His Hope

Hope tapped the space bar on her laptop once more, taking it out of sleep mode and illuminating the message she’d seen on the Guyanese around the World f******k page. Using her touch pad, she highlighted the advertisement for the hundredth time, read it again, reread it, and clicked out of the post. Smoothing her hand over the sides of her kinky black natural hair and the bun at the nape of her neck, she pushed her chair back and walked from the library to the living room. Pacing the length of the lovely room, she stopped occasionally to straighten a vase or lift a family photo, all the while contemplating something so crazy it made her heart pound. The possibility of actually going through with what she was considering, made her heart palpitate. After four hours of deliberations – going over all the possible pros and cons, Hope made her decision. She squared her shoulders, returned to the library, sat at her desk, reopened the post to confirm what she had originally read and decided to answer the advertisement. Copying the email address of the post creator, she pasted it into a new email box. As the subject heading, she stated Potential Wife. In her precise, straightforward way of speaking, she wrote: January 14th, 2022 Dear Mr. Brandt, I am writing to introduce myself. My name is Hope Ann Walcott and I read your advertisement posted on the Guyanese around the World f******k Page seeking a wife of Guyanese heritage to help raise your four children. I would like to recommend myself. I am a teacher by profession and that would be of benefit to your children. While I am currently residing in the United States of America, I am a Guyanese by birth, born to two Guyanese parents. They immigrated to the United States when I was two years old. I have spent most of my life living abroad, but my country of birth has never been far from my thoughts. I am ready to return home. I am thirty-seven years old and I have never been married. I have lived in Chicago for the past thirty-five years and taught elementary school for the past ten years.  I am an only child and my parents died two years ago in a car accident. Also, the school I was teaching at was recently closed by the district. So there are no responsibilities keeping me here. No reason for me to remain in the United States.  I have always desired my own family, but circumstances beyond my control prevented me from pursuing the same. I feel that at my age, it is unwise to attempt to pursue the avenue of creating my own family. It is more logical for me to assimilate into yours, if you are willing. In this regard, I am willing to relocate to Guyana to be your wife and serve as a mother to your children. I have been candid in my response to you and I hope to hear from you soon, should you find me suitable for your needs. Regards Hope Ann Walcott Before she could react and change her mind, Hope pressed enter, effectively sending her response to Mr Brandt. She was not sure what she was getting herself into, but felt it was time she lived a little. She had no idea what Mr Brandt looked like. She had deliberately ignored his social media presence. She didn’t want to take the chance that his physical looks would impact her decision. She’d decided to take a blind leap of faith and hopefully it would bring her good tidings. This would either turn out to be the bravest or stupidest thing she’d ever done. Only time will tell. * * * Dexter removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through hair as black as coal. Standing in front of the blacksmith's where he'd just had his horse shod, he heard his daughter calling from the entrance to Amos James General Store across the street. Amos was also the owner of the only internet café in the Rupununi Savannahs. About five years ago, he’d made the investment. He expanded his general store to accommodate the three computer systems he had to operate his internet café. It wasn’t much, but out in the middle of nowhere, it was more than they needed and his investment had paid off. Farmers such as Dexter depended on it to contact people in the outside world and keep abreast with world news. Daneka held her baby brothers on either hip as she called to her father. "Hey dad, you got a few emails. Do you want me to respond to them? Maybe you'll be lucky and our new mom has responded to your advertisement." Dexter paused while a horse-drawn cart ambled past. He waved at old Mr. and Mrs. Renton and then crossed to the warped boardwalk that ran in front of a dozen businesses. "Daneka, did you give Mr. James our grocery list so we can pick them up on the next trip to town?" "Yes sir." She said, hitching the twins higher up her hips. At five months old, they were just under six kilograms each, having been born prematurely and underweight. “One of the emails is from a woman living all the way in the United States." "I'll read them in a bit. Where's Junior?" "He's still talking to Mr. James about ordering some more comic books." Dexter bent and kissed both his babies on their foreheads. "Well, run in and tell him it's time to go. Let him hitch Black Beauty back to the cart and take it around the front while I go and ask Amos to print out my messages. We've got chores to finish up." "Sure, dad." Several minutes after Dexter returned with the printed