Michael intervened. “Don’t be so hard on the girl.” He turned toward Tariana. “I understand your birthday is fast approaching. I believe I know the perfect lad to fit your adventurous spirit.”
“She still has close to a year, thank goodness. Do not empathize with her, Michael. She is despicable and has not taken one instruction of etiquette seriously.”
“There is a man designed for every girl, Frances. Do not crush your sister’s dream.” Michael did not take his eyes off Tariana while he spoke, to the point of her blushing a crimson red for all to see.
“Now look what your nonsense has done,” Frances said. “The girl is a silly child, and I hope Father keeps her home until she’s twenty. It will take her that long to grow up.”
“That would suit me fine!” Tariana said, picking up her skirts. Armed with the last of her dignity, she headed toward the house – might as well get the punishment over with.
Two whole weeks of exile! The punishment excluded Church, and her father permitted meals with the family, as long as she daren’t expect her siblings to serve a lawbreaker. Bible reading, repentance, studying etiquette, and concentrating on developing a noble character were the objectives of her solitude.
Tariana tried to obey the regime, but the boredom drove her stir-crazy, and the carpet on her bedroom floor already showed signs of wear from her constant pacing.
A sudden thought came to her: The St. Louis Gazette, which had made daily news a national success, was famous for another reason – “The Lovelorn” column. The author remained anonymous and deliciously secretive. No one knew for certain if it were a man or a woman. This anonymity appealed to Tariana’s sense of adventure, for she, too, hid under the false pretense of unrequited love. Secrets had not aided in solving her problems, whereas the mysterious “Lovelorn” had gained a reputation across the country for giving helpful advice to lonely hearts. Perhaps she should write a letter concerning her obsession with Michael. The local newspaper supported the syndicated column, and it grew in popularity with the residents of Oregon City on a weekly basis. She was also in need of new ammunition if she were ever to win her sister’s beau for herself.
Tariana went to her desk. Father would accept this endeavor as a practical lesson in correct letter writing and not hesitate to put it in the mail. She blew off the dust from her decorative stationery, a gift from a well-meaning parishioner, while thoughts swirled in her head. Truth was a necessary element if she expected an answer, but she’d need to speckle the words with a bit of humility to gain empathy from the “Lovelorn.” Hopefully, after a week in her room, she’d achieved a smidgen of remorse, though, in her heart, she knew the longing had grown stronger due to Michael’s absence. Pursuing the man came at a high cost to her conscience. Michael and Frances were making a horrible mistake, and she felt it her duty to bring awareness to their madness. He was outgoing and incredibly handsome, the perfect match for Tariana and not Frances.
She sighed at the turmoil raging within and resigned to penning her words.
Dear Lovelorn,
I am obsessed with my sister’s beau. How desperate can a girl get? Neither suspect I carry this secret, but it causes me to do horrid things. When I let the green monster loose to do its devilish deeds, I don’t even recognize myself, and I run for cover to hide my sins. I will turn eighteen-years-old in nine short months, able to court whomever I choose, but I want none of the boys who flock about me like roosters, ready to crow victory over my wretched heart. I want Michael. How does one settle for anything less than love? I feel like a defeated fraud, tricked by the master con-artist.
Obsessed in Oregon.
A knock sounded at the door as she sealed the envelope. Tariana hurried to answer the summons, relief flooding her as she never received company while imprisoned in her room, and she ached to see another face other than the guilty one that stared back at her whenever she looked in the mirror. That face lacked enthusiasm and wallowed in her present-day plight. It had the same blue eyes, but they had greyed, maintaining none of the twinkle that had brought her face to life. It also had the same high cheekbones, which were now white from a lack of reveling in the sunshine.
Tariana turned the knob, flung the door open wide, and her countenance immediately sagged when she was greeted by her little sister, Evelyn. She was definitely not Tariana’s favorite among her siblings, for the child was far too particular and never deviated from the letter of the law. At least she provided no grief for her parents, which was more than Tariana could claim. The youngest daughter, who’d broken the one-year time-span between the Gracin children’s ages, had arrived as an unexpected surprise to the family. The pregnancy had been the last hope that God might send them a son, but they got Miss Perfect instead. Tariana had seen her dark side on more than one occasion; no one was truly perfect.
“What do you want?” Tariana asked.
The twelve-year-old grinned a sweet, stab-you-in-the-back kind of smile, and Tariana went on high alert. Evelyn handed her a bouquet. “This came for you, and mother said I should bring it up.”
Tariana gasped. “For me?” She grabbed the planter holding the small shrub and reached for the card that was stuck amid the drooping flowers. “They are so pretty, and they smell divine.” She opened the note and placed a hand on her heart to stop it from racing. Could she be seeing right? Flowers from
