Changes of the Heart Read online

  CHANGES OF THE HEART

  Judith McCoy Miller

  COPYRIGHT

  © 1998 by Barbour Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  PROLOGUE

  June 1847

  “I suppose I’d be packing my bag and heading out of town, too, if I’d been left standing at the church. Folks hear tell of a bride that’s left standing at the altar, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a groom being made the fool,” Josiah Buchanan callously remarked to his son, Luther.

  “I don’t particularly think of myself as a fool, Father, but I realize that if I’m going to make anything of my life, I must leave you and this town,” the younger man stated, not allowing his voice to betray the pain his father’s words had caused.

  “As usual, you’re going to be late,” his father continued to admonish, pulling the gold timepiece from his vest pocket and shaking his head. “After twenty-five years, I might as well just give up. Day after day I’ve told you that if you’re ever going to amount to anything, you’ve got to be punctual. Why do you think I bought you that expensive pocket watch?”

  “The stage doesn’t arrive for another hour, and although you refrain from believing facts, I am seldom late for anything,” Luther rebutted, wishing that his father would leave the room and allow him to complete packing his valise in solitude. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Until the stage door was closed and the horses were urged into motion, his father would be at his side, reminding him of his failures and berating him as a son.

  “I just can’t imagine what got into that girl. I went and talked to her parents, did I tell you that?” Josiah asked, ignoring Luther’s remark.

  “No, you didn’t tell me, but I wish you hadn’t done that. I’m sure it only served to make them uncomfortable. It’s not their fault that Elizabeth ran off with someone else.”

  “Well, she’s their daughter. Her behavior decries their ability to rear a child. I told them that, too,” Josiah pompously reported, his large belly puffing out even farther than usual. “Besides, I wasn’t overly concerned about their discomfort. Look what I had to endure last Saturday when that little snippet didn’t appear for the ceremony. Everyone expressing their sympathy and then laughing behind my back,” the older man recounted as his thick neck reddened above his stiff white collar.

  “This isn’t about you, Father. If people are laughing, they’re laughing at me. You can rest easy now. My departure should assure you that you’ve suffered your last embarrassment at my expense,” Luther said, weary of the conversation and weary of his father’s self-centered viewpoint.

  “I still think you’re making a mistake. Not about leaving Virginia, but going out west to California. Everyone’s rushing out there thinking they’re going to get rich overnight. Well, it doesn’t happen that way. People get ahead by hard work, making sound decisions, and being punctual,” Josiah lectured.

  “I’ve already explained that I’m not going off in search of gold. I plan to open a mercantile store and perform the same services I’ve done in your business all these years,” Luther reminded his father.

  “Yes, so you’ve told me. Once you’ve set up your own store, you’ll soon find that there is much you don’t know about operating a business. You’ll be racing home with your tail between your legs before two years have passed; that is my estimate. I’ll hold your job for you,” he promised, and then laughed heartily.

  Luther knew it would serve no purpose to respond, but he vowed to himself that he would never return to his father’s house. Since his mother’s death fifteen years earlier, he had silently endured his father’s sarcasm and tongue-lashings. Endured a childhood that had molded him into an angry man who already believed that he was destined to become a failure. Endured Elizabeth’s recent rejection, which now served to reinforce what his father’s behavior had taught him as a child—he was unlovable.

  ONE

  May 1852

  Maura Rebecca Thorenson slipped her fingers into the serviceable brown leather bag she was carrying and touched the packet of letters nestled in its depths. They were carefully bound with a blue grosgrain ribbon, along with a new journal and the small Bible that had belonged to her grandmother. A shiver ran down her spine as she and her parents, Walt and Bessie Thorenson, stood on one of the docks scattered along Boston’s harbor.

  “You sure you’re ready for this, Maura?” her father inquired, concern evident in his voice. His eyes remained fixed on the ship that she would board in a few short minutes.

  “I’m not as sure as I was last week,” she replied, laughing nervously. “Mama, I was only joking. Please don’t cry anymore. This is my chance for a new life. We’ve been over this so many times that I thought you were finally in agreement,” she said, leaning down to embrace her mother. Bessie was six inches shorter than her twenty-eight-year-old daughter, and it never seemed more evident than when the two women hugged each other. Maura had been blessed with the thick auburn hair of her father and the creamy complexion and blue eyes of her mother. Classic beauty, that’s what her mother used to say—you have classic beauty, Maura. As a child she delighted in that particular compliment; but, as she developed into an adolescent, she decided classic beauty was not what interested boys.

  “I’ve accepted the fact that you’re leaving, Maura. Please don’t ask me to remain dry eyed when my only daughter is leaving home. I’ll probably never see you again,” she an-swered between sobs, which then developed into a case of hiccoughs, causing both of them to giggle.

