“That’s wallpaper Papa put up just for Raymie. It’s his favorite color. He’s gonna be mad.”
Ella continued to rip the wallpaper off, feeling a bit of nervous excitement flow through her. She lowered Carl to the floor and ripped even more down. Behind the green wallpaper, there were pages and pages of newspaper. The section that had caught her eye read in big bold letters Jim Smiley and his Jumping Frog. Someone had covered the wall with an old New York Saturday Press from 1865. She was shocked that it was still readable after all the years that had passed.
“We can start now if you like.” She looked back to smile at the four boys. Their eyes had widened, and they looked at the wall curiously. “I can read this story to you. It’s a very interesting story about a man and his jumping frog. Would you like for me to read it to you?”
“Yes, yes, Miss Ella!” Freddie was the first one to respond, and his brothers followed suit quickly. Even Raymie had regained his composure and came over to look at the words on the wall.
An hour later, Andrew came through the front door and stood still for a moment. The house was quiet. It was never quiet. He looked around suspiciously, noticing the broken vase that had been partially cleaned up. He glanced down the hallway and then up the stairs nervously.
“Boys?” he called out and took the stairs up two at a time. The first door to the right was Raymie’s so he swung it open.
He didn’t expect to see his four sons sitting on the floor surrounding Ella. Carl was once again on her back. She appeared to be reading from papers they had ripped down from the wall.
“What is going on?”
Freddie was the first one on his feet to run toward his father.
“Papa!” he called out excitedly. “Mama Ella is teaching us to read! She says we don’t have to go to the schoolhouse if we don’t want to and that she’ll teach us right here. But I want to go to the schoolhouse, papa, that’s where other kids are! And Raymie wants to be a banker, papa! He does!”
With that, the other three boys approached their father and started talking all at once.
“Whoa, my sons!” Andrew laughed. He gestured for Ella to come to him, as well. She got to her feet and approached slowly. He noticed she looked nervous and shook his head, reaching out to touch her cheek and brush a loose strand of hair away from her face, gently pushing it behind her ear.
“Is this true? You would like to teach my sons? You don’t mind being here with them all the time?”
She shook her head. “Not at all, Andrew. I would be proud to teach them. They are lovely boys, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You are the first to say that, my dear. I am glad. I am very glad.” He pulled her into a hug that she didn’t expect. She put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest with a sigh. Tingles covered her when he whispered in her ear. “Do you think you can take a grouchy old man and fall in love with him, too?”
She looked up at his deep green eyes and had to admit it. “Yes,” she said. “I think I already have.”
“I have been distant,” he said in a low voice.
“I have been watching. You are a good father and a good man with plenty to be concerned about. You work hard for these boys. They know it and so do I. I am proud to be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Ella. I really am.”
He lowered his head and gave her a kiss, which she returned. It was the warmest, best kiss she had ever had. And it was only the beginning.
THE END
MariAnne’s Escape – A Mail Order Bride Romance
Enough was enough.
For the past four years, MariAnne Parkinson had counted every day as just another day to survive; a challenge and obstacle that she could only conquer—never savor or truly enjoy.
It hadn’t always been this way, she reasoned. The first 18 years of her existence had been a time of love and laughter, pleasure and prosperity; a life of light that she had shared with her parents and sisters on the vast expanse of their Texas horse ranch.
The day after her eighteenth birthday, however, had brought some most unwelcome tidings: the news that she was bound to marry her father’s business associate, Leon Campbell--a man whose dowry would pay the bills that would save their foundering farm.
“A pretty steep price to pay for my freedom,” she mused, reflecting on the virtual living hell that she endured from day to day.
Although always pleased to help her family with the rigorous duties that kept their ranch running, she never could embrace the role of ranch hand; and that is the unpaid job title she was given the day after her wedding. Her husband dragged her into his corn field at the break of dawn and commanded her to clear the field of all robust stalks; telling her that she would have no supper until the task reached its rightful completion.