Every time my fiancé, Julian Blackwood, was reassigned to a new post, he demanded I travel ahead to prepare everything. Not for our future, but for the comfort of his mentor's daughter, Lillian Vale. This time, Julian was demoted to a remote outpost in the Dakota Territories. He urgently ordered me to pack up my small bakery and take a riverboat west. Perhaps he rushed me too much, or perhaps my fever from a lingering cold clouded my mind. Halfway through the journey, I realized I was on the wrong boat. "Miss, this boat is headed for New Orleans, not the Dakotas," the captain said gently. The captain, a kind man, offered to drop me at the next port so I could catch the right vessel. I stared at the misty river for a long time before finally speaking. "No need. New Orleans will do just fine." Chapter 1 When the captain told me I was on the wrong boat, I was still reading the letter Julian had shoved into my hands before he left. Just like always, it was three full pages of instructions. But not for me. For Lillian Vale, the daughter of his disgraced mentor. Autumn is approaching. I hear the Dakotas are damp and prone to snakes. Purchase snake repellent. Lillian is frail; ensure the house faces south to catch the sun. Lillian fears the cold. Place extra coal braziers in her room and buy only the finest anthracite. The local food is too spicy for her delicate stomach. Find a cook who specializes in mild, refined cuisine. Lillian loves poetry and flowers. Plant a garden for her, but avoid gaudy peonies. She prefers chrysanthemums, plum blossoms, and orchids. Lillian dislikes uneducated servants. Find maids who can read and write. Lillian has been melancholy lately. See if there is a local opera troupe to entertain her. Lillian’s skin is sensitive. Buy several yards of the softest silk for her new dresses. ... Lillian, Lillian, everything was about Lillian. I flipped to the end, hoping to find my name even once. I didn't. My head throbbed from the fever, and the dense handwriting made my eyes ache. I should have been used to this. It wasn't the first time. Lillian Vale was the daughter of Julian’s mentor, a once-powerful Senator who had been the Vice President's closest advisor. But two years ago, a scandal involving embezzlement and treason rocked Washington. The Vice President was forced to resign, and the Senator, pleading his case too strongly, was stripped of his titles and influence. The once-glamorous Vale estate became a place to avoid. The Senator died of a broken heart shortly after, leaving Lillian alone. Julian, ever the loyal student, defied the political winds and took Lillian in, caring for her with a devotion that bordered on obsession. He told me he could never repay his mentor's kindness. He had to care for Lillian until she found a suitable husband. So our wedding was postponed. Again and again. From Washington D.C. to Ohio, then to Missouri, and now to the Dakotas. Each demotion was because of her, yet he never worried about his career or me, his fiancée. He only worried if Lillian was comfortable. He always made me travel ahead to prepare the way. He said Lillian was a delicate flower, raised in luxury, so she had to travel slowly in a cushioned carriage. The first time I traveled by boat to prepare a home for them, I was violently seasick for weeks. I nearly died. When Julian found out, he offered a few words of comfort before immediately asking if Lillian’s room was ready. That time, I dragged my sick body around for a month to create a perfect sanctuary. When Lillian finally arrived, she glanced at my handiwork and sniffed, "Thank you, Sarah. It’s... livable, I suppose." Just that one sentence made Julian’s face fall. He didn't scold me, but from then on, his instructions regarding Lillian became more detailed, more demanding. Chapter 2 "Miss?" The captain's voice brought me back. I asked how far the Dakotas were. Julian's list was long; it would take weeks to fulfill. But maybe because he rushed me, or maybe the fever had addled my brain, I had boarded the wrong boat. "This boat is going to New Orleans," the captain repeated. Panic flared for a second. The captain saw my pale face and assumed I was in trouble. "Don't worry, miss. With the current, we're making good time. I can drop you off, and you'll only be delayed five or six days." I watched a seagull skim the water and disappear into the gray sky. My hand tightened around the letter. I stared blankly until my eyes focused on the very last line of the letter. Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian. That was the only line addressed to me. Julian always called me "sister" when he needed something. I pulled the marriage contract from my bag and ran my finger over the signatures. Two hearts united, a vow for eternity... Signed, Julian Blackwood - Sarah. He wrote this after passing the Bar exam with top honors. Back then, he was radiant. "Sarah," he said, eyes shining, "I will never let you down." The Blackwoods were once wealthy merchants, and I was a servant girl bought by Mrs. Blackwood. My gambling father had planned to sell me to a brothel. Mrs. Blackwood saved me and assigned me to eight-year-old Julian. But tragedy struck. Mr. Blackwood was killed by bandits during a trade run, and the family fortune was lost. Mrs. Blackwood fell ill, and the servants were dismissed. I