1
The train came to a stop. Steam rose over the windows, momentarily obscuring the tiny station as well as the bystanders in a cloud. Ianto squinted, trying to bring his destination into focus.
The aisle filled with passengers eager to disembark.
Ruddy-faced children were shushed as they pulled on their mother's skirts while men secured the luggage. Everyone seemed to be attached to someone.
Ianto looked away from the window, reminding himself that he finally had somebody, too. Even though he'd never seen his destination or even met the people who waited for him, his life was set to begin on the platform of this railway station.
Ianto had noticed a young blonde haired woman travelling alone, just like him in the opposite compartment.
The young woman wore a short jacket with a lacy blouse that buttoned up the back. Her hair was swept back and pinned in a swirl at the nape of her neck. A smart new bonnet was secured to her head with a grosgrain ribbon bow tied under her chin.
Ianto stood and nervously tucked an unruly shirt tail feeling a bit underdressed for the occasion. A quick look down upon his apparel confirmed his suspicions. His shirt was wrinkled from the long ride, and his second-hand shoes unfortunately looked like hand-me-downs.
The thin leather was so worn that no amount of polish would ever make them smooth. Ianto knew he shouldn't snub charity, but today he wanted to look special.
Sister Martha's warm voice filled his thoughts. You are special, just as all people are special. The Gods have a plan for you; trust in them and their judgement.
Ianto brushed his Jacket and straightened his back. Sister Martha was right. Vanity was far less attractive than a wrinkled shirt and well-loved shoes. He had to embrace his new life with a heart as wide-open as the beautiful and wild country he'd travelled through on his way to Boeshane Peninsular.
Ianto got in line. When it was his turn to get off the train, the attendant greeted him with a bright smile, "Here, let me help you, Sir."
Before Ianto could respond, he had his luggage in one hand and was helping him down the iron steps with the other. When he was on the wooden platform, he thanked him and recovered his bag in a trembling fist.
"You look nervous," the older man in a steward's dark blue uniform noted. "You're not getting married to a man you've never met before, are you?"
Ianto almost fell over. "Actually, I…well…"
He laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Many young men and women come out West searching for something, and most of them find what they're looking for."
Ianto's throat felt tight. He knew it was foolish. The steward was merely making chitchat and meant nothing by it. However, he could do nothing to dampen the hope that swelled in his heart.
"Good luck!" he called out before stepping back up the iron steps to help the next passenger off the train.
"Thank you," Ianto whispered, though he doubted he heard him. His attention was now entirely focused on the next passenger.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. Turning his head quickly from side to side, he scanned the platform for anyone who might respond to the sight of him. He'd received no picture of Jack Harkness, and hadn't sent him one either. He said he didn't care what he looked like, which suited him just fine. Then, he'd said if it mattered to him, he'd arrange to have one taken; however, he preferred saving the money for something more useful.
Ianto had readily agreed with him. But now as he searched the crowd of strangers after his long journey, he wished he could find a familiar face.
A couple suddenly bolted forward from the crowd. Ianto held his breath. He hadn't expected to see a woman accompany the gentleman. What did this mean? Jack Harkness had said he was a widower. Could this be his sister?
A smile grew across the gentleman's face and the couple picked up their pace, coming directly toward him. His face grew warm and his hands felt cold as ice.
Now that they were a couple paces away, Ianto couldn't help but compare himself to the pretty fair haired woman on the man's arm. Though not unseemly, Ianto had never been considered a beauty. Still, he was a hard worker and had a good heart—or at least that was what Sister Martha claimed. Ianto knew many men did not appreciate such hardy qualities, but some did.
Jack Harkness had said he didn't care what he looked like. Had he told the truth?
Suddenly, the woman by the man's side spread out her arms in the universal sign of welcome. Ianto inadvertently felt a tug at his heart despite his confusion. Then, the woman cried out, "Sarah! We are over here!"
Stumbling, Ianto looked over his shoulder and discovered the source of their joy. The well dressed blonde young woman was now behind him. She had lingered to collect her many bags. Ianto watched the young woman's face break into a smile upon hearing a familiar voice and seeing beloved faces. Then young woman rushed past Ianto into the couple's arms. The handsome man held them all in a wide embrace.
In this manner Ianto found himself nearby the sweet reunion. Sarah, the young woman from the train, was probably the woman's sister. She looked so loved. It was a simple observation that contained no envy or malice.
Nonetheless, Ianto felt a pang in his heart for he could only hope one day to experience such an embrace with so much sincerity.
His throat tightened. He felt hot despite the soft rain falling. He wondered if he should loosen the top two buttons of his shirt, but decided against it. Jack Harkness wanted someone dependable; he couldn't appear sloppy.
