The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich

Copyright
© 2015

The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich
by Marcia Lynn McClure

www.marcialynnmcclure.com

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

Published by Distractions Ink

1290 Mirador Loop N.E.

Rio Rancho, NM  87144

Published by Distractions Ink

©Copyright 2015 by M. Meyers

A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

Cover Photography by ©Troy Lilly/Dreamstime.com and

Cover Design and Interior Graphics by Sandy Ann Allred/Timeless Allure

First Printed Edition:  January 2015

All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,

created solely in the imagination of the author.

Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

The Romancing of Evangeline Ipswich
: a novel/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

You fill my heart with love and tender memories,

My mind with images of simpler, more romantic times,

And my soul with faith, hope, and strength!

I love you so much, Mom!

~Marcia

The following is a short but lovely memory reminisced upon and quickly written down by my mother, Patsy Christine States Reed, in 1991. Her sweet, handwritten memories will forever continue to inspire me!

Winter was beautiful with snow, ice, and frost. Clear, crisp nights when, as the sun set, the sky would go through every shade of blue from pale blue to blue green to sky blue to royal blue to dark blue to black blue with the last rays of the sun at the sky blue and royal blue stages turning the clouds from white to gold to light pink to darker pink to gray. The stars would appear one by one—silvery, crisp, and distinct. The Milky Way could be seen stretching across the heavens, and then a crescent or full moon would appear to light up the frost forming in the air and settling on the ground or the frost diamonds resting on the snow of a few days before.

Darkness would have set in before I got off the bus at night. I sometimes would walk from the bus stop to home on the snowplowed road with the moonlight glistening on the snow on both sides. Before I reached the driveway, I would smell fresh baked bread, the cinnamon of fresh baked sweet rolls, and pinto beans cooking. Ahh! There’s not a person on earth who ever ate so well on a cold wintry night. For my after-school snack, Mom would let me have a small bowl of beans with lots of black pepper and a glass of good, cold, uncooked (unpasteurized) whole milk. Christmas is in the air. New Year’s Day comes and goes. Soon spring is in the air again.

Psst: FYI, the name
LaMontagne
is pronounced
la-mawn-TAIN.

“Another letter to your friend?” Mrs. Perry asked.

Evangeline nodded, smiling as she handed the letter to Mrs. Perry to post. “Yes. I try to respond as quickly as I’m able.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Evangeline Ipswich. No doubt about it,” Mrs. Perry commented. “And how is your friend doin’? Bein’ that she’s expectin’ her baby soon and all.”

Evangeline frowned, wondering whether she should even share her knowledge of her friend Jennie’s condition with Mrs. Perry. After all, though Mrs. Perry and her husband owned the general store in Meadowlark Lake and were quite good friends to Evangeline and her family, Sophia Perry didn’t know Jennie personally. She paused then in answering, uncertain of the propriety of discussing Jennie’s situation with a stranger to her.

However, Evangeline’s concern for Jennie, coupled with her need for reassurance, made the determination for her, and she answered, “Not as well as we would all like to hear.”

Mrs. Perry frowned, prodding, “Oh?”

Evangeline shook her head, sending a stray strand of raven hair that had escaped a hairpin cascading down over one shoulder. “No. In fact, the doctor has urged her to bed rest for the remainder of her time.”

“Oh dear!” Mrs. Perry exclaimed in a whisper. It was obvious the woman’s concern was sincere, and Evangeline was glad she’d chosen to confide in her regarding Jennie’s state.

“Yes. It’s very worrisome,” Evangeline continued. “In fact, Jennie as has asked me to…” She paused, for she couldn’t reveal Jennie’s request to Mrs. Perry—not when she hadn’t even informed her own family about it.

“She asked you to what, dear?” Mrs. Perry asked, patiently waiting for Evangeline’s response.

“To…to write to her as often as I can,” Evangeline answered.

Mrs. Perry smiled and nodded. “I can well imagine what a great comfort your letters are to her. Why, I was laid up in bed for near to six weeks when I was expectin’ my Culver. And he was a big baby when he finally came too—near to nine pounds, Culver was. And I know letters from my sister…well, they surely did give me somethin’ to look forward to.”

“I do hope so,” Evangeline sighed. “I mean to say, I’m not even sequestered to bed rest, and I so look forward to each and every one of Jennie’s letters.”

“With all you’ve got goin’ on to keep you busy, Evangeline Ipswich?” Mrs. Perry laughed. “Why, that baby sister of yours probably keeps you runnin’ hither and yon all day, especially now that both your other sisters are married.” Mrs. Perry sighed. “Oh, I’ve never in all my life seen weddin’s as romantic and beautiful as your father’s and your two sisters’ were. Why, it’s been almost a year since Amoretta married that handsome Brake McClendon, hasn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, she prattled, “And your father, the honorable Judge Ipswich, married the beautiful gypsy from the woods, Kizzy. Not to mention Rowdy Gates takin’ Calliope to wife just over three months past. And every one of those weddin’s was just a dream!”

“Yes,” Evangeline agreed, although somewhat disheartenedly. It was true, both of Evangeline’s younger blood sisters, Amoretta and Calliope, were married, happily settled in with handsome, loving husbands. Even her own father, Lawson Ipswich, had remarried almost a year before—and to a young and beautiful woman who brought with her an adorable daughter, Shay.

