Michael
Even though Ramona seemed to be losing interest in their
search for her mother, Michael grew more determined with each passing day to
find her. He had gotten the idea into his head, that if he could just do this
for her, if he could reunite her with her mother, that she would see him for
who he was. That maybe she’d see him as the kind of man she might want to
marry.
Every evening while they searched, Michael was attentive to
her every need. He carried her through any muddy patches on the ground. He
always found her a place to sit when she was tired. He told her stories as they
rode in the wagon, and guided her gently through the rough streets of Austin.
Every day Michael fell harder and harder for Ramona.
If only Ramona could see what I see. We could be so good
together. I wish she’d give me a chance to prove that.
Each day Ramona seemed to let down another wall, opening
herself up to Michael, and drawing him in at the same time. She told him about
the heartache and ostracism she and her mother had endured after her father’s
suicide. She spoke about their poverty and her mother’s fight to find a steady
job.
“Sometimes we would have one meal between us. That would
have to last us three or four days,” she said, as they rested in a park in the
center of town. “Even so, Mother never made me give up on my dreams, she always
supported me.”
“I’m sorry Ramona. That must have been hard on you.”
Michael was quiet for a moment. “And you still want to find your Ma, don’t you?
It just seems to me like you’ve almost given up lately.”
Ramona nodded as she bit her bottom lip. “I know now that she
most likely doesn’t want to be found, I can’t give up hope just yet. My friend
Elizabeth was right. I don’t think she’ll want to come back to New York with
me. But I want to find her anyhow. To tell her, to tell her that I love her no
matter what.”
Back to New York.
Those words pierced through Michael’s heart. He dropped his
head and looked at the green grass beneath him.
She has no intention of staying
here, no matter the outcome. Tony was right.
Michael felt stunned as the full weight of her words hit
him. The disappointment crushed his chest and he sucked in a deep breath.
I’ve been fooling myself. I should have known it from
the start. Ramona came here with a mission. And it never included marrying me.
“I just wanted to tell you Michael, that I’m so grateful
you haven’t given up on me or on Mother yet.”
“Of course.” He stared at the ground.
“I see how hard you work, how many hours you put in during
the day on the construction site. And then, on top of all that, you take me out
searching for Mother after hours.” Ramona’s voice began to break a little. “I
don’t even know how to thank you Michael. Gosh, in all my life, no one has
shown me the kindness that you have.”
Michael heard the emotion in her voice and he looked up,
startled. “Ramona, please, what is the matter?”
Ramona collapsed in tears. “I just feel like we are never
going to find her! Oh it all seems so hopeless! And I feel so badly that I have
dragged you into this fruitless search.”
“Shhh.” Michael reached over and placed his arm around her
shoulder, pulling her into him as she wept. “Please don’t give up. I haven’t.”
***
Michael hadn’t given up hope that they would find Maria.
But he had given up hope that Ramona would ever want to marry him.
“What did I tell ya?” Tony said the following day as he
drove his shovel into the dirt. “I warned ya Michael.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “You were right. I’ll help
Ramona find her mother. Then I’ll drive her back to the stagecoach and move on
with my life. I won’t try for another Mail Order Bride after this Tony. That
ought to make you happy.”
Tony’s face grew a little red. “I’m sorry Michael. I don’t
mean to take pleasure from your situation.” He stopped digging. “Though I must
say I’m surprised you are still going to help her.” Tony let out a sigh.
“You’re a good man Michael. Perhaps I ought to tell you something. I’ve been
holding into it in the hopes that Ramona might come around after all and fall
for you – heck you’re the best man I know. She’s a fool not to see it.”
Michael stood up straight. “What’s that Tony?”
Tony’s face had flushed a deep red.
“I think I know where Ramona’s mother is.”
“What?” Michael threw his shovel down. “What are you
talking about?”
Tony lifted his hands up. “Hey, I don’t know for sure. But,
the Italians in town, they tend to stick together. Gossip about each other, you
know. Anyway, I heard about this Italian woman who moved here from New York.
Married some snooty Professor or something.”
Michael’s face was dark as thunder. “Tony why did you keep
this from me?”
Tony looked at the ground and shrugged. “Like I said, I was
tryin’ to help you. I thought that if she spent a bit more time with you, she’d
fall hard. I’m sorry.”
Michael shook his head.
But she is leaving, no matter
what.
He walked over to his friend and growled, fiercely. “Tony, you tell
me where she is! Right now!”
***
“Here,” said Tony, handing the letter to Michael the
following day. The sky was threatening and black with skidding clouds. The air
about them was heavy, and they both had sweat dripping down the sides of their
faces and soaking their shirts. Tony avoided eye contact with Michael, looking
everywhere else but his face. Just then, the heavens opened up and fat drops of
cold rain pelted down on them, causing the ground beneath their feet to become
muddy and slippery within moments.
“I don’t know if you’re going to like what’s in there.”
“What are you talking about Tony?” Michael didn’t seem to notice
the rain.
Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. “My Mama,” he
whispered. “She knew Maria. Sort of. They ran in the same circles. They weren’t
close. She got this letter from her husband.”
Michael looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “What do you
mean, she ‘knew’ Maria? What happened to her? Where is she now?”
“Just read the letter Michael.”
Michael unfolded the sheet of paper in his hands. His eyes
scanned over the contents. He quickly re-folded it and closed his eyes, shaking
his head.
“I can’t tell Ramona this. And you can’t breathe a word of
it to her either. You got me? You owe me that much at least!”
Tony nodded. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting
Michael’s. “I promise.”
Ramona
Michael avoided Ramona all that evening. He came home from
work late, and ate his supper in silence.
“Are we going out tonight?” she asked eagerly.
“No. It’s raining out.”
“Oh.”
I’ve pushed him too hard. Taken his patience and good nature
for granted. Of course he’s tired of searching. Tired of helping me. He
probably just wants me to leave, so he can get back to his life.
Ramona retreated into herself and sat quietly on a whittled
wooden chair, knitting. She wondered what she could do, if anything, to get
back into Michael’s good graces. She’d made him supper and a pudding for desert,
but he didn’t even acknowledge her effort. Mary and Fred seemed to sense the
tension between the two of them, and had disappeared to their room directly
after the meal. After cleaning up in the kitchen and knitting for as long as
she could stand to, Ramona spent the rest of the evening tiptoeing around and
staying out of Michael’s way.
What can I do to show him that I appreciate everything
he has done for me?
Ramona looked around and saw Michael’s muddy work clothes.
I
know — I’ll scrub his boats and clean his trousers and jacket then lay them by
the fire to dry. Michael will be surprised when he wakes up tomorrow morning.
It wasn’t long before Michael excused himself for bed,
striding out of the room with a scowl on his handsome face. Ramona hastily
grabbed his work clothes from the floor where he had left them by the door. Before
she put the coat through the ringer she made sure the pockets were empty.
That’s when the note drifted to the floor.
Ramona saw only one thing as she picked up the letter. The
signature on the bottom that read, “Art Franklin.”
“Ramona what are you doing?” Michael raced into the room
and grabbed the coat from her grasp. Too late, he saw the letter in her
trembling hands.
“Ramona, please.”
“You know where my mother is?” Ramona’s eyes flashed as she
waved the letter in front of his face. “And you kept it from me? For how long,
Michael?”
She took a step backwards, moving away from him, her curls
swirling about her shoulders.
“How could you do this to me? You know how tormented I’ve
been about it all.” Her voice broke and she sobbed loudly. She stopped, and her
eyes widened. “Did you keep this from me because you wanted me to stay? Or do
you just not care about me at all?”
“Ramona it’s not like that.”
Michael lifted his hands toward her, reaching for her. But
Ramona backed further away.
“Did you think if you just kept lying to me and hid Mother’s
location from me that I would stay here with you forever? Did you think that I
would give up and marry you? Or were you trying to punish me for hurting you?”
“Ramona please, let me explain. I only got that letter
today. Please, you have to believe me.”
Ramona studied Michaels’ face, looking for a sign that he
was telling the truth. “I don’t know what to believe. How can I trust you?”
She pressed the letter to her chest, and headed for the
door. “Maybe I’m just too naive. Here I was trying to think of ways to repay
you for all of your kindnesses to me. I never thought you would stoop to
something like this.”
Ramona opened the front door and rushed through it into the
stormy night.
Michael ran after her, grabbing her by the arm, the falling
rain soaking them both to the bone. “Ramona! Where are you going?”
She tried to shake off his grasp, waving the letter at him.
“I’m going to find Art Franklin, and don’t try to stop me!”
“Ramona you can’t.”
“Of course I can! You’ve kept this from me long enough! I’m
going right now!” Ramona tried to wriggle free of Michael’s grip on her arm,
but he held on too tightly.
“Let me go Michael! You’re hurting me!”
He dropped her arm, both his own hanging helplessly by his
sides. The rain ran in rivulets down his face, and his eyes, filled with
sadness, found Ramona’s.
“Ramona your mother - she passed away.”
Ramona stopped struggling. All the color drained from her
face. Her lips were turning blue from the cold, and her teeth chattered
silently. She staggered toward him, and he caught her by one arm.
“No.” Ramona whispered with a shake of her head. “You’re
lying again.” Her voice was hoarse. “You just, you’re just trying to keep me
from finding her!”
Michael’s face fell. “Ramona, do you really think I would
lie about something like that? Don’t you know me at all?”
Ramona dropped to her knees, overcome with emotion.
Michael crouched down beside her, and pulled her into his
arms but she pushed him away. Then, she fell in a heap on the muddy ground, her
sobs muffled by the thunder of the downpour. Michael pulled her close to him
again, lifting her cheek and placing it against his chest. This time she didn’t
resist, and nestled in closer still. He laced one hand through her thick hair and
rubbed her back gently with the other. Overwhelmed and dazed by the news,
Ramona wondered where she would go. She had nothing and no one. She didn’t even
have the money to return home. She’d never see her mother again. What would she
do?
