The Golden Bride Page 6

  A huff from Olivia across the table pulled his attention up. “I’m sure you’ve heard what I think of all these gold miners. The Bible clearly tells us that the love of money is the root of all evil, and we’ve got the proof surrounding us on a daily basis.” Her tone was marked with disgust.

  A twinge of guilt hit Joseph in the gut. He was a gold miner. Very few people knew that about him, but he’d made a vast amount of wealth with his mine. That lust for gold had been his at one time too. But thank God, he’d been rescued out of the depths of his sin. He looked at Daniel, who gave his head a tiny shake. Now was probably not the time to tell Olivia about his livelihood. Nor was it the time to argue that all gold miners weren’t hideous criminals. Olivia was right to be skeptical about most of the men.

  “What can we do to convince the new town council that we need plans for fire control?” Daniel tapped his fingers on the table.

  “What if we were to get people to sign a petition?” Olivia perked up with her idea. “I could help get signatures. The customers here will do just about anything for me.” Her mischievous smile while she wiggled her eyebrows caused the table to round in laughter.

  “While I know it’s true the men would do most anything for a smile from you, I don’t think it will do much good since the meeting’s in a couple days.” His friend patted Olivia’s hand. “We couldn’t get nearly enough signatures for the council to take notice.”

  Joseph watched Olivia’s features fall. While they didn’t have enough time right now, the idea really had merit. He reached over and tapped the table. “But it is a great idea.” He leaned an inch or two toward her. “If you want to get started on that, I think it will help us in the coming weeks.”

  She gave him a slight smile. “Only if you think it will help. I don’t want to waste your time.”

  “It’s not a waste of time, Olivia. I really think the idea is great. But I just don’t know what to do at the next meeting to show them the importance. I doubt any of them were at the docks when the fire happened, so to them, it’s not real. Besides the fact that we have so many other issues to deal with. Crime. Roads. Housing.” With a sigh he looked back and forth between his two friends. “I think I’m just going to have to stand up to the rest of the council if they fight me on this and demand we put measures in place.”

  After leaving the restaurant and his friends, Joseph decided to ride outside of town to think. The noise and people of the city often overwhelmed him. And right now, he needed to clear his head of all the sights and sounds of today.

  Daniel and Olivia had been encouraging and supportive, but he knew full well what he’d be facing in the council meeting. One man in particular—George Banister—seemed to object to anything that wasn’t his idea. It didn’t help that George’s mysterious and unnamed employer was funding the council and their efforts. Why General Riley gave his approval was beyond Joseph’s understanding. But this was the hand he’d been dealt, and he somehow had to figure out how to work with it. George might have the most sway right now, but what if the rest of the council sided with Joseph? If he could convince the others of the need, maybe real progress could be made.

  Olivia’s idea of the petition popped into his mind. If they were to garner enough signatures, certainly the council would have to listen to the requests of the people. He wasn’t sure how many men they could get to sign, but the more he thought about it, the more Joseph liked the idea. And it wasn’t just because he found Olivia captivating.

  Joseph pulled back on the reins and slowed his horse. He’d enjoyed their banter this evening, but she was a widow and a recent one at that. Which meant she needed a friend, not another admirer. Then there was the small fact that she’d said she’d never marry a gold miner. Who was he kidding? Why was he even entertaining the thought of marriage? They’d just met. But it didn’t stop his heart from pounding at the thought of her smiling at him.

  He steered his horse toward one of his favorite spots: the top of a hill that overlooked the ocean. Out here with nothing but the stars shining down and the sound of waves lapping up against the rocks below, Joseph dismounted and closed his eyes.

  “Lord, I don’t know what to pray. You know the situation I’m in with the council. I want to be wise in my decisions and in my speech. I fear for people’s lives in our city. I know You’ve got me here for a purpose. You’ve made that clear. But I struggle with the violence and ugliness that surrounds me.” Olivia’s face popped into his mind. A bright spot in the midst of all the darkness. For the first time in a long while, thoughts of the future didn’t seem so lonely. “Thank You for bringing Olivia here safely. Please help us to keep her safe and heal her heart after the loss of her husband and parents.” Joseph wanted to voice more, but God knew his heart. Right now, the best thing he could do was pray for her and be her friend. Maybe over time, he could change her mind about at least one gold miner. Him.

  Olivia walked up the stairs to their living quarters above the restaurant. Another long day of serving people had come to an end. The ache in her feet matched the one in her heart.

  Why was it that at the day’s end, grief seemed to always find her? The loss of her parents was especially difficult today, the day that would have been their wedding anniversary. Daniel hadn’t said anything about it today. He’d brought it up yesterday, and when she’d refused to talk about it, the sadness in his eyes just about did her in. He expressed his concern about all the loss she’d faced recently. He worried that she’d find it difficult with not only the reminder of an anniversary that their parents wouldn’t be celebrating, but the reminder that she’d never celebrate one herself.

  But even after she’d told him the truth about how she’d been a horrible wife, he still didn’t understand. Her heart was numb when it came to her late husband. It was almost as if their marriage hadn’t even existed. How could she tell her brother that she felt cold and heartless? If she did, he’d probably think less of her. That thought was too much for her to bear. Daniel was all the family she had left, and she’d do anything for him.

