Ramona
wasn’t there. Mary told him she’d taken a walk.
“By herself?” asked Michael.
“She insisted.”
“But she doesn’t know her way around.”
Mary simply shook her head.
It wasn’t long before Ramona returned, slipping off her hat
and smoothing back her hair as she greeted him at the door. Once she had
cleaned up and settled herself in the sitting room, Michael attempted to engage
Ramona in conversation. But try as he might, she was constantly distracted,
looking out the front window to the busy street beyond. It was as though she were
searching for something, but for the life of him, Michael couldn’t figure out
what it could be.
When she wasn’t distracted, she was chatty. Far chattier
than any other woman Michael had ever met, and about a hundred times more
talkative then he was. He didn’t mind it so much in a way — he realized that if
Ramona hadn’t been so talkative and the conversation were left to him to spark there
might well have been a constant silence between them. Generally he was glad
that the pressure to carry a dialogue hadn’t been left up to him. However, in
this particular instance he was trying to get up the nerve and find an
opportunity to broach the subject of the wedding.
He watched her as she chattered away, noticing the slope of
her creamy neck beneath the thick curls of her dark hair. The way she bit her
plump, red bottom lip, ever so gently, when she paused to consider her next
statement. He felt perspiration forming on his forehead and his heart was
racing. How would he ever get the words out?
***
The following evening Ramona was unusually quiet. Michael
thought it might finally be his opportunity to speak with her privately. Mary
and Fred were sitting together in the living room discussing an upcoming church
picnic, and Ramona sat off to one side on her own. He cleared his throat and
joined her by the front window, which was fast becoming her favorite place to
sit.
“I like to watch what the people out there are up to,”
Ramona answered when he asked her why she liked the spot so much.
“Ramona…” Michael began, “are you, are you still happy with
our…” He trailed off, clenching his jaw as he tried to force the words out, “arrangement?
You’re not disappointed in me, are you? I know sometimes these things can be
awkward.”
Ramona laughed a little, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Do you mean us getting married?”
“Well, yes. Actually, I was just wondering if you, when you
might want to. Get married, that is.”
Ramona raised one eyebrow, looking confused.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She hasn’t thought about it? It’s all I can think of.
How can a woman travel across the country to marry a man, and when she arrives
– not think about the wedding?
“What’s going on Ramona?”
Ramona’s eyes flitted across the kitchen floorboards. Her
discomfort was evident.
“Please,” Michael said quietly. “Tell me the truth. Why are
you really here?”
Ramona sighed, and pulled at a stray thread on her skirt,
refusing to meet his gaze.
“I’m here to find my mother.” Ramona turned her head back
toward the window and stared off into the distance.
“Your mother?”
Ramona nodded. She kept watching people walking by the
house through the window. Finally she met Michael’s eyes with her own.
“Mother is here, somewhere in Austin. That’s all I know.”
“So that’s why you came here? That’s why you chose me?” He
was barely able to shield the disappointment in his voice. It’s all starting
to make sense now. A woman as beautiful and glamorous as Ramona would never choose
to marry a stranger in a pioneering town.
Michael spun on his heel and strode into the kitchen.
Ramona rushed after him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Michael heard the genuine distress in her voice.
“I never thought, oh, when the lady said I could be sent to
Austin to marry a man, I guess I never really thought about the man on
wasn’t there. Mary told him she’d taken a walk.
“By herself?” asked Michael.
“She insisted.”
“But she doesn’t know her way around.”
Mary simply shook her head.
It wasn’t long before Ramona returned, slipping off her hat
and smoothing back her hair as she greeted him at the door. Once she had
cleaned up and settled herself in the sitting room, Michael attempted to engage
Ramona in conversation. But try as he might, she was constantly distracted,
looking out the front window to the busy street beyond. It was as though she were
searching for something, but for the life of him, Michael couldn’t figure out
what it could be.
When she wasn’t distracted, she was chatty. Far chattier
than any other woman Michael had ever met, and about a hundred times more
talkative then he was. He didn’t mind it so much in a way — he realized that if
Ramona hadn’t been so talkative and the conversation were left to him to spark there
might well have been a constant silence between them. Generally he was glad
that the pressure to carry a dialogue hadn’t been left up to him. However, in
this particular instance he was trying to get up the nerve and find an
opportunity to broach the subject of the wedding.
He watched her as she chattered away, noticing the slope of
her creamy neck beneath the thick curls of her dark hair. The way she bit her
plump, red bottom lip, ever so gently, when she paused to consider her next
statement. He felt perspiration forming on his forehead and his heart was
racing. How would he ever get the words out?
***
The following evening Ramona was unusually quiet. Michael
thought it might finally be his opportunity to speak with her privately. Mary
and Fred were sitting together in the living room discussing an upcoming church
picnic, and Ramona sat off to one side on her own. He cleared his throat and
joined her by the front window, which was fast becoming her favorite place to
sit.
“I like to watch what the people out there are up to,”
Ramona answered when he asked her why she liked the spot so much.
“Ramona…” Michael began, “are you, are you still happy with
our…” He trailed off, clenching his jaw as he tried to force the words out, “arrangement?
You’re not disappointed in me, are you? I know sometimes these things can be
awkward.”
Ramona laughed a little, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Do you mean us getting married?”
“Well, yes. Actually, I was just wondering if you, when you
might want to. Get married, that is.”
Ramona raised one eyebrow, looking confused.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She hasn’t thought about it? It’s all I can think of.
How can a woman travel across the country to marry a man, and when she arrives
– not think about the wedding?
“What’s going on Ramona?”
Ramona’s eyes flitted across the kitchen floorboards. Her
discomfort was evident.
“Please,” Michael said quietly. “Tell me the truth. Why are
you really here?”
Ramona sighed, and pulled at a stray thread on her skirt,
refusing to meet his gaze.
“I’m here to find my mother.” Ramona turned her head back
toward the window and stared off into the distance.
“Your mother?”
Ramona nodded. She kept watching people walking by the
house through the window. Finally she met Michael’s eyes with her own.
“Mother is here, somewhere in Austin. That’s all I know.”
“So that’s why you came here? That’s why you chose me?” He
was barely able to shield the disappointment in his voice. It’s all starting
to make sense now. A woman as beautiful and glamorous as Ramona would never choose
to marry a stranger in a pioneering town.
Michael spun on his heel and strode into the kitchen.
Ramona rushed after him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Michael heard the genuine distress in her voice.
“I never thought, oh, when the lady said I could be sent to
Austin to marry a man, I guess I never really thought about the man on
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