Christmas Mail-Order Brides: Four-in-One Collection, page 15
Her shawl slipped off her shoulder. “Me, too.” The words came out before she could stop them. She covered her mouth with a pretend yawn.
“Then, you’re an answer to my many prayers.” He set down his cup and stood. “But it’s getting late, so I’ll say good night.”
She stood and secured her wrap around herself. God was behind this marriage? The thought disturbed her as if she’d uncovered a plot against herself. After the death of her parents, she’d drifted from her childhood faith. After all, who could trust a God who would allow such a tragedy?
All she wanted was to find a place to belong. She’d seen a favorable marriage with her parents. And to have the same kind of contented union, she knew she would have to please her husband. But she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to make anyone happy.
He lifted her oversized trunk as if it were merely a pile of linens. The ripple under his shirt made his muscles look strong enough to hold up the whole house. “I’ll put this in your room, but first I want to tell you something.” His brows furrowed an earnest expression. “I will be a faithful husband to you. I’ll take care of you. Protect you. Provide for you. I’ll welcome any children the Lord would give us.” His gaze was steady. “I’m growing to care for you already.”
She bit her lower lip as she watched his retreating back. Oh God, please help me.
After three days of being a guest, it was time for Elisabeth to start acting as if she belonged in this home. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the burnt pancakes she’d cooked for breakfast. Could she scrape away enough black for them to pass as edible food? She wanted to give Mrs. MacIntyre, who wasn’t feeling well, the morning off. But making pancakes wasn’t as easy as the cook at her aunt’s house made it seem.
Elisabeth snuck a glance at the two little girls who regarded her with blatant stares as they sat at the kitchen table. She’d just have to try harder.
“We’re hungry,” the girls said in unison.
“Och, dear.” Mrs. MacIntyre sneezed as she lumbered into the kitchen and pulled back the curtain, flooding the room with morning sunlight. “Forgive my sleeping in. These sniffles have been a wee bit hard to shake.”
Elisabeth handed the housekeeper the spatula and stepped back from the stove. She’d never learned how to cook, sew, or clean, as she’d always grown up with servants.
“If ye’ll sit down, I’ll make up a new batch and get coffee brewing.” Mrs. MacIntyre’s hands flew around the stove like a woman who knew cookery.
“I made some coffee.”
Mrs. MacIntyre sniffed at the pot and promptly tipped it into the sink. “No, ye haven’t.”
Her throat tight, Elisabeth undid the apron that she’d borrowed from a hook in the kitchen. What was she doing in Nebraska? Betrothed to a kind, albeit naive, stranger who had no idea the secrets she held. She hung up the apron and sat down at the table. The two girls’ gazes never moved from her face.
Sophia, the youngest one, popped her thumb out of her mouth, climbed down out of her seat, and held her arms out in front of Elisabeth.
Elisabeth’s heart sped up like a bird thrusting itself against a cage. “Do you—do you want me to hold you?”
The girl’s dark blond curls wobbled as she nodded.
Elisabeth eased Sophia onto the lap of her dark, burgundy skirt. But the girl scrambled further up and wrapped her arms around Elisabeth’s neck as if she knew her mother-to-be needed a hug. Elisabeth buried her nose in the girl’s curls and breathed in the sweet smell of freshly washed hair. Tenderness welled in her chest. Could she grow to care for Zane’s girls? Would they accept her?
Sophia’s curls tickled Elisabeth’s cheek as she snuggled her arms a little tighter. “Do you have a little girl?” Sophia’s voice whispered.
A gentle balm eased Elisabeth’s loneliness. At the memory of losing her parents, her eyes brimmed with tears. “No,” came out in a warble.
The child’s head shot back. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m …” What could she say? “I’m crying happy tears because soon I will have two new daughters.” Hope grew within her. She could learn to love these girls. She could be a mother. If she prayed very hard, would God help her? Did He care?
Both girls shared shy grins at each other, as if they knew of her new decision.
“I see we’re having a good morning.” Zane paused in the room, his dark red hair glinting in the morning sun.
But learning to love another man would be an impossible task. Even with God’s assistance.
