The Great Wide Somewhere
Chapter One

Needed: Widower and son in need of a woman's touch. Must enjoy adventure and be unafraid of hard work. Not looking for love, just someone to make a difference.

Belle French tucked the worn advertisement into the pocket of her dress before entering her father's study. He would be working on the shipping logs and schedules of his fleet during the morning hours and after lunch he would be down at the docks supervising in person until dinner. This would be her only chance to speak with him in the day and it needed to be done sooner rather than later.

"Morning, Papa."

"Ah, Belle!" He greeted her with open arms and a kiss to the crown of her head. "What brings you in here this morning?"

"It's only a month until your wedding," she fiddled with the folds of her skirt, "and I just wanted to discuss my options for afterwards."

Her father gave her a slightly panicked look. "Options for afterwards? Belle, darling, you know you're more than welcome in this house."

"Oh, I know that, Papa, but I think it is time I found my own way." She was twenty -three and in a month her father would be marriage for a second time. There really wasn't going to be a better time to find her own life then now.

Maurice French closed his ledger with a sigh. "I was going to wait until he arrived but I suppose I can't now."

"What?"

"Do you remember Jean LeBeau?"

Belle nodded. "Yes, he's the one that imports the French clothes and fabrics for you." He was also her father's age.

"His son, Gaston, is looking for a wife and has asked to court you. They're coming for the wedding and are hoping to find you open to the courtship."

"Papa-"

"I wasn't going to tell you about it. I wanted to see how you two interacted before telling you of his intentions."

"Papa," she pulled out the advertisement and handed it to him. "I've already responded to this."

Her father shifted his spectacles on his nose and read the words. "Not looking for love? Oh Belle. You're worth more than that, my girl."

"But I don't want love, Papa. I want adventure. I want partnership, to be able to work side by side with someone for a common purpose. I've helped you with your merchant business and have loved every minute of it. But Clara is going to help with that now."

"This man has a child, Belle. Do you know how old that child is? What happened to his wife? Where does he live and what will your life be like there?"

She took the ad from her father, carefully refolded it and tucked it back into her pocket. "He hasn't written back yet but the letter was mailed to a small town in Kansas."

"When did you mail it?"

"Just last week."

"Well," he sat down heavily in his chair, "we'll just have to see what the response is. But promise me, you'll at least give Gaston a chance."

Belle remembered Gaston from her childhood days. He and his father had visited her home when business brought them to the port in Maine. She hadn't particularly cared for him then and doubted she would care for him now. But her father's wedding was coming up and Gaston was most likely already on his way. It would take a couple weeks at least to receive a response from the widower in Kansas.

"Alright, Papa. I'll give Gaston a chance but only if you give this man in Kansas a chance as well."

He tried to look stern but a smile crept into the corner of his mouth. "You drive a hard deal, Belle."

"I've learned from the best," she smiled as the deal was struck.

Jacob Gold knew his son better than he knew himself. For the last month, the fourteen year old had his eyes on the horizon. Bae was a constant babble of words, stories and questions but those words seemed to have dried up recently. There was something that he was hiding and it was making Gold lose sleep at night, causing his hands to shake.

There wasn't much trouble for the boy to find. They were as isolated as they could get, the farthest farm from the small town that was nothing more than a stop on the railroad. Their closest neighbors, the Charmings, lived three miles to the east. And that was the first theory that came to his mind and the most harmless.

David and Mary Margaret Charming had a daughter that was Bae's age, Emma. The two had grown up together, having adventures in the wheat fields and wilds of the Kansas prairie. It wouldn't come as a surprise to him if his boy became smitten with the tomboy but Bae's reactions were not that a young boy in love with the girl next door. He was being too serious, too secretive.

Which brought him to the idea that kept him staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. Bae wanted more than the farm. He wanted adventure, he wanted to see the world that was beyond this little patch of earth he called home. It caused Gold's heart to drop and his stomach clench in fear. But it was something he should have expected considering the boy's mother and how things played out there.

He hadn't seen much of Bae that day though evidence of him doing chores could be found. When the sun was setting, Gold washed his hands and face at the pump by the barn before heading into the house. The sight that greeting him didn't do anything for his nerves. A meal fit only for Sunday graced the table and even though the scent of freshly baked biscuits and roasted chicken filled the house, it didn't stop the bile from rising in Gold's throat.

