Marni's Measure (Brides 0f Pelican Rapids Book 4)

by Danni Roan

  Walking into the kitchen at the back of the house he saw it as if for the first time. The highly polished cook stove, its ornate trim work shining like fine silver. The large table in the middle of the room already set with Mama’s blue ware dining set, looking cheerful on the red and white checkered table cloth.

  “Thank you, God,” Braden whispered humbled by all the blessings he had in his life. “It is too easy to forget what we have. Forgive me.”

  “Did you say something?” Marni asked turning troubled eyes on Braden. “I thought I heard you…”

  “Nothing,” Braden said, taking her hands in his. “I’m just thankful that you are here, and that you like this place as it will be your home for the foreseeable future.”

  “Braden, I told you I don’t care where I live as long as we’re together. I’m tired of being alone, and you touch my heart in a way I didn’t think would ever be possible again.”

  “This is love,” Mrs. Prater said, shaking her wooden spoon at the young couple as she stirred a pot on the stove. “And now this is dinner,” she finished with a chuckle as she lifted the pot placing it on a trivet in the middle of the table.

  Chapter 26

  These things I have spoken unto you that in me ye might have peace, in the world ye shall have tribulation but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world. John 16:33

  “Thank you for dinner,” Marni said, laughing as Mrs. Prater hugged her again.

  “You will come back soon,” Adalissa said. “Soon this will be your home too.”

  Marni’s heart seemed to bubble with joy as she took Braden’s arm letting him help her into the wagon for the trip back to Miss Ella’s home. It had been a delightful evening, and even though the ominous feeling persisted it was deadened by the love and joy of the Prater home.

  “You had a nice time?” Braden asked as he slapped the reins to Milly-Bell’s rump starting her down the lane.

  “I did,” Marni said. “And I adore your parents,” she added. “It seems as if I lost my family so close together that my heart had forgotten what it was like to feel that kind of love,” she finished a tear springing to her eye.

  Braden reached out, wrapping an arm around Marni and pulling her close. “We’re your family now,” he said, “and in a fortnight you’ll be Mrs. Marilynn Prater,” he added.

  Marni rested her head against Braden’s shoulder. How odd it was to feel the comfort of a man again, yet how welcome. She was still a young woman, and despite what the war had taken from her, she had many years left in which to love.

  The ride to the Milton Farm and Mail-order Bride Agency was quiet, but Braden’s arm around Marni’s shoulders seemed to still much of the nervous energy that tightened her shoulders, keeping her warm even when an icy breeze blew across her back.

  “Whoa,” Braden said, too short a time later as he pulled the old mare to a stop in front of Miss Ella’s elegant home. “That didn’t seem long enough did it?” the young man asked turning to look into Marni’s lovely face.

  “No,” she replied her whispered words brushing his cheek as he dropped his lips to hers.

  Marni leaned into the kiss, soaking in the very essence of the man who had won her heart. She couldn’t wait until they were wed, and she could be his completely, starting a new life and leaving old sorrows behind.

  Pulling back breathlessly Braden scooted to the end of the bench lifting Marni to the ground in one smooth motion and laughing when she squealed.

  “Did I frighten you?” he asked his blue eyes teasing. “I rather like the feel of you in my arms you see.”

  Marni laughed stroking his shoulder lightly as she stole a quick kiss then raced up the stairs to the front door.

  Still smiling Marni glanced over her shoulder as she pushed the front door open catching a glimpse of Miss Ella seated next to a dark-haired man on the settee before she screamed.

  Braden leapt from the wagon racing up the stairs two at a time and following Marni through the still open door before skidding to a stop as he took in Marni’s ghostly completion and wide eyes. Her hands were pressed to either side of her face and her mouth hung open on a silent scream.

  “Marilynn,” a man’s deep southern drawl filled the room. “I’m sorry darlin’, I didn’t mean to frighten you so,” the voice continued. “Though what’s become of my face would frighten anyone.”

  Braden gazed at the other man who stood making his way around Miss Ella’s coffee table toward Marni as he waved a hand about his badly scarred face.

  “I’m afraid that when my rifle exploded it took more than the sight in my left eye,” the voice continued as the man stepped up to Marni taking her hands. “Don’t you recognize me darlin’?” the man asked. “It’s me, Jordan. Jordan Simms your husband.”

  Braden froze, torn between pulling Marni too him protectively or slamming his fist into the man’s face. He could see Marni shaking as the man took her hands, but didn’t know what to do as his heart shattered. The woman he loved was being reclaimed by the man she had believed dead, and there was no room for him in this situation.

