Laura's Second Chance (Widows of Virginia 2) Read online

  Laura’s

  Second Chance

  Widows of Virginia

  Copyright ©2016 Christina Ward

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2016 by Christina Ward

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All product names, trademarks, registered trademarks, service marks or registered service marks, mentioned throughout any part of the book belong to their respective owners. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover art by BookCoverMasterClass.com Copyright © 2016

  Disclaimer: Any person depicted on the cover is a model and is being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Laura’s Second Chance

  Meet Laura Bennet, a widow haunted by memories of her late husband. Surrounded by constant reminders of her one true love she can barely find the will to live her daily life, let alone move on after just a year of mourning. But there is one thing that gives her strength - a poem from an old friend.

  Content with her situation she doesn't expect the poet to actually show up on her doorstep. Yet he does, and with him comes a once in a lifetime chance for a fresh start in the West. But can she really escape her past?

  Once there Laura struggles to forget her beloved Anton. There's also the matter of her host's odd behaviour that makes her question whether she really knew the man who once was her suitor.

  Follow this kind-hearted window on a journey to a second love in the tough world of the US frontier in the 1800s.

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  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  A Mail Order Bride for the Undertaker

  Contact

  Further Reading

  Chapter One

  Newport News, Virginia, August 1830

  A grieving heart sees the skies grey,

  The ocean brown with mud,

  The trees dull and lifeless,

  The shadows haunting.

  A strong spirit lives,

  It makes a cloud blue,

  The water boundless,

  And the trees swaying with the wind.

  Rekindle your spirit with faith,

  Strengthen it with prayer.

  Laura smoothed the creases on the paper, its edges yellowed with age. She read it once more, just for good measure, before stowing it away in the farthest corner of the bureau drawer. She lifted her head up and came face to face with her late husband’s photograph. The morning sun seeped through the small window lighting up the picture. Laura looked away, a hot band tightening across her chest.

  Every day, she would look over her shoulder, as if expecting Anton to weigh in on her decisions, to squeeze her hand, to caress her back. But he would never do that again. How could she live on without the one she’d vowed to spend the rest of her life with? The poem was her only source of strength, but she had to hide it away from prying eyes.

  “Laura?” A familiar voice called out from behind the door.

  Laura closed the drawer and wiped her hands in the apron she wore over her yellow dress. She didn’t want to dirty the clothes Anton had given her as gift a few years back. With a sigh she stood up and crossed the room to open the door. Her sister-in-law and best friend leaned in the door frame, a white envelope in her hand.

  “A letter came in for you.” The plump girl paused. “It’s from Robert.” Although there was no bite in her voice Laura sensed Susan’s disapproval.

  It was the fourth letter from Robert since... Even though it had been over a year, even in her thoughts Laura still struggled to mention what had happened to Anton.

  At first, Laura thought nothing of the letters. Just another friend sending his condolences. She wrote back, like she did to the others, thinking that was it, but Robert kept up the correspondence. And Susan did not let her forget that he had been Laura’s former suitor.

  “Oh…” Laura took the letter, and placed it in her pocket. “Thank you, Sue.”

  Susan folded her arms over her ample bosom. “You’re not going to read it now?”

  “Huh?” Laura looked up. “Oh, I’ll read it later. I still have to tend to the shop.”

  Susan nodded, her sharp dark eyes scanning the room as if seeing things for the first time. Finally she looked back at Laura, it took her a moment to say out loud what she must have been ruminating on for a while.

  “Not to pry, but...” Susan hesitated. “Is Robert courting you?”

  Laura gasped.

  “Sue!” Anton’s face flashed to the front of her mind. “I’m still grieving!”

  Susan cast her eyes down.

  “Sorry. I was just - I was just curious, with so many letters... You can’t blame me for wondering what he writes about.” She sighed and took Laura’s hands in hers. “People are talking. The couriers talk and... Well, you know how fast rumors travel.”

  Laura did know. But while Robert had been sending letters, she hadn’t been responding save for the first time when she thanked him for his sympathies.

  “Don’t listen to them. Those ol’ biddies don’t have anything better to do than gossip, you know that.”

  “Of course, of course.” Susan nodded and released Laura’s hands. The wrinkles around her dark blue eyes reminded Laura of Anton. But if she were honest, everything in the house, town even, reminded her of Anton.

  “I have to go,” Laura said. “Mrs. Dunne might come by for a fitting.”

  Laura left her room, heart heavy with guilt. Why hadn’t she shared Robert’s letters with Susan? There was nothing indecent in them, but they were too personal. She hadn’t responded to Robert’s letters, although she had been tempted to do so many times. He was once her confidant. She wasn’t sure, though, if it would be right to rekindle that old friendship.