Still, though her joy was overflowing for her sisters and her father, she inwardly worried that she would become the Spinster Ipswich, that no man would ever pursue her—at least, no man that she desired to pursue her.

“I hear Mr. Longfellow has been quite attentive to you, honey,” the well-meaning proprietress of the general store ventured. “He’s a very handsome man, Evangeline. And those two little girls of his are just as sweet as peaches!”

Evangeline blushed a little and felt her emerald-green eyes begin to fill with the excess moisture borne of disappointment. Floyd Longfellow had indeed made no attempt to hide the fact that he was wildly interested in Evangeline. But kind as Floyd was, he was Evangeline’s own father’s age. And though perhaps that should not have mattered to her, it did. Evangeline had felt the weight of responsibility far too long—often felt older than her mere twenty-two years should have her feel. And she wanted a younger man—a man who did not own the heavy burden of memories of two wives who had passed on to heaven far before their time.

Her own stepmother, Kizzy—the beautiful gypsy woman who had healed her father’s heart and married him—was certainly much younger than Evangeline’s father. But there was a difference in her own father and Floyd Longfellow. Lawson Ipswich still had a young heart and was strong, handsome, and virile. He flirted and teased his young wife, and Evangeline knew that when Kizzy and her father’s new baby arrived in November, her father would be as energetic and as loving to him or her as he ever had been from Evangeline’s birth down to having adopted little six-year-old Shay.

She could not think the same of Floyd Longfellow—a lonely, haunted sort of man. Evangeline needed youthfulness. She’d had to grow up too fast and own too much responsibility when her own mother had passed away when she was a girl of only twelve. And Floyd Longfellow had two little girls of his own that needed nurturing and love. Though she wanted children, she wanted children of her own—babies born of love and with a vibrant father.

Therefore, though she felt guilt-ridden for not appreciating the fact that Floyd Longfellow would propose and marry her that very moment if she would only agree to it, she smiled at Mrs. Perry and said, “He’s a very kind man, but…but…”

Mrs. Perry smiled with understanding, reached out, and clasped Evangeline’s hand in her own. “Floyd
is
a very kind man,” she affirmed. “And I’m sure that one day he’ll find himself a very kind woman to help him though life.” She patted Evangeline’s hand and added, “So you let him find that woman one day, and go where your heart leads you, darlin’.”

Evangeline sighed with relief. She smiled, thinking how kind Mrs. Perry was—what a dear friend she had become. Sophia Perry was always so kind to everyone, and the merry little lady with the sweet, round face was kindest of all to Evangeline. At least is seemed so to Evangeline. She always felt more cheerful after a visit with Mrs. Perry. She had hair that looked as if it had been spun from cinnamon and sugar and the brightest smile in all of Meadowlark Lake. It was no wonder she made a body feel more hopeful and happy.

“Thank you, Mrs. Perry,” Evangeline said in quiet gratitude. “I-I struggle so with a feeling of obligation toward the man.”

Mrs. Perry sighed. “It’s that sackcloth-and-ashes demeanor of his, I’m afraid. Makes a body feel simply miserable and gray and guilty, doesn’t it?”

Evangeline giggled. She couldn’t help herself in giggling, because Mrs. Perry had expressed Evangeline’s feelings exactly. “It does,” she admitted.

“And a beautiful young woman like you, Evangeline…you need strength and joy, hope, and a bit more muscle on a man than Floyd Longfellow can provide, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Perry offered with a mischievous grin. “It’s clear your sisters, Amoretta and Calliope, were both drawn to handsome, muscular men who passionately love them and bathe them in happiness. And you should not relinquish yourself to anything less than what they aspired to, hmm?”

Evangeline nodded, feeling much better than she had when she’d first entered the general store to post her letter to Jennie—much better. Yet she frowned a bit. “The problem is, Mrs. Perry,” she began, lowering her voice, “that the only other available young men in town are my sisters’ castoffs.” She shrugged, adding, “And none of them really interest me even if they weren’t.”

“Well, don’t you give that another worry, sweet pea,” Mrs. Perry reassured, patting the back of Evangeline’s hand affectionately. “Some tall drink of water will wander on into town one day. It’s always the way it seems…least around these parts.”

Evangeline watched as Mrs. Perry inked her postmarking stamp and slammed it down on the front of Evangeline’s letter to Jennie.

“There we are,” she said as she placed the letter to Jennie in a satchel filled with other letters the townsfolk of Meadowlark Lake had written. “Your friend will have her letter in hardly any time at all.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Perry,” Evangeline said, smiling.

“You’re welcome, honey,” Mrs. Perry said with a wink. “Now you have yourself a nice afternoon. And tell your sweet stepmamma that I said hello, all right?”

“I will,” Evangeline assured the woman.

Stepping out of the general store, Evangeline glanced around in search of her little sister Shay. Shay had been Evangeline’s near constant companion the past few months—ever since Sheriff Montrose, Judge Ipswich, and Evangeline’s newest brother-in-law, Rowdy Gates, had exchanged gunfire with the Morrison brothers’ gang of outlaws. It seemed the incident had frightened little Shay Ipswich more than her family had initially realized. Therefore, instead of taking her poor marmalade cat, Molly, for leashed walks on her own, Shay had begun begging Evangeline to accompany her.