  “Marni dear,” Miss Ella said, her eyes darting between Marni and Braden. “Won’t you come and sit down?” she offered kindly. “Braden I think this concerns you as well,” the matchmaker finished giving him a look that broached no argument.

  Braden reached out to place his hand on Marni’s shoulder but pulled back as the other man flashed his angry dark eye at him, as his foggy eye seemed to glare at him as well and Braden stepped back.

  “Jordan, is it really you?” Marni’s voice quivered weakly as the other man led her stiffly to the settee, pulling her down on the seat and draping an arm around her possessively.

  “It’s me, sweetheart,” the man said, offering a crooked smile as the scars on the left side of his face pulled his lips into a grimace. “I’ve been tracking you for months now,” he said, patting her shoulder. “I know this is a terrible shock to you, but I’m here now and everything will be fine.”

  “How, how did you find me?” Marni asked her dark eyes tortured as she looked between Braden and Jordan. “I don’t think I told anyone in Vale Hollow where I was going.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” the man said, with a harsh chuckle. “I’ll tell you, Marilynn, that it took a good deal of work getting your destination out of the ticket master at the train station, but I’m here now, and I’m not even angry that you sold my grist mill,” he added patting her shoulder once more. “After all now you have all that money, and we can start over wherever you want to.” The man who smiled again, this time cutting his dark gaze to Braden as a flicker of some emotion shot across his ruined face.

  Braden felt a trickle of dread run down his spine at the look on the other man’s face, and for the first time he was sure something was wrong, but his addled brain couldn’t seem to sort it out as shock after shock hit him in waves. First Marni’s deceased husband miraculously appeared and declared that Marni had money of her own.

  Marni looked so befuddled and shocked that his heart ached to reach for her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her until all of the fear, doubt and dread on her face disappeared.

  “Where did you put that money anyway,” the man named Jordan asked shaking Marni slightly. “We could get everything packed up and leave tomorrow for Vale Hollow or somewhere else if you want.”

  “Jordan,” Marni said, the word tumbling from her lips as she struggled to turn and face the man.

  “How is it possible? How are you here?”

  “I’m afraid I was injured so badly in one of the last battles of the war that they thought I would die. When I saw my ruined face, I knew it would be better if I never returned, but then I started missing you so much that I had to come home. I knew that you loved me not for my looks, but for who I am on the inside.” Again, he cut his eyes to Braden, and the young farmer felt a red-hot anger sear through him like nothing he had ever felt before.

  Had God brought him the woman of his dreams only to tear her away
from him again? How could this man profess to love his wife only to leave her struggling on her own for years while he wallowed in self-pity, hiding the fact that he was alive? “Where did you say you were injured?” Braden asked, not knowing where the words came from.

  “Who are you?” the other man snarled, his badly scarred face and foggy eye making him seem more menacing than his stature ever could.

  “I’m Braden Prater,” Braden said. “I live on the neighboring farm and brought Mrs. Simms home from dinner with my parents.”

  “Well, why don’t you go on home then?” Jordan asked dismissively. “My wife and I have a great deal of business to attend to.”

  Marni turned to gaze at Braden, a flicker of fear flashing through her beautiful dark eyes.

  “I know I’ve never met you, sir,” Braden said, “but I’d like to know what proof you have that you are indeed Mrs. Simms’ husband? She doesn’t seem to recognize you as of yet.”

  “Marilynn not recognize me? Ridiculous,” the man scoffed. “You know me, don’t you my dear?” the man said, squeezing her shoulders and offering a semblance of a smile.

  Marni scooted out from under the man’s arm sliding closer to Miss Ella who had been watching the proceedings with care.

  “You have the same dark hair that Jordan had,” Marni said, and your eyes are dark like his were,” she paused and the man jumped in before she could continue.

  “You see, you do know me,” he said, reaching for her hands and scowling as Marni pulled back.

  “But my Jordan never called me Marilynn,” Marni said. “He gave me my nickname and always used it. His voice was deeper,” she said, shaking her head.

  “It’s the injury darlin’” the man insisted. “You have to understand. I was distraught when I saw this and how disfigured I was. How could I expect you to love me like this? I may have changed on the outside,” he continued, “but I’m the same inside.”

  Marni blinked slowly at the man, the cold grip of shock still locked around her heart.

  “But why did you never write?” Marni queried. “All those years, not one letter from the start of the war, never a word. My Jordan would have written, no matter what, he would have let me know he was still alive.”

  “Do you have any identification?” Braden asked and Marni turned to look at him her heart in shreds.