  She shut the door to the house behind her leaving Susan busy in the kitchen. She walked through town and almost without looking or thinking she headed straight for the small mercantile shop she ran in an alley near the marketplace. Laura barely glanced at the mannequins in the window display, draped with the unsold dresses she had sown that month. She didn’t exactly dread going to work, but in her heart Laura knew it wasn’t the job for her. Laura thought back to the catering business she had to close after her husband died. She did her sowing as much to make money, as she did to keep herself busy. With her mind on the threads and sequins and fine materials at least she wasn’t thinking about Anton.

  Laura turned the key and opened the door to a haze of dust floating in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Situated just off the busy street, her little shop always looked dusty and stuffy. The humid August weather drew many of her rich customers away to more temperate destinations for the summer.

  She stepped inside to retrieve a broom so she could d
o some cleaning while waiting for a client. But the mindless task meant she kept thinking about Robert’s letters. Should she tell Susan, after all? Although it might allay Susan’s fears - there was absolutely nothing in the letters to indicate his intentions of courting her - it would also betray Robert’s thoughts and feelings to an outside party. Laura didn’t want to do that to him.

  When the dark mahogany floor was once again clean, Laura went to her spinning wheel in the back room. She wished someone would come in and make an order, but business did not flourish. In fact in the recent months she’d mostly had commissions for repairing and stitching dresses and shirts by hand. And there was no point for her to spin another dress for the shop window… Her mind wandered back to the letters, to the women in the West Robert described. Only one person in the whole town had a spinning wheel! Everyone else did everything by hand.

  Finally she settled behind a small desk by the window, picked up patches of cloth from the pile beside her, and began stitching. She preferred dressmaking to repairs, but the bills had to be paid and it provided a way to pass the time as she waited for a customer.

  A few hours passed, yet no one came. Not even Mrs. Dunne.

  * * *

  Night had fallen by the time Laura got home. Susan had almost finished preparing their meal. Laura greeted her, but the smile on Susan’s face didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had loved her brother dearly…

  “Samuel, not back yet?” Laura leaned in to check if Susan’s husband sat in his favorite armchair with the evening paper.

  “Not yet. He’s working late tonight.”

  “Need any help?” Laura asked.

  “Oh, no.” Susan shook her head and stirred the pot with a ladle. “You go freshen up, dinner is almost ready.”

  Laura nodded and turned to the hallway. Despite not being much older than Laura Susan had always been motherly towards her. On some days it made Laura want to rebel against being treated like a child, but on others she welcomed the affection.

  She passed her old room, the one she used to share with Anton, and headed for the one beside it. She couldn’t sleep on that bed, now cold and empty. In that room she was constantly reminded that it was meant for two people. Laura found the small guest room a welcome respite from the memories of her late husband.

  She sat in front of the dresser to unlock one of the drawers. The latest letter from Robert weighed heavy in her pocket. She hadn’t dared open it earlier – not knowing what he wrote she couldn’t risk someone seeing her reaction. Laura sighed and took out a roll of parchment and a quill. If her silence hadn’t deterred him it was probably time to respond.

  I’ll thank him for everything that he has done. Tell him how blessed I was for receiving support from him after so many years. Maybe even mention how his poetry… No. Laura shook her head. I shouldn’t encourage him.

  She looked up at Anton’s picture, and her heart swelled again. She took a deep breath and dipped the quill in the jar of ink.

  The words did not pour easily out of her so Laura was relieved to hear Susan call her for dinner. She hid the letter inside the drawer before joining her friend - and only family - for the meal.

  “You’re quiet today.” Susan took another sip of the stew while Laura stirred a spoon in her bowl. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  “Must be the weather…” Laura fished out a piece of potato and let it melt in her mouth. “The food is delicious, as always, it’s just- I’ve got a queasy stomach.”

  Susan frowned, obviously not convinced that it was Laura’s stomach that was causing trouble. She probably thought it was Laura’s queasy heart…

  But she did finish half the bowl before retiring to her room once again.

  When morning came, Laura left for her shop as usual, but on the way she made a detour. She stopped by the postal office and as she stood in the queue her heart raced. Was everyone staring at her? Would they whisper about her letters by the late afternoon? Finally it was her turn. For a moment she hesitated before stepping forward. With a shaking hand she pulled out the envelope and handed it to the man on the other side of the counter.

  She left the post office in a hurry and went straight to church. Had she made the right choice? His wise words had always given her strength before, still even writing that letter felt like a betrayal of Anton. Laura looked around the empty building save for the two people lighting candles near the dais. Glad for the privacy she slipped into one of the pews towards the back and prayed. Her hands trembled when she brought them together. The last time she was here, she was tempted to curse the Lord for her husband’s death. But now...

