The Unexpected Bride (Mail-Order Bride Book 8)

by Stella Clark

  The Unexpected Bride

  ©2019 by Stella Clark

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

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  Chapter One

  Wheels clacked noisily across the cobblestone streets. Rocking in her seat, Emma Redmond tried to find a melody in the clatter as she concentrated on the project before her. This was supposed to be a simple fix, but that was what they all said. When it came down to it, few people understood the complexity of stitching.

  “You’re still working on that dress?” a voice hissed from the seat beside her. “Emma! You need to move faster.”

  The voice stirred her from her thoughts, causing her to catch her thumb on the needle. Emma winced before turning to her friend. “I appreciate the advice, Elizabeth, but Madam Chapin is a very particular customer. I have to do it right or she’ll make me do it all over again.”

  Elizabeth made a face, realizing her mistake. “Oh, I thought that was for Mrs. Temme. My mistake. Take all the time you need on that one. Do you remember the last item Madam Chapin brought here? A scarf. A scarf! Oh, I worked on it all through the night and she cried such a fit. As if I’d ruined the thing. Me!” Scoffing, she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. “What a horrible woman. Do you need help finishing anything else in your basket today?”

  With a shake of her head, Emma shared a tired smile. “I can handle this, but thank you. I know you have enough work to do. And more to come soon,” she added, hinting to the woman’s swollen belly.

  The other girl chuckled and shook her head. “It’s so soon! Can you believe it? Marcus is frantic, you know. We have so many blankets and nappies now. More than we have of anything else in our little home. It won’t be much, but I know he’s going to smother this boy with so much love.”

  “Boy?” Emma raised her eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

  Elizabeth leaned forward with a sly smile, urging Emma closer with the crook of her finger like she had a secret. “My mother always said that if you crave more cheese during your time, then it’s a boy.”

  For a minute, Emma considered Elizabeth’s words. Then she wrinkled her nose. “That sounds silly.”

  The two women giggled, leaning against one another as they tried to keep quiet. They worked in the largest seamstress shop in Chicago. Twenty women gathered around tables in the top floor on Main 21st.

  It had sounded like a wonderful opportunity five years ago when Emma first took the job. But summer was coming, and the room was warm. Most of the women had already tied their skirts and pinned their hair up. There was a soft buzz of people talking quietly. That’s how the two girls had met. Elizabeth had arrived three years ago from New York with her husband and had kept Emma company at work ever since.

  Emma’s heart was full for her dearest friend. The woman had prayed so long for a child. And now it was happening. Happy moments such as these were what kept her going. Without a family of her own, she craved any opportunity to be with others. It was here at work that she had found companionship and a dear friend.

  “Ouch.” She caught a finger on the needle. Emma put her finger in her mouth and sucked, tasting bitterness. Elizabeth made a face as she turned back to the cape she was working on. “Oh, a baby of your very own.”

  As she sighed, her friend nudged her and pointed to the dress in her hands. “Enough chatter. You need to finish that stitching. That way, perhaps tomorrow, you can come have supper with Marcus and me?”

  Emma brightened. “Yes! I mean, if that’s all right. I’d enjoy that.”

  ***

  They talked as they stitched until the sun set and it was time to be leaving. Somehow, Emma had finished her stitching in time. Together, the two women strolled out of the shop and down the street, talking until they reached the split in the lane.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Elizabeth hugged her tight.

  Emma returned the hug. “Of course. Get some rest, Lizzie. You look tired.” She winked and headed on her way. Clutching her bag close, she made her way ten blocks west to her own place. It wasn’t much, and she tried not to walk around too late at night, but it was all she could manage on her own.

  Before she opened her door, however, someone cleared their throat. She recognized that voice. After all, she’d spent the last week avoiding him. Emma made a face for just a second before turning around with a smile. “Mr. Graham. Good evening. What … how’s your wife?”

  Bruce Graham followed her up the steps and ignored her question, as usual. “Miss Emma Redmond, what a sight you make. I’m afraid I come with bad news. Rent is going up again.”

  Her face paled. She’d already asked and received an extension on this month’s rent, still trying to get the money to pay him. And it was going up? “I—but, I … Mr. Graham,” she stammered as she began to wring her hands. “What … I don’t understand … I thought you said last year was the last time?”

  The man shrugged. “It’s not up to me. The maintenance, the city policies, I can’t control it.”

  She tried to think of how she was supposed to manage to pay even more for rent. That’s where most of her money went already. “I can’t afford anything more. I’m not even—there’s not enough food, I don’t … please, is there anything you can do?”

  Taking the final steps to reach her floor, the man shrugged. “Well …” Emma swallowed hard and waited. She’d been a good tenant for so long. Surely, they could work something out. “I suppose I could,” Mr. Graham agreed slowly. “If … we could come to an agreement.”

