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Mail Order Love
by Neale Sourna
Coober Pedy, South Australia; 1919
I’d
come from a lush place, of trees and wide rivers, and had sailed a long,
exhaustive time, thousands upon thousands of miles from my home, a half a world
away, after receiving his letters and deciding I’d be his wife; even though I’d
never met him face-to-face.
David
had waited several days at the port, her ship was late, and he’d wondered what
she’d actually be like. People often weren’t like their letters. He’d read
every one, more than once.
I
sighed; there wasn’t a tree for miles round, not even a decent bush, as David
drove the wagon into the interior. My God this is a large country, and barren.
And my future brother-in-law seems a nervous sort, as he fidgets beside me and
barely speaks to me.
The
woman made David speechless, this soon-to-be sister-in-law. Just being beside
her made him nervous. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was a fine looking woman,
fine enough that—.
“Ma’am?”
“David,
we’re to be brother and sister, call me Maddy.” He didn’t touch her name, as if
it were too intimate a thing for him.
“Why’re
you here, ma’am, a … a fine lookin’ woman like yourself, and smart too, well
spoken, you could have anyone. You even read and write, but you come all the
way HERE?”
“For
your brother.” David was silent a long while, then quietly asked.
“His
letters that good?”
“Well,
I....” I was alone with this work-hewn stranger, hundreds of miles from any
other person, whether friend or foe, so my lot was cast, as I stared at his
strong hands. I’d never done such a dangerous thing before in my life, but his
tone was—.
“Your
brother’s letters showed personality, wit, and vision for this land. He’d said
it’d be barren, but I’d never thoug‑.”
“Thought
it’d look like the lifeless moon, after Armageddon?”
“Yes.
Are there neighbors?”
“Mining’s
growing, booming, and there’s new men in everyday. A few smart enough to bring
a wife with them, or selfish. And there’s the Abos, some hate ’em, but I find
’em kind. They were taking care of Joe when I left. That fever was kicking his
as—, um, well. He’s not so young anymore, y’know.” And he chuckled,
good-naturedly, teasing a beloved and absent brother. I liked that, big
brothers are a special thing in this world.
“I’m
not so young either, David.”
“You
don’t look it.” He blushed then, and pushed his lips tight together, as if
afraid he’d say too much to me. He’d not talk after that and, an hour or so
later, we camped for the night. We’d be camping for several nights before
arriving.
David
watched her, Miss Maddy, do things only women do so well, besides cooking, that
is, things like laughing as she talked, or singing softly to herself as she
brushed out her hair, or looking at him, almost as if she were here for him,
and not Joe.
David
sighed, for it was he who’d told Joe about the mail order bride catalog. Joe
had said, “No,” but it was David, who’d searched through it anyway and picked
out a good letter from a well-spoken woman, and he’d read it to Joe, who’d
stared at the fuzzy picture, wondering if the woman herself was as fuzzy and
out of focus.
David
looked at Ma—, Miss Maddy, now, she wasn’t fuzzy, she was clear and true and he
looked off trying not to think of her, or feel for her. Joe had written his
letters, but it was David, who’d berated him and made him write them over, and
better, helping put flesh on the bare bones of his elder sibling’s sterile,
lacking prose.
No
poetry, not exactly, but she was a quality woman, who wrote a really good
letter. David had kept that first catalog letter and the fuzzy picture locked
away in a safe place, as busy and distracted Joe, after David’s nagging, had
finally liked her enough to foot the expensive outlay to pay her passage. They
were making money, but not enough for two brides. One would marry, the elder,
and the other would wait his turn for a warm bed.
David
wished his turn were now.
“Goodnight,
David.”
“Goodnight,
ma’am, Miss Maddy.”
“Just
Maddy, please.” He nodded and watched over her as she slept and the dingoes
howled and yipped all the nights of their trip.
***
David
distracted me from thoughts of Joe. I’d ask him to tell stories of their youth;
or of how to mine precious opal; of what was it like to live in a house
underground, carved from rock; anything to make David talk, he spoke in a way
that made fertile visions grow in my mind. Including one I wished with all my
heart; to be here for David, but Joe’d written such fine letters and I’d
promised.
“You
want to stop and freshen up, M-Maddy, before I take yah to him?” Was it my own
guilt or did he want home to be another day or week away, too? But it wasn’t.
“We’d
better go on now. I_I should meet … meet my husband.”
But
I never did. We’d had a funeral instead of a wedding, and poor David was
utterly bereft, and lost, but a month later, I took his hand in mine, and
neither of us has ever let go.
Copyright © 2004-2008 Romantic4ever.com. All rights reserved. Material may not be reprinted online or offline without express written permission. Monitored by Copyscape.com
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