“Good to see you again.” Zane shook hands with Mr. Thomas Worth. Growing up poor, Zane never thought that the town’s banker would ever sit across from his desk. Or that he would ever have a desk.
“I’ve been wanting to get by and see your new house.” Thomas adjusted his spectacles as he took in the fine furniture. “And now I hear you will marry soon. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Zane savored the smell of fresh timber. He was proud of his office and the view out the window that overlooked his land bordered by a row of fir trees. “Miss Lariby and I will marry on Thursday, and she will make the perfect wife. Now my children will have a mother, and Mrs. MacIntyre will have someone to share the burden of housework, cooking, and childcare with. And with my new wife’s seamstress skills, she will also be able to help bring in more mending. My store could use the business.”
“So your store is still struggling?”
Zane’s shoulders drooped. Running a business with all those numbers to keep track of was harder than he imagined. “It is, but with the land I’ve sold—”
“God has provided.”
“Exactly.” Zane nodded. Gold was discovered on land he owned in Leadville, Colorado, and he sold it at an amazing profit. Now, hopefully, his greatest desires could come to pass—to be seen as a thriving, godly businessman and to have the perfect family.
For the first time in his life, ever since his wife died and he and his daughters and Delilah moved to Plainsville, he felt as if he’d escaped his poverty-stricken past. Michael Lane was long gone, and now everyone would finally see Zane Michaels as a success instead of the son of the town drunk forced to beg for his supper. “That’s why I asked you to come by today. I respect your godly reputation and discretion regarding financial matters. Last fall, when I came to you needing to know what to do with the $100,000 I received, I was a desperate man. Accounting and keeping track of money have never been my strong points, and you were a great help. I was pleased to do business with the list of banks you recommended.”
“I’m glad to be of help. But I hope you know my best advice was to continue to pray about this financial blessing the Lord has given you.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you again. I’ve kept a thousand dollars or so in cash at the house, and I’ve been thinking about setting up some kind of home for widows in town with it. Or maybe build a new school.” Zane stood and paced in front of the window. His education stopped at the third grade. He barely knew how to read and write, much less handle this much money. “I just need some more of your wisdom on what to do.”
Thomas scratched his graying beard. “Well, first of all, don’t be in a hurry to give it all away. And I would highly recommend you put that cash in the bank where it’s safe.”
Zane nodded. “I’ll do that the next time I go into town.”
“Fine. Now to your offer. The only widow in town is Widow Tatler. I heard someone paid off her medical debts to Doc Tenberger and gave her an unlimited account at Win’s General Store. We built a new school five years ago, that was just before you came to Plainsville, so I think you ought to deposit the funds in the bank and continue to wait on God for direction.
“I appreciate your words.” Zane handed him an envelope. “I did hear that our town hall needs a new roof. If you could deliver that to our mayor, anonymously of course, I’d appreciate it.”
“Mail, sir.” Mrs. MacIntyre walked through the open door and set a bundle of letters on the edge of his desk.
“Good morning, Mrs. MacIntyre.” Thomas nodded at her. “Are you pleased by the soon-to-be Mrs. Michaels?”
Zane winced. His housekeeper gave her bold, Scottish opinion whether one wanted it or not.
“She is a lovely lass to be sure, but she dresses too fine and dark for our simple Nebraska ways and keeps to herself as if she’s concealing—weel, she does truly care for the girls, and that’ll warm my heart every day.” She folded her arms around her ample figure as if pleased by her own words. “And maybe soon there’ll be a son to carry on the family name.”
The new family name. Zane smiled to himself. “That would make my life perfect.”
“No life is ever perfect.” She clucked her tongue.
Zane frowned. Mrs. MacIntyre had come to live with them after he and his girls had moved to Plainsville and her husband died. She acted as if he and the girls were hers to defend. “Thank you, Mrs. MacIntyre.”
As soon as she bustled out of the room, Zane directed his attention back to his friend and mentor.
“Will you tell your new wife about your financial blessing?”
