Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) (14 page)

Amelia raised her mug of cider, and Violet clinked it.

“To clarity.” Amelia smiled.

“To people coming to their senses.”

“To marriage.”

They each sipped, and Violet thought:
To love
. And Daniel’s face flickered through her mind.

I was remiss in not killing the fool earlier.

(Journal entry, Daniel Lund, December 5, 1890)

DANIEL BURNED AS WITH A FEVER. The brute had just touched her elbow! If it would not be unseemly to march over and punch James in the face in front of the entire town—
in the church and at the Christmas festival, no less!
—he would do it. But he could not do so in front of Violet, that sweet, innocent beauty who drove him wild.

He’d thought he could help her find a husband—but if that were true, then he could let her marry James, her original groom.

But James did not deserve her!

Counting to ten slowly, oh, so slowly, he watched as James said something and Violet’s sweet laugh floated through the air to Daniel’s ears.

Though the entire church was filled with townsfolk, Violet and James were all Daniel could see and hear.

He would go mad this night! Balmy! Berserker!

Amelia touched his hand. “They look well together, do they not?”

“No, they do not.” He glared down at his sister. “They look to be the
Beauty and the Beast
.”

“Ah, so you do read, after all. I thought perhaps you never paid attention in lessons.”

“I paid enough attention to know that this is an abomination.” He motioned toward James and Violet.

“Do you see a better alternative for her as husband?” Amelia asked sweetly.

He paused.
Yes!
he wanted to scream.
Yes!
But he could hardly say that. He had fallen under the woman’s spell, but he still had no claim to her, nor would she want someone his age, someone so flawed as he. Despite the fact that he was falling in love with her.

Her groom had returned and that had changed everything.

His sister still stared up into his eyes.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Amelia sighed and looked back at the abomination. “She is so pretty. And she has had many admirers tonight.”

“May we please choose another topic of conversation?” He ground his teeth.

“Of course. Women’s fashions, perhaps? See how Violet’s dress swirls about her fetchingly?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I need something to eat.” And to drink, if he believed in such. This might be the day he started imbibing.

“Before you go, brother, ask yourself this: Why do you not declare yourself to her? Let her make the choice.”

He looked at Violet again. In her light blue dress, she glowed with loveliness. The dress did, indeed, flow about her fetchingly.

He wanted her! He wanted her so much!

Turning, he made his way to the food table and loaded up. If he kept himself eating, perhaps he wouldn’t kill anyone this day.

He could not declare himself to another man’s bride, either. He would not.

I have been told by the ladies in Minot that I am pleasing to the eye.

(From letter by James Evans to Violet Keating mailed September 29, 1890)

Despite the warmth in church, when the door opened and more townsfolk entered, Violet shivered with the breeze. The Christmas festival had begun at Saturday noon, and the sun was high in the sky. It was a day that looked as though it should be warm—but the air belied that. It was cold.

James brought her hot chocolate.

Gratefully, she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Thank you.”

He sipped his own drink, which did not look to be cocoa, but alcohol of some type. “After we warm ourselves with our drinks, would you like to stroll about with me?”

“Is it not too crowded to stroll in the church?”

“Would you join me for a stroll around the church grounds, then? That would give us a few minutes of time by ourselves. We will be in full view of the entire town, if they just look out the windows or door.”

Unsure, finally she said, “All right. For a few minutes.”

She sipped slowly, but soon her chocolate was done.

Around her, her neighbors were laughing, a fiddler played tunes, and others dancing. There were tables laden with food along the far wall. People wore their Sunday best. Apparently, this would be the last celebration before the community was snowed in, and everyone was determined to have fun.

She caught sight of Daniel, who was hunched over a plate of food, his eyes intent on the plate. Everyone was having fun except Daniel. Her heart tightened. If only James hadn’t come back to town!

James set both their mugs on the table and tucked her hand in his elbow. “Let me get your coat.”

After they had bundled up for the cold, he held the door open for her. As they walked around the perimeter of the churchyard, James pointed out the flowers planted there and talked about the history of the building. As they reached a fence, he said, “I have something to show you.”

She followed him through a small gate into the gardens behind. The plants there looked as you would expect plants in November to do—ready to hibernate until spring.

“My mother planted this rosebush,” he said, pointing to a large bush along the fence, bare of flowers now. “Its blooms are a vivid red with a white stripe. Quite spectacular.”

“It does sound beautiful. I look forward to seeing them next spring.”

“I wish I had some to give you right now.”

Violet could feel herself blushing.

James seemed to be a thoughtful man. He was doing everything right. Well, except for leaving her at the train station. But since he’d come back to town, he’d been trying to woo her properly.

He was handsome, really almost pretty, as Daniel had called him. It would be easy to wake up to a sight like his face, and they would have delightful-looking children.

James stopped and turned to her, still holding her hand in the crook of his elbow, bringing their faces close. Looking serious, he said, “Violet, you are so beautiful. I very much want to make you my bride.”

She couldn’t help but see Daniel’s face before her—the face of the man she was growing to love. The face of the man who hesitated to pursue her. The face of the man who was staring at his food right now—instead of coming after her.

She couldn’t help thinking of the saying,
A bird in the hand is better than three in the wood.
James was asking her to marry him. Daniel was not. And a man who was ready to marry her was worth three who might never decide to pursue her.

She didn’t know whom she was going to choose. She only knew she had to talk to Daniel once more, before she made her decision. To see if she could move him toward a declaration.

Daniel had stood by tonight. If she refused James, would Daniel call on her? She knew he cared.

“Well?” James asked, softly. “What do you say?”

I have never seen Daniel so upset about anything as he was tonight at the sight of Violet and James together. He is smitten, but now that James is back in the picture, he is too honorable to act. They are meant for each other—and he is going to let his chance pass him by. Violet will end up marrying James Evans, and that will be a shame.”

(Journal Entry, Amelia Halvorson, December 5, 1890)

Tormented, Daniel set down his plate of food. It had tasted like sawdust in his mouth, but he had eaten it anyway. Trying to stuff down his despair at the thought of losing Violet, the first woman who had made him feel alive in a decade.

And here he sat, stuffing his face, while James Evans danced with her and sweet-talked her and proposed marriage—the same marriage he’d been too afraid to have on the day she’d arrived.

Amelia’s words came to him again—
Why do you not declare yourself to her? Let her make the choice.

Did he have the right to make his intentions clear? Now that James had returned? Clearly Amelia did not think it made any difference. And Violet had been so upset yesterday after James had reappeared, like a snake from under a rock.

What if Violet preferred Daniel? What if he was letting her down by not speaking up for her? What if she would accept James’s proposal of marriage by default, simply because Daniel had not had the courage to speak up?

That stirred him to action—but he couldn’t act for himself. He did not feel worthy to declare himself to her and ask for her hand. She didn’t know him that well yet, but he wasn’t going to let James slink back into town and steal her away. If she married another man, there were indeed better men in town than James.

Dear Violet,

I received your letter and must say you made it sound like your life is now all peaches and cream—but why am I getting the feeling it might not be so? Mayhap you’re having troubles as I am, with your fella. Rand was furious when he learned I am a Scotswoman. You all were right—I couldn’t hide my brogue. I lost my temper. And now, though I am married to Rand—this is so hard to say, but I have to tell someone. I have a confession to make. My marriage to Rand is in name only—it has not yet been consummated. He is angry still that I deceived him. Secrets are dangerous, love. Avoid them at all costs. And, to make matters worse, I have lost my wedding ring. Do ye reckon you can write back and tell me the truth of your own situation? It will mayhap make me feel better about my own.