Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5) by Beverly Lewis Page B
Authors: Beverly Lewis
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trust what he might say or do—it might hurt Tessie further, and my first priority is to protect my bride. It rankles me no end, not being able to bring her home with me. That is all I want. When, O Lord?
I’ve decided it isn’t prudent to keep our marriage quiet any longer. The upcoming wedding season may be the best time to reveal the truth, preferably at one of Tessie’s cousins’ weddings, where I’m sure Ammon will be respectful, or at least not fly at me like a hornet. Any large gathering would be ideal.
It’s a shame our joy has been squelched so, when I am anxious to share it with my family . . . and with all the People. This secrecy is cause for unhappiness in my Tessie’s heart, as well. It pains me to see the sorrow in her eyes each time we’re together.
In thinking back to our marriage at the courthouse, I’m mighty glad I took my Bible along . . . and later prayed over Tessie and me, in place of the bishop. Not that I presume to have offered the kind of blessing he would’ve prayed over the two of us in a church wedding. Still, it’s a comfort that we did everything as right as we possibly could, given the circumstances.
Marcus tucked their marriage license into his daily journal; then he decided to write a brief note to Tessie. He said he couldn’t stand living apart from her much longer, and that he planned to talk with her father at the first of her relatives’ weddings.
Please be praying for wisdom for me as I speak to your Dat . . . and that he might receive the news with some measure of grace.
Honestly, Tessie Ann, I have been so lonely without you. Some nights I stay up late and write in my journal instead of trying to fall asleep. I’ve told you about my journal before, haven’t I? I’ve been recording the story of our marriage there—never want to forget all we’ve gone through to be together. Of course I don’t dare keep such a record out in the open, at least for now. I’ve got a concealed compartment in the top middle drawer of my bureau, which should suffice.
I’m looking forward to growing a beard very soon—the all-important symbol of a married man. I can hardly wait, my dearest love!
He signed off, Yours always, Marcus , then slipped the note into an envelope to mail in the morning.
Tessie had the jitters on the ride to the barn raising early Tuesday morning, anxious to tell Marcus about the folder in her father’s desk. She’d missed seeing him this past Sunday, having no choice but to visit relatives with her parents. Then, yesterday’s washing took up much of the day. To think today was the first time she could share Dat’s reason for being so set against Marcus as her husband.
Such terrible news, she thought miserably. Marcus and I should never risk having children!
She wondered how they might solve this . . . somehow. Should they go to the bishop and confess their private deed, perhaps? What would Bishop John suggest? Their marriagecould not be undone; she knew that much. And as for birth control measures, those were forbidden, as well.
Today Mandy had joined Tessie and Mamma in the family buggy, since Dat had left the house before dawn with the bishop, who’d come for him on the way to the site. Tessie had seen her father hang his nail apron and leather tool belt on one of the wooden pegs in the outer room beyond the kitchen just last evening. She’d wondered, at the time, what job Marcus might have at this barn raising. He was so lean and limber—the many experienced foremen typically liked to have such young men work as nailers high on the rafters.
“Too bad ’bout the perty white barn that burned down,” Mandy said from where she and Mamma sat in front of Tessie Ann.
“Jah, and to think the phone at the nearest shanty was out on the very day it was so needed,” Mamma said, melancholy in her voice.
“Somethin’ awful.” Mandy glanced over her shoulder at Tessie.
“Can you imagine if the house had caught fire?” Mamma
I’ve decided it isn’t prudent to keep our marriage quiet any longer. The upcoming wedding season may be the best time to reveal the truth, preferably at one of Tessie’s cousins’ weddings, where I’m sure Ammon will be respectful, or at least not fly at me like a hornet. Any large gathering would be ideal.
It’s a shame our joy has been squelched so, when I am anxious to share it with my family . . . and with all the People. This secrecy is cause for unhappiness in my Tessie’s heart, as well. It pains me to see the sorrow in her eyes each time we’re together.
In thinking back to our marriage at the courthouse, I’m mighty glad I took my Bible along . . . and later prayed over Tessie and me, in place of the bishop. Not that I presume to have offered the kind of blessing he would’ve prayed over the two of us in a church wedding. Still, it’s a comfort that we did everything as right as we possibly could, given the circumstances.
Marcus tucked their marriage license into his daily journal; then he decided to write a brief note to Tessie. He said he couldn’t stand living apart from her much longer, and that he planned to talk with her father at the first of her relatives’ weddings.
Please be praying for wisdom for me as I speak to your Dat . . . and that he might receive the news with some measure of grace.
Honestly, Tessie Ann, I have been so lonely without you. Some nights I stay up late and write in my journal instead of trying to fall asleep. I’ve told you about my journal before, haven’t I? I’ve been recording the story of our marriage there—never want to forget all we’ve gone through to be together. Of course I don’t dare keep such a record out in the open, at least for now. I’ve got a concealed compartment in the top middle drawer of my bureau, which should suffice.
I’m looking forward to growing a beard very soon—the all-important symbol of a married man. I can hardly wait, my dearest love!
He signed off, Yours always, Marcus , then slipped the note into an envelope to mail in the morning.
Tessie had the jitters on the ride to the barn raising early Tuesday morning, anxious to tell Marcus about the folder in her father’s desk. She’d missed seeing him this past Sunday, having no choice but to visit relatives with her parents. Then, yesterday’s washing took up much of the day. To think today was the first time she could share Dat’s reason for being so set against Marcus as her husband.
Such terrible news, she thought miserably. Marcus and I should never risk having children!
She wondered how they might solve this . . . somehow. Should they go to the bishop and confess their private deed, perhaps? What would Bishop John suggest? Their marriagecould not be undone; she knew that much. And as for birth control measures, those were forbidden, as well.
Today Mandy had joined Tessie and Mamma in the family buggy, since Dat had left the house before dawn with the bishop, who’d come for him on the way to the site. Tessie had seen her father hang his nail apron and leather tool belt on one of the wooden pegs in the outer room beyond the kitchen just last evening. She’d wondered, at the time, what job Marcus might have at this barn raising. He was so lean and limber—the many experienced foremen typically liked to have such young men work as nailers high on the rafters.
“Too bad ’bout the perty white barn that burned down,” Mandy said from where she and Mamma sat in front of Tessie Ann.
“Jah, and to think the phone at the nearest shanty was out on the very day it was so needed,” Mamma said, melancholy in her voice.
“Somethin’ awful.” Mandy glanced over her shoulder at Tessie.
“Can you imagine if the house had caught fire?” Mamma
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