He glanced once more at the clustered silhouette of the reunited family. Ianto was no more than a bystander. What had possessed him to make such a long journey away from the only home he'd ever known? He knew he couldn't remain at the orphanage forever, but Boeshane Peninsular was so far from New Wales he might as well have travelled to Timbuktu.
Ianto took a deep breath in and slowly blew it out; reminding himself that he had already left this in the lap of the Gods. Life as he knew it had been measured out in teaspoons, to ensure every girl and boy in the orphanage received the same and there was enough for all. This new life he had yet to discover its measure. He must try not to jump to conclusions.
From the corner of his eye, Ianto spied a tall, solid man near the carriages and horses tied at the edge of the station. The man's forehead was furrowed with downcast eyes to avoid the bright sunlight creeping through the clouds. He held the hand of a sandy-haired girl who looked to be the age of ten.
Ianto felt a pang of sympathy for these two. Despite the father's severe countenance, he could tell he was still a young man. No deep lines creased his face and he had a full head of thick, dark hair. The little girl's expression cut him even deeper. Instead of joy, indifference seemed to be wrapped around her tiny shoulders like a shawl. Both of them looked too old and subdued for their ages.
Ianto remembered the distant, sorrowful tone in Jack Harkness' letters. Was this the man he had responded to?
He touched the linen handkerchief in his jacket pocket. He could see the kind chocolate eyes of the five foot bundle of energy that ran the orphanage and heard Sister Martha's words again.
You are off to get married. Put your best foot forward. No need for a new boot if you have a flounce in your step. Here's a handkerchief for luck and comfort.
Sister Martha's simple wisdom soothed him as much as the smooth handkerchief, the memory of her love and best wishes gave Ianto a surge of strength. Without wavering, Ianto looked into the eyes of the man he knew to be his future husband.
"Ianto Jones?" the man inquired softly.
Ianto answered his question with another, "Jack Harkness?"
He nodded abruptly and reached down for his valise and carpet bag with a long leather strap, and allowed him to carry his own umbrella and private bag.
His future husband offered no words other than his simple greeting. Ianto smiled and gave his attention to the young girl.
"Are you Alice?" he asked. Alice nodded and moved closer to her father.
Ianto's smile deepened. He remembered being Alice's age and hiding in Sister Martha's skirts. "You are very grown up for a nine-year-old girl."
"I'm nearly ten," Alice frowned and insisted in a flat and slightly sharp voice.
"Of course you are. And where is young Jax?" Ianto asked.
Alice pointed towards the station.
A small boy tended to a horse and cart. He pet the horse's long neck even though it was tied, offering the animal comfort amidst the loud and busy station. When the boy looked up, Ianto's throat tightened.
It was Jax. There could be no confusion, for the young boy was the spitting image of his father, only fashioned on a quarter of the scale. He removed a hat that was far too big for a boy but was fitting for a man and wiped his brow.
When Jax caught sight of them approaching, he frowned and Ianto once again found himself the recipient of the inquisitive look he'd received just moments before.
"This is Ianto," Jack told the boy.
Jax nodded once with the intensity of a drill sergeant. "I figured."
Ianto bent over and offered his hand. "Hello, Jax."
"Hello." He reached out and gripped his hand firmly, giving it a sturdy shake. Then, he let go and pointed to his personal bag. "I'll take that."
"Thank you." Ianto couldn't help but smile at the sincere way he went about his business. He must have learned his work ethic from his father.
"Come, I'll help you up," Jack told Ianto. He gripped the side of the wagon with one hand and held up the other, ready to catch him if he should fall.
"Are you alright?" he asked. Ianto nodded furiously, unwilling to appear flustered in front of his fiancé. Too late, he realized as the furrow in Jack's brow deepened. "I thought you said in your letter that you were prepared for work and accustomed to it."
Ianto's mouth dropped open, so shocked at Jack's quick dismissal that for a second he couldn't speak.
"Work at the farm is only going to get harder, especially since its winter," Jack continued.
Well! Ianto crossed his arms over his chest too, mimicking his husband's gesture. "Everyone works together and takes care of one another at the orphanage. I'm well accustomed to hard work, and more than willing to take on any job that needs to be done. It was how Sister Martha raised us. Idle hands are Loki's workshop."
Jacks expression softened. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just want you to know that I can't offer much, and the things I can offer must also be earned through dedication and hard work. I won't force you to honour this commitment if this isn't the right life for you."
Ianto uncrossed his arms, touched by his sincere concern. "You've already paid for my transport and marriage license."
"And I'd pay for your transport back," Jack responded.
Before Ianto had a chance to respond, the cart jostled and creaked. He looked back, startled, to find Jax securing his luggage. He decided to sit so he could better weather the unpredictable movements of the cart.
When he returned his attention to Jack, he was focused on attending to Alice.
