(Author's note. This story, set in the 1890s, is obviously fiction. Waverly, KS exists and was my parent's home town. The character, John Senior, who makes a cameo appearance early in the story was a real person, was the mayor of Waverly and has a street named for him there. He is my maternal grandfather.)
I had a good job. I was the editor and part owner of a weekly newspaper in Waverly, Kansas. It was a town of about 1000 souls, settled after the Civil War by a group of pioneers from Ohio. In fact the main event of the year was a large gathering in a clearing on the edge of town and it was called Old Ohio Days. I had a good house, a modest three bedroom bungalow within walking distance of my job. I had two good children who had long-since grown up and moved away. I had four grandchildren who I rarely saw but who entertained me with occasional letters and pictures which they had drawn in school. I had all the good things a man could desire save one. I did not have a good woman.
I had had a good woman, my wife of many years, but she had passed away after a long and fearsome fight with cancer. I was still in good health, good being a relative expression for a man who had recently seen fifty. I was still considered marriage material but unfortunately in those days, the tail end of the 19th century, and in that place the pickings were slim.
Perhaps I was too picky. There were several widows of my age in our small community. I rarely lacked for dinner invitations, some of which I accepted, some I declined. The women came in various sizes with various backgrounds but none of them lit my fire. Perhaps I was looking for too much wit, too much intelligence, too much articulateness.
My late wife and I had shared many intellectual conversations. We were both avid readers of the Saturday Evening Post and Harpers Weekly and eagerly awaited the arrival by mail each week of the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed solving the crossword puzzle together. For daily news of a more local nature we read the Emporia Gazette which was edited by William Allen White. He was one of my idols having gained national publicity in 1896 for an editorial he had written entitled 'What's the Matter with Kansas".
We also enjoyed a robust sex life, while she was healthy and I missed that greatly but I mostly missed the wit and the conversation. I had learned that the hours one spends making love are dwarfed by the hours one spends just living together.
I shared my loneliness with my daughter who was living in Illinois. She suggested that I explore the possibility of a mail-order bride. At first I resisted but she persisted and even sent me a page of advertisements from the Chicago Tribune. I sat it aside and forgot about it until I came across it several weeks later under a pile of things on my desk.
What the hell
, I thought,
let's see what's out there
. Turns out there were a goodly number of women out there who were looking for a husband and willing to travel.
There were no pictures of these women and most of the ads were poorly written but one in particular caught my eye.
College-educated woman seeks articulate man. I am in my late 40's and have never been married. I have been a school teacher and care-giver to my father who recently passed away. I am in good health and I am willing to devote all my energies to building a lasting relationship with a husband. I seek a man of good character, preferably with a college degree who enjoys reading, writing and intelligent conversation. Please respond to Box 182 c/o The Chicago Tribune.
Being a firm believer in the old adage of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' I decided to reply. I wrote:
I am a widower in my early 50s and the editor of a weekly newspaper in the small town of Waverly, Kansas. I have two grown children and four grandchildren all of whom, unfortunately, live a good distance away from me. I own a modest home and I am not wealthy. I have a bachelor's degree in Journalism from the University of Kansas and attend the Presbyterian Church on a fairly regular basis. Truth be told I am probably what is referred to as a "free thinker" and enjoy reading the thoughts of the notorious Robert Ingersoll. Politically I am also considered a liberal by those who know me. I place high value in a woman's intellect and would consider my wife my equal. I do not require a cook or a housekeeper. I have acquired those skills over the years, particularly since my dear wife of many years passed away. That said I would gladly share those duties with a wife. Should you wish to continue your career in teaching I would be supportive and you should have no trouble finding employment here on the prairie if you wish to work. I am in good health, for a man of my age. I have blue eyes and a full head of silver-gray hair. I wear spectacles. I have never been arrested although some of my more conservative readers have threatened to lynch me after some of my progressive editorials. (I say that in jest.) If you are interested in continuing this dialogue I welcome your reply. You may reach me at my business address: Jerome Bender, Editor, The Waverly Gazette, Waverly, Kansas.
