Instead of Herself
My stepmother knew perfectly well that Lisa didn’t want to marry the widower. It wasn’t because he already had a young daughter or that he was older, but because she was deeply afraid of him. There was something about his piercing glare that unsettled her; it went straight through her, making her heart pound so hard it seemed to be defending itself against the arrows of his eyes. Lisa would look at the floor, avoiding his gaze, and when her eyes finally met his, everyone could see tears welling up and brimming over, streaming down her blushing cheeks in waves.
Her hands trembled, her small fists clenching, wanting to fend off my stepmother and the suitor shed brought. Her tongue betrayed her, cursed thing, and she muttered, Ill go.
Well then, its settled, my stepmother announced. To be married into such a household, to such a man, such a gentleman itd be a sin to refuse! He doted on his first wife, poor weak soul she was, always ailing, never strong. While hed stride three paces, shed manage only one. Shed have to stop, struggling for breath, and hed comfort her softly, never raising his voice like your mad father did!
When she was expecting, youd hardly ever see her aboutthe poor thing was mostly bedridden. After the birth, hed get up every night with the babe himself, while she wasted away further. His own mother would say so:
Youre a picture of health, Lisa. Hell set you up proud in the parlour, youre well brought up, youre used to hard work, you weave, sew, you can reap and spin. Itd be wrong to wed you to some young ladnot one of them has grown into himself, their heads full of nonsense, but with this man we know all there is to know. Youre a lucky girl!
Ill brew a bit of cider and well have a small gathering, my stepmother planned. He doesnt want a big wedding. Says theres no sense in upsetting the memory of his late wife with revelry. Hes even said not to worry about a dowry; his house is well furnished.
Frederick married for love the first time, knowing well that Vera wasnt a well woman. The doctors always said her lungs were terribly weakevery chill turned to an infection, sometimes worse. The villagers all whispered that he mustve been bewitched to burden himself with such sorrow, to choose a life of struggle willingly.
Frederick thought he could chase death away from his wife through sheer devotion. He looked after her, cared for her, and at first, after the wedding, their small happiness blossomed. They were the happiest couple in the village, even as Vera was soon with child. But then something changed in her: weakness crept over her bones, she felt dizzy always, sleepy and drained, unable even to brush her fine long hair. The doctors called it pregnancy sickness and said shed recover after the birth. Frederick nursed her tenderly, never a word of complaintthough his mother scolded him daily for bringing a burden, not a wife, into the house. Frederick protected Vera fiercely, even asking his mother not to visit.
Vera gave birth to a baby girl, and Frederick hoped joy would return. For a short while, it did. But one chill was enoughVera never quite recovered, waning before their eyes.
She was taken to the hospital, where the doctor simply said, in his country way, Her lungs are coming apart. Vera knew her time was short; she summoned her husband.
No one, she told him, no person ever thwarted Gods plan. Ive no strength left for this fight, and Im tiredfrom pain, from worry. Forgive me, Frederick, and our daughter too. I was born to sorrow, and brought it to you both.
Frederick held her thin, feverish hands, kissing them, realising from her faltering breath she hadnt long left. Whispering of her love, of her fears for their little girl, she gasped and then made her last request:
Marry Elizabeth. Shell be a good wife, youre a good man, shell be a good mother, shes seen enough hardship herself with her stepmother, stepsisters, and drunkard of a father. I know her life, my mother knows her family well. Lisa is gentle, hardworking and patientshell never harm your daughter. Shell come to love you, if you treat her kindly, just as you did me. Pardon me for saying such things, but my soul is as black as my ailing lungs with thoughts for our child. But Ill leave it to you. Destiny is in Gods hands. Just, Frederick, dont let anyone mistreat our daughteror Ill curse you from my grave.
Her final words came slow but clear, and she squeezed Fredericks hand with the last of her strength. The tears blinded Frederick; by her ragged breath he felt her slipping away. Her peaceful face, touched with a smile, gazed beyond him; her chilled hand still gripped his. He kissed her from head to toe, promising, crying, keening, that he’d do all as she wished. Thats why, a year after her death, I went to seek Elizabeths hand in marriage.
