Rejected mail order bride

Chapter 3

His reply came after 2 weeks. A very long waiting period during which my nerves stretched so thin they might as well have snapped. I was jumpy, twitchy and bouncy like a loose chicken running for its life.

Keeping this big of a secret to myself is another thing that ate my insides. Usually, I share everything with our cook. She is the only one left who shows any type of compassion towards me. Yet... I hesitated. What if 'mother' hears about it?

It's not that I don't trust cook. But I couldn't afford to. Thus, my nerves ate my insides as I waited for the response. Will I even get one if he decides I'm not worth it?

My negative thoughts came to a halt one day as I went to check about any mails coming for me at the post office.

"Yes dear, you have one," said the kindly old man raising my hope as he sorted his mail before picking the one that will decide my fate.

My hands trembled as my fingers grazed the letter before clutching it in my palm with a death grip. The old man raised his eyebrows at my sudden reaction other than that he didn't say anything.

I could count the seconds until it took me to open the letter. It was unbearable. Anxiety clutched me in its grip and refused to let me go. At the same time excitement warred inside me for not opening it sooner.

But I was cautious even in the throes of tension. I can't behave suspiciously. At last, when I retired to my bed, I opened the letter. His was so short and precise I feared his rejection.

But after reading it once, twice and thrice I realised he isn't rejecting me. Elation burst through every vein in my body.

His answers are short and to the point. He addressed the letter 'Ms. Amelia'. No 'dear' or for that matter no casual correspondence about inquiring my health.

He must be less talkative. That's what I observed from the answers he gave.

He has one brother. No mentioning of names.

He hasn't mentioned his daughter's name. Perhaps, he needs to know whether I'm reliable  or not before indulging more personal matters.

What could be more personal than marriage? Asked the voice in my head.

Shaking such depressing thoughts, I read more.

Lone star ranch.

His ranch name. The place where my new home will be. A slow smile took over my lips that soon stretched over my face as my dreams took on the fantasy of me living in a ranch where I keep house and look after my family.

Undeterred, I dipped my quill into the ink bottle and started a new letter thus starting our correspondence. He may not be talkative but I have words enough for both of us if he let me.

With his each letter the hope in me grew like a small bud blooming into a flower, soaking up the sunshine.

His letters are far and few. For my every 2,3 letters his one letter will arrive. But that one mail is enough to fuel my imagination.

And then 1 month back he asked me for my picture.

Normally, I wouldn't have a picture of mine with me. It would cost more pence that could be used in other places like soothing cream for the burns or aches I usually get doing the work.

But in one of the rare occasions, a guest of the mother raved about her daughter's picture and how absolutely wonderful it was to show how beautiful she is!!!

"No one could be more beautiful in a photograph than my sweet Mary," were the exact words she used.

Mother who has a competitive spirit a mile wide didn't back down and argued back that her daughter's would be the best.

It was then the guest asked, "which one?"

Stuck but unable to backtrack, mother said both of them. Her expression sore, she muttered something about unexpected expense for the baggage.

Her snarl never left her face as me and Emma took turns posing for the photograph.

That was two years ago. I was thin and my womanly curves were subtle then. Now, they are more curvaceous than I can do without.

Whatever be the case, mother's insistence and her competitive spirit gave me the chance to send me the photo to Tyler.

Tyler. Tyler Lawson.

Mrs. Amelia Lawson.

I smiled shyly as I skipped the room in search of that photo in the desk that is in the parlour. My joy is visible to everyone but I couldn't curb it.

Perhaps that is the reason why I didn't see the shadow passing the staircase or the narrowing of her eyes.

My fingers searched through the contents of the desk slowly as I sort them out for my photograph. Finally, my fingers grasped the black and white small rectangle that shows my stiff posture.

It doesn't show me in good light but that is all I have so it had to do.

With the photograph clutched in my hand I turned and collided with none other than Emma.

I quickly controlled my face showing np emotion that might betray me. I shifted the  hand that is holding the photo behind my back and asked timidly, "could you please move?"

"Why? Where are you going in a hurry?" Emma raised her right eyebrow as she scrutinised me from head to toe. There is something in her eyes as if she is looking at a new piece of shawl in the market.

Unease spread through me.

"N-nothing. I have chores that needs to be done," my voice is barely there but I couldn't raise more than that. Fear pitter-pattered inside my chest.

"Oh. Then you won't mind going on a small errand to the mercantile, would you?"

Her smirk is no less evil than her body.

"Now?" The urgency to mail the letter hounded me.

"Why? Do you have anything more urgent to do?" She glared at me daring me to challenge her. To defy her.

"No... nothing."

"Good. Bring me two ribbons that matches my new Sunday best dress and my pink evening one," she said flippantly checking her nails.

"Alright."

My shoulders slumped as I managed out of the room. Giving a small peek behind my back, I sprinted towards the staircase, my feet carrying to my room.

I quickly placed the photo in the envelope and sealed the mail. There is no time to mail the letter now. Emma is on me. If I take longer than needed to bring her ribbons there will be hell to pay.

Thinking it's best to mail when she is not so observing of my actions I tucked the envelope inside the drawer and silently left the house.

By the time I came back with the ribbons, Emma is no more interested in them. It's like as always. She just wants to agonize me. However, this time I don't know what occasion made her do it.

Shoving my sister's antics into the corners of my mind, I took the envelope and raced to the post office.

There is only enough time to reach there before it closes for the day. And I want this letter to be in the mail coach the first thing tomorrow.

Thankfully, I was able to catch the old man who monitors the office before he shuts down for the day.

Thus, I mailed the letter without realising that my fate once again changed that day. And it's all due to silly jealousy.