  Maybe it was selfish to want to keep her relationship with her brother on good footing, but it was what she had to do, because he just couldn’t seem to understand the burden she carried.

  Removing her apron, she walked over to the window that overlooked the barn and storehouse. A full moon was high in the sky. How had she gotten here?

  The last time she’d seen her parents had been horrific. Sick and dying, they’d told her they loved her, and then she’d watched them writhe in agony. Tears stung her eyes. Then what had she done? After she’d seen her parents buried, she’d sold the farm and everything they owned to pay off the bank. Daddy had mortgaged their farm multiple times to keep them afloat, but it hadn’t done any good. She’d still owed one hundred dollars when all was said and done. So when Hezekiah Brighton stepped into the bank and offered a solution, she’d taken it.

  Regret filled her being for all the ways she’d failed as a daughter and the things she wished she’d said to Mama and Daddy more often. For selling everything too quickly. For marrying Hezekiah.

  More tears spilled down her cheeks. Poor Hezekiah. He’d had big dreams. And he’d been sweet to pay her debt. He definitely didn’t deserve to die. Especially not all alone.

  “Olivia? Are you up here?” Daniel’s voice penetrated the haze around her.

  Swiping at the tears on her cheeks, she swallowed and took a deep breath. “Coming!” She met him in the center of their quarters, which they used as a parlor. “Did you need me?” She reached for her apron. “I’m sorry, I thought we were finished downstairs.”

  He stilled her hand. “Everything’s done.” His penetrating gaze made her look away. “I know today is difficult and that you don’t want to talk about Mom and Dad.” Taking her hand, he led her to a room he used for storage. “I’ve found something that I think should be yours.”

  As her eyes adjusted to the dim room, she noticed crates and a few trunks. Daniel bent to pick up a sm
all trunk.

  Recognizing it instantly, she covered her chest with her hands. “That was Mama’s.”

  He nodded. “Yes. You may not remember, but when I was about twenty-two, I fell in love and was going to get married. That was when Mother gave me this box to pass down to future generations.”

  Olivia stared at the box and shook her head. “I have memories of this box in their bedroom from when I was little. When they died, I looked all over the place for it without success. I thought I’d lost it.” The reality of her brother’s words sunk in, and she looked from the box to him. “Wait. What happened? Why didn’t you marry?”

  “Madeleine and her family were killed in a storm.”

  A sob caught in her throat. How had she never known this? “Oh, Daniel. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

  His smile was forced as he patted her arm. “It was a long time ago.” Wiping the dust from the top of the trunk, he pulled her forward. “I think you should have this. Women are much more sentimental than men anyway.”

  Tugging her hand free of his, she shook her head and backed away. “No, Daniel. I can’t take that. Mama wanted it to be passed down to future generations, and I’m not ever going to marry again.”

  His brows lowered. “Why would you say such a thing? You’re only twenty.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand right now, Daniel. It’s much more complicated than I wish to explain.”

  With a sigh, he wiped a hand down his face. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about this right now. But you need to at least look in the box, all right? It’s stuff that’s been passed down from the women in our family. Women who have faced loss and unknown futures just like you.”

  Instantly regretting her harsh words, she reached out to her brother. He’d just shared about his own horrific loss, and she’d lashed out at him. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

  “I’m sorry too.” He handed her the trunk and walked out of the storage room.

  She followed him out, the small trunk in her arms feeling like the weight of the world.

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about any of this, and I’ll accede to your wishes for now. It’s been a rough few months for you. We’re both beat, so why don’t we get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning?”

  She bit her lip and nodded, a single tear escaping her eyes. Daniel had been so gracious to her, and she hadn’t really done anything for him. Perhaps she could make it up to him tomorrow.

  As she walked over to her room, she looked down at the box. She could almost hear her mother’s voice. …

  “My sweet Olivia, it’s important to remember the hardships of those who have gone before us and to see how they persevered and survived.” Mama had lovingly caressed the hand-carved trunk.

  “But what’s in the box, Mama?”

  “Memories of our family.”

  “Your memories? Daddy’s memories?”

  “No, my child. Long before your daddy was born. Long before I was born.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s a long time ago.”

  Mama’s laughter drifted over her like a warm blanket. “Yes, it was. And this goes back to your great-grandmother and five generations before her. It’s my history. And it’s yours.”

  Her mother’s words from all those years ago brought more tears to her eyes. At the time, Olivia had just been a little girl. Maybe six or seven years old. The box had always fascinated her as a child, but she hadn’t understood the meaning of it. Now here she stood with the very object of her childhood wonder in her arms.

  As she set the small trunk down on her bed, she took a deep breath. She lit the lamp beside the bed and changed into her nightgown. The day had not been her best, and she knew sleep was a long way from her mind. Maybe it would be nice to see what was in the box after all.

  With shaking hands, she lifted the lid. A small lap quilt sat on the top with a note pinned to it: Made by Grandmother Livingston 1816 on the occasion of Horatio and Caroline’s wedding.