I mailed the letter and went on with my life. Several weeks passed without a response which was not disheartening given the slowness of the U. S. Postal Service. Still I watched the mail eagerly every day. Then, on a bright, crisp October morning while going through the mail - bills, some checks for subscriptions, letters to the editor, etc, I came upon a handwritten letter which was obviously the work of a feminine hand. It was postmarked Springfield, Illinois and I opened it eagerly.
It said:
Dear Mr. Bender, Thank you for your most informative missive. You express yourself very well and I appreciate the value you apparently place upon those of us of the fairer sex. I would enjoy further correspondence with you if you choose to continue. Yours sincerely, Rebecca Thurston.
I smiled, carefully put the letter in my desk and sat down to write a response. Our letters back and forth continued for several months and brightened what otherwise proved to be a typical, cold and windy winter on the plains. She indeed proved to witty and literate and thankfully she shared many of my liberal views on politics and religion.
We exchanged photographs. Hers showed a 40ish woman standing next to a seated older man - probably her father. She had a small face with a nose perhaps a bit bigger than the norm but I liked her looks. I have heard that type of face described as rat-faced, an apt if not enticing description. She had dark hair streaked with gray, done up in a bun on the back of her head. She appeared to be rather petite and not overly endowed but femininely shapely. Her long dress gave no hint of what her legs looked like. She was certainly not a Gibson girl but I found her attractive and hoped that the photograph was fairly current.
In March I sent her a modest diamond ring and asked her to come to Kansas and become my wife. I hastened to add that, since we were still relative strangers I would not expect her to immediately become a conjugal partner.
She replied promptly and my heart leapt as I read:
Dearest Jerome. I would be pleased and honored to become Mrs. Bender. I adore the ring and am wearing it proudly. I must say that I am the envy of my lady friends. Several of them have asked if you have a brother or a friend who might be interested in correspondence. My darling - if I may call you that - I appreciate your thoughts about conjugal relationships. I have never been with a man but I am a good student and an eager learner. Write me as soon as you can so we can work out the details and arrange for my travel to the wild, wild west. With all the love a woman can muster I remain,
Yours Forever, Rebecca (the future Mrs. Bender) Thurston.
Thus on a bright April afternoon I stood at the Santa Fe depot with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. The train chugged up to the station and stopped and one lone passenger got off. It was Rebecca, carrying a small valise and followed by a porter with two large suitcases. I hurried to them and tipped the porter after he had put the suitcases on the boardwalk next to the train.
I turned to Rebecca and shook her hand.
"Miss Thurston, I presume?"
She laughed. "And who would you be, Sir?"
"I believe you know my name. Suffice to say that I'm a bedazzled, befuddled, bewitched believer that dreams do, indeed, come true."
She smiled and said, "My, my. What a greeting. What a welcome to Kansas."
We walked to my carriage, loaded her luggage and drove off. I gave her a tour of the town which didn't take long. I showed her our school, our new library, the newspaper office and then took her to my house.
"Here is my, uh, our home. It's not much but it's paid for," I said.
"It looks fine," she said.
We went inside and she looked around. After my wife had passed away I had removed most of the feminine additions, mainly because they reminded me of her and possibly because I hoped another woman would want to add things of her own.
"As you can see we definitely need a woman's touch," i said.
"We?"
I laughed. "We...the house and the owner."
She laughed and reaching up tenderly touched my on my cheek. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly brought my lips closer to hers, stopping just inches away. She pressed her lips against mine and we kissed for the first time. Our lips connected lightly at first and then I moved my hands from her shoulders and wrapping them around her trim frame I kissed her more passionately and even darted my tongue into her mouth. She responded in kind. There was definitely some chemistry and hunger between us. I moved my mouth away from hers and said, "In my all-time ranking of first kisses that has to be number one."
She laughed, squeezed me tightly and said, "I told you I was a good student and an eager learner."