messages, his fifteen-year-old son pulled the cart in front of the store. Inhaling a calming breath, he said, "It's nice you could join us, Junior. I'd sure like to get home before nightfall. If not, you'll be mucking the barn in the dark." With a brooding look, Junior hopped onto the back of the cart and sat on a sack of grain. Daneka snickered and handed him one of the twins to hold. Dexter flicked the reins. "Giddy up." * * * After a long evening of chores, Dexter finally collapsed into his favorite chair and propped his feet on the hearth. He could hear Daneka telling David and Daniel a bedtime story in the room she shared with them. No doubt Junior was in the loft devouring another comic book. Leaning his head back, he surveyed his home. Besides his bedroom and Daneka's room, there was an additional bedroom that his mail order bride would stay in until they got to know each other. Wow, even referring to her as his mail order bride in his mind freaked him out. His plan to remarry scared the crap out of him, but he was dead set on finding another mother for his children. He closed his eyes and saw Margret's laughing face. God, he missed her. How he'd loved her. His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly, glancing again around the open floor plan of the combined living, dining, and cooking area that still held her touch; he saw it in the curtains, furniture and knickknacks. Although modest, their house was sturdily built by the labor of his hands. Unable to put it off any longer, he unfolded his lanky frame and reached for the printouts he'd tossed on the coffee table. Sighing, he read his business emails first, putting off reading the responses to his advertisement. Damn, but the thought of marrying someone he'd come to know through an online advertisement bothered him. However, it would feel much weirder to choose from the small pickings in the Rupununi. His decision to order a bride had stemmed from his desire to find someone to mother his children but not necessarily be a wife to him. He’d loved once in his life and it had wrecked him when his wife died. He had no intentions of loving again. But his children needed a mother. Daneka did the best she could to care for David and Daniel, but she was only twelve years old. Guilt plagued him at the responsibility that had been forced on her. As for Junior, Dexter hadn't been able to bond with his son since Margret's death, and now the boy lost himself in comic books. And the twins, God help them. They needed a mother's touch and care. He fingered the two responses he’d received this time. He'd placed the advertisement on the f******k page as it has the widest reach. He’d wondered if anyone outside of Guyana would respond. He'd received a few responses from women living in Georgetown, the country’s capital. But from the tone of their responses, they'd seemed too high maintenance to be able to comfortably live in his humble home on his small ranch. It was wrong of him to pass judgment on them based only on correspondents. But life in the Rupununi was hard. It was no fairy tale and whomever he selected needed to be able to cope with what came with living in a place that didn’t offer much in the way of basic amenities. Taking his index finger and running it along the edges of the printout of the email from the woman from the United States, he debated whether or not to read it. Would a woman living in a foreign country be satisfied becoming his wife and raising his children? He doubted it. Nevertheless, he was intrigued by the fact she’d actually written to him. So he read her response. Then he read it a couple more times. He admired her forthrightness. Going to his room, he retrieved a sheet of paper and his pen and took the kerosene lamp to the dining table. Tapping his jaw, he thought about his response. He would draft it and email it the next time he was in town. January 18th, 2021 Dear Miss Walcott, Thank you for your letter and also your candidness. Please tell me more about yourself and why you would want to marry someone you have never met and mother children that are not your own. As for myself, I will also be forthcoming. I am solely seeking a mother for my children. If you have romantic notions, I am not the husband for you. My wife died four months ago while recovering from giving birth to our twin boys. I have an older son, a fifteen-year-old book addict. I also have a twelve-year-old daughter. My ranch is small, as is my house, so if you are looking for anything else, I suggest you not respond to this letter. As for your qualifications, they are excellent. As I’ve mentioned, my eldest son loves reading. I can hardly get him to complete his chores without a book in hand. My daughter is very smart and an avid learner. Both children attended school until their mother died. My eldest son now helps me on the ranch and my daughter cares for her baby brothers. My desire is for them to return to school after I remarry. I am the son of a teacher, so I know the importance of education. As for The Rupununi Savannahs, it is a small town that does not have much in the way of diversion to keep residents interested. So, as you can see, I have been candid. This will not be a fairy tale. I have written the truth so as not to waste your time or mine. Yours sincerely Dexter Brandt