  Olivia lifted it out and set it on the bed. The beautiful piece was made from white fabric with blue embroidery on each quilt square. As she looked closer, she realized it was letters. Spelling out Livingston. She didn’t remember any Grandmother Livingston, but Horatio and Caroline were her parents. Her mother must have thought this precious indeed to keep it in the trunk like this. Mama had often said that the work of their hands was to be used, otherwise it was wasteful.

  Turning back to the trunk, she pulled out two tiny sets of white baby clothes. Another yellowed note pinned to each. She felt a smile slip into place as she read the words. They were the first outfits that Daniel and Olivia wore to church.

  When she’d set them aside on top of the quilt, Olivia found stacks of letters tied with ribbons and several leather-bound books in the bottom of the trunk. Examining the stacks, she found two bundles that were letters from Daddy to Mama and from Mama to Daddy. Another bundle was from other relatives over many years. And the last was Daniel’s letters that he wrote to them after he left home.

  She replaced the letters in the trunk and pulled out the books. The one on top was the newest of the bunch, and when she opened it up, she realized it was her mother’s journal. Closing the book and clasping it to her chest, Olivia closed her eyes against the tears. Perhaps one day she’d be able to read her mother’s words, but it probably wouldn’t be for a long time. She set it aside and pulled out the next book. The inside cover read: Faith Lytton Jackson Weber. As she thumbed through the yellowed pages, she saw dates from 1755 all the way to 1789. This must have been her great-grandmother!

  She set the book on top of her mother’s and reached for the last book. The simple leather cover was cracked with age. Lifting it with careful hands, Olivia wondered about the lives represented in the pages before her. Could this be what her mother had referenced all those years ago? Five generations before her great-grandmother?

  The string tying the book closed was newer than the book. Perhaps the original had crumbled with age. As she untied it, a little twinge of excitement filled her heart. To think of generations before her … penning their words for future generations—like her—to read. The realization was almost overwhelming.

  Opening the book, she found the pages were a darker yellow, and the ink had faded over time. Olivia brought the book close to the lamp so she could decipher the words.

  22 July 1620

  It is with great trepidation that I begin a log of this journey across the ocean to the New World. In the span of a few short weeks—just this past month—everything I knew changed. My life will never be as it once was, and I am still finding the courage to swallow that truth. Courage has never been a strong trait of mine, and Dorothy, my lifelong friend—dear Dorothy—gave me this beautiful book to record my thoughts … and quite possibly to find my courage. She is convinced it resides within me somewhere. While I think that it is quite hidden. My beloved friend has always been the one with courage and the sense of adventure. Not me. But my prayer to our heavenly Father above has been constant for courage. I’m quite afraid, you see.

  Afraid of change, of what may be ahead, of the unknown …

  My heart grieves for the loss of Mother. It has been a year since she passed from this world into eternal glory, and I feel it every day. But it is not just the physical loss of her presence. I feel I have lost my connection to her since we left Holland. I can no longer visit her grave and share my deepest thoughts. She was the only one who understood me completely. My trips to the cemetery to visit with her were healing, and now I do not know what to do with my feelings.

  That is why Dorothy bought me this precious book. I have never owned anything so luxurious as paper—that which its simple purpose is for me to record my thoughts and feelings. Dorothy knows me well. I will cherish this journal and make the best use of it that I can.

  So now I must pray for courage once again. The journey has only just begun, and my heart is heavy with anxious thoughts an
d doubts.

  Our two ships, the Speedwell and Mayflower, will voyage across the vast ocean together and prayerfully reach the Virginia Territory, where our patent lies, in time for us to build shelter before winter sets in around us. But our ship began to leak today, and the ship master was none too pleased. We’ve been reassured that all will be well and repaired before we leave England, but it made many of us worry nonetheless. It does not bode well for the expedition ahead to begin on such a sour note. Again, Dorothy encouraged me to look at the positive and find my courage. So that is what I must do.

  For mother’s memory, for Father, and for precious little David. He relies on me.

  I will not let them down.

  Lord God, please do not allow me to fail. My prayer is for courage.

  I can do this. With Your help.

  ~Mary Elizabeth Chapman, aboard the Speedwell

  Olivia reread the entry carefully. Dated 1620. More than two hundred years ago, her relative had started this journal. Stories of the Mayflower were shared with them when they were schoolchildren. It had been a horrible journey, and so many people had died. Olivia found herself fascinated and continued to read.

  Hours later, as the lamp began to sputter, she wiped tears from her face and carefully closed the precious book. So much heartache and loss embraced in hope and joy.

  At the beginning of the journal, Olivia had felt exactly like Mary Elizabeth. Afraid and in need of courage. Grief stricken and alone. But by the end … her ancestor had grown in strength. In love. And in faith.

  Olivia wanted to feel that way. Reading the journal had felt inspiring. But then the guilt had crept back in. She didn’t deserve another chance. Why was God giving her one?

  Her faith was weak. Everything felt like it had crumbled beneath her. Yet her circumstances weren’t nearly as grim as Mary Elizabeth’s. And while she had a lot to feel guilty about and to make up for, she could at least do some good in her new town, couldn’t she? Could that make up for all the heartache she’d caused?