Before sunrise on January 4, 1909, Frank Ulysses Grant was up and eager to start his day. Over the New Year’s weekend, Frank’s thoughts turned to whether he should remain single or get married. On this day, he felt good about his decision to marry.

While dressing, the movement of his bare feet across the icy floors reminded him how cold Salt Lake gets in the winter. But, having grown up in the Midwest, the cold didn’t bother Frank. What’s more, the flat to gently rolling farmland where he once lived could not equal the majesty of the snow-covered Wasatch Mountains and the intense blue skies that often framed them.

Now dressed, Frank went over his plans for the day. In the morning, he needed to stop by his office to pick up a couple of mining claims and take them to the courthouse. And, in the afternoon, he intended to send Penelope a telegram letting her know he was coming for a visit this Saturday. On arrival, he would tell her he was ready to marry. But first things first. He seldom went to work without enjoying the same breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, and toast topped with butter and strawberry jam, all washed down with black coffee. As he ate, Frank reflected on his life since completing his graduate studies five-and-a-half years ago.

Reminiscing about the girls he admired revived memories of college. Yet Frank’s dedication to his science classes stopped pretty girls from distracting him for long. That changed when he met Penelope at a party three months before graduation. Albeit attractive, her shared interests in geology and chemistry captivated him more. He even considered a summer wedding. Frank changed his mind the moment he received a job offer as a high school principal in Lafayette, Colorado. “Marriage can wait,” he told Penelope, adding they should write weekly and visit during holidays. She went with him to the Boulder train depot, where Frank gave her his fraternity pin.

“Please accept this as a symbol of my love. Once I’ve saved enough to buy the nice home you deserve, I want to replace this with a wedding ring. I hope you’ll wait for me, Penelope.”

“Of course, I’ll wait. And, whenever you’re ready, I’m willing. You know I love you with my whole heart. I would sacrifice my life if need be for you. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, my darling Ulysses.”

Calling him Ulysses puzzled Frank. Did she admire the former president? He couldn’t think of another reason she’d use his middle name. Not wanting to miss the train, he didn’t ask.

Frank lasted two years in Lafayette. By then, the lure of the mining business surpassed a devotion to his work and his sweetheart. What he earned as principal couldn’t come close to the fortune he believed he could make in mining. Besides, at age thirty, he craved more time as a single man before trading his freedom for a wife. Without hesitation, he left for Nevada to try his luck. 

Grateful Penelope kept writing despite the move to Ely, Nevada, Frank viewed her letters as welcome epistles. How fun learning about inspiring sermons, contentious teachers’ meetings, town gossip, and, best of all, parties where guests stayed past midnight playing the card game Flinch. Sometimes she served a late-night supper and described the concoctions she inflicted on the party goers. While reading one letter, Frank blurted out, “Creamed oysters warmed in a chafing dish? Good Lord!” Mercifully, his mother agreed to give her future daughter-in-law cooking lessons.

Once their separation entered its fourth year, Frank no longer relished getting mail from her. For the first time, complaints about his failure to marry her filled the pages of her letters. Once he surprised Penelope with an unexpected visit in hopes of reassuring her about his intentions. Instead, he listened to a tirade when he said he planned to go to Boulder the next day.

“Don’t let me lose every particle of respect for you I ever did have. You never replied to my last two letters. It’s been months since you visited and now you tell me you can only stay one day. I wanted so much to have a long visit. If you’re weary of my love, the manly thing for you to do is tell me so. If you want to end everything, tell me now. I want to think of you in the future with respect.”

“Penelope, I told you when we parted I wanted to have adequate savings before we married. I’m visiting friends tomorrow to negotiate a lucrative business deal. If you want to be my wife, you must trust me and know how to control your temper. I’m close to financial security, but should you find someone else in the meantime, I won’t stand in your way for one minute. I’m going to Boulder. Write me again if you choose.”

Penelope chose to write again. She resumed sending pleasant letters and showed no further signs of a temper. He believed she had learned a lesson.   

“Well, I’ve done enough musing about the past,” said Frank on finishing breakfast. He donned his overcoat, hat, and gloves, and left the apartment.

On the way to work, Frank continued thinking about his future wife. Making his girl wait so long to get married gnawed at his conscience. A couple of cute Mormon girls had tempted him along the way, but in the end, he picked the educated and refined Penelope.

Frank bought a copy of The Deseret from a news stand outside his office. He glanced at the headlines before retrieving his mining claims and proceeding to the courthouse. The line there was long, long enough the clerk didn’t help him till lunchtime. While waiting, his thoughts returned to Penelope. A tinge of guilt about not marrying her sooner came over him again. Still he convinced himself he had done the right thing. Often the raucous towns he stayed in while prospecting for minerals reminded him of Sunday school stories about Sodom and Gomorrah. An innocent like Penelope didn’t belong there. Thankfully, after a couple of lean years, he lived in a respectable town and earned a good living.

Now that the claims were filed, Frank stopped by the post office to pick up mail. Among his correspondence was a letter from Denver in Penelope’s handwriting. She addressed this letter to “F. U. Grant” rather than the usual “Ulysses Grant.” Reading the contents revealed these words: “Mr. and Mrs. R. H. Samuels announce the marriage of their daughter Penelope to Mr. Patrick Ryan Shaw on Friday December twenty-fifth nineteen hundred and eight, Denver, Colorado.” Frank left the post office and headed home for lunch.  

By the time he reached his apartment, an Arctic wind had numbed his face. He climbed the stairs, turned up the steam heat, sat in a comfortable chair, and pondered the future. “Perhaps I should reconsider those Mormon girls. They would never do what Penelope did. I have another decision ahead of me, but first I’m going to heat up the stew I fixed yesterday.” He retrieved the dish from the icebox, put it in a pan, lit the stove, and returned to his chair. Soon the aroma of stew filled the air. He rose again to check on lunch but abruptly sat down. Without warning, a sensation of being kicked in the gut engulfed his body. No longer hungry, he confessed, “Penelope is the only woman I know worth sacrificing my freedom for. I’m not interested in being tied down by either one of the Mormon girls and doubt I will ever marry anyone.” Frank didn’t return to his office that day, instead choosing to sit by a window and spend hours staring at the sky until it grew dark and light from the Moon once again showed off the majesty of the snow-covered Wasatch Mountains.

– Nora Hopkins

Author’s Note: “Out of Time” was inspired by an event in an ancestor’s life that I learned about while researching my family history.