Rousseau that allowed Julia to live there without working.
Working. A respectable sounding word for a way of life that wasn’t.
“Someday it’ll be better. Someday it will.” Her mother had saidthose words time and time again through the years. She’d made certain Julia went to school and had told her she must ignore the teasing and cruel words of her classmates. “Study hard. Improve your mind and you can improve your life. Be a lady. Don’t wind up like me, my darling girl.”
Take me away from here, God . That was Julia’s constant prayer. Please take me away from here .
Julia’s eyes refocused, and with a glance at the clock, she realized she’d been lost in thought for a long while. But her memories wouldn’t be denied.
She dropped the skirt into the basket and went to her wardrobe. On the top shelf, within easy reach, was a plain wooden box where she kept a few prized possessions. While Angus lived, she’d hidden the box elsewhere, knowing he would have destroyed it and everything inside when he was in one of his moods.
Julia carried the box to her bed where she opened the lid. On top, there were the letters from her mother, sent during the early years of Julia’s marriage, tied in a bundle with a yellow ribbon. In a second bundle were the letters her mother had returned to her unopened. Those were from more recent years. In addition, there was a necklace that her great-grandmother had worn when she left England for America, a small silver cross given to Julia by Reverend Adair at her baptism, and a ring that had belonged to Angus’s mother. She picked up the latter object and held it up to catch the light.
Her husband had shown her the ring once, soon after he’d brought Julia to Wyoming as his bride. “It’s not worth anything,” he’d said at the time. “Cut glass is all it is. But my father gave it to my mother, and she liked it. I don’t want you wearing it.”
She hadn’t cared about the ring. It was rather an ugly thing.Though the glass stone was bright and sparkly, the metal setting reminded her of a gargoyle. Why would any woman want it on her finger? She’d never seen the ring again while Angus lived and had forgotten all about it until she was going through her husband’s things several months after his death and discovered it in the back of a dresser drawer, wrapped in a handkerchief.
But the ugly ring wasn’t the reason she’d taken the keepsake box from the wardrobe. It was the letters she wanted to see. She reached for the bundled envelopes and untied the yellow ribbon. Then she opened the letter with the oldest postmark.
My darling girl ,
I hope this letter finds you well and settling into your new life with your husband. I have thought of you so often since the day of the wedding. I know it was not the kind of ceremony you would have liked. I know you would have chosen a church wedding performed by the reverend, but that just wasn’t possible. It was more important that you marry quickly and go, before Madame Rousseau made it difficult for you to do so .
Still, you were the prettiest bride I’ve seen in all my born days, and if I believed in God, I’d be thanking Him for giving you a fine husband and a new home .
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. “You were grasping at straws, trying to protect me. But how I wish … how I wish …”
“Julia dear, I want you to meet Mr. Grace.”
Her mother’s words drew Julia’s gaze from the dress she was making. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t the manshe saw before her. His attire was plain, the clothes of a working man. However, his face was anything but plain. Never had she seen such a handsome man. Perhaps four or five years older than she, he was tall and fair, his hair even lighter than her own. His eyes were dark blue. When he smiled, she felt her heart flip in response.
“How do you do, Miss Crane?” he said, his voice smooth, like warm honey.
She answered as
Working. A respectable sounding word for a way of life that wasn’t.
“Someday it’ll be better. Someday it will.” Her mother had saidthose words time and time again through the years. She’d made certain Julia went to school and had told her she must ignore the teasing and cruel words of her classmates. “Study hard. Improve your mind and you can improve your life. Be a lady. Don’t wind up like me, my darling girl.”
Take me away from here, God . That was Julia’s constant prayer. Please take me away from here .
Julia’s eyes refocused, and with a glance at the clock, she realized she’d been lost in thought for a long while. But her memories wouldn’t be denied.
She dropped the skirt into the basket and went to her wardrobe. On the top shelf, within easy reach, was a plain wooden box where she kept a few prized possessions. While Angus lived, she’d hidden the box elsewhere, knowing he would have destroyed it and everything inside when he was in one of his moods.
Julia carried the box to her bed where she opened the lid. On top, there were the letters from her mother, sent during the early years of Julia’s marriage, tied in a bundle with a yellow ribbon. In a second bundle were the letters her mother had returned to her unopened. Those were from more recent years. In addition, there was a necklace that her great-grandmother had worn when she left England for America, a small silver cross given to Julia by Reverend Adair at her baptism, and a ring that had belonged to Angus’s mother. She picked up the latter object and held it up to catch the light.
Her husband had shown her the ring once, soon after he’d brought Julia to Wyoming as his bride. “It’s not worth anything,” he’d said at the time. “Cut glass is all it is. But my father gave it to my mother, and she liked it. I don’t want you wearing it.”
She hadn’t cared about the ring. It was rather an ugly thing.Though the glass stone was bright and sparkly, the metal setting reminded her of a gargoyle. Why would any woman want it on her finger? She’d never seen the ring again while Angus lived and had forgotten all about it until she was going through her husband’s things several months after his death and discovered it in the back of a dresser drawer, wrapped in a handkerchief.
But the ugly ring wasn’t the reason she’d taken the keepsake box from the wardrobe. It was the letters she wanted to see. She reached for the bundled envelopes and untied the yellow ribbon. Then she opened the letter with the oldest postmark.
My darling girl ,
I hope this letter finds you well and settling into your new life with your husband. I have thought of you so often since the day of the wedding. I know it was not the kind of ceremony you would have liked. I know you would have chosen a church wedding performed by the reverend, but that just wasn’t possible. It was more important that you marry quickly and go, before Madame Rousseau made it difficult for you to do so .
Still, you were the prettiest bride I’ve seen in all my born days, and if I believed in God, I’d be thanking Him for giving you a fine husband and a new home .
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. “You were grasping at straws, trying to protect me. But how I wish … how I wish …”
“Julia dear, I want you to meet Mr. Grace.”
Her mother’s words drew Julia’s gaze from the dress she was making. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t the manshe saw before her. His attire was plain, the clothes of a working man. However, his face was anything but plain. Never had she seen such a handsome man. Perhaps four or five years older than she, he was tall and fair, his hair even lighter than her own. His eyes were dark blue. When he smiled, she felt her heart flip in response.
“How do you do, Miss Crane?” he said, his voice smooth, like warm honey.
She answered as
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