stayed. She had saved my life; I owed her mine. For years, it was just the three of us. I took in washing, did embroidery, my hands raw and cracked from the cold water. Later, a kind bakery owner taught me to make pastries, and I opened a small stall. That’s how I supported Julian through school. When Mrs. Blackwood died, she made Julian kneel and swear he would never abandon me. From then on, it was just us. He started calling me "sister," terrified I would leave him. "Sister, I'll become a great man," he promised, tears in his eyes. "I'll marry you properly and you'll never suffer again." I thought it was just a child's promise. But the day he passed the Bar, he rode home on a high horse, holding the marriage contract. "I'm here to marry you, Sarah." My heart surrendered then and there. But then Lillian appeared. The first time we met her, she was reading under a peach tree at the Senator's estate. A breeze blew petals onto her book. She brushed them away and smiled at us. That smile stole Julian's heart. He started visiting the Vale estate constantly. He forgot to bring me chestnut cakes. He forgot to teach me to read. He forgot my birthday. He forgot the marriage contract. When Lillian asked who I was, he said casually, "She's a maid my mother left me." Chapter 3 "Miss?" The captain called again. A gust of wind snatched the marriage contract from my hand. It danced in the air before landing on the water and sinking into the dark river. "Your paper!" the captain cried. "I don't have a net..." I didn't move. I watched the spot where it vanished. "No need," I said softly. "Just go to New Orleans." "But your paper..." "It wasn't important. Let it go." I wasn't going to the Dakotas. I wasn't waiting for Julian anymore. I threw Julian's three-page letter into the boat's furnace. The fine paper burned in an instant. The captain didn't ask further questions. He handed me a cup of hot tea. "New Orleans is a good place," he said. "Better than the Dakotas." I smiled but said nothing. My heart felt incredibly calm, like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted. The boat traveled for another week. When we arrived in New Orleans, the weather cleared, revealing a vibrant, bustling city. It was a wealthy place. Perhaps because my mood had lifted, my cold was gone. I paid the captain and walked onto the dock with a light step. I didn't have much money. Julian's salary had barely covered his lavish spending on Lillian; my bakery earnings had subsidized everything. But years of managing his household had taught me how to stretch a dollar. I rented a small, cheap courtyard in a decent location and set up my bakery again. My pastries were good—soft, sweet, and comforting. In Washington, I used to sell out early every day. Julian had once stopped me from selling pastries after he became an official, saying it was beneath us. But when money got tight with Lillian around, he suggested I start again. "You're used to being busy," he said. "I worry you'll be bored." Now I realize he wasn't worried about me. He was worried Lillian would have to live frugally. To him, Lillian was jade, and I was just a stone. I shook my head and served a bowl of warm tofu pudding to a customer. It was all in the past. Now, I lived for myself. I planned to save money, buy a small house, plant a garden, maybe raise some chickens. If I had extra, I'd travel. I had been blind before. Julian was never meant for a village girl like me. I had repaid Mrs. Blackwood's kindness for ten years. It was enough. Julian and I were even. Chapter 4 The carriage journey took a month. Lillian couldn't handle the bumps, so they stopped constantly. Julian calculated the time, figuring I should have arrived in the Dakotas by now. But he felt uneasy. Usually, I would send a letter upon arrival to report that everything was ready. This time, no letter came. Julian began to worry. Had something happened to me? "Lillian, Sarah hasn't written. I'm worried. Should we pick up the pace?" Lillian coughed weakly, her face pale. "It's my fault. My weak body is delaying us. Julian, go ahead. Find Sarah. It's not safe for a woman alone." She coughed again, looking like she might faint. Julian panicked. "No, no. You can't handle the rush. Sarah has always been fine before. She probably just forgot to write because she's busy. We'll rest a few more days." Lillian's eyes filled with tears. "I'm such a burden. I make Sarah work so hard. sometimes I think I should just die..." Julian held her, forgetting all propriety. "Don't say that. The Senator would be heartbroken. I will never abandon you." He sat down to write another letter, this time filled with annoyance at me. Sarah, if you are in the Dakotas, write back immediately. Lillian is worried sick and blaming herself. Don't play games and make us worry. The weather is getting cold, and Lillian's cough is back. Make some pear syrup and buy a fox fur coat for her... He wrote four or five pages. At the end, looking at the pages filled with Lillian's name, he felt a twinge of guilt. He remembered how pale I looked the day he sent me away. He added a line: Is your cold better? Sister. But it looked awkward. He crumpled the paper and started a new sheet. He wrote only eight words: Thank you for your hard work, sister. Julian.
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