Waiting For His Lady: Four Historical Romances
By
Doreen Milstead
© 2016 Susan Hart
Base cover photo copyright: zonecreative / 123RF Stock Photo
Two Sisters & The Family Quilt Go West For Love
Synopsis: Two Sisters and The Family Quilt Go West For Love, is the story of two sisters sent by their parents to California, where one is to be a mail order bride. On the train journey, they meet two men who seem strangely familiar and along the way, grow to like them. The one intended mail order bride fights her feelings, knowing that she is to be married as soon as she gets to the West Coast, but it is very hard when the handsome stranger seems to be interested in her, as well.
Mary Beth looked up from the pair of trousers she was mending and smiled. Her sister, Jennifer, was staring out of the window, down toward the harbor. Mary Beth paused in her work for a moment to follow her sister’s gaze. The fishermen were down there, bringing in the day’s haul. Gulls wheeled in the sky, looking for tidbits of fish or lobster from the boats.
Out of all of them, Mary Beth could pick out her father’s boat, the MaryJen. It was a thoughtful combination of her and her sister’s names. She hoped he had a good day out offshore and that everyone on the boat stayed safe. Her father stayed in her prayers constantly.
What do you think it would be like to be out there, sailing over the water, instead of in here, sewing?
Jennifer asked dreamily.
You know how it would be,
Mary Beth said. Hard work.
Their father had been a fisherman for more than twenty-five years. Mary Beth could see first hand the way his body hurt him from the torturous toiling on the boat. His hands were scarred and weathered, and their favorite bedtime story growing up as girls was the time he rescued his first mate from drowning during a terrible storm.
I don’t think it would be any harder than needlework,
Jennifer said in that same dreamy tone. Both require focus and care. And sharp things.
In needlework, you only risk pricking your finger,
Mary Beth said. You do know how Mr. Howard lost his eye, don’t you?
He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen,
Jennifer said. It makes me ill to think about it.
And that’s what you’d face every day,
Mary Beth. So be happy about the needlework.
I’m not unhappy about the needlework,
Jennifer protested. I just think that women are more than capable of harvesting the sea. Just as much as men are. Maybe we’d be even better at it.
Mary Beth snorted and got back to the trousers. Jennifer was sweet and loyal as could be, but she sometimes spouted off some strange ideas.
Maybe you’ll marry a fisherman,
she said, tying off a knot and finishing the patch. And maybe he’ll let you be first mate on his boat.
I don’t want to marry a fisherman,
Jennifer said incredulously. And I’d be captain, not first mate.
Mary Beth laughed outright at that, hoping that Peter, their boss, hadn’t heard. She had worked for him as a seamstress for longer than Jennifer had. As soon as Jennifer had finished with her schooling, Mary Beth had practically begged Peter to take on her little sister. Jennifer was better with something to occupy her time, like a job as a seamstress.
Otherwise, Mary Beth was afraid she’d terrorize mother and father — as well as do harm to the family’s reputation — by marching with the other women around town to push for the right to vote. Jennifer was just the kind to do that.
Those trousers aren’t going to hem themselves,
Mary Beth prompted Jennifer.
Indeed,
Jennifer said, falling back to her work.
Jennifer was just as good as Mary Beth with a needle and thread, but lacked complete focus. It was just like her to daydream about doing something else, no matter if Mary Beth had stuck her neck out for her to get the job here at the tailor’s.
Let’s work on the family quilt instead,
Jennifer said, her voice mischievous.
Mary Beth looked up to scold her and noticed that the trousers were already hemmed. Jennifer would be the better seamstress of the two if she would just keep her mind on the task, Mary Beth realized.
We’re still at the tailor’s,
Mary Beth reminded her sister. As long as we’re here, we need to be doing the work that Peter gives us to do.
Do you see anymore work?
Jennifer asked, arching her eyebrows.
Mary Beth looked around the room. All of the mending and hemming that had been assigned to them were neatly folded and finished. How had they gotten through that so fast? It was really a blessing to have Jennifer here helping her. Before, when Jennifer was still at school, Peter would work Mary Beth’s fingers to the bone with pieces she had to complete before leaving.
Fine, let’s work on the quilt,
Mary Beth said, smiling.
Clearly delighted, Jennifer unfolded it from a large bag. They carried it most everywhere they went, even if Mother was of the opinion that it should be locked in a trunk somewhere unless they were actively working on it. Mary Beth felt that the quilt was safer in her presence. Plus, she liked to work on it whenever she had free time.
They unfolded the quilt, Mary Beth running her hands over each of the panels. They took great pains to make sure everyone in their family tree was represented on the work. It was like a fabric masterpiece, never suited for keeping someone warm or decorating a bed. This was their history, documenting their family and their futures.
Mary Beth smiled at a panel that Jennifer had pieced together — a fishing boat surrounded by crashing waves. In tiny, beautiful stitches, The MaryJen
was just visible on the side. It was a tribute to Father, who supported his family through the sea. Most men were fishermen in their little town. That was the way it had always been, though it was growing, now.
More and more opportunities were opening up every day, and Mary Beth found herself hoping that Father would seek out different employment. She hated the way that Mother wrung her hands every time The MaryJen would go out, the most precious cargo it would ever hold being Father. Father had to know how heavily his profession weighed on Mother. It was one of the biggest reasons Mary Beth had no desire to marry a fisherman, when the time came.
