This is a multi-part series about a widower who finds himself in possession of a mail-order bride.. who -- doesn't exactly turn out the way he expected. Anthony anticipates the arrival of his bride, while Gianna dons her new identity. Ridiculous as the scheme is, could she possibly luck out and pull the wool over Anthony's eyes? Or will she get into trouble with her prospective husband?
Again, this chapter is a bit of a slow burn, but there will be a touch of action at the end.
All characters are 21 years and above.
Chapter 2
"Cazzo!"
Gianna cursed, as she tried in vain to find a comfortable position. Her squirming earned her a glare from the stuffy gentleman sitting across from her and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. Such unladylike behaviour was uncommon for her, but Gianna was long beyond any form of social etiquette.
"Cosa vuoi ora?" She snapped when it seemed apparent that he was not planning to take his beady eye off her anytime soon. Clucking his tongue, the man shook his head before turning back to his newspaper.
Gianna knew deep inside that she could barely blame him or any of the passengers for staring. She looked like a rare oddity. The Italian girl dressed in traditional Chinese garb. From the moment she pulled on the Qipao that Feng Ling had passed to her, she knew that she was in for a hell of a time. Being considerably more voluptuous than her Asian friend, the tight silk fabric was stretched to its limit over her curves. That, coupled with the garish design of golden dragons and engine red fire birds, made her feel like a circus sideshow.
"I look ridiculous, Ling!" She had protested as her friend struggled to keep a straight face.
"Oh, come now. You don't look too bad. Besides, it was your idea to keep the act as authentic as possible."
"I'm having serious doubts about my sense of judgement," Gianna muttered as she checked out her reflection. "Dios! My butt looks huge!"
"Really?" Feng Ling perked up as she scooted over for a better look. "I think you look really hot."
"Thanks," Gianna snorted.
"No, take it from me. I ought to know." Ling laughed.
"Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" she sighed. Slouching her shoulders, she turned to her friend. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"Are you serious? This is probably the best idea you've ever had. I mean, come on!" Gianna yelped in protest as her friend smacked her teasingly on her bottom. "One look at you and he won't give a rat's ass about your race."
"Such vulgarity from the shy little Chinese sparrow," Gianna quipped which earned her a punch on the arm. "Ouch!"
"Laugh all you want," Ling scoffed. "But I'm a New Yorker, born and raised. Having said that, you'd definitely play the part a lot better than I would. Soft voice, little nods. That's practically just being yourself."
"Oh ha, ha," Gianna rolled her eyes. "I'm going to miss you, you know," she said drawing her friend into a sudden embrace.
"Yeah, it's just starting to sink in for me too," Ling sniffled as she returned the hug. "Take care of yourself, right? You know I'm forever in your debt."
"As am I," Gianna's voice broke. "That money means all the world to my parents. Thanks for wiring the cash for me."
"Thanks for marrying the Western for me." They broke apart, giggling at the absurdity of the situation.
Gianna shook her head as she watched the scenery flash before her. As the unfamiliar terrain of the western frontier appeared, a giant wave of homesickness washed over her. Her move to America had been terrifying, but at least she had known exactly what she was going to do. Pretending to be someone she was not and marrying someone she didn't know: that was something else altogether.
Tugging at the high collar, Gianna tried to banish all images of a noose from her imagination. Instead, she focused on the last words her friend had said to her, just before she had boarded the train.
"Be careful, Gianna," Ling whispered into her ear as they hugged goodbye. "You mustn't let him know that you're lying. He'll send you back and you'll have the entire settlement sum on your shoulders as debt. I'm leaving for Wyoming tomorrow, so I won't be around to clean up your mess anymore."
Threats of an impending debt that she would never be able to repay! That was the perfect pick me up. Gianna rolled her eyes at herself.
"Next stop, Sparks, Nevada!" the train conductor called out as he passed her.
Gianna stuffed her belongings into her purse and paused as her fingers brushed against her grandmother's necklace. Rubbing the cameo for luck, she whispered a silent prayer as the train platform emerged in the distance.
"Well, this is it," she told herself.
As the train slowed to a stop, Gianna gathered her suitcase and smoothed out her skirt. As she descended from the train with a couple of other passengers, she scanned the train platform. "I wonder who he is," she thought.
"Miss Ling?" Gianna jumped as a tiny tentative tap landed on her shoulder. "Yes, yes," she answered hastily. "I'm Miss... Miss Ling."
Turning around, she saw a kindly faced elder lady in a blue dress. Her silvery curls were neatly tucked beneath a white bonnet. Gianna guessed that she was about a decade younger than her grandmother.
"Oh!" Gianna's heart sank as she saw the uncertainty cross the lady's face. "My, my, you're quite... different from what I expected," the older lady said hesitantly. "You are Miss Feng Ling? The young lady that Mister Davis is expecting?"
"Yes Madam, I am Feng Ling," Gianna resisted the urge to drop a curtsy, opting instead for a low bow.
"And you are... Chinese, I believe?" A frown settled upon the lady's face, terrifying Gianna. Were things going to go wrong even before she left the train station? She hastened to reply.
"My father is Chinese, ma'am, and my mother was from Italy," she whispered, lowering her eyes to the ground. She could feel her lips quivering as she uttered the lie.
Moments passed in unbearable silence before a merry chuckle made her look up in surprise. The lady's eyes were twinkling again and she warmed to her right away.
"Well now, dearie, come along. My name is Matilda Beauchamp, and it's very nice to meet you. I'll just get Jackie to pick up your things and we'll be on our way. Jack!" Mrs Beauchamp beckoned to a young boy of approximately fourteen who had been staring unabashedly at her since she descended from the train. Gianna blushed a little.
"Right, right away, Miss," he stammered. "Are there bags on the train then?"
"Oh no, no," Gianna lifted her suitcase. "This is all I have."
"I'll take that for you, Miss," the boy shyly received her proffered bag and hurried off. Mrs Beauchamp chuckled.
"You'll excuse Jackie there. It's not often that he interacts with such a pretty young lady like yourself."