Ramona
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Michael said gently.
Ramona took a bold step forward and knocked on Art
Franklin’s front door.
God, give me strength.
“I have to,” she whispered. “I need to hear it for myself.
I need to know what happened to Mother.”
Michael nodded. “I understand. I’m here with you, if you
need me,” Michael whispered.
Ramona nodded. Her hands were laced in front of her as she
waited for Mr. Franklin to answer the door. She was expecting a kind man, much
like her father had been. Someone warm and sincere, who would have taken care
of her mother during her last days.
“Yes?”
The door opened, and a man with thinning hair and a stern
face stood on the threshold. He seemed aggravated by their presence, tapping
the doorframe with his fingers as though it might hurry them along.
“Hello. My name is Ramona Selmer. And this is a friend of
mine, Michael Newhill. My mother was Maria Selmer – I believe you knew her.”
“Oh my!” he peered down at Ramona through squinting eyes. “Well,
well. I was married to Maria, yes, but she certainly never mentioned a
daughter.”
“Never?”
“No, not once. I assure you. And you are here because?”
“Well, I heard that she died. And I want to find out what
happened.” Ramona’s voice trembled as she spoke, and she took a deep breath in
an attempt to calm herself.
Art sighed. “Would you like some tea?” he asked in a way
that made Ramona feel as though the correct answer would be ‘no.’
She nodded her head and followed Art into his sitting room,
Michael trailed along behind them. Ramona shot a look at him over her shoulder.
She could tell from Michael’s face that he felt uncomfortable in Art’s home
with the rows of bookshelves and store-bought furnishings.
I’m so glad he’s here with me. I don’t know if I could
bear it alone.
Art fetched a tray with a kettle full of steaming tea and
teacups. He served them each a cup of tea, then he grabbed a pipe from a side
table, and packed it with tobacco before seating himself on a stuffed brown corduroy
chair. Ramona settled into a sunken chair with green and gold upholstery, and
Michael stood uncomfortably by the window, looking out onto the street beyond. Art
peered down his thin nose at Ramona as he spoke, the freshly packed pipe
hanging from between his lips.
“Scarlet fever,” he said simply. “I’m afraid it was nothing
more glamorous than that.” He cast a disapproving look at Ramona as he spoke.
“It took hold of her quickly.” Art stood, and banged the contents of the pipe
out onto an ashtray, shaking his head slowly. “Barely worth even getting
married. Although I suppose she was desperate. Especially after what that
coward of a man did to her.”
Ramona opened her mouth to speak but only a squeak came
out. She had to clear her throat and try again.
“And did she - did she leave me anything?”
Ramona sat very still as she waited for the answer.
Art rolled his eyes. “I was wondering when that would come
up. Looking for money are you?” He shot Ramona a look of disgust. “No. Nothing.
She came here with nothing and she left this world with nothing.” His eyebrows
shot up. “I suggest you go back to New York. There’s naught here for you.”
Ramona’s lips began to tremble. Michael was staring at her
in distress. “Ramona, let’s just go.”
She stood to her feet and approached Art, who was leaning
against the mantle with the empty pipe dangling from his bottom lip.
“I’m not here for your money. I just wanted to know if she
left me anything of sentimental value. If only she’d stayed with me, she should
never have married you – you didn’t deserve her!” She held her voice steady as
she stepped toward Art, her eyes never leaving his. “My father was a kind man,
who got himself into some awful trouble. And my mother was a beautiful woman. You
should be pleased to have been married to her no matter for how long! And she
didn’t leave this world with nothing. I loved her, and that is something!”
Art stepped back, stumbling over a poker beside the
fireplace, as Ramona inched forward. But she was finished. She had nothing more
to say.
“Ramona was only here to find out what happened to her mother,”
Michael said, with a fierceness that Ramona hadn’t heard before. “She wasn’t looking
for money. Especially not from you.” He reached for Ramona’s arm, tucking it
gently under his own. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Outside, the very last of Ramona’s courage dissolved. She made
it around the corner before she collapsed.
“That man!” she said, as Michael reached out to hold her up.
“He was horrible! Oh, how could Mother ever have married him? I bore it for so
long because I truly believed she had found happiness, and I so wanted her to
be happy. But how could she have been happy with him?”
Ramona wept and shook her head. “At least I know now.” She
looked up at Michael glumly. “Though I feel rather naive. All this time,
expecting the best, trying to remain positive. What good did that do me?” She
turned and looked over her shoulder in the direction of Art Franklin’s house.
“There was no happy ending here.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” Michael said
gently. “You did the best you could, given the situation.”
Ramona nodded. “Well, things certainly seem hopeless now.
Art was right about one thing: I should go home. I have nothing. No one, no
family in this whole world. I’m on my own, and it’s time I figured out what to
do with my life now.”
Michael looked hurt. “No one?”
Ramona shook her head as she sadly turned away. “No one. Let’s
go - I ought to go back to your place and pack.”