The little girl tugged on her father's coat until he gently picked her up and set her down next to him in the front of the cart. Ianto couldn't have been more touched by the scene. Jack's love for his children was obvious in his every gesture, and his honesty was evident in his offer for to let Ianto return if the work and hardship proved too much for him. He was only a humble farmer and he could imagine how he had saved so he could pay for the advertisement and his ticket. He had sacrificed for the sake of his children, who needed a Carer.
Many had warned Ianto against going West. There were only a few decent prospects for a poor man back in New Wales, but a man who went out west was at the mercy of the wilderness and his future husband. All children in the world deserved the love. Some were lucky enough to have the love of a father and mother. Some had no one to care for them. Ianto, being one of those children, knew this life very well. Sister Martha had been both father and mother for many children. She had proved time and again that the human heart was capable of immeasurable love. Still, Sister Martha would never have a family of her own.
It had been a few months ago, while Ianto was on his way home from interviews at manors and humble shops, that he had seen Jack's advertisement in the window of a Mail Order Bride agency. His simple request for a wife or Husband, in name only, to help raise his children and tend a home had touched his heart. A few letters later, Ianto had hastily licked and pressed down the postage on a letter wherein his whole future lay folded and directed. One week he was destined to be a spinster, by the time the post returned, he was a mail order fiancé.
Sister Martha alone had supported his decision. When Ianto asked why, Sister Martha said that Ianto's faith in the Gods would be justified. Silently, Ianto gave the Gods thanks for delivering him unto a family who had health, strength, and love. These were gifts of inestimable value.
But Ianto did not have long to pray. Life in the country moved at a different pace, and he welcomed this change.
Jack hopped down to help Jax into the cart. Jax said, "I don't need any help getting into the cart. I'm big and strong for my age."
Jack bent down to tie his shoe lace and Jax took the advantage of stepping upon his bent knee and leaping into the cart. Jack stood up without bothering with his laces, and settled on the seat at the front of the cart.
"See, I can do it myself," Jax told Ianto as he took his seat.
"I can see that," Ianto replied, glancing at Jack. It was a rare man who thought to salvage a young boy's pride.
Jack shook the reins as Alice snuggled up next to him. "We will meet Pastor Smith and his second wife, River, at the church. Smith will marry us and after that we will return home to the farm."
Home.
Ianto's heart swelled with warmth despite Jack's bleak delivery of their morning itinerary. For the first time in his life, he'd be able to call a place home.
.
.
.
.
The quaint white church was situated in a field between a leafless cherry tree orchard and a small forest of pine. Though gray clouds gathered overhead, the sun still shone brightly.
Jack gently pulled on the reins and the horses stopped. Immediately, Jax jumped from the back of the cart and began tending to them.
"Thank you," Jack called out.
Jax made a noncommittal grunt, but his chest puffed with pride. Jack then set down the reins and got off the cart, trusting Jax's abilities. Ianto found that he trusted him, too. Jax obviously knew his way around horses; his father had taught him well.
Jack helped Alice down and then offered Ianto his warm but calloused hand. His grip was firm, yet gentle.
"Put your hand on my shoulder," he told him. Ianto did. He leaned on him as he jumped down, and his muscles tensed under his full weight. His shoes sloshed in the mud.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes," he responded. Jack nodded. As he looked at the church, his expression darkened. "Let's get this over with."
Ianto's tight smile froze on his face. He was glad Jack Harkness' attention was not on him. Jack had made it clear in his letters that they would be husbands in name only. As a widower who'd lost someone he'd cared for deeply, he harboured no romantic notions towards him. He needed a man to act as a motherling to his children and to help out on the farm, nothing more.
Still, his briskness hurt Ianto. Yes, their marriage was necessary, but it didn't need to be viewed with the same distaste as dressing a wound.
Jack headed with long strides toward the church. He turned back, "So, are you coming?" He held his hands out, palms up. "You come too, Alice. Jax can see to the horses on his own."
Alice scowled at Ianto, and then quickened her pace to catch up with her father. Ianto took a deep breath and started up the small path alone. When he caught with them, they went into the dim church together.
"Thanks for your accommodation, Pastor," Jack called out. A man with wild hair got up from the pew and stood. He was lit from behind by the single stained glass window above the altar.
"Jack!" he said, "good to see you! Please … the children… are they with you … we would love to see… there is my little niece… Jax?…no. Ah. Right. OK."
Jack gave a noncommittal grunt, but the pastor didn't mind. Instead, he turned to Ianto and gave him a firm shake. "Ianto Jones, I presume? I'm Pastor John Smith. Welcome to Sweet Home's humble church."
"And don't forget his wife, River!" a cheerful, feminine voice from behind the altar called. A younger woman emerged, carrying a small bundle of juniper, and Ianto. "When I heard you'd be coming off the train, I scrambled to get some flowers together to commemorate your arrival."
River pressed the greenery to the momentarily speechless Ianto's hands. The Pastor and his cheery wife stood and smiled at them.