  He stood so close to her now, his breath hot on her face. She took a step back and ran into her door. “A—an agreement?”

  “Sure. After all, it must get cold and lonely in the night.” His hand reached out and touched her waist. Even as she jumped, the man took it as an invitation to pull her close against him.

  Emma immediately put up her hands between them, trying to push him off. Frantically, she squirmed and freed herself, running into her apartment without saying anything. The scream in her lungs never came out. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it. Her heart pounded loudly as she shuddered.

  The insinuation in his suggestion had been more than clear. It made her body seize just thinking about his filthy mind. How could anyone think such a thing? She would never degrade herself no matter how grim her situation became. Anything would be better than resorting to that solution.

  But, Emma realized, she would have to do something about her rent. Chicago was growing, and every year it was harder to survive in the city.

  Chapter Two

  It was sunny, without a cloud in the sky, on the day they buried Thomas Marsh. The ground was damp. Grass grew thick and green. Everything looked beautiful from above the ground. Just not in the ground.

  Jay stared, trying to think. Trying to feel. His eyes focused on the box, unable to see anything else. His hands hung limp at his sides, useless. A lump had formed i
n his throat overnight and hadn’t gone away. His eyelids felt heavy, and it had been days since it felt like he had slept.

  Life was hard. He knew it was supposed to be that way. Challenges were given to mankind in order for them to grow.

  But this was too much.

  There was a tug at his pants. He had to figure out something to do. After losing his parents, then his wife, his brother’s wife, and now his brother, he had to think. He had to learn again how to move on.

  “Uncle Jay?” Amber squeaked as the preacher closed his book. His six-year-old niece tugged on his pant leg again.

  Right, the kids.

  He blinked, drawn back to the moment. The sun was shining. And he was not alone. Glancing beside him, he found little Amber clutching his leg with those straw-colored curls framing her face. In her other hand, she clutched her little brother Slade. He was sucking his thumb. Four years old, and he was sucking his thumb again.

  “What is it?” Jay ran a hand through his hair as he knelt, taking Amber’s hand. Just so she’d stop tugging on his clothes. Her hand was sticky, though, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what to do about it. So he didn’t let go.

  “I’m hungry,” she tried to smile but mostly just showed off her teeth.

  Nausea churned in his stomach. Jay fell back to sit on the grass. Both kids took it as an invitation to sit on him. Usually, it was fine. They loved to spend time with Jay, often playing all over him. But that was a lifetime ago.

  “Where’s Papa?” Four-year-old Slade whimpered as he wrapped his arms around Jay.

  It felt like a noose, but he couldn’t find the strength to pull the kid away. Instead, he wrapped his arm tighter around the boy. Jay knew he needed to say something. But he didn’t remember how to talk. What could be said to reassure them? He needed reassurance for himself.

  He sighed, shaking his head when the preacher offered his support. “We’ll be fine,” Jay managed.

  Soon they were alone. After a few minutes, he finally gathered up the strength to move. Jay groaned as he climbed up, one child in each arm. He cradled them close as they left the cemetery.

  Their Nebraska town held few graves. Millstone had only been around for twenty years, and the name had been around for an even shorter amount of time. There were only ten grave markers in the ground. Before they left the hill, he glanced back one last time.

  Thomas deserved better. A better life, a better death, more time with his family. Jay would come back next week to put up the cross, once the grass had begun to take root again. The one beside it was already taken by Julie, Thomas’ wife who had died in childbirth.

  And the one in the corner belonged to Jay’s own wife. Daisy. He tried not to look, but it was impossible not to. He couldn’t help himself. Five years had passed since her abandonment and death, and it still stung. She was buried with the man she had run off with, Marcus Hester.

  Jay turned away, refusing to give her anymore of his time. He carried the children down the rest of the hill until they reached his horse. “Come here,” he murmured. First, he sat Amber on the saddle, and then placed Slade in front. “Hold on tight, you two. Let’s get some food.”

  Once they were secure, Jay grabbed his horse’s reins and led them back through town. A few people stopped to greet them, to offer their condolences, but the rest kept their distance. Jay had only been trouble in town, after all. One terrible occasion after another.

  The horse was dropped off at the stables. Nathaniel was covering for him and took the animal as Jay passed through his forge and then headed to the house just around the block. When he’d first married at nineteen, he’d built on top of his blacksmith forge and shop, which had been a good home. Thomas had kept the house after their parents passed. It was a bigger home, one meant for children. He’d have to move back to the house now.

  Amber moved around the kitchen after seating her little brother. Jay watched as she found four apples, rubbed them carefully with an apron, and set them on the table. One for her, one for Slade, one for Jay, and the fourth one she stared at before finally setting it in the middle of the table.

  He forced himself to take a bite, uncertain of when he had last eaten. Probably before Thomas accident. That was three days. Rubbing his face, Jay put the apple back down. His appetite was nonexistent.