My mother-in-law, too, had spoken to my stepmother, hoping her grandchild would have a good new mother, knowing her own health was failing. She wanted her granddaughter and me to find happiness. She alone knew what Id endured with Vera, and often said shed kiss my feet and beg Gods blessing for me.
The courtship seemed to pass in a dream. Seeing how my daughter ached without a mother’s care and how much I missed a wife, I decided to follow Veras wish. I took closer notice of Elizabeth and saw how gentle, obedient, and beautiful she wasshe even carried herself a certain way that reminded me of Vera: the same plait, the same shy smile, the same light tread.
Sometimes I wanted nothing more than to draw closer and hold her tightly, to stand together silently, remembering Veras presence. As for Elizabeth, even she barely understood why she agreed to marry me. Perhaps she was tired of being the servant in her stepmothers house; perhaps weary of dragging her drunken father home and protecting him from her stepmothers scorn, or exhausted by the jeers of her stepsisters. Or maybe, she just felt sorry for my daughter.
No matter the reason, as soon as she agreed, Elizabeth realised that another trial awaited herto fall in love with me, and make me fall for her.
After the engagement, I wanted to introduce my daughter, Alice, properly to Elizabeth. After Vera died, Alice hardly left the house. Her every moment was spent being fussed over by her grieving mother. Sometimes, Id wake at night and see Vera bending over Alice, whispering as though guiding her on how to live when shed gone.
Thinking of those whispered conversations broke me. Alice had always been a sheltered child, even wary of strangers; her world consisted of her father, mother, grandmother, and a cross old great-granny.
I brought Elizabeth to meet my daughter, hoping theyd get alongwithout the overexcited stepmother fussing about as if we were finally sending off the family cow that never gave any milk. Alone, Elizabeth was quiet, but quickly noticed I wasnt stern or severe; on the contrary, I was gentle and attentive. I asked her openly, if she cared for someone else, Id step aside; I never mentioned Veras dying wish.
Our home surprised Elizabeth: the finely crafted furniture, all handmade; detailed embroidery in carved frames, plush sunny rooms. Alice, upon seeing Lizzie, acted oddlynervous but also playful. She brought out her toys and asked Elizabeth to play, eager to touch her hand, gazing up curiously, even smiling. A few times, during play, Elizabeth would scoop Alice up, smoothing her fine hair just as her own mother had.
Shall I do your hair for you, make you look like a princess? Elizabeth offered, and Alice beamed.
I watched them, and inside, I wept from happiness. Id dreaded introducing Elizabeth because Alice was always asking for her mum, looking out the window for her, rushing to the door whenever anyone visited, desperate to believe her mother had come home.
I tried to explain things, but Alice, just barely four, needed no explanationsjust a gentle mothers love and touch. No matter how much I tried, my arms, my kisses, could never replace a mothers warmth.
I was afraid to put my hopes in Elizabeth. But when I saw Alices face fall as Elizabeth left, how she almost cried, my worries faded. Alice took Elizabeth by the hand, leading her to her room, arranging pillows, bouncing on the bed for joy.
Elizabeth remembered her own childhoodthe day her stepmother moved in, the way shed be scolded and hit for even the smallest fault, her stepmother hiding treats and giving them only to her own daughters. She stitched up torn dresses handed down, covered for her drunken father asleep on the floor, pitied him deeply. She remembered being threatened she’d be married off to the first man whod have her, scolded and cursed. With a lump in her throat, she knelt by Alice, pulled her close, and lay down beside her. The little girl drifted into a deep, happy sleep.
I, overjoyed, didnt know how to act with Elizabeth. We sat drinking tea, smiling silently at each other. I didnt let her leave. That was thatshe was to stay. A wife belongs with her husband, not somewhere shes unwelcome.