"Thank you," Ianto finally managed a reply.
River lifted a hand to her ample bosom. She was full and soft while her husband was thin and brittle, like perfect opposites. "Oh, you poor dear. Imagine being a mail order Mate and coming so far and then getting married the same day you arrive!"
Ianto blushed at River's reference to being married in such haste. He and Jack Harkness were little more than strangers, and he couldn't begin to imagine what this couple thought of their arrangement.
"We don't want to impose on you," Jack said abruptly. "So we'd like to begin the ceremony now, if that's alright."
"Of course, you know you are always welcome Jack. We miss you and the children, did you not all come often to visit? My sister would be saddened to learn that we have not kept in touch" River smiled. She went over to the organ and began the refrain to the Wedding March.
Jack interrupted her, "We don't need the trimmings. I just wanted us to be wed."
River immediately stopped playing with a soft sigh as if she had expected this. Ianto's eyes went wide. He didn't quite know what to think. How could Jack act so rude to the hospitable pastor and his wife? Clearly the sister of the dead mother to these children. In a church? In front of his child? He glanced at poor Alice. The girl seemed to stand in one place and shuffle at the same time. Her head was downturned, and her hair hung over her eyes like blinders. Ianto couldn't make out the expression on her face. Oh, this was not how a little girl should be on the day her father was to be married! Was it because her aunt and uncle were those witnessing this? Was this truly the first time they had seen the children since their mother's demise? Oh no.
Ianto's worries turned inward. Was his new husband unhappy with him? Did he expect a different kind of man to step off the train? A woman perhaps? Ianto tried to sense what Jack was feeling. Even though he was close, he seemed more distant than his daughter Alice.
Maybe Ianto should have listened to all the naysayers back in New Wales. What did he really know about Jack? He was just a man who had sent fare for his ticket.
They'd made a bargain, and now they were sealing that bargain with a wedding ceremony. There'd been no talk of romance, only marriage. But still, Ianto had hoped he would be open to friendship. He gripped the bouquet and
Prayed for guidance on how he should proceed. Then he knelt, handing the flowers to a surprised Alice, her little hands gripping them for grim life.
Pastor Smith stepped forward, still smiling.
"Of course, Jack. As an upstanding and helpful member of our community, it is my honour to marry you. Lucia would be pleased to find someone has been willing to love her children" He then winked at Ianto.
Ianto gulped. He had a feeling that Pastor Smith's reassuring words were for his benefit, which suggested he believed this match could work. Ianto thought back on what he'd discovered about Jack in the short time he'd been with him. He loved his children and needed him to help him care for them. He seemed respectful and he felt he could trust him to keep his word. He felt he was a dependable man. As the small ceremony continued, Ianto's resolve grew stronger. This was the man he had given his word to stand beside and to help.
Pastor Smith turned to Ianto. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Ianto looked at Jack Harkness, this time studying him as a mate. With a full mouth, good cheekbones, and distinct brows, he was handsome. If they had met at a country ball, he would be the first man he would notice. Still, he felt sure a flock of butterflies would launch in his stomach if he were the one who asked him to dance. Of course …he wouldn't have. Ianto such a wallflower such handsome men never see him.
There was something alluring about his rugged features. Sturdy as mountains, wild as the wind blowing across the plains. Despite his stoic demeanour, his eyes were as expressive and expansive as a Boeshane Peninsular sky.
At that moment, it was his eyes that captivated Ianto.
He seemed to look at him as though he was seeing someone else. In that unguarded moment Ianto felt his sadness as keenly as if it were rain seeping through his clothes.
Did Pastor Smith marry Jack and his first wife in this very church? Is that why he felt so distant from Ianto now? Ianto did not seek to replace his wife. He wished he could communicate that to him plainly right now, but he knew such words would go unheard. Even if his heart were open enough to hear it, Ianto knew he wouldn't appreciate an audience. However, there was something he was expected to say at this time, to these people present. Such words as would probably hurt him to hear and might also go unappreciated, but he needed to say them aloud, before the Gods and these witnesses.
Ianto lifted his chin and looked directly into Jack's wounded eyes. "I, Ianto Jones, take you, Jack Harkness, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse. For richer and for poorer. In sickness and in health, until death do us part."
Jack's Adam's apple bobbed.
Pastor Smith turned to him. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Jack shut his eyes. "I do," he whispered.
Ianto's heart swelled. Maybe it wasn't much as far as vows went, but he had a sense of how much strength it took him to say those words—to admit to himself, even for a moment, that he needed a partner. That is what they were now: partners. One day, he hoped they would also be friends.
Looking down, Jack took Ianto's hand in his. He was surprised by the calluses on his fingers, and by the warmth of his touch despite the cold. The small gold band he slipped onto his finger like silk. When he looked down, he was happy to find the ring fit his thin finger quite well.