  “Uncle Jay?”

  “Yes, Amber?” He tried to smile but nothing worked.

  “Are we going to be all right?”

  Biting his tongue, he forced back the frustration and exhaustion. For a minute, Jay was angry. He was furious. Why had this happened to him? What was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t meant to be a father. He didn’t know how to have a functional family, he didn’t know how to raise two children, and he didn’t know how to live without his brother.

  But he was going to have to learn.

  “Yes.” Jay took the fourth apple and pushed it in front of Slade who was already finishing with the one in his hands. “Everything is going to be just fine.” It might not be true now, Jay admitted, but eventually it would be.

  It had to be.

  Chapter Three

  It had been a simple enough idea. In the same week Emma had realized she needed to find something better than what she had in Chicago, she found a solution that could change her entire life. Elizabeth had the idea and shared it with her.

  “The magazine is called The Matrimonial Times.”

  It landed on the table loud enough to make Emma jump. The magazine was thin, just eight pages. There was artwork of a happy couple on the front, reminding her of Elizabeth and Marcus. Those two were so much in love that it was almost sickening. But she adored them.

  That evening, Marcus handled the dishes so the two ladies could talk. They curled up by the open window, enjoying the evening breeze as they explored her opportunities. She couldn’t stay in her apartment anymore, and it was time to consider her other options. Inside Chicago as well as outside.

  “This is crazy,” Emma whispered as they flipped through the pages. “Marrying someone I don’t know? They … they could be anyone.”

  Her friend nudged her. “Everything feels crazy at first. I told you how I met Marcus, remember? Market day in New York City? I remember walking down the street with so many people that my feet hardly touched the ground. And then this handsome man saved me.”

  Emma had heard the story several times. But she never tired of hearing it. The idea of finding happiness in a hard life was too attractive to ignore. Happy stories always lifted her spirits after a hard day at work. Grinning at her friend, Emma shook her head as she stared at the magazine.

  “I know,” Emma mumbled. “But what if he ends up like my landlord? I couldn’t possibly marry someone like that.”

  Elizabeth patted her hand. “We’ll help. We’ll read the letters with you, and help you write and ask the right questions. And if anything terrible happens, you can always come back here. Just think of it, Emma. You could get out of Chicago like you’ve always dreamed. Find someone, build a family.”

  And just like that, Emma found herself looking to the West. They considered a few gentlemen’s ads in the magazine before settling on the right man and carrying on a correspondence with him. It had happened all so quickly for her.

  ***

  “Mrs. Emma Marsh,” she whispered the strange name for the hundredth time.

  The stagecoach she was riding towards Nebraska was a bumpy one. Every minute pulled her away from Chicago and everything she knew. Her stomach felt queasy. Perhaps she’d let Elizabeth talk her into too much.

  Nebraska. A new husband. A family. Children, even.

  Unable to help herself, Emma pulled her purse open to reread the letters for courage. The correspondence she had begun with Mr. Marsh had lasted just a few months, enough for five letters. The man had offered a marriage of convenience, she reminded herself. He wouldn’t be like her landlord. He would just be a gentleman who needed a wife. That was something she could do.

  Or so she
hoped. But how did she trust a man she didn’t know? Trust him to care for her, to watch over her? Her parents had not been around long enough for her to know what marriage was like. The best examples she had were her unhappy landlord and her joyful friend who’d just given birth to a beautiful baby boy.

  The letters were put away. Her stagecoach moved along the bumpy path. Sighing, Emma leaned back and tried to get comfortable. When she couldn’t, she prayed. She prayed for peace and comfort. And for a kind and decent man who cared for his children. The more she prayed, the more Emma felt her body relax. It would be fine, she told herself. All would be well.

  ***

  Her stagecoach made it safely to Millstone. Gray skies welcomed her as the only passenger who was stopping there. Everyone went into the nearby café to rest up as the driver changed horses. Clutching her bag close, Emma took a step towards the town.

  She swallowed hard, glancing around. Where was she to go now? As she thought back through the letters, Emma realized they hadn’t decided on how they would meet once she arrived. He had sent her the ticket and said he would expect her soon. But neither of them had been certain of the exact time she would arrive, and certainly he would be too busy to just stand around.

  Or would he? Emma glanced around at the people she could see. A few folks wandered the streets or stood in the shade talking to one another. No one appeared to notice there were new strangers around.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to do this the hard way,” she murmured. Emma decided to start with the two women just down the lane who were looking into the window display of the mercantile.

  She walked over with her largest smile. “Good afternoon,” she offered loudly to get their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can you please point me towards the post office? I’m looking for Mr. Marsh.”

  They shared a glance she didn’t understand. The taller of the two leaned forward to put a hand on her arm. “You must not have heard. The post office burned down. You can most likely find Mr. Marsh around the blacksmith shop.”