The Fear of Becoming a Stepmother: Lizzie Avoids a Widower’s Proposal
The stepmother saw plainly that Lizzie had no wish to marry the widowernot because he had a young daughter, nor because he was older, but because she feared him deeply. His cold gaze seemed to pierce straight through to the depths of her heart, making it pound as if trying to shield itself from the arrows of his stare. Lizzie kept her eyes fixed on the ground, reluctant to raise them, and when she did, everyone noticed they were brimming with tears.
Those tears rolled down her cheeks, reddened with shame, like an avalanche. Her hands trembled, her small fists clenched as if ready to defend herself against the stepmother and the suitor she had thrust upon her. A traitorous whisper, cursed be the one who uttered it, escaped her lips: “I will marry him.”
“Then its settled. To refuse such a home, such a manit would be a sin! Why, he treated his first wife like a queen, though she was as soft as clay, frail and thin, forever coughing and falling ill. When they walked, he took three steps to her one. Shed stop to catch her breath like a wheezing engine, and hed embrace her without complaintnothing like your drunkard of a father.”
“When she was with child, she barely left her bed. After the birth, it was he who rose at night to tend the baby while she grew weaker still. Thats how his mother told it.”
“And youstrong as an ox! Hell seat you in the best chair, spoil you rotten. You know your way around a sickle and scythe, you can spin and weave. A sin it would be to waste you on some green lad still wet behind the ears. This mans an open bookwe know all there is. What luck youve had!”
“A fine feast well throw, a proper gatheringthough widowers need no grand wedding. No sense rousing the dead with dancing. And hes ordered no dowry collectedthe house lacks for nothing.”
James had married his first wife for love, knowing full well that Evelyn was often ill, a delicate thing. But his mother insisted a man of his staturestrong, handsomeneeded a woman, not a girl. Yet neither reason nor others counsel swayed himEvelyn was all he wanted.
Rumours swirled in the village that shed bewitched him. What sane man would chain his life to a sickbed, to suffering? The doctors said her lungs were weakany chill could bring pneumonia, then asthma, and who knew what worse.
James believed his love could fend off death, that care and devotion would drive illness away. At first, after the wedding, all seemed well. The newlyweds revelled in their joy.
Then, when Evelyn fell pregnant, her body turned against her. Constant fatigue, dizziness, and weariness left her too weak to wash, to milk the cows, even to comb her own lovely long hair.
The doctors called it a passing sicknessonce the child came, shed recover. James tended to his wife without complaint. His mother berated him day and nighthed brought not a helpmate into the house, but a burden. James defended his wife like a starving eagle guarding its nest, until at last he barred his mother from their door.
Evelyn bore a daughter, and James hoped strength and joy would return to the family. For a while, they didbut not for long. A single chill left her never quite well again, wasting away before his eyes.
They took her to hospital, but the doctor spoke plainly:
“Her lungs wont hold.”
No frills, just the stark truth. Evelyn knew her time was short. At first, she bore it silently, forcing a smilethough her eyes betrayed fear, pain, and worry for the morrow, for her little girl.
Her gaze seemed to beg him to remember her as she once waslaughing, happy. Her thin frame, ribs stark against her back, hollow chest, brittle fingers, and slumped shoulders all whispered what she would not say: Death walked beside her now, waiting for her final breath.
Knowing the end neared, she asked her husband one last favour.
“No man can bargain with Gods will. Our love hasnt the strength to fight death any longerI havent the strength. Forgive me, for our daughters sake. I was born to suffer, and Ive made you suffer too.”
James took her fevered hands and kissed them. From her laboured, broken breaths, he knew she fought to speakher time was minutes now.
She spoke of her love for them, of her fears for their daughter, her voice fading. Then, with a final breath, she whispered:
“Marry Lizzie. Shell be a good wifeyoure a good man, a good fatherand shell be a good mother. Shes known hardship too, with stepmothers and cruel kin. Her life moves me… my own mothers friends with her family. Lizzies kind, hardworking, patientshe wont harm our girl. In time, shell love you. Treat her as you did me. Forgive me for saying so, but its not just my lungs that failmy soul aches for our child. Your fates in Gods hands, but rememberif you ever hurt her, Ill curse you from beyond.”
Her last words were slow, deliberate.
With what strength remained, she squeezed his hand.
James wept, tears blotting out her face. He felt her slipping away. Serene, angelic, her lips curved in a faint smile, her hand still clutching his.
He kissed her from head to toe, murmuring promisesto do all she asked. So it was that, barely a year after her death, he came courting Lizzie.
The stepmother had been primed by James mother-in-lawshe too wanted a proper mother for her grandchild. Frail herself, fearing she hadnt long, she wished to see them settled.
She knew better than any what her son-in-law had enduredfor his devotion to her daughter, shed have kissed his feet and prayed for his happiness on her knees.
The proposal passed in a haze. Seeing his daughter struggle without a mothers care, and himself without a wife, he resolved to grant Evelyns dying wish. Hed watched Lizziemeek, obedient, beautiful, even resembling his late wife. The same golden hair, the same smile, the same gait.
Sometimes he longed to pull her close, hold her tight, and stand silent for a moment, conjuring Evelyns face. Lizzie herself couldnt say why she agreed. Perhaps she was tired of being her stepmothers drudge, tired of shielding her drunk father from scoldings, tired of her stepsisters tauntsor perhaps she pitied James little girl.
Either way, once shed accepted, she knew another trial awaitedto love, and be loved by, James.
After the engagement, he brought her home to meet his daughter.
Emily rarely left the house, clinging to her grandmother. Every minuteno, every secondJames doted on her. Sometimes, waking at night, hed see his wife bending over the crib, whispering as if guiding their child on how to live without her.
The thought brought tears. Emily was a true family childshe shunned strangers, needing only her father, grandmother, and one cross old aunt.
James brought Lizzie inside, wanting her to see the girl without the boisterous stepmother hovering like a cow led from the yard, useless now it gave no milk.
Lizzie stayed quiet, noticing James was not the stern man she fearedhe was courteous, attentive. He asked plainly if she loved anotherif so, hed step aside. Of Evelyns plea, he said nothing.
The house enchanted her. Hand-carved furniture, exquisite paintings in lacquered frames, bright, airy rooms. Emily, upon seeing Lizzie, behaved oddlyno fear, but curiosity. She fetched her toys, begging Lizzie to play. Her small hand reached out, inquisitive eyes studying the stranger, thena sudden smile.
Lizzie hugged her once or twice during their games, smoothing the childs golden hairso like her mothers.
“I could plait thisyoud look a princess.”
James watched them, heart swelling.
Hed feared bringing Lizzie homeEmily still asked for her mother, still peered through windows as if searching the street. Any footstep at the door sent her running, hoping Mama had returned.
Hed tried explaining, but Emily was fourher heart needed no words, only a mothers soft touch.
He knew, try as he might, his love could never replace that.
Yet seeing Emily pout, near tears as Lizzie made to leave, peace settled over him.
Emily took Lizzies hand, leading her to her room. Like a little mistress, she beat the pillows, leapt onto the bed, bouncing with glee.
Lizzie remembered her own stepmotherthe hidden bread crusts, the sweets given only to her stepsisters, the slaps for chores poorly done, the hand-me-down dresses, the drunken father sprawled on the floor, her own heart breaking as she covered him with her own blanket. She