  Walt and Bessie had been dismayed when Maura first informed them she had answered an ad for a mail-order bride. They had given her all the arguments against doing such a thing. Initially, she had conceded to their request that she not make a hasty decision, and when she wrote her letter of introduction to Luther Buchanan, she inquired if he would correspond with her for a year. Maura had carefully penned the letter, telling him of her life in Boston. She enclosed a photograph, as his advertisement had requested. It had been taken when she turned twenty-one years old, and although she didn’t think she had aged much, she was careful to advise Mr. Buchanan the picture was seven years old.

  Maura’s parents had reasoned that a year would at least give their daughter an opportunity to become acquainted with this stranger’s views and expectations for a wife. After receiving the letter and photograph of Maura, Luther had reluctantly agreed to wait for six months. Although more mail had been sent from Boston to Placerville, California, than the reverse, Luther Buchanan had kept his promise and answered all of the questions Maura listed in each of her letters to him. After several months of corresponding had elapsed, and without solicitation from Maura, Luther sent her a photograph of himself standing outside the Buchanan General Mercantile.

  The picture had been taken at a distance and Luther’s features were blurred, but Maura didn’t care. She had never put much stock in physical attributes, which was the reason she hadn’t requested a picture of her husband-to-be. It did appear that he was tall enough to overshadow Maura’s height, but pictures could be as deceiving as actual appearances. Maura had learned early in life that some of the most attractive people could be the most disagreeable and thoughtless.

  Having lived all her life in the same place, Maura found the prospect of moving to California as exciting as it was fright
ening. Maura had worked with her parents in their bookstore and bindery business since she was a young girl. During her school years, she and her brother, Dan, had been expected to spend at least two hours after school and all day Saturday helping in the family business. Daniel, three years her senior, had left home years ago. After attending Harvard, he’d read law under the tutelage of a highly respected Boston attorney and was eventually asked to become a partner in the practice. Married and the father of four small children, Dan and his family were frequent visitors at the Thorenson household. It was Amanda, Dan’s wife, in whom Maura had confided her plan to answer the ad. And it was Amanda who had become her strongest advocate in persuading the senior Thorensons to agree.

  After several hours of listening to the two women, her father had voiced his reservations about the arrangement but added that he realized Maura was certainly old enough to make her own decision to leave home and marry.

  Later, after Luther had agreed to the six-month waiting period, Walt hadn’t told his daughter that he felt compelled to make inquiries regarding the voyage she would be taking. After extensive investigation, her father had personally written to Luther Buchanan, setting forth what he considered mandatory arrangements before he would allow Maura to make the journey. Walt had somehow failed to advise his daughter of that information also.

  Nor had he divulged all of his findings to his wife, Bessie, knowing she would become even more distraught about the situation. He was, however, inordinately forthright in describing the facts to Maura.

  “You realize the journey could take up to eight months?” he’d asked her several days after returning from a trip to the docks.

  “Luther wrote that some of the ships make the voyage in as few as four months. It just depends upon the weather, Father,” she had responded.

  “Did he also tell you about the bad food, seasickness, and boredom?”

  “No, but I’m not a picky eater, and I’m sure I can pass the time reading and writing in my journal. As to seasickness, I suppose we’ll be at the mercy of the weather and there’s not much I can do about that.”

  “I realize you’re not finicky about your meals, Maura. But I’m talking about concoctions of a stringy paste made from salted meat, potatoes, and hard bread, or something the sailors call hushamagrundy—made of turnips and parsnips with a bid of codfish thrown in. That’s the good meals—before the supplies run low. When that occurs, they resort to three bean soup, which is mostly water, three beans, and a tiny piece of rusty pork. I was also told the water becomes foul after being stored in vats for several months. It attracts bugs and insects, and folks sometimes resort to adding vinegar and molasses just to kill the horrid taste. I’m not trying to discourage you, but I think you need to know what lies ahead,” he’d told her.

  “It sounds worse than I had imagined, but Luther said it was the best of the three options available. He said the trip overland was much more difficult, and he hadn’t talked to anyone who recommended the sea-land-sea route across the Isthmus of Panama. I trust his judgment on sailing around the Cape.”

  “I trust his judgment on that also. I’m not suggesting that you change your route. But I talked at length to a sea captain who told me that if his daughter were making the trip, he’d not let her travel on any ship but the Edward Everett. It’s a luxury ship that serves decent food and has excellent accommodations for its passengers. It is more expensive but more suited to genteel travelers,” he’d explained.

  “It does sound much more inviting, but Luther is planning on the voyage costing only five hundred dollars.”

  “If he wants you as a wife, I feel certain he will be more than willing to pay for you to travel in the most comfortable and respectable manner,” Walt had replied.

  “I suppose I could write to him, but I doubt the letter would reach him and give him enough time to send the additional funds before my departure date,” she had thoughtfully explained to her father.

  “No need to write. I did that some time ago.”

  “You wrote to Luther without telling me? What did you say?”

  “I merely explained to him what I’ve just told you—along with the fact that he’d have to send the price of a ticket on the Edward Everett, or I’d not allow you to make the journey.”

  “Papa, how could you do that?” she had asked in a voice strained with anger.