Could Zane ever tell anyone about who he really was? A part of him wanted Elisabeth to know everything about his past, but would she look down on his penniless childhood? How his mother died because of the filth they lived in? Although, over the past two days, Elisabeth greeted him with a smile each morning and offered up her cheek to his daily kiss, there remained a distance between them. And he didn’t want her to love him for his money. Maybe she would be more comfortable around him after their wedding on Thursday. “I want to give Miss Lariby some time to adjust to her new life. A wife doesn’t need to know everything about her husband.”
Thomas stood to go. “Secrets are never a good idea in a marriage, but I’ll keep you both in my prayers.”
After he left, Zane shuffled through the mail. Most were letters regarding his clothing store. The last letter was addressed to Elisabeth in a strong masculine hand from someone in St. Louis. Her uncle most likely. He tucked the letter in his pocket. He’d give it to her later. Tomorrow was his wedding day, and he had a lot on his mind.
Chapter 3
Elisabeth gripped the small bunch of violets Mrs. MacIntyre gave her just before entering the chapel for her wedding.
“I grow the wee flowers in my windowsill in my bedroom.” Mrs. MacIntyre’s Scottish brogue echoed in the vaulted church foyer. “Mr. Michaels thought ye might like them as he does admire that picture of ye with the flowers.”
Elisabeth blinked back tears. The same flowers in her engagement picture to Hamilton. Could this day get any worse? Heat rose in her cheeks when she replayed the mortifying conversation she had with Zane this morning, asking if their marriage could be delayed any longer. Just until they got to know one another better, and until her heart stopped aching. But with the mayor, the banker, the sheriff, and some other successful men Zane hoped to do business with in attendance, he said it couldn’t be done. She took a small comfort in the fact that he agreed to wait on consummating the marriage. “For just a while.”
She stood in a dark gray dress before Zane’s pastor and willed her knees to stop shaking. Zane looked handsome in his black coat and string tie, his chest broad with pride. His face wreathed in his customary smile. But the dark red hair that curled slightly over his collar, similar in color to— She pressed her eyes shut. She would not think of Hamilton on her wedding day. Not one insipid memory …
At Zane’s nudge, she responded to the reverend with an, “I do,” but her mouth was as dry as ashes in a fire.
“Elisabeth,” Zane spoke her name just before he slid a gold band etched with flowers on her finger, leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers. Soft and warm, they lingered against hers, willing her to feel the affection he did.
She did not. Could not.
A cheer around them startled her. Zane’s friends, sitting in tidy rows in the pews, shouted with happiness. A few ladies shot to their feet and clapped.
Zane hugged his girls, who wrestled into his embrace. They regarded Elisabeth shyly, peeking at her from around their father’s long legs.
Tears misted her eyes. Sweet girls. Could she grow to think of them as her own?
The mayor of the town came up to Zane. “Delightful wedding. Just delightful.” He shook Zane’s hand enthusiastically. “And thank you for giving the money to repair the town hall roof.”
Zane frowned. “But I—”
“Don’t be upset with Thomas.” The mayor held up the envelope. “I recognized your messy handwriting on the envelope. It kind of looks like a child’s scrawl.”
Elisabeth’s heart lurched at the tightening of Zane’s jaw. The urge to defend him heated her face. Why did he have poor handwriting skills? Was he uneducated? She sighed. How little she knew of her new husband.
After the Thanksgiving dinner at Delilah’s home, a small group gathered at Zane’s house for a slice of wedding cake and coffee.
Elisabeth’s grip on civility was faltering at best. She sat alone at Zane’s kitchen table while his sister, brother-in-law, Doc Tenberger, and Thomas Worth and his wife, Clara, gathered around the wedding cake like women at a millinery shop with new hats displayed. But Elisabeth couldn’t abide a bite more of food. Their sincere congratulations made her squirm. Why had she ever agreed to be a mail-order bride and move so far from home?
Her aunt’s words jumbled in her mind. “You are ruined. You have no money. No one will have you now.”
And then there was Hamilton. Whom she had loved despite the fact he wasn’t a Christian. Although her own faith had faltered, she’d always hoped once they were married they would resume church-going. But Hamilton’s decision to abide by his parents’ wishes and become betrothed to Brigitte, a wealthy French girl, sealed Elisabeth’s fate.