  * * *

  Laura bent down to pull a stubborn weed out of the ground. She liked to garden every Sunday morning. She would cultivate the vegetables that she and Susan grew at the back of the house and keep the beds free from weeds. Cleaning out the weeds helped her clean out her mind before going to church later in the day.

  Three weeks had passed by without a word from Robert. Laura’s hope flickered like a candle in a strong storm, weak and about to go out any minute, the newfound vigor from before slowly left her.

  Robert might have thought that she assumed too much. Maybe she sounded like a pathetic and needy woman. Her thoughts became more absurd by the day. What if he misinterpreted what she’d been trying to say? She just needed him to know how much she appreciated his letters and that his words encouraged her to find reasons to go on.

  “Looks like Robert hadn’t thought of anything nice to write to you.”

  Laura stood up to take a break and glanced over her shoulder at Susan sweeping dead leaves off the porch. “Huh?”

  “Did you finally tell him to stop?” Susan continued. “I heard you went to the post office some weeks ago. Was the letter for him?”

  “Yes, it was for him,” Laura answered, fists clenched tightly around the shovel. “I figured it was time to thank him for his support.”

  Silence followed. Susan swept the leaves into a small heap. “How nice.”

  Laura dropped the weeds on the compost pile.

  “Would you like some water?” she said heading inside the house. Susan just shook her head in reply.

  Her friend had been colder and more silent the last few weeks, their conversations barely progressing beyond niceties during meals. Was it her, or was it Susan? Laura drank some water in the kitchen and then went to the living room. She sat on a chair facing the window to let her back rest for a few minutes.

  What could she say to repair her friendship with Susan? Ever since Robert had sent her letters, Susan had distanced herself, as if it meant she and Laura weren’t family anymore. She thought back to how everything around the house and in town reminded her of Anton. Was she such a reminder for Susan? Was her very presence making her friend’s life miserable?

  Something moved outside the window distracting Laura’s trail of thought. A moment later someone knocked on the door.

  Laura wiped her hands on her apron. Who could it be? They weren’t expecting any guests. Was it the mailman? Had Robert replied?

  She reached the door and opened it expecting to see a familiar face. But as she laid eyes on the visitor her breath stilled and she froze in place. Unable to say a word she gaped at the man standing on the porch.

  “Hello, Laura,” said Robert.

  Chapter Two

  The night after Robert appeared at their home, Laura barely slept a wink. But it wouldn’t do to meet their visitor with an unruly nest of hair and a pale face. Robert said he would visit them today. So, when she finished combing and tying her hair, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lip a little.

  There, now I don’t look like a corpse.

  She put on her green dress with ruffles at the hem and headed straight to the kitchen. But she stopped in the hallway as soon as she heard several voices. Her breath quickened as she recognized Robert’s among them. Laura expected him to still be asleep at the Traveler’s Inn. Even though she had just done her hair Laura’s hand
subconsciously reached for the pins keeping her bun neatly in place. Then a more urgent fear filled her hear. Lord, what have they been talking about?

  She stepped into the kitchen, and everyone went quiet. Samuel, seated in his favorite armchair, lowered his newspaper and all three turned their heads towards Laura.

  “Good morning, Laura! Breakfast is ready.” Susan waved at her, then gestured to the seat next to her. It directly faced Robert, who stared at her quietly with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Laura smiled and went to Susan’s side. Her hands trembled when she took the mug Susan placed before her. She took a long sip, glad to have an excuse to wrench her eyes from Robert. He wasn’t quiet the man she remembered.

  It had been years since they had last seen each other. The broad chested man dressed in a smart suit, yet his skin tone that suggested he didn’t shy away from manual labor troubled her. It was easy to lean on the support of an old friend she remembered as an unorganized artist unsure what he’d do with his life. But this handsome, serious man with curling hair cut just above his shoulders and piercing eyes…

  “I didn’t know Robert here wrote poetry.” Susan placed a basket of fresh bread on the table by the bowl of boiled eggs. “Have you read his work?”

  “Yes, some,” Laura answered without looking up. Why was she suddenly blushing?

  “I wrote a few for Laura,” Robert said.

  Just as she looked up their eyes met, and she blushed again.

  “But,” he continued. “I did not get the chance to hear what she thought of them.”

  “Oh, you’re such a charmer, Robert!” Susan’s laughter echoed within the dining room.

  The conversation, along with their meal, went on with Susan doing all the talking. It was an awkward breakfast. Laura found herself without words. Why was it easier to talk with him through letters? Isn’t this what you wanted? she scolded herself. Yes. But not here, not so quickly. She convinced herself it was his unexpected and unannounced arrival that was to blame.