  “How could I not? You are my child, and no matter what your age, I have an obligation to seek what is best for your welfare. I couldn’t live with myself if I did less than that,” he had answered.

  It was impossible for her to argue with such a reply. He had opened his arms, and she had willingly gone to him, returning his hug. It was during that moment she had realized more than ever before how much he loved her.

  Luther had written to Walt, agreeing to pay for Maura’s passage on the Edward Everett. Although he had made sure Walt knew the cost was more than double what he had planned, his willingness gave Walt a sense of confidence that Luther was a good man and one who would treat his daughter well.

  “Now I know why the name of the ship sounds so familiar,” Bessie remarked. “Walter, isn’t the president of Harvard named Edward Everett?”

  “Indeed he is. I’m told the ship was named after him, although I’m not sure why. Perhaps the owner is a Harvard graduate. I feel certain, however, that Edward Everett wouldn’t permit it to carry his name unless it was a fine vessel,” he answered.

  The crowds along the dock were beginning to swell. Some of the passengers were already aboard the ship, but Daniel and Amanda had not yet arrived with the children and Maura had no intention of leaving without bidding them good-bye. The gathering multitude of travelers and well-wishers were, for the most part, in jovial spirits. Mixed among them were a few teary-eyed women bidding their male companions farewell, as boisterous children raced between clustered groups of friends and family.

  “There they are,” Walter called out, waving his arms to signal his son and family. It took several long minutes for the group to wend their way through the throngs of people, but soon the children were circling around Maura, caught up in the excitement of the voyage.

  “Can we go on board and see the ship, Aunt Maura?” asked Daniel, Jr., the oldest of Dan’s children.

  “I’m not sure. Let’s go and ask,” she said, leading the group toward the gangplank. As they reached their destination, she turned toward her brother. “Perhaps if you ask, they’ll be more agreeable,” she whispered.

  Daniel nodded and moved forward. “Excuse me, sir. We’ve come to bid my sister farewell, and the children would like to board the ship to examine her accommodations. Would that be possible?” he politely inquired.

  “I don’t think I have the authority to give permission for that,” the man hesitantly responded, though giving Daniel a wink.

  “Would this help you obtain enough authority?” Daniel asked, slipping the man several coins.

  The sailor glanced into his hand and smiled. “You folks enjoy yourselves. Just be sure and get off before we set sail. Otherwise, you’ll all end up in California,” he said and then laughed, apparently amused at the statement.

  Dan, Jr., and his brother, Samuel, led the group on board while the two girls clung closely to their mother and Maura. “Are you sure you want to go, Aunt Maura? How can you leave everything you know and go live with a stranger?” Ruth asked.

  “Ruth! You have no business questioning your aunt’s decision,” Amanda reprimanded the girl.

  “It’s all right, Amanda. Why shouldn’t she ask what everyone else I know has been wondering? Ruth, it’s difficult to explain. I’m not sure beyond all doubt that this is what I should do. On the other hand, I’ve prayed about it and feel that my life in Boston is leading me nowhere and that God has a plan in mind for me elsewhere. It’s going to be very difficult not having all of you around, and I hope one day your parents will take the time to come and visit. I’ve tried to think I’ll see all of you again, but I know there is a
strong possibility that may not happen. I’m going to have to depend upon you, your mother, and grandmother to keep me posted on all the news. Do you think you could help with that?”

  “Yes, I’ll write to you, but what happens if you don’t like this man you’re supposed to marry?” she asked, not relenting in her pursuit of answers.

  “Well, his letters have revealed that he’s a Christian man and that he’s anxious for my arrival. If I don’t like him, I’ll have to depend on God to give me a change of heart.”

  “But what if He doesn’t?” Ruth insisted while Jenny, the youngest of the four children, clung to Amanda’s skirt.

  “Then I suppose He’ll do something else to change my circumstances. I’m not trying to escape answering your questions, dear. I just don’t know the answers,” her aunt replied, smiling at the girl.

  “Thank you for trying, Aunt Maura. I want you to be happy, and I’m sure God will take care of everything. After all, He knows how special you are,” Ruth said, wrapping her arms around her aunt’s waist.

  Amanda smiled over her daughter’s head into Maura’s eyes. “Did you tell him?” she whispered to Maura.

  Maura moved her head back and forth negatively and mouthed the word no to her sister-in-law.

  “Ruth, why don’t you take Jenny and the two of you go find the rest of the family and tell them we’ve located Aunt Maura’s quarters? Ask them to come along and join us,” she instructed.

  The two women watched as the girl left the cabin and skipped down the passageway on her assigned mission.

  “Maura, I can’t believe you didn’t tell him. Each time I asked, you told me you were going to in your next letter,” Amanda stated accusingly.

  “I meant to, Amanda, truly I did. But the longer I put it off, the more difficult it became. I was afraid he’d ask why I hadn’t told him when I originally answered his ad. Then, as time passed, I didn’t want to tell him for fear he’d be angry and break the engagement,” she explained, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over at any minute.