The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (38 page)
Read The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) Online
Authors: Lena Goldfinch
Annie rewarded him with a kiss, first on his palm, then a sweet kiss to his lips. She happily spun the band around her finger, apparently pleased with the fit.
He grinned at her and waggled his brows, pleased too. He’d guessed right, a miracle.
She giggled at his antics, shaking her head. When he laced his arms around her back, she leaned fully against his chest. Then all at once she let out the most heartfelt sigh. It felt to Jem as if she’d finally relaxed in a way she’d never relaxed before. He squeezed her in closer. They were going to go forward together, wherever it led them. There was something very reassuring in that.
A hope of things to come, that life would once again be better and richer and full of love.
Seattle, Washington Territory, August 1881
A
s soon as Jem and his little family arrived in Seattle, Isaac and Becky Jessup had welcomed Annie with open arms, just as Jem had anticipated they would. They’d opened their home to Jem, Annie, and Mae for months, straight through Christmas and New Year, until they got settled in their own place.
With the help of Isaac and a few of his loggers, Jem built a tidy three-story house on the outskirts of Seattle proper. He’d chosen a spot on a hill overlooking the ocean. He and Annie had a stable out back on a narrow lot dotted with evergreens. His store front faced the street side of the property. A wood sign engraved with
Wheeler Veterinary
hung above the front door.
Business was growing. Annie took in a few students to tutor sign language during her afternoons. Mae was growing like a weed, her vocabulary sprouting daily with new words. Talked pretty much constantly, in fact.
They’d had a couple of unsigned telegrams from Wyoming. It was clear enough that Gabe and his uncle had bought a ranch there. They were making a new life. Gabe had been reunited with his horse. Ben had played a part in that. He’d also brought Jem’s horses all the way to Seattle, after his precious mare had delivered her foal, a handsome little fellow by all accounts. He’d brought news that Ray was well, still cooking up a storm. And he’d brought Sugar to them too, winning huge smiles from Mae. Ben had apparently enjoyed his visit—had been surprisingly sociable, in fact. He’d even swamped Jem in a back-pounding brotherly hug before he boarded the train back to Colorado. That had meant a lot.
This evening, as he often did after dinner, Jem stood on their little back porch just thinking. Waiting for Annie. He wondered briefly what was keeping her. She liked to type whenever she could. She’d amassed quite a collection of stories from her life—some funny, some almost too sad to read. Perhaps she’d gotten lost in one of those stories tonight. Or perhaps she was poring over their small library of books on sign language, which they’d acquired over the past eight months or so.
He stared out at the inky waters of Puget Sound. The waves were calm tonight. Almost like a lake or a pond. The setting sun blazed orange against the deepest sea-green. Looked like rain tomorrow. It just had that feel.
He glanced up when Annie finally joined him. Sugar slipped out too and plopped down with a thud on the floorboards behind him. She let out a contented doggy sigh that made him chuckle, lightening his serious mood a bit. Annie immediately came over and leaned against his side. She lifted her face to kiss his chin and ran an appreciative hand over his evening stubble.
“I had to get Mae back to bed,” she signed, then absently rubbed the side of her rounded belly. He wondered if the baby was pressing a heel there. “Again,” she added. “Her doll had fallen off the bed.”
Mae loved that doll. She loved her new room and her new bed too, but getting her to stay in it had become a challenge lately.
“She loves that doll,” Jem said.
Annie’s mouth curved in a soft smile of pleasure. She loved that Mae treasured her “honey bee” doll. Not as much perhaps as hearing Mae call her Momma though. That obviously meant more. Every time Mae said it, Annie’s eyes would shine suspiciously, and she’d busy herself with whatever task was at hand. Or she’d stop and hug Mae tight, until his daughter giggled and squirmed away.
Jem circled an arm around Annie’s back and gently squeezed. The paper in his hand—the one he’d been reading over and over—crinkled. She looked around to locate the source of the noise.
“I got a wire from Adam Booker in Denver,” he said.
“What does it say?” she signed.
“It’s done.”
“It’s done?” Annie signed back, her expression quizzical. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“What does it mean?”
“Only that certain sensitive account details have been leaked to the police. Maybe, by now, even more has happened.” He shrugged.
“What will happen to Creed?” she asked, making the name for Creed with a particularly jerky motion. She was “talking” more these days, making utterances to accompany her signs, he’d noticed. He’d also noticed that he understood her more and more, with and without the hand motions.
Jem pressed his nose into the softness of her hair, just for a moment, and breathed in the scent of her shampoo, something new. Like milk and honey. He sniffed again. Different, but nice. Sort of fresh smelling. Feminine.
