Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Turner by Kit Morgan

Author:Kit Morgan [Morgan, Kit]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Angel Creek Press
Published: 2016-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Why, she had fourteen children at last count!” Fanny Fig stated as if it were nothing.

Pleasant sat, horrified at the tale. No one of her acquaintance had that many children, or even close.

“I wouldn’t mind another one,” Lena Adams replied and looked at Pleasant. “Then he or she could play with your children.”

Pleasant looked around the room at the gathered ladies. It was a small group this week, so they met in the mercantile. When most of the women were in attendance, they met at the church. Still, there were over a dozen, most of them English and related to the Cookes.

“Promise me you’ll let Lena and I help you put in a garden,” Fina Stone, Lena’s sister, said.

Pleasant would be thoroughly shocked if she remembered all their names. The two who’d just spoken, however, were the more important – they were Mr. Turner’s neighbors, each living on either side of him. Not right next door, mind you, but near enough by Clear Creek standards. Lena explained she wouldn’t be able to see either house from Mr. Turner’s, but they were both within a reasonable walking distance.

“Certainly, that would be lovely,” she said. She’d never tended a garden in her life. One more thing to learn.

“I don’t believe Eli has spoken to my husband yet,” said Annie King the town preacher’s wife. “Do you plan to marry soon?”

“I’m not quite sure what Mr. Turner’s exact plans are,” Pleasant answered.

“Miss Comfort, I adore you name!” a blonde woman said. Another Cooke cousin, one named after a fruit. Pear? Plum?

“Why, thank you,” Pleasant said for safety’s sake.

“Are we gonna make this poor woman a wedding dress or not?” Irene Dunnigan barked, making everyone jump.

“Yes, of course, Auntie,” Belle said. “And as soon as it’s done, Pleasant and Eli can be married.”

Pleasant smiled. These women were nothing like the sour old matrons of Savannah. Some of the older ones looked a little careworn, but were – save for Mrs. Dunnigan – still cheerful. Mrs. Waller, the doctor’s wife whom everyone called “Grandma,” was the oldest – she had to be approaching her eighties, but could still giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Why don’t you have a wedding dress if you came here to be married?” the fruit – Apple, that was her name! – asked.

Pleasant straightened in her chair. She couldn’t tell them it was because she’d stolen away like a thief in the night to avoid marrying Rupert Jerney. “I didn’t have time to get one.” Which was true. “The matchmaker said I’d have to leave immediately.”

“That’s strange,” commented Annie. “I don’t recall Eli being in a hurry.”

Pleasant glanced around the room. “Perhaps she had other brides whom might have taken Mr. Turner. I’m not sure.”

“Is there much competition?” Mary Mulligan asked in her Irish brogue. “Are the men that scarce where ye come from?”

Pleasant arched an eyebrow. “Actually, they are somewhat. The war …”

“We don’t discuss politics here!” Irene huffed.

“You’re just bitter the Rebs lost,” Fanny carped.

“Fanny!” Annie said, aghast.

“And now you know why we don’t discuss politics,” Sadie muttered in Pleasant’s ear.

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