In Mother’s opinion, the time to marry was now — for both Mary Beth and Jennifer. It bothered Jennifer most of all that Mother was dabbling in what would become their future love lives, but Mary Beth knew that Mother knew best and just wanted them to make good matches. She probably wouldn’t marry either of them to fishermen if only to spare them the worry that dominated her own life.
My husband will sew his own panel,
Jennifer said in that faraway tone she got when she was thinking about strange things.
I sincerely doubt that,
Mary Beth scoffed, retrieving some bits of fabric from the bottom of the bag to start piecing together a new panel. Men don’t sew quilts.
Peter sews,
Jennifer said primly. If I married him, he’d sew his own panel. Nothing would make me happier.
It would make you happy to marry Peter?
Mary Beth asked, wrinkling her nose. Peter was old enough to be their grandfather.
No, of course not,
Jennifer said, laughing. But I would want my husband to share in everything I enjoy — sewing, and the like. We’d both work outside the home and share the chores equally.
Keep talking like that and you’re going to be an old maid,
Mary Beth remarked. No man is going to do chores around the house with you.
Mine will,
Jennifer said. He’ll love God, sewing, and chores.
Keep dreaming,
Mary Beth said sweetly. I hope he does love God, though.
That much will be certain,
Jennifer said securely.
Mary Beth used a couple of pins to make a mockup of the panel she was making for Mother. Mother, of course, already had several panels, but they agreed that there was much more they could do to represent how meaningful the family was in the quilt. This one was going to be of freshly baked bread and pastries. Mother excelled in the kitchen. They always joked that she should sell her wares and open up a bakery, reeling Father in from the sea to help her in her endeavor.
Are you girls still here?
Peter called before shuffling into the room. It’s past five already.
Where did the time go?
Mary Beth exclaimed. We had finished up on all the orders today and were just working on the family quilt for a little bit.
It seems to grow every time I see it,
Peter remarked, touching a panel lightly that featured dueling needles and intricate twirls of thread. That would fetch of fortune should you ever sell it.
We could never,
Jennifer breathed, sounding scandalized. This is our family on these panels.
I know you couldn’t,
Peter said, smiling. You girls have a God-given talent for sewing, that much is apparent.
Thank you,
Mary Beth said as she helped Jennifer carefully fold the quilt and put it back in its bag.
Now, run along,
Peter said, shooing them out the door. I don’t want your parents demanding to know why I keep you here so late.
Mary Beth laughed, remembering when Mother had done just the same thing. It was back when Jennifer was still in school and Mary Beth would have too many orders to complete in one shift.
Good night, Peter,
the sisters said in unison, leaving through the front door of the tailor’s.
The evening was sharply cool, the smell of the sea carried in on the breeze. All of the fishermen had already taken their catches to market. Mary Beth was sure Father would have the choicest picks from his nets already at home, waiting for them.
It was just a short distance from the tailor’s to the family’s house, which was part of the reason why Mary Beth had found it so convenient to get employed there, but she sometimes wished it were a little farther away. It felt so good to stretch her legs after a long day of doing nothing but sitting and sewing. The sea air was wonderful for everyone’s health, too.
When they walked into the house, Mary Beth’s mouth watered. The most delicious smells were floating on the air from the kitchen.
We’re home,
Mary Beth called, placing the bag containing the family quilt reverently on a rocking chair before drifting toward the kitchen. The kitchen was one of the happiest rooms in the house. Mother was almost always in there, cooking up some succulent concoction or complicated treat. The fireplace in there was always full of wood and crackling, driving off any of the chill that might sneak in through the draft windows.
Look at all these fat lobsters your father pulled from the pot,
Mother exclaimed as soon as they were both in the room. No less than ten bobbed in the enormous pot of boiling water, their shells turning redder and redder by the second. In another pot, Mother was steaming some clams, corn on the cob, and potatoes, all together with a fiery red spice that would enhance all of the flavors nicely.
We usually did big bakes like this in the summer, down on the beach, as a family, but the lobsters looked to be so good that Mother couldn’t resist having a bake out of season.
Well done, Father,
Jennifer congratulated as he walked into the kitchen, warming his hands by the fire. You made quite the catch today.
God was good, and the sea was smooth,
Father said, smiling. I wish that every day could be like today.
They sat around the table, saying grace while holding hands as a family, before setting in to Mother’s delicious spread. She’d even baked biscuits to mop up all the delicious juices. Mary Beth closed her eyes in pleasure as she had her first taste of the lobster.
It was so tender and perfectly cooked. All of the side items complemented the feast of lobsters, and they all ate until they were more than full.
Thank you, Mother,
Mary Beth said politely when it became clear that no one could eat just a bite more. That was excellent.
Thank you,
Mother answered, smiling.
We have something to talk to you girls about,
Father said, reaching into his breast pocket and drawing out a letter.
Mary Beth and Jennifer exchanged glances, but Jennifer shrugged. Mary Beth didn’t know what it could be about any more than her sister did, but Father’s tone of voice sounded serious.
Your mother received this letter today,
he began, taking it from the envelope and unfolding it. Mary Beth wasn’t quick enough to catch the address on the paper and tried to stifle a sigh. What was it?
It’s from some old friends, the Stevens,
Father continued, his distracted voice telling Mary Beth that he was reading over the words yet again. "They used to live here, in town, but they moved while you two were still quite
