Page 62 of A Late-Blooming Rose
Must own a house and be able to provide for a wife.
References required, preferably from your minister or other reputable person who is familiar with your character.
In your response, state details about your appearance, location, level of education, vocation, and home, as well as what you require in a wife. $50.00 includes agency fee and train ticket.
“Is this the ad you answered, Trudy? Oh, my, you were so brave. Is this the same one the other women answered?”
“Why, yes.” Trudy’s cheeks pinked. “Five brides in all. Three settled in Sweetwater Springs and two in Morgan’s Crossing. Then there’s Grace Dickinson Foster, who never actually answered this ad. She responded to a personal one she read placed by Frey Foster, and—” she tapped the frame “—endorsed by the matron of our agency. We’re happily married, all of us. We were so lucky.” She shook her head. “What foolish risks we took.”
“Do you or any of the other ladies have a second copy of this ad?” Rose asked. “Pamela Carter gave me the idea of having a shelf of people’s diaries and other accounts of the early settlers. We could frame this and hang it nearby. A historical wall. Maybe put a little plaque on the frame to say who the donors were.”
Trudy’s eyes lit up. “We do have an extra one. Seth had a copy, and so did I. Do you want me to find the clipping?”
Rose shook her head. “I don’t want to risk losing something so precious. Let’s wait until the library is built.”
She followed Trudy into a kitchen redolent with apples and spices and made bright with white walls, cabinets topped with butcher-block counters, mosaic tile on the floor, and cheerful, yellow-and-white checked curtains. A table was already set and some of the food laid out.
Trudy gestured toward a row of hooks by the door. “Hang your coats there. Here’s soap, and the towel is fresh.” She touched the handle of the pump in the sink. “I have hot water on the stove if you want some.”
“Cold is fine.” Rose tugged off her gloves and tucked them into her pockets, removed her coat and hung up the garment, and then pulled out her hat pins and took off her hat, stabbing them into the crown. She placed the hat on top of her coat before going to wash and dry her hands.
Trudy grabbed a hot pad and opened the oven to check on her baking. “Almost done.” She closed the door and briskly rearranged the table, making space for three more places.
By the time Rose finished washing her hands, the table was loaded with food. A basket heaped with rolls sat in the center, next to several small crocks of butter, jam, and apple butter, and a dish of sliced pickles. A glass pitcher held water and another milk.
A few minutes later, the two oldest children hurried through the back door into the kitchen, along with Seth carrying Min, Andre, Sam, and a lanky man in overalls who must be Jasper.
Chattering, the two oldest children made a beeline for the sink.
“Anna and George,” Trudy cautioned. “Company first. You two let Mr. Bellaire and Mr. Herbert wash up before you.”
Sam flashed her a look of appreciation.
Rose supposed most folks wouldn’t put first the needs of a servant before family, especially a colored one. The hospitable gesture said much about the Flanigans’ open-mindedness.
While the rest of them washed and dried their hands, Trudy placed a platter of fried chicken, bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and a mix of carrots and peas on the table. Then she ladled hot apple cider from the pot on the stove into several mugs and put one next to the glasses at each adult’s place. “Careful, this is hot,” she cautioned. She poured milk into the children’s glasses. Finally, she took out the tray of apple dumplings and set them to cool on the stovetop.
After everyone took a seat, and Seth said a prayer, they began to eat.
Rose reached for her mug and sipped, savoring the spicy-sweet taste. “I’ve had apple cider before but not like this. Such a rich flavor, with just the right amount of tartness.”
“Oranges give the cider the citrusy flavor.” Trudy cut up the meat on Min’s plate. “My secret is to add a lemon to the batch, too. I sweeten the brew with our own maple syrup, then add cinnamon sticks and cloves. Simmer for several hours. Mash the fruit and strain.”
“My goodness, I’ve never been the least bit domestic, but even I could manage making something like this.” Rose took a bite of her chicken breast.
Trudy beamed. “You’re a professional woman. I’m just a housewife who enjoys feeding her family.”
Rose looked around at the snug, pretty house, the beautiful children, the adoring husband, servants treated as equals, and the warm welcome extended to uninvited guests. “Nojustabout it, Trudy. What you’ve achieved here takes talent and skill.”
“And love—” Seth added with a tender glance at his wife. “Love and a kind heart.”
Color flagged Trudy’s cheeks, and her gaze held her husband’s for a long moment before, with a happy smile, she looked at Rose. “I came to Sweetwater Springs in search of adventure, and I found so much more.”
Rose couldn’t imagine leaving home to search for adventure.Bad enough being propelled into the choice by the death of a dear brother and the impetuous nature of a beloved niece.
But I fiercely envy the love Trudy found on her journey.
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