The Fear of Becoming a Stepmother: Emily Avoids a Widowers Proposal.
The stepmother saw plainly that Emily had no wish to marry the widower, not because he had a young daughter or because he was older, but because she was deeply afraid of him. His cold gaze pierced straight to the depths of her heart, and in fear, her pulse quickened as if defending against arrows shot by his eyes. Emily kept her eyes fixed on the ground, unwilling to lift them, and when she did, everyone noticed they were brimming with tears.
Those tears rolled like an avalanche down her cheeks, flushed crimson with shame. Her hands trembled, her small fists clenched as if to shield herself from the stepmother and the suitor she had brought. The traitorous words slipped from her lips: Ill marry him.
Then its settled. To refuse such a home, such a manitd be a sin! He treated his first wife like royaltygentle as clay, soft, frail, always ill and coughing. Theyd walk, he three steps ahead, she one behind, pausing to gasp for air like a steam engine, while he held her, soothing her without complaintunlike your mad father.
When she was with child, hardly anyone saw her walk. She lay abed, and after the birth, it was he who rose at night to tend the baby while she weakened further. So his mother said.
But youstrong as an ox! Hell seat you in the place of honour. Clever, skilledscythe and sickle, spinning and weaving. A sin to waste you on some untested lad, still green with foolishness. This mans an open bookwe know him well. What luck!
A feast well have, a small gatheringno need for grand weddings, no stirring the departed with dancing. He forbade collecting a dowry; the house lacks nothing.
Jacob married his first wife for love, though he knew Catherine was often ill, delicate. His mother insisted a strong man needed a wife, not a girl, but neither reason nor persuasion swayed himonly Catherine would do.
Rumours spread that she had bewitched him, for only a cursed man, unversed in life, would choose to turn his home into a hospital of suffering. Doctors said Catherines lungs were weaka chill led to inflammation, to asthma, and beyond, who knew?
Jacob believed love could ward off death, that his care would heal her. At first, after the wedding, all was well. The happy newlyweds rejoiced in their joy.
Then, when Catherine fell pregnant, her body seemed to turn inside outconstant weakness, dizziness, lethargy left her unable to wash, milk the cow, or even comb her own long hair.
The doctors called it severe morning sickness; birth would bring strength. Jacob tended his wife without complaint, while his mother railed day and night, calling her a burden, not a helpmeet. He defended her like a starving eagle its nest, until at last he asked his mother to stay away.
Catherine bore a daughter, and Jacob hoped strength and joy would return to their home. It didbriefly. After one winter chill, Catherine never fully recovered, wasting away before his eyes.
At the hospital, the doctor said plainly:
Her lungs wont hold.
Catherine knew her time was short. At first, she hid it, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace, her eyes betraying pain and fearfor tomorrow, for her child.
Her thin frame, ribs stark against her back, hollow chest, and withered fingers spoke without words: Death walked beside her, waiting for her last breath.
Knowing the end neared, she asked her husband one favour.
No one alters Gods plans. Our love has tired of fighting death; Ive no strength leftIm weary of pain and thought. Im sorryfor you, for our daughter. I was born to suffer, and Ive made you suffer too.
Jacob took her fevered hands and kissed them. Her laboured breath told him time was shortminutes, perhaps.
She spoke of her love, her worries for their daughter, gasping between words before steadying herself to say:
Marry Emily. Shell be a good wife, a good mother. Shes endured much, like mestepmothers, cruel fathers. Her life moves me. My mother knows her family; she sees everything, sharp as a hawks eye.
Emilys kind, hardworking, patientshell love our girl and, in time, you. Treat her as you did me. Forgive me for saying this, but my soul, like my lungs, is darkened with worry for our child. Your fate is Gods, but rememberif you hurt our girl, Ill curse you from beyond.
Her grip tightened on his hand as she spoke her last words.
Jacob wept, tears falling onto her face as he felt her slipping away. Her angelic smile stayed, her hand still clutching his.
He kissed her from head to toe, whispering promises to fulfil her wish. And so, a year after her death, he came to propose to Emily.
His mother-in-law had arranged it, wanting security for her granddaughter. Ill herself, fearing her own time was short, she wished to see them settled.
No one knew his grief better than she; for his kindness to her daughter, shed have kissed his feet and prayed for his happiness.
The courtship passed like mist. Seeing his daughter struggle without a mothers care, and himself without a wife, Jacob resolved to honour Catherines wish. Hed watched Emilygentle, obedient, beautiful, even resembling his late wife. The same hair, smile, gait.
Sometimes, he longed to embrace her, hold her tight, and simply stand in silence, remembering.
Emily couldnt say why she agreed. Was she tired of being her stepmothers drudge? Weary of shielding her drunken father from scorn? Or did she pity Jacobs daughter?
Whatever the reason, she knew the hardest trial lay ahead: learning to love Jacob.
After the proposal, Jacob introduced Emily to his daughter.
Little Grace rarely left the house, clinging to her father. Every minuteno, every secondhe marvelled at her. Sometimes, waking at night, hed see his wife bending over Grace, whispering advice for life without her.
Jacob wept to think of it. Grace, the heart of their home, clung only to familyfather, grandmother, and one cross old auntie.
He brought Emily home to meet her, free from the stepmothers crowing like a barren cow finally led away.
Emily stayed quiet, noticing Jacob wasnt stern but kind, attentive. He asked plainly if she loved anotherif so, hed step aside. Of Catherines wish, he said nothing.
The house enchanted herhand-carved furniture, paintings in ornate frames, bright, spacious rooms. Grace, upon seeing Emily, acted strangelynot fearful but flirtatious.
She fetched her toys, begging Emily to play, reaching for her hand with curious eyes, smiling shyly. Emily hugged her, smoothing her hair.
Shall I style your hair? Youll look like a princess.
Jacob watched, his heart swelling.
Hed feared bringing Emily homeGrace still asked for her mother, still peered out windows as if waiting. Explanations meant nothing to a four-year-old heart; she needed a mothers tenderness.
Jacob knew no love of his could replace that.
Yet seeing Grace pout when Emily rose to leave, peace settled over him.
Grace took Emilys hand, leading her to her room, fluffing pillows, jumping on the bed in delight.
Emily remembered her own stepmotherthe withheld bread, the hidden sweets given only to her own daughters, the beatings for imperfect chores, the fine dresses sewn for them while she patched her fathers drunken form on the floor, her heart breaking as she covered him with her own blanket.
She recalled the curses, the scornthen drew Grace close, holding her until the child slept soundly.
Jacob, overjoyed, didnt know how to act. They drank tea, smiling at each other. He didnt let her leave.
He wouldnt.
A wife belongs with her husbandnot where shes unwelcome.
