stopped at the door and waved before stepping from the train. Her brother-in-law hurried toward her and snatched the bag from her hands in chivalrous impatience.
Ann immediately missed Mrs. Ludlow. It had been weeks since she’d had a real conversation with anyone, and the woman’s kindness had reopened a loneliness Ann had tried hard to deny. Soon new passengers boarded the car and Ann’s heart dropped when the train lurched forward twenty minutes later, and she remained seated alone.
In that moment she would have welcomed even the most irritating of seatmates to distract her from thinking about what lay ahead. A new life in a new country. An intended husband whom she’d never met. After weeks of wondering and waiting, only a train stop stood between Ann and her future.
* * *
James McCann ran a calloused hand along the side of his wagon and grimaced. “I should have brought the buggy, Fred.”
Frederick Renner ambled over, his portly frame casting a shadow over the wagon boards. James had wiped down the seats and swept out the wagon bed, but most of the boards were split at the ends and embedded with the grime of farm work. The entire contraption could have done with a fresh coat of paint.
“Doesn’t look so bad to me,” Frederick offered. “And haven’t we already covered this? She’s going to have luggage. Probably a trunk or two. They would never fit in the buggy.”
“We could have left them with the stationmaster. I could have come back tomorrow with the wagon.”
Frederick chortled. “Boy, are you in for trouble if you think a woman would be content to be parted from all her worldly possessions for an entire day.”
James sighed. His friend was right. The buggy was the more attractive vehicle, but the wagon was the practical choice. The only choice. He wanted everything to be perfect for his bride, but if the pain of losing Emily had taught him anything, it was practicality served one so much better in this world than beauty.
“Besides,” Frederick continued, “if you’re trying to impress her, I’m sure that suit will do the trick.” He jabbed a chubby elbow into James’s ribs.
James tugged at the dark suit jacket, the new fabric stiff and unforgiving. The collar seemed to grow tighter by the minute. He slipped a finger between his neck and the material. A sparse breeze raked over a trickle of sweat and teased him with coolness. If only the day hadn’t turned stifling, maybe his heart wouldn’t beat so quickly.
The puff and clatter of the approaching train rumbled softly in the distance. The small crowd on the station platform buzzed and pushed forward like a swarm of bees, and James moved to join them. Frederick tapped him on the shoulder and held up a large cardboard sign with Ann Cromwell neatly lettered in black paint. “Don’t you need this?”
James waved him off. Like the unnecessary new suit and haircut, Frederick and his cousin Delia had insisted on the superfluous sign. “I’ll know her when I see her.”
“How exactly? You don’t have a picture.”
James exhaled. Frederick was a good friend, but he didn’t understand why James sought a bride from outside New Haven. He’d be flabbergasted if he knew how I expect to recognize her. He pushed the sign back into Frederick’s hands. “I just will.”
The train entered the station and James’s heart quickened. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing them to remain there instead of mussing his hair as he often did when he was nervous. In mere moments he would be face-to-face with his future wife, God willing. A young woman alighted from a third-class car and glanced back and forth across the platform.
It was her! Wasn’t it? His legs carried him forward before he could hesitate. As he strode closer, her features and form grew clearer. Yes, it had to be her. Tall and broad shouldered with mouse-brown hair yanked back into a severe bun. He drew close enough to observe a constellation of pockmarks on her cheeks. Her small eyes darted about before landing briefly on James. He smiled. Her brows pulled into a crease and she glanced away.
His heart fell. The sign! Frederick had been right after all. He recognized his bride, but she clearly didn’t realize he was her groom. His steps stuttered, but only for a moment. He couldn’t very well leave her on the platform while he fetched it. He approached the woman and removed his hat.
“Excuse me, miss?” Did his voice always sound so hoarse?
The corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Clara! Clara, dear, I’m so sorry!” A thin, middle-aged woman in a blue dress with similar mouse-brown hair and an equally painful-looking bun appeared at James’s side and wrapped the young woman in a tight embrace. “We had the time wrong. I thought we were arriving early, and here you are, poor niece, left waiting all by your lonesome.”
Warmth swept over James’s cheeks as a vise of embarrassment replaced the drumbeat of nerves in his chest. The tall woman eyed him warily over her aunt’s shoulder as he replaced his hat and backed slowly away. He drew a deep breath. Ann Cromwell stood somewhere at this station and he needed to compose himself so he could find her. The crowd quickly dispersed as trunks were carried to waiting wagons and reuniting families finished their embraces. He scanned the thinning platform until two figures caught his eye. Frederick, cardboard sign in hand, speaking with a woman dressed in a dark green traveling dress with her back to James. Frederick’s eyes goggled.
James had no doubt the true Ann stood before his friend. Frederick’s gaping surprise told him everything. He chastised himself for not being the first to greet her. Rivulets of sweat coursed down his back and his shirt clung to every inch of his torso as he rushed over to join them.
“There you are, James,” Frederick said as James approached. “We’ve had a bit of confusion. Miss Cromwell saw the sign and thought I was you.”
“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Cromwell.” Her diminutive size surprised him. The agency shared her height, but he never imagined she’d be so...petite. He stepped around the pair and at that same moment, she lifted her face to him in greeting.
“Oh my,” he breathed. His heart stopped and his mouth went dry as a haystack. Golden blond hair framed a delicate face accented by high cheekbones. Her eyes, as blue as a robin’s egg, blinked in the sun and her full, rosebud mouth turned up in a hesitant smile. “Are you the real James McCann?” Her voice held a teasing tone.
It took several beats for James to shake off the shock of finding a beauty instead of the plain, even homely woman he specifically requested. He removed his hat and held out his hand. She placed her impossibly small hand in his. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.” Oh no. There’s been a mistake. A terrible mistake.
“Do you have any trunks, Miss Cromwell?” Frederick asked.
“Please, call me Ann. And yes, I have one.”
She handed him her claim ticket, and Frederick stepped away to wave down the nearest porter, leaving James to shift his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. His heart raced, but no longer from anticipation. The cold flush of panicked sweat threatened to soak through his jacket.
The smile on Ann’s perfectly pink lips slowly faded as the silence between them grew. He had to say something. Anything. “You’re Ann Cromwell?”
Her brows knit. “I am.”
“From
