American Girl (Washington)(Lea Sheryn) Merlin Jessup. Alexandra Montfort gazed out at the rolling countryside. She loved the name, although she hadn't put a face to it yet. Her image provoked a tall, mythical man walking out of the mist. He stretched out his arms to welcome her into his life. Pressing her face against the glass pane, she fell into her fantasy.
Alexandra began corresponding with Merlin Jessup three months ago. After noticing an advertisement in the Times-Gazette, she sent in her name and address. The matches were made randomly, and a letter exchange was highly recommended. She hovered close to home each morning, waiting for the mail delivery. She must keep her plan a secret.
Aunt Delia regretted her presence in the family. If it was up to Aunt Delia, Alexandra would have remained in the orphanage. Uncle Willard insisted she live with them. For once, he stood up to his wife and insisted upon something. Otherwise, her meek relative did as he was told by his domineering wife.
Alexandra's mother was institutionalized. The frail threads that kept her mind together snapped after she caught her second husband abusing her only daughter. Luckily, the situation hadn't reached its climax before discovery. Nevertheless, it was enough to crack Fayleen Montfort's grip on reality.
Closing her eyes tightly, Alexandra pushed aside the awful scene. Horace had her pinned to her bed, his pants down, and her skirt around her waist. She struggled to release herself, but he was too strong for her. If Fayleen hadn't appeared, Horace would have raped her. The last thing she saw was her mother grabbing the axe. After that, everything was blank.
Fayleen was declared insane following three doctors' testimony, and Alexandra found herself confined to an orphanage. Weeks of misery passed before Uncle Willard arrived to bring her home. Aunt Delia voiced her opinion loudly. She did not want a maniac's daughter in her house. She did not know when Alexandra would crack; she didn't want the responsibility.
"The girl is my sister's only child," Uncle Willard protested. "I feel obliged…"
"I don't care how obliged you feel, Willard," Aunt Delia shouted. "I don't want her here."
"This is her home now," the heavy-set uncle exclaimed. "As long as she needs us, she will remain."
Aunt Delia's mouth screwed up into a tight pucker. Her eyes grew beady as she examined Alexandra. The girl waited with trepidation. She did not wish to return to the orphanage, nor did she wish to stay.
"How old are you?" her aunt snapped.
"Fifteen." Alexandra clipped the word, mimicking her aunt's tone.
"Three years, and you are out of here, understood?"
"Yes." She spoke sharply.
"Eighteen and married or working. Take your pick." Aunt Delia threw Uncle Willard a penetrating look before marching into the kitchen.
Her uncle picked up her carpetbag and showed her to an upstairs room. The space was barely the size of a closet, with a bed tucked beneath the eaves, an old dresser, and a cracked mirror on the wall. Alexandra examined her new room disdainfully. In a way, it gave her more privacy than the orphanage dormitory. She had to accept it; she had no place else to go.
Uncle Willard left her to unpack. Alexandra hung her two dresses behind a shabby curtain and folded her underthings into the dresser. When she looked up, a boy and girl stood in the doorway. They gathered close together, their shoulders touching.
"Are you the crazy lady's daughter?" the boy asked, his mouth full of peppermint stick. Red juice rolled down his chin.
"That's impolite." The girl nudged him with her elbow. "I'm Nellie; this is Sam."
"Sam the Man." The boy poked himself in the chest. "She's really Eleanor, and I'm Samuel. That's what it says on our birth certificates."
"She doesn't need our life story, stupid," Nellie stated coolly. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she stepped into the room. "Is this all you brought with you?" Parting the closet curtains, she pulled out one of Alexandra's dresses. "It looks so last year."
Alexandra grabbed the dress and hid it in the closet. When the authorities took her away, they only allowed her to take a few clothes. She hadn't had anything new since entering the orphanage. On the other hand, Nellie wore a fashionable garment of pink silk and Chantilly lace. Her honey-colored hair was pulled into a chignon. Alexandra recalled that Nellie was only one year her junior.
At age ten or eleven, Sam wore a plaid shirt that buttoned into his corduroy knickers. He had on long argyle socks and black buckled shoes. The peppermint stick in his mouth bobbed up and down as he sucked on it. Alexandra pinned them as spoiled children at first glance.
"Mother wants your help in the kitchen," Nellie stated, turning her nose upward. "She says you are going to earn your keep." Spinning on her heel, she grabbed Sam by the arm and marched him downstairs.
Alexandra not only helped her aunt with the chores, but she also became a kitchen slave. She scrubbed and cooked and did the laundry. Day after day, Aunt Delia kept her busy. She didn't have time to go to school or make new friends. Nellie never lifted a finger to help. She kept her dresses tidy and went strolling with Jack Borne every afternoon. Sam found ways to get in the way. He muddied his clothes in the creek and usually spattered his dinner all over himself. Alexandra ruined her hands in soapy water, trying to tidy his clothes.