"To what do I owe this feast, Bae?"

His son stood unsure behind his chair, gripping the ladder back with white knuckles. "I've done something, Papa. Something that you might not approve of."

He was leaving the farm. It was that simple. He probably already had his train ticket bought. Gold sat heavily in his chair, the food before him turning his stomach. "And what is that, son?"

Bae pulled out a folded bit of newspaper and laid it next to Gold's dinner plate. He retrieved his wire-rimmed spectacles and straightened them on his nose. The newspaper clipping was an advertisement for a mail-order bride, more or less. A widower and his son...Gold pulled his glasses off and slipped them into his shirt pocket.

"Oh, son, tell me you didn't write this."

"I did."

"We don't need anyone here, Bae." He didn't need anyone asking questions, digging up secrets that were best left buried and forgotten.

"Yes, we do." He sat down at the table. "In a few more years, I'll be old enough to get married and start my farm and family. Who will help you then?"

"I'll manage."

"Your knee is getting worse. Besides, it would be nice to have a lady around." He traced a finger along the scratches in the table. "Maybe help me talk to Emma better."

Of all the scenarios that crossed his mind, this was not one of them and the relief he felt brought back his appetite. "Well, maybe no one will answer it."

"Someone did."

A letter appeared next to the advertisement. The script was loopy and extremely feminine. The postmark was from Maine. Gold set down the bowl of mashed potatoes he had reached for and instead picked up the letter. It was still sealed. With a grimace, he put his glasses back on and tore open the envelope. "Well, let's see what you've done."

The letter wasn't that long but still written in an even, steady hand. There was refinement in the letters, education in the use of words. Gold's heart sunk a bit at the hopeful look in Bae's face. But if someone who had grown up in Kansas as Milly had done couldn't find happiness here, then why would someone with education and a taste of the world think they could? Gold cleared his throat and started to read anyway.

"Dear Mr. Gold and Son,

My name is Isabel French, though everyone knows me as Belle. My father and I live in northern Maine, along the coast in a small town called Storybrooke. We are known for a few things, my father's merchant business being one of them. He has a modest fleet of ships that import fantastic things from other countries while sending our mundane things across the sea."

"That sounds really interesting. I bet she's seen all kinds of things!"

Gold nodded, though with significantly less enthusiasm than his son. "My father is getting married in about a month and he will have no more need of my assistance with the business as the woman he has chosen has a sharp mind for numbers, much sharper than mine. It is time for me to find my place in this world. Your advertisement seemed to be an opportunity that fitted my desires well.

"I long for adventure in the wilds of this country. I am unafraid of hard work and you will find me sturdy and stubborn, take that as you may. I have spent many hours on the docks unloading goods and wares. The work that happens on a farm I am not familiar with but I am fast learner. I do hope you will give me a chance. To make a difference is the most important purpose to have in life.

"I would like to hear about your son and your life in Kansas.

"Sincerely,
Belle French."

Bae was looking stunned, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. "Papa, she's perfect."

"No one's perfect, Bae. Now, eat your dinner."

After a few mouthfuls, Bae looked over his father. "So you're not angry at me?"

Gold shook his head. "You'll just have some extra chores to do."

They finished their meal and part of Bae's punishment was to clean up the dinner dishes for two weeks, starting that night. While his son occupied doing that, Gold tucked the letter in his pocket and went out to the barn. As he was throwing hay to the animals and closing the building for the night, he tried to decide if he should respond to the letter or not.

She sounded nice, pleasant enough. From her words, she was no stranger to hard work and had an adventurous spirit in her. But that was the part that worried him the most. This section of the country had plenty of adventure in the way of weather, sick animals and a distinct lack of niceties. It wasn't the adventure that Milly was looking for and it had cost Bae his mother and Gold his wife. He couldn't allow that to happen again.

When he returned to the house, Bae was already in his room, snoring. Gold sat down at the cleared kitchen table, pulling out the letter once more. He read over it again and decided that if this woman was brave enough to answer an advertisement, then he needed to be brave enough to respond to her. Lighting a gas lantern, he retried some paper and a pencil and hoped she would be able to read what passed for his handwriting.

Dear Ms. French...