“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “I’ve thought a lot about it. I’ve wanted to go back and beat the man myself—nothing I’m proud of. I want him to pay for what he did to Gabe. I want him in jail. I’ve even wanted him dead.
“Me too,” she admitted sheepishly. “I’ve thought that.”
“But that’s not our part. Retribution. It’s not. Sometimes the only ‘retribution’ you’re going to see—in cases like this—is getting away. We’ve done our part. Gabe got away. Just like I got away from my pa.”
“And your mother did too.”
“What?” Jem asked, struck by what Annie had just signed. All these years he’d held so much bitterness toward his mother for not taking him with her.
“Your mother got away too.”
“She
left
me, Annie. She didn’t bring me with her.”
“I know. My mother left me too.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” He nudged her and marveled when her lips curved into a smile. Not a big bold smile, but a quieter smile of acceptance. How could she? How could she accept what had happened to her? How could she forgive her mother for what she’d done?
Maybe she somehow heard his unspoken questions, for she continued signing, “Maybe my mother thought I wasn’t safe where she was.”
“Could be.”
“Maybe your mother wanted to bring you too, but it wasn’t safe.”
Jem thought about that, a woman on the run with a small boy in tow... She hadn’t known where she was going, likely. Hadn’t known even if she’d have food. Maybe she’d wanted to bring him with her, but she couldn’t.
He closed his fingers around the telegram.
Why had he never realized that until now? The trouble was, he didn’t know what his mother’s intentions had been, and he didn’t like not knowing. But he supposed that was life too. Not knowing every single little thing. Not knowing, even, the big things.
Trust—and moving forward—that was what he was left with.
And, honestly, his life had turned out pretty good.
Downright miraculous, actually. He had Annie. He hadn’t been looking for her, but she’d come into his life. Just like that. He had his adorable Mae, who made every day an adventure. And they had another child on the way. He had his business, doing what he loved. What felt an awful lot like what he was meant to do. There was a new sense of satisfaction in that. And he had this—Seattle. Home. Family. They had Isaac and Becky and the children. They had Pop. It was quite a big family when they all gathered together Sundays after church and on holidays.
“You know...” Jem said, leaning his hip more securely against the porch railing. His eyes rested on their property, with the ocean below and the glimpse of mountains off to the north. “I’ve had hurts and losses in my life. Things I could’ve blamed God for. But do you know what I see now? I see
this
.” He swept his hand out, encompassing their land...everything. “It’s all love, isn’t it?”
“It’s all love,” she agreed.
Jem tucked Annie closer to his side. Together they soaked in the view. Their sunset.
Gabriel Benjamin Wheeler
Born September 7, 1881
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading Jem and Annie’s story. They took me on a journey of discovery. I never would have guessed a book featuring a mute heroine would turn into such a long tale. The end result was twice what I expected. It seems my Annie had quite a lot she wanted to say. Such is the mysterious and wonderful path of the creative process.
In researching for this book, I learned some fascinating things. Things like: When was the first commercially manufactured typewriter available in the United States? What veterinary training existed in the late 1870s? When were screen doors invented? And can people with dysgraphia (a handwriting disability) draw?
For the curious, the
Sholes & Glidden
typewriter was manufactured and sold beginning in 1874. Fun fact: It featured all UPPERCASE letters, a limitation improved on in future typewriters. Iowa State University offered their first class in Veterinary Medicine in 1872. And in 1879 the Iowa State College of Veterinary Medicine was officially founded. Prior to that, many veterinarians (also known as “horse doctors”) were trained in private institutions without consistent academic standards. And while the first patented screen door came later, wood frames for handmade screen doors were sold in catalogs as early as the 1870s.
Today, Annie would have been diagnosed with severe dyspraxia (a speech disorder) and dysgraphia (a handwriting disorder). Although there is some dispute in reference material as to whether people with dysgraphia can draw, I found myself persuaded by first-person accounts of people with the disorder who said they could draw. That makes sense to me, as drawing isn’t the same as letter formation, which is the affected ability. I pictured Annie drawing with her fingertip instead of manipulating a pencil, which seems more plausible. On a personal note, a family member has high-functioning dysgraphia and finds handwriting difficult. In more severe cases of dysgraphia, like Annie’s, she can only make approximations for certain letters.
I was introduced to dyspraxia when my daughter was in grade school. She had a friend with severe dyspraxia. This little girl could understand what people were saying and could read, but her speech was unintelligible. I had a speech impediment myself as a child and recall how frustrating it was. I’m sure all of these life experiences fed into the creation of Annie, as well as Gabe, who has a stutter. (I guess I’m just fascinated with language and communication challenges!)
—
Lena Goldfinch