Aunt Delia's three years passed slowly. Alexandra became worried when her seventeenth birthday approached. Within a year, she either had to marry or find a job. It seemed an impossible task for the overworked girl. With the chores her aunt assigned, there was no time to socialize or seek other opportunities.
Sighing, Alexandra sank onto the settee. She completed dusting the parlor and should have begun sweeping out the fireplace. Instead, she collapsed with exhaustion. A newspaper sat on the end table. Idly, she lifted it and leafed through the thin pages. An advertisement leaped out at her. Tearing the piece out, she placed it carefully in her apron pocket.
At the day’s end, Alexandra locked herself into her sparse bedroom and studied the ad. When the opportunity arose the following day, she borrowed a stationery page and an envelope from her aunt's desk. Carefully crafting a letter, she snuck out to mail it during the afternoon. Afterward, she hung around the mailbox until the response arrived. Her randomly selected name was Merlin Jessup with an address in Washington state.
"Merlin Jessup," Alexandra whispered the name again. She drew closer to her destination. For six months, she corresponded with Merlin Jessup. She knew he was a lumberjack who lived in a small community in faraway Washington. And she knew he wanted a wife. She agreed to marry him sight unseen, and he sent her the railway fare to join him.
Without a word of goodbye, Alexandra left Uncle Willard's house in the middle of the night. She carried her old carpetbag along the moonlit street and boarded an express train headed west. The future seemed bright. A new life beckoned her. Merlin Jessup would provide her with a home and maybe a new family. It felt good to travel toward a new destination. Alexandra was about to become a mail-order bride.
Her cross-country trip finally ended in a small logging community in Washington state. Alexandra strained her neck, scanning the crowd that gathered at the station. Family members greeted fellow travelers and departed carrying their luggage. Finally, the depot crowd disappeared. Alexandra sat alone on a bench. Had she journeyed across the country only to get stood up? She could hardly believe her bad luck.
An hour passed. The porters eyed her suspiciously, but she continued to wait. Alexandra didn't have money to stay in a hotel or get a cup of coffee. She would have to find a way to stay or return to Uncle Willard. Aunt Delia would never take her back. She sighed.
"Miss Montfort?" a male voice asked. Alexandra looked up into soft brown eyes and a rough bearded face. "I apologize for my lateness. It took a while to drive in from the logging camp. I'm Merlin Jessup."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Jessup." Alexandra rose and reached for her carpetbag. Her companion took it from her grip. She followed him to a wagon, and he helped her climb up.
"I'm afraid you might find it rough here, Miss Montfort. It's just a logging camp—mostly men but a few women too." Merlin Jessup chirruped to the horses. They strained their necks, pulling the heavy wagon. "They—the women, I mean—all answered ads like yours."
"I see." The wagon entered a heavily wooded area. She'd always lived in town, never on the frontier. It seemed strange, unusual to her.
"I hope you don't mind hard work. You'll help with the cooking and cleaning," Merlin continued. "Everyone pitches in."
"I see," she said again. Closing her eyes, she let out her pent-up breath. She'd left Aunt Delia's to avoid the strain of kitchen duty but found herself in the same situation.
"It's not all hard work," her companion continued. "We have campfire nights twice a week. Anyone with talent entertains the group. Do you have a special talent, Miss Montfort?"
"Cooking and cleaning, Mr. Jessup," Alexandra stated glumly. "Those are my special talents."
Merlin Jessup sat silently beside her. He kept his eyes focused on the reins, guiding the horses along the steep wooded road. Alexandra grew uncomfortable.
"Cooking and cleaning, Miss Montfort?" her future husband finally asked.
"Yes, Mr. Jessup, cooking and cleaning." Alexandra suddenly burst into laughter. She couldn't control herself. Merlin Jessup stared at her for a moment, then laughed heartily also. Alexandra leaned toward him, and his arm encircled her shoulders. She pressed her face against his shoulder and giggled.
"I play the fiddle, Miss Montfort," Merlin stated, glancing at her lovingly. "Can you square dance? I'm a pretty good caller if I say so myself."
"I can learn if you teach me."
"I can do that, Miss Montfort."
"Alexandra. My name is Alexandra. Can I call you Merlin?"
"If we're to marry, I think you'd best."
Alexandra giggled again, the pure joy welling up inside her. She felt like she'd finally come home after life's long, arduous journey.
"Welcome to Washington State, Mrs. Jessup," her future husband greeted her. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead tenderly. "I'm…I'm in love with you already."
Alexandra smiled and whispered I love you already, too. Although she faced a potentially hard life in the lumber camp, she would face it without Aunt Delia.

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