought a silent battle in his chest.
“Take your seat, son,” his father addressed him from the door as he set down the valise.
Thomas gingerly made his way to the table and sat across from Rosaline as she accepted the cup offered to her by Buena.
This is it. He thought to himself. Taking a deep breath he raised his head, poised to begin.
The gentle smile that pulled at her lips when she thanked Buena made him stop and avert his gaze. He stared pensively at the row of pots that hung on the wall above the giant stove.
Why was he so nervous? This woman didn’t mean a thing to him, he chided himself but couldn’t bring forth the words he had practiced.
Something about her presence left him unable to speak, and he felt the urge to be gentle in his manner towards her. He couldn’t quite explain his reluctance to be as curt to her as he had rehearsed.
Busying himself by reading the spices that sat on the shelf, he listened intently as Buena did her best to put Rosaline at ease.
“I hope you had a pleasant journey?” Buena enquired.
“It was lovely, thank you,” she said nervously as she sipped her tea.
Thomas felt his father's gaze and turned to see him staring intently at him, his eyes pleading with Thomas to be polite. He felt a nerve twitch in his jaw.
“You must be tired,” he relented and bluntly addressed Rosaline.
He could see that she was taken off guard when she jumped slightly in her chair and fiddled with her cup.
“I am a bit tired. I... I wasn’t expecting the journey to be so long,” she stammered and tucked another loose tendril behind her ear.
His heart was beating a pace in his chest that both perplexed and angered him. He resented his reaction. “You came from Delaware?”
Arthur’s words came back to him from their heated exchange the day before as he sought for something to talk about.
“Yes, Wilmington.”
He averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Buena had busied herself with the cooking, and his father was watching the exchange over the brim of his cup.
They sat in silence for a moment or two as he worked up the courage to give her his speech.
“I think you should...” he began but his words caught in his throat as she looked at him through earnest eyes. They held an innocence that choked his words.
“I think you should rest,” he mumbled gruffly and stood as he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly across the stone floor. “We can talk after dinner.” He turned and stormed out of the house without looking back.
The cool evening air kissed his face as he hurried towards the stables. His emotions were a tangled mess. What he was feeling or why he was feeling it was a mystery to him. All he knew was that he needed to get as far away from the house as he possibly could.