Chapter 1
I turned down Sophia Warren, Frank Warren's pretty, lively younger daughter, and chose to marry Emily Warren, his eldest, who was out in the yard feeding pigs. Frank was furious.
In 1991, I was too poor to afford a wife.
A matchmaker told me the Warrens in town were looking for a live-in son-in-law. The condition was that I had to marry their younger daughter.
Sophia was beautiful, the kind of girl every village around wanted.
The day I arrived, Frank pointed at her and said, "This is your wife."
But my eyes drifted to the yard. Emily was there alone, hauling a heavy sack over her shoulder, her clothes soaked through with sweat.
People in the village always said she was ugly and slow, that she would never marry.
I pointed at her and said, "I'll marry her."
Frank slammed the table in anger, and Sophia burst into tears, calling me blind.
Thirty years later, everyone in the village envies me.
*****
In 1991, my name was James Rivers. I was twenty, and broke down to my last cent.
The only thatched hut my family had was half-collapsed after a heavy rain.
Maggie, the matchmaker, stood there with a dry pipe between her teeth, giving me a sideways look.
"James, you want a wife or not?"
I kept my head down and tossed another piece of firewood into the stove.
The firelight flickered across my face, but I said nothing.
"The Warrens in town, Frank Warren's family, they're looking for a live-in son-in-law. You know that?"
Maggie blew out a ring of smoke.
"Their younger daughter, Sophia, is the prettiest girl for miles. So many people have asked me to set things up, and the family has turned them all down."
That caught my attention.
I had seen Sophia before. She really was striking, her skin as smooth and pale as a freshly peeled egg.
"You think they'd take me?" I asked, my voice a little rough.
"You've got a decent face, and you finished high school. That's enough," Maggie said, tapping her pipe against the sole of her shoe.
"Frank only wants a man who's honest and willing to work. You marry in, and the first child takes the Warren name."
I went quiet.
Marrying into the wife's family meant giving up your pride, letting it be trampled.
But pride means nothing when you're hungry.
"I'll go," I said.
Three days later, with two pieces of dry cornbread tucked in my pocket, I followed Maggie through the gates of the Warren house.
Blue brick walls, a tiled roof, and a courtyard paved with smooth stone. It was better than any road in our village.
Frank sat in the main room, holding a cup of water, not even lifting his eyes.
His wife, Linda Warren, looked me up and down. There was more judgment than approval in her gaze, though not by much.
Sophia stepped out from the inner room, dressed in a brand new red outfit. Her cheeks were flushed, and she stole glances at me from the corner of her eye.
She really was beautiful.
"Father, Mother," she said softly, her voice light and sweet.
Frank gave a grunt and set down his cup.
"James, right? Maggie told me about your situation. From now on, you're part of the Warren family. This is Sophia, your wife."
He pointed at her, his tone carrying a hint of condescension.
Everyone's eyes were on me, waiting for me to accept with gratitude.
But my gaze slipped past them, landing in the corner of the yard.
A woman was struggling to drag a heavy sack of pig feed toward the pen.
It was so heavy that her back was bent under the weight. Sweat rolled down her forehead, soaking the loose strands of hair stuck to her skin.
Her clothes were patched in several places, and her pant legs were splattered with mud.
She was the Warrens' eldest daughter, Emily Warren.
People in the village said she was ugly and slow, born to work her whole life and never marry.
Hearing the voices from the main room, she paused and looked over.
Her face was sallow, almost expressionless, but there was a hint of timidity in her eyes.
When she saw me, she froze for a moment, then quickly lowered her head and went back to struggling with the sack.
It had to weigh at least a hundred pounds, and she staggered under it on her own.
Frank frowned, clearly displeased at her presence.
"A girl spending all day with pig filth, what a disgrace," he snapped.
Linda chimed in, "Get back to work and stop making a scene."
Sophia's face showed open disgust.
In that moment, I made my choice.
I pulled my gaze back and looked at Frank.
Then I raised my hand, not toward the beautiful Sophia, but straight toward the yard, at Emily, who was still hauling that sack, her clothes soaked with sweat.
"Frank, I'll marry her."
The room fell silent.
Maggie's pipe slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a clack.
The color drained from Sophia's face, then turned an ugly shade.
Linda's jaw hit the floor.
Frank shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief.
"What did you just say?"
I said it again, my voice quiet but steady.
"I said I'll marry Emily."
Frank's whole body trembled with anger. He pointed at me, his lips shaking.
"You think this is a joke?"
"I'm not joking," I said, meeting his eyes. "You're looking for a live-in son-in-law, someone who can work and carry on your family line, right?"
I nodded toward the yard. "Emily can work."
"You!" Frank choked on his breath, his face flushing red.
Sophia burst into tears.
She pointed at me and shouted, "Are you blind? What's wrong with you? My sister is ugly and stupid. You want to marry her? Have you lost your mind?"
I ignored her and kept my eyes on Emily.
She had gone completely still, standing there with the sack on her shoulder like a statue, her face filled with confusion and disbelief.
Frank finally caught his breath and slammed his hand on the table. The cup rattled.
"Get out!"
He pointed at the door and roared, "We don't want a lunatic like you in the Warren family. Get out now!"