Chapter Three #2
If her answer surprised Gerald, he didn’t let it show.
She likely hadn’t been subtle about her interest in him when she was quite young.
Her fifteen-year-old self had been quite smitten with seventeen-year-old him when she’d first arrived in that small Ohio town.
Her starry-eyed infatuation hadn’t lasted terribly long; Gerald had been far too obvious in his distaste for her company.
Still, he had apparently seen it and hadn’t forgotten.
Mary refused to be embarrassed by those long ago feelings. They’d quickly died, to be replaced by a simple appreciation for his intimidating demeanor. He’d unknowingly protected her from the unkindness of her uncle, and for that reason she would do her best not to think too ill of him.
“You seem an honest and forthright young lady,” Reverend Carter said. “I have known Gerald these past four years and I can assure you he is a hardworking man of integrity. While you may have disliked one another as children, I have yet to hear an unaddressable obstacle to your success now.”
“We weren’t children,” Gerald muttered. “And I never said she was a scoundrel or any such thing—she wasn’t. We’re a bad match is all.”
Reverend Carter shook his head. “You had fully intended to make the best of whomever you were matched with. You can simply do so now. Both of you.”
“But if he is determined not to like me—”
“That could just as easily have happened with a stranger, miss.” For a preacher, Reverend Carter was not terribly empathetic. “What the two of you need right now is a little determination.”
“But—”
“No one here has the means of hiring you on. Few have the means of feeding another person even if they wished to. There may not be another train for weeks. This is your situation, and you need to make the best of it.”
One look at Gerald told her he was coming around to the preacher’s way of seeing things. “You’ve nowhere to stay except with me. And we’d none of us allow that if the two of us aren’t married.”
“Gerald—”
“We accepted a mail-order marriage knowing the risk, knowing the chances of failure, intending to make the most of it. I think we’d best do just that.”
Reverend and Mrs. Carter nodded their agreement.
“Everyone is very unconcerned about this.” She couldn’t possibly be more concerned than she was.
“He has already told me he doesn’t like me.
He told me for two years. The day he left Ohio he told me he wouldn’t miss me for even a moment.
How can you not be concerned about that being the basis of a marriage? ”
“That does not sound like the Gerald I know,” Mrs. Carter said.
“Sounds far more like Tommy, if you ask me,” Reverend Carter said. He looked over at Gerald. “My apologies if speaking ill of your brother brings offense.”
“It ain’t nothing I don’t already know.”
“You agreed to this,” Reverend Carter told her once again. “For better or worse, you’ve nowhere else to go. This is your only option.”
While Mary knew they were right, she couldn’t rid her mind of worry. This was the rest of her life, after all, her chance for happiness. She had to have some reason to believe that chance hadn’t vanished the moment Gerald had appeared on the train platform.
“May I speak to you a moment, in private?” she asked him.
He agreed with a nod and motioned her a bit to the side of the room.
She rallied her courage and pressed forward. “I know you dislike me. I know you always have. But will you—can you—promise that you’ll at least try to make this a happy marriage? At the very least try to make it not an unhappy one? I have to go forward with some reassurance.”
“I ain’t never been the courting kind,” he said. “Sweet words and flowery speeches . . . that’s not me.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
He studied her a moment, though what he was looking for she couldn’t say. “Have you ever known me to be unkind, Mary? Truly unkind?”
Of course she hadn’t. It was one of the reasons she’d turned to him to escape the cruelty of her uncle. Though Gerald hadn’t liked having her about and had made no secret of that dislike, he had never been cruel.
“Do you think we can make this work?” She was asking herself as much as him.
He shrugged the tiniest bit. “There are worse things than marrying someone from my growing-up years. You could’ve turned out to be a murderer.” His gaze narrowed on her. “You’re not a murderer, are you?”
“Not yet,” she muttered.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and brought a twinkle of humor to his brown eyes. He hadn’t smiled much, even when they were younger, but she’d never forgotten the change it wrought in him. The man was inarguably handsome when he smiled.
“Any other requests?” Gerald asked.
She had one—she had a very crucial one—but she couldn’t force herself to speak it out loud.
Gerald stepped closer and lowered his voice. “What is it, Mary? I can see there’s more.”
“Will you promise—” No, she couldn’t say it.
“Promise what?”
“Will you promise not to—” She had to finish her question. Knowing the answer would change things. “Will you promise not to hit me?”
Gerald’s mouth dropped open, and his brow creased. “Hit you? You think I’d—? Good heavens, Mary. What kind of a person do you think I am?”
“That’s what I’m trying to discover,” she said. “And it’s far easier to face down the monster I know than the one I don’t.” She’d stood firm before her share of them. No one had been permitted to see vulnerability in her since the day she’d left home.
Gerald set his fists on his hips and narrowed his gaze on her. “I ain’t never hit a woman in all my life. I don’t mean to start now.”
The surge of relief she felt took her by surprise.
She’d been more worried about that than she’d allowed herself to admit.
An arranged marriage was a risk, no matter how one looked at it.
And she knew better than most the misery a man could inflict on the women in his life.
But she’d had no other options. None. It had been a risk she’d had no choice but to take.
Maybe being accidentally matched to Gerald Smith wouldn’t be such a terrible thing after all. Maybe.