Lyn Cote - Their Frontier Family

Constance touched Sunny’s arm. “Is thee willing to meet for clearness?”

Sunny nodded, her eyes downcast.

Constance stood. “Our foster daughter is willing.”

Noah nodded his thanks.

Then, as if released from a spell, the congregation broke up. They would head home to eat a cold dinner with no doubt a heated discussion of Noah Whitmore proposing to the latest soiled dove the Gabriels had taken in. Noah wished he could change that, but he’d discovered that human nature could rarely be denied.

Outside the meetinghouse Noah approached Sunny, his broad-brimmed Quaker hat in hand. “I know my proposal shocked thee. If thee is not interested in marrying me, just say so.”

She looked up at him and then glanced around pointedly, obviously letting him know that too many people hovered nearby. “I am unsure. I will come at two.”

He bowed his head and backed away. “At two.” Just then the woman he’d loved walked past him. She nodded and gave him an unreadable look. He felt nothing for her now. She didn’t understand him. She hadn’t understood why he’d gone to war. And he certainly was no longer the man she’d contemplated marrying ten years ago.

He turned his gaze to Sunny. She was so pretty and so quiet. He didn’t know what had caused her to become a prostitute, but she wanted to change, wanted a new start, just like he did. They were well suited in that regard.

Solomon’s Bible quote repeated in Noah’s mind. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. Declaring his proposal had sharpened his need for Sunny to go with him.

He could only hope that she would seize her chance to start anew. And in the process, possibly save him—from himself.

* * *

Sunny paused on the step. She’d never entered the meetinghouse by herself. April sunshine had been tempered by the cool breeze from the west. She pulled her shawl tighter.

Dawn had lain down for her long afternoon nap so Sunny had come with empty arms here—to make a decision that would change both their lives forever. Should she accept Noah’s proposal? The thought of marrying chilled her, robbing her of breath.

She couldn’t think why he would want to marry her. Why any man would want to marry her.

She opened the double door and stepped inside. There in the middle of the Quaker meetinghouse on two benches facing each other sat Eve and Solomon Love, and Noah Whitmore, the man who had said in front of everybody that he thought she would make a good wife.

Fresh shock tingled through her. His thrilling words slid from her mind into her heart and left her quaking. What do I know about being a wife?

Sunny tried to conceal her trembling, the trembling that had begun this morning. She walked as calmly as she could manage toward the bench where Noah sat. Without looking directly at him, she lowered herself onto the same bench as he.

Sitting so near him stirred her—and that alarmed her. She had never felt attraction to any man. Was Noah’s recent kindness to her the cause? She faced the Loves, who had been good enough to speak to her since she’d come here. Very few of the Quakers—or Friends, as they called themselves—had made the effort to get to know her. They’d been kind but distant. She couldn’t blame them for avoiding her. They were holy, she was stained.

Eve smiled at her and, reaching across the divide, patted her hand. “Sunny, thee does not know about the clearness meeting. It is how Friends try to clear their thinking and make sure that they are within God’s will.”

Unsure of what she should say, Sunny merely nodded. She concealed her left hand in the folds of her gray skirt. In the hours since this morning she’d chafed the flesh beneath one thumb from fretting, a childhood habit. She’d been forbidden to suck her thumb or chew her nails, so when upset, she’d taken to scratching, worrying at her hand. She resisted the need to do it now.

“Noah,” Solomon asked, “please tell us again what thy plans are and why they include Sunny.”

“I have staked a claim on a homestead in western Wisconsin. Very near the Mississippi River.” Noah’s words were clipped. “Planting time is near. I need to return as soon as possible.”

Sunny’s emotions erupted—fear, worry and hope roiled inside her at Noah’s words.

“That sounds as if thee is committed to leaving us for good.” Solomon’s voice was measured and without judgment.

Noah nodded.

“Why have thee chosen to ask Sunny to be thy bride and go with thee?” Eve asked.

Sunny nearly stopped breathing. Her throat muscles clenched with fear.

Noah propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward as if thinking.

Many questions tumbled through her thoughts, but she could not make her mouth move. Was Noah asking out of pity? Was she in a position to say no to him even if it was? The memory of the man who had inappropriately touched her several days ago slithered through her again, as if he were here leering at her. Dear God, no more.

In spite of her inner upheaval, Sunny made herself sit very still as silence pressed in on all of them. She drew in a normal breath. Yes, she could refuse this proposal, but she had Dawn to think of. Would life with Noah be better for Dawn than life alone with her mother? Would he be a loving stepfather for Dawn?

“Noah?” Eve prompted.

“How does a man choose a wife?” Noah asked in return. “I need a wife and want one. I only know that Sunny has attracted my attention from the first time she came to meetings. I’ve watched her with her little girl. She seems sweet and kind.”

It seemed to be a day for Sunny to be stunned. No one—no one—had ever praised her like this. A melting sensation went through her and she wished that the backless bench would give her more support. She tightened her posture.

“That is a very clear reply,” Solomon said.

“Sunny, is thee ready to take a husband?” Eve asked.

Sunny swallowed, thinking of how he’d praised her. “I am.” She paused, then honesty forced her to bring up the topic she did not want to discuss. “I have a past.”

Noah gave a swift, stark laugh. “I have a past, too.”

“It is good to be honest with one another,” Solomon said, tempering the emotions with a glance.

“I have a daughter,” Sunny said, each word costing her. She pleated her plain gray cotton skirt.

“I know, and I’m willing to take responsibility for her,” Noah said, glancing toward her.

Sunny measured his tone. He sounded sincere. Nonetheless she had overheard a few words about his own family. And she must speak for her child. “Your father has been known to show temper.”

“I’m nothing like my father,” Noah said as if stung.

Sunny absorbed this reaction. The bad blood between the two had been plain to see even in her short time here. Maybe not getting along with his own father would make him a more considerate parent, could that be?

“I’m sorry I spoke in that tone to thee,” Noah apologized. “I promise I will provide for your daughter, and I will protect her. I’ll try to be a good father.”

Noah had just promised Dawn more than Sunny’s own unknown father had ever done for her. She nodded, still hesitant. “I...I believe you.”

“I have watched thee all my life, Noah,” Eve said. “And thee has not had an easy time. Losing thy mother so young, that was hard. And thy broken engagement when thee went off to war. But thee cannot change the past by merely moving to a new place.”

Sunny wished Eve would explain more. Who had Noah loved and been rejected by?

Noah sat up straight again. “I know that. But I cannot feel easy here. My father doesn’t need me. My five brothers are more than enough to help him.” Though he tried to hide it, hurt oozed out with each word.