Had her plan to prove that she could find a place to belong come at too high of a cost? A lifetime of being married to a complete stranger?
Zane’s deep laughter filled the room. His face beamed with joy. He was a fine man, and that she should have such an attractive and kindhearted husband should be of some comfort to her. But he deserved a wife who could someday grow to love him.
Right now, all she wanted to do was to crawl in bed and be left alone.
Delilah linked her arm through hers. “Shall we look out at the back of Zane’s property? I think you’ll find with the full moon you can just make out the view of the snow on my new house and barn.”
Elisabeth bit back the ache of tiredness and accompanied her sister-in-law to the other side of the room to a large window. “You do have a lovely home.”
“It’s the biggest in town,” Delilah crowed.
The sleeting snow hurled down in the stark moonlight. “Your husband must do very well in business.”
“Reginald?” A soft laugh trickled out of Delilah’s lips. “He’s a clerk in a bank. Zane built that house for me.”
Elisabeth surveyed Zane’s gleaming wood floors, which smelled of lemon oil. The lush drapes tied back by braided cords. He must be a man of means. “I didn’t know.”
“I imagine there are a lot of things you don’t know about my brother.”
Elisabeth nodded, unsure how to respond. At least, thus far, there hadn’t been anything about him that she didn’t like. Except the color of his hair.
Delilah took Elisabeth’s hand. “I want you to promise me, now that you’re married to my brother, you’ll help him handle his finances. He’s not very good at keeping track of money. And he’s too generous.” A smile engulfed her face, but the tears in her eyes belied her false gaiety. “We don’t want him to become poor again, do we?”
Elisabeth’s mouth opened and closed. She could help him with accounting, as she was good at math, but was that what Delilah was trying to imply? Obviously, Delilah assumed that Zane had told his new wife about his childhood. “I’ll try to help him any way I can.”
“See that you do.” Delilah flounced around and headed back to the gathering.
Elisabeth touched her forehead. This had been a very long day.
As if sensing her distress, Zane paced over to her and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Go on to bed.” He gestured with a nod of his head. “I’ll see everyone out first.”
Elisabeth stifled a yawn and fixed a smile in place. “Thank you, all of you, for being so welcoming and making this wedding day so … nice. Good night.”
Before she shut the guest bedroom door, she saw Zane press an envelope into Reginald’s hand. Was he giving them money? Was that what Delilah meant about him being too generous? Elisabeth’s father had lost their family’s fortune on speculations. Had she married a man like her father?
The chill in the room made her hands tremble as she changed into her bedclothes. Slipping under the icy layers of quilts, a heated, wrapped brick, obviously placed there by Mrs. MacIntyre, warmed up her toes. That woman had been a quiet source of kindness since she’d arrived. She must remember to thank her.
Elisabeth lay on her stomach and buried her head under her pillow. Although grateful to be sleeping alone, she wasn’t afraid of being with a man. Before she died, her mother had explained the details of marriage to her thoroughly. And in many ways, it sounded comforting to be that close to someone. She shifted onto her back and stared at the light the autumn moon cast upon the far wall. But would Zane know by touching her that her heart still belonged to someone else? A fiancé who could, by now, be a married man?
The door creaked open. A candle cast a tired glow about the room.
She shut her eyes and feigned sleep. Maybe she was a little afraid.
Zane’s steps creaked on the new floorboards. The bed shifted as he sat, and his warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Are you still awake?”
Her heart sped up. She had the irrational thought that this must be how chickens felt just before dinner. Would Zane honor their agreement to wait on consummating their marriage? She opened her eyes and rolled over. “I’m awake.”
He lifted his candle higher. “I just came to say good night, and then I’m off to bed.” The light flickered over his face and softened his features. His disheveled hair wasn’t as red as Hamilton’s. More auburn. Her gaze fell to where his string tie had been pulled loose and his top two shirt buttons undone. His firm build and broad shoulders were manlier than Hamilton’s soft, banker frame.
