Prologue #3
“An advertisement,” Millie said, offering it to her, “from last week’s paper.”
Ruth took it slowly, and the paper crackled softly in the quiet room as she slowly unfolded it, then scanned the neat block of printed text.
A man in need of a wife. Respectable. Established. Willing to provide a home.
Ruth’s breath left her in a weak huff, something close to a laugh. “A mail-order bride?”
Millie nodded. “There are plenty of similar ads, if that one doesn’t appeal to you. Men out West—farmers, ranchers, and the like—all looking for wives, wanting to start families.” She watched Ruth closely, adding softly, “A different kind of life.”
Ruth’s gaze remained fixed on the page, the words blurring as her thoughts raced ahead of her.
“I know it’s a risk,” Millie continued. “You don’t know what kind of man he might be.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “It’s a chance, Ruth. More than you’d ever have here.”
Ruth’s hand trembled as she lowered the paper.
“I would miss you,” Millie added, her voice catching, “more than I can say, but … I don’t want this place to take you too. You were never meant for this kind of life—not you.”
Ruth looked up at her, her chest tight. “What if it’s worse?” she whispered. “What if I take Clara away from here and find out I can’t protect her there either?”
Millie stepped closer. “And what if it’s better?”
The question hung between them as Ruth closed her eyes. Her mother’s voice filled her mind again, clear as if she was standing right there, beside her daughter.
God has something better for you.
When she opened her eyes again, they drifted to Clara. Carefully, Ruth folded the ad, holding it close. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough,” she admitted.
Millie smiled wistfully. “You are. You just don’t know it yet.”
In the quiet that followed, sounds drifted up from below—laughter, the low hum of conversation, the faint notes of the piano striking a familiar tune. The night was in full swing now, the house alive in a way Ruth had always dreaded.
Then, a sharp, impatient voice called, “Millie!”
Millie glanced toward the door. The light in her eyes dimmed, though it didn’t disappear entirely. “I have to go.”
Ruth nodded, though her chest tightened. “I know.”
Millie stepped closer and took Ruth’s hand again, squeezing it firmly. “Don’t wait too long,” she warned softly. “You never know when you’ll get another opportunity like this.”
Ruth swallowed, her fingers tightening around Millie’s. “What about you? Will you be all right?”
Millie smiled brightly, though the expression seemed fragile, her cheerfulness forced. “I always am.”
Another insistent call echoed up the stairs, tinged with growing irritation.
Reluctantly, Millie released Ruth’s hand and moved toward the door. She paused, glancing back. “Whatever you decide,” she said, “I’m with you.”
Then, she slipped out, closing the door quietly behind her, and the room felt smaller without her.
Ruth stood still for a long moment, the folded advertisement warm in her hand, the echo of Millie’s words lingering in the air.
Below, the music swelled, followed by a burst of laughter that made her flinch.
She crossed slowly back to the bed and sat beside her sister, watching her sleep. The steady rise and fall of Clara’s chest grounded Ruth in a way nothing else could.
Carefully, she tucked the paper beneath her pillow, as though hiding a precious treasure.
She went through the motions of the night in silence, loosening her hair, setting aside her apron, dimming the lamp until the room fell into shadow. Then, she lay down beside Clara, staring up at the ceiling as the sounds of the house carried on below.
Her mind, however, wouldn’t rest. The words from the advertisement circled endlessly, intertwined with dangerously hopeful thoughts of a new life.
Her hand slipped beneath the pillow, fingers brushing the folded paper as if to confirm that it was real.
Could she really risk trusting something so uncertain?
Do I have any other choice?
Gradually, exhaustion pulled at her, her thoughts softening at the edges until, at last, sleep came.
***
Clara’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, as she ran through open grass, sunlight catching in her dark curls.
Ruth followed behind, her heart lighter than she’d ever known it to be. No walls. No shadows. Just sky, endless and blue above them.
“Clara—wait!” she called, laughing.
Clara turned, her face alight with joy, and everything felt right.
It felt safe.
Free.
***
Ruth woke with a start, darkness pressing in around her, each breath sharp in her chest. For several moments, she lay motionless, desperately trying to hold on to the beautiful dream, clinging to that fleeting sense of happiness even as it slipped away into the night.
Then, her hand reached beneath her pillow, and certainty settled deep in her bones. Her fingers tightened around the folded advertisement as the house below hummed with a life she could no longer bear.
At that moment, Ruth Bennett made a choice that would change everything.
I have to get Clara out. No matter the cost.