“I will just be a few more moments, Papa.” Layla stopped fiddling with her necklace and walked softly to the door, careful not to scuff the pair of slippers that matched the dress and also once belonged to her mother. “Father, do go into your room and change your clothes. I have laid out a neatly pressed white cotton shirt and a pair of dark trousers. Make yourself presentable.” She felt guilty for scolding her father, so she tacked on, “Please.” He grunted and huffed out in the hall, trudging across the hall to his own room.
With a sigh of relief, she returned to her vanity to look at her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted the necklace and swept her long black hair into a complicated hairstyle, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. All she could manage was a neat twist, and she concluded that it would have to do. She reasoned that it didn’t matter much anyway; she and Mark were not in love, and they were likely never to become enamored of one another. It would not matter to him if she wore her hair sticking straight on end, so long as she fulfilled her end of the bargain.
“God,” Layla spoke aloud to her Heavenly Father. “Help me. I know not what to expect from today. I understand that I have made this arrangement, and I intend to keep my side of the bargain, but please … help me.” Layla didn’t know what else to say. She could pray for strength or courage, but she didn’t feel afraid. If she had to pinpoint the emotion, she would say she felt a sense of relief mixed with longing. Though glad that she could wash away her father’s debt with her actions, she also despaired when she realized that she was entering into what was sure to be a loveless marriage. Layla wanted to marry for love, as her father and mother had, but that was not to be.
Moving with care, Layla held up the front of her skirt and petticoats so that she might make it to the door without ripping or tearing any part of her mother’s exquisite gown. When she emerged from her bedroom, her father stood to the side.
His gray eyes lit up when he saw her. “You’re lovely, Layla,” he whispered. “You look just like your mother.” She smiled kindly at him as tears rolled down his face. He used a small white handkerchief to dab at his tears, but they steadily flowed. He extended his arm to her, and she looped her hand through it, grasping his elbow for support.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said simply and allowed him to lead the way down the hall. When they came to the sitting room, Emmett gazed at the wing-backed chair where his wife had so often sat. He looked from the seat to Layla and spoke quietly.
“I will try to be better, Layla. I will strive to get better. I swear to you: I will quit gambling and give up on drinking.”
Layla smiled at him sympathetically and patted her father’s arm with her free hand. She did not say anything, for she wasn’t sure if there was anything to say. She was already experiencing the consequences of his actions, and while she prayed often enough before that he would give up his vices, he had been unable to do it in the past.
“Thank you, Father,” Layla replied, and she motioned for them to continue. As they slowly descended the stairs, Layla prayed that her father would find the resolve to give up on his self-defeating ways, but more than that, she prayed that God would watch over her father, no matter what he was doing.
***
Layla watched as Mr. Flint fidgeted with his tie. He was dressed in a well-cut black suit and looked resplendent. The attire complimented his dark hair and eyes, and the crisp white shirt he wore looked brand new. Despite his elegance, his demeanor conveyed unease.
She didn’t recognize the minister performing the ceremony, as she attended a different church, but the man was energetic, and when he spoke, his voice filled the nearly empty sanctuary.
The pastor’s green eyes twinkled as he looked from Layla to Mr. Flint, asking them to recite the marriage vows. “Layla Fitzpatrick, do you promise to love, honor, and cherish your husband, Marcus Flint?” The minister looked at Layla, and she nodded quickly. Her heart sunk a little, as she thought she might never be able to love or cherish her husband, but she knew that she would certainly be able to honor him and nodded once more.
“I do,” she whispered quietly.
“And do you, Marcus Flint, vow to stand by your wife, Layla Fitzpatrick, through sickness and health throughout all the days of your life?” The pastor and Layla both waited as Mark shifted uncomfortably.
His dark eyes darted, and she knew that this part of the ceremony was most vexing for him. While he had made these promises before, and he had kept his vow, his wife had not stuck by him. Layla frowned as she thought through this problem. It was not so much that Trudie Flint had left Mark during a bout of sickness but that she had abandoned both himandtheir child when times had gotten tough. Layla felt incredibly sorry for Mr. Flint and for Heath. Tipping her head slightly, she hoped he might see her supportive smile and feel encouraged to continue.
The pastor cleared his throat and looked at Mr. Flint determinedly. Finally, Mr. Flint nodded his head and repeated the vow. “I will stand by my wife, through sickness, and in health, through all the days of my life.” Layla acknowledged that he could have just agreed by saying the words “I do” or “I will,” but she appreciated that he had chosen to repeat the phrase in its entirety. It showed her that Mr. Flint took this matter seriously, and she respected that.
“And now, the ring,” the minister said, his bright voice projecting throughout the vacant church. Layla looked to Mark, but her father made a strange noise behind them, searching in his trouser pocket and pulling out a slim silver band from his breeches.
He cleared his throat and took a small step forward. “As we discussed, Mr. Flint …” Emmett sputtered in a hushed voice. “Layla is my only child, and I always intended to give her the ring that her mother—” His voice broke, and tears slid down his cheeks. He shook his head and did his best to gather himself before handing the silver band to Mark. “I would like you to have this ring, my sweet girl. I do hope—” Once again, he broke out in tears. He stepped back hurriedly, reaching into his pocket to withdraw the white handkerchief. He rubbed at his face with it and made a gesture for the minister to proceed with the service.
“Thank you,” Layla whispered to her father before turning back to face the minister.
“That was a kindness indeed,” the pastor added, looking fondly between the father and daughter. “Now,” he said, glancing at Mr. Flint, who had been strangely silent throughout the entire interaction. “If you will place the ring on the lady’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”
She trembled as his cold fingers grazed her own, but the touch was brief as the ring slid into place without much effort. “With this ring, I thee wed,” Mr. Flint said softly.
***
“Over here, note the gardens. Those will need to be tended daily,” Mark pointed to a patch of earth not far ahead of them.
After the ceremony concluded, he and Layla loaded into the buggy, along with two trunks she brought from home. The fit was tight, and the sun that reached its mid-day point during the journey was hot.
As they got closer to his home, Mark listed Layla’s chores. “I would recommend starting your day in the chicken coops. They’re over there.” He lifted his hand to point beyond the gardens. “Once you have gathered eggs, you will be able to make breakfast. Heath will, of course, need tending to as well, but I am sure you will find a way to manage.”
A quake ran through Layla as she realized she was ill-prepared for the tasks facing her. While she might have experience working with blind people and adore children, she knew very little about life on a farm.
The buggy jounced them slightly, and Layla shifted. She sat up straighter in her seat as Mark continued to rattle off chores she would need to do, and her cheeks flushed.How am I to accomplish everything in one day?Layla wondered, but she did not dare interrupt Mark. She had known him for only a brief time, but she already suspected that he was the sort of man who spoke while others followed his instructions without question.
The buggy got closer and closer to the house, and as they did, Mark described his home. “I believe the house was built around ten years ago. I only moved here five years ago, so I can’t be sure for certain, but the man I bought it from said the adobe bricks were sturdy and that they had reinforced the walls using juniper from the surrounding forests.”
Layla nodded, taking in what he’d said. “You only moved here five years ago? Where did you come from?”
