A Mistaken Match. Whitney Bailey

Ann Cromwell neatly lettered in black paint. “Don’t you need this?”

      James waved him off. Like the unnecessary new suit and haircut, Frederick and his cousin Delia had insisted on the superfluous sign. “I’ll know her when I see her.”

      “How exactly? You don’t have a picture.”

      James exhaled. Frederick was a good friend, but he didn’t understand why James sought a bride from outside New Haven. He’d be flabbergasted if he knew how I expect to recognize her. He pushed the sign back into Frederick’s hands. “I just will.”

      The train entered the station and James’s heart quickened. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing them to remain there instead of mussing his hair as he often did when he was nervous. In mere moments he would be face-to-face with his future wife, God willing. A young woman alighted from a third-class car and glanced back and forth across the platform.

      It was her! Wasn’t it? His legs carried him forward before he could hesitate. As he strode closer, her features and form grew clearer. Yes, it had to be her. Tall and broad shouldered with mouse-brown hair yanked back into a severe bun. He drew close enough to observe a constellation of pockmarks on her cheeks. Her small eyes darted about before landing briefly on James. He smiled. Her brows pulled into a crease and she glanced away.

      His heart fell. The sign! Frederick had been right after all. He recognized his bride, but she clearly didn’t realize he was her groom. His steps stuttered, but only for a moment. He couldn’t very well leave her on the platform while he fetched it. He approached the woman and removed his hat.

      “Excuse me, miss?” Did his voice always sound so hoarse?

      The corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

      “Clara! Clara, dear, I’m so sorry!” A thin, middle-aged woman in a blue dress with similar mouse-brown hair and an equally painful-looking bun appeared at James’s side and wrapped the young woman in a tight embrace. “We had the time wrong. I thought we were arriving early, and here you are, poor niece, left waiting all by your lonesome.”

      Warmth swept over James’s cheeks as a vise of embarrassment replaced the drumbeat of nerves in his chest. The tall woman eyed him warily over her aunt’s shoulder as he replaced his hat and backed slowly away. He drew a deep breath. Ann Cromwell stood somewhere at this station and he needed to compose himself so he could find her. The crowd quickly dispersed as trunks were carried to waiting wagons and reuniting families finished their embraces. He scanned the thinning platform until two figures caught his eye. Frederick, cardboard sign in hand, speaking with a woman dressed in a dark green traveling dress with her back to James. Frederick’s eyes goggled.

      James had no doubt the true Ann stood before his friend. Frederick’s gaping surprise told him everything. He chastised himself for not being the first to greet her. Rivulets of sweat coursed down his back and his shirt clung to every inch of his torso as he rushed over to join them.

      “There you are, James,” Frederick said as James approached. “We’ve had a bit of confusion. Miss Cromwell saw the sign and thought I was you.”

      “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Cromwell.” Her diminutive size surprised him. The agency shared her height, but he never imagined she’d be so...petite. He stepped around the pair and at that same moment, she lifted her face to him in greeting.

      “Oh my,” he breathed. His heart stopped and his mouth went dry as a haystack. Golden blond hair framed a delicate face accented by high cheekbones. Her eyes, as blue as a robin’s egg, blinked in the sun and her full, rosebud mouth turned up in a hesitant smile. “Are you the real James McCann?” Her voice held a teasing tone.

      It took several beats for James to shake off the shock of finding a beauty instead of the plain, even homely woman he specifically requested. He removed his hat and held out his hand. She placed her impossibly small hand in his. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.” Oh no. There’s been a mistake. A terrible mistake.

      “Do you have any trunks, Miss Cromwell?” Frederick asked.

      “Please, call me Ann. And yes, I have one.”

      She handed him her claim ticket, and Frederick stepped away to wave down the nearest porter, leaving James to shift his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. His heart raced, but no longer from anticipation. The cold flush of panicked sweat threatened to soak through his jacket.

      The smile on Ann’s perfectly pink lips slowly faded as the silence between them grew. He had to say something. Anything. “You’re Ann Cromwell?”

      Her brows knit. “I am.”

      “From the Transatlantic Agency?”

      She laughed softly. A nervous laugh. “I gather my picture didn’t arrive.”

      “It did...not.” His mind fogged. His hat remained in his hands and he replaced it before the urge to muss his hair became too strong.

      “I imagine the post can be rather slow from England to Ohio.”

      “Yes.” Words failed him. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. His mind skipped like a phonograph needle, playing the same thoughts over and over. Some sort of mistake. An enormous mistake. Thankfully Frederick returned and slapped him on the back. The jolt broke his trance.

      “The trunk’s being loaded. Are you two ready?”

      James stared at his friend. “Ready for what?”

      Frederick smirked. “Didn’t you say you’d made reservations at Donahue’s?”

      “Yes, yes.” He would follow his original plans for now. In a few hours he’d be at home and more than a few feet away from this woman and he could think clearly again. For now he struggled to keep his voice steady as Ann looked up at him through impossibly dark lashes. “I thought we could get some dinner in town before going back to my farm.”

      “That sounds lovely.”

      James offered her his arm, and Ann placed her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. He swore the heat radiated through two layers of material and scorched his skin.

      Frederick cleared his throat. “It was very nice to meet you, Ann. Very nice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      The brim of her hat obscured her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Ann’s lilting accent sent a shiver through him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, as well, Mr. Renner.”

      “Frederick. Call me Frederick.”

      “A pleasure, Frederick.”

      Frederick winked at him and hurried away as fast as his short legs and ample frame would allow. He disappeared around a corner before James could think of a reason to convince his friend to stay.

      Donahue’s stood four blocks from the station, but the journey felt like miles. Ann asked polite questions about each building they passed, and James tried his best to keep his eyes directly forward as he answered. The smallest glance at her face disoriented him, and he couldn’t help but notice how her beauty’s effects extended to passersby. He caught smiles of admiration, eyes slit with jealousy and two men received pointed elbows from their female companions for the mistake of looking too long. Several men outside the tobacco shop sent streams of juice down their shirts in distraction. Every eye in New Haven seemed to be fixed on Ann, save for his. Please, Lord, he prayed during the brief moments of silence. Grant me wisdom.

      James couldn’t taste a bite of his two-dollar steak. He dutifully chewed the meat and swallowed, but his brain barely registered the meal. How many times had he walked past Donahue’s Hotel and Fine Dining and wondered when he might have an occasion to eat there? Now inside, he couldn’t be bothered to take in the grandeur of his surroundings or the extravagance of the meal. It all paled next to the beauty of the girl seated across from him.

      Even as new rivers of perspiration trickled down his back and his hands trembled when he reached for the salt shaker, she showed no signs