  “I don’t need identification,” the man growled. “This is my wife, and I don’t need to prove who I am to her.” Reaching out he grasped for Marni’s hands and her eyes dropped to his. “Honey, you and me, we’ll go talk somewhere private,” he said, “then you’ll know it’s me, and we can take our money and leave.”

  Marni stared at the man’s hands her mind turning over slowly as she tried to overcome the shock, fear, and confusion of the situation. “Where did we meet?” she asked, pulling her hands away.

  “You know where we met,” the man wheedled his lips twitching. “We met at the river,” he nodded.

  “What was I doing?” Marni asked her brows furrowing as she met his gaze.

  “You were fishing just like me,” the man said, grinning as he reached for her hands again.

  “No, no I wasn’t,” Marni said flatly. “I wasn’t fishing, Jordan was fishing, but I wasn’t.”

  “Well you can’t expect me to remember every detail,” the man said, as Marni moved closer to Miss Ella. “I’ve been confused, maimed.”

  “Jordan would never have forgotten how we met,” Marni practically shouted as tears spilled from her eyes. “Jordan loved to tell that story,” she said, her voice cracking. “He laughed every time.”

  Braden rose to his feet stepping toward Marni as she began to shake, but stopped when Miss Ella wrapped an arm around her.

  “How did you know about me?” Marni demanded. “How did you find me? Who are you?” she shouted turning and collapsing into tears in Ella’s arms.

  “I can see this has been too much for you,” the man said, standing and heading toward the other side of the small table as Braden moved to block the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” the man said, glaring at Braden. “Everyone will be calmer then.”

  The sound of horses in the drive made everyone look up and Braden stepped to the side of the parlor keeping the other man from slipping around him as the door open and Josiah entered followed by the town sheriff.

  “Miss Ella,” the older man said, tipping his hat politely. “Josiah said you had a stranger here that seemed suspicious to you.”

  “Yes,” Ella replied. “That’s the man,” she said, pointing at the man who had declared himself Mr. Simms “He claims to be Marni’s husband, but can’t prove who he really is.”

  “Is this man your husband Mrs. Simms?” the sheriff asked looking at the young woman.

  “No,” Marni sniffed. “Jordan would know how we met and this man doesn’t.”

  “Then why would he track you all the way here to Pelican Rapids?” the sheriff asked.

  “She is my wife!” the scarred man stormed. “She sold my family mill and ran off with the money, and I want it back!”

  “You calm down now,” the sheriff barked waggling a finger in front of the man’s face. “I’ll do the demanding here. Now, what proof do you have that you are who you claim to be? A soldier would have discharge papers.”

  With the sheriff and Josiah both in the room, Braden stepped around the back of the table and stood behind Miss Ella letting her and Marni know that he was there for them.

  “I have letters!” the man said, his grotesque smile flashing. “Here, here,” he continued digging letters from the breast pocket of his tattered coat. “You’ll see I have the letters Marilynn wrote to me.”

  The sheriff reached out taking the letters and looking at the worn envelopes. “These are from Marilynn Simms,” the older man said, handing the letters to Marni. “Are they yours?”

  “Yes,” Marni said, flipping through the envelopes. “Not this one though,” she added as she gasped. “, this is from Jordan.” Marni looked up her tear-filled eyes pleading for comprehension. “I never received a single letter from him, not one,” she sniffed.

  “Why did you write a letter if you never planned on posting it?” the sheriff asked suspiciously.

  “I never got around to it,” the man said, his voice shaking with nerves as he huddled closer to the wall.

  Carefully Marni opened the envelope and pulled out the crisp vellum covered in her husband’s neat scrawl as she scanned the words before collapsing onto the settee in tears.

  Ella took Braden’s arm pushing him toward Marni and letting him embrace her as she slipped the letter from the younger woman’s hands.

  “Sheriff, this man is a fraud,” Miss Ella said, her blue eyes flashing fire at the miscreant. “This letter is the dying record of one Mr. Jordan Andrew Simms,” she finished handing the letter to the sheriff.

  The man who had been trying to pass himself off as Marni’s late husband dodged left trying to get past the sheriff, but Josiah and the older man were too fast for him and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Braden, do you mind if I take your wagon?” the sheriff asked. “I’ll be taking this poor excuse for a man back to town with me.”

  Braden nodded wrapping his arm around a weeping Marni and pulling her close, as his heart constricted at her grief.

  “I brung fresh tea,” Minnie whispered to Ella as the sheriff and Josiah escorted an angry and belligerent imposter from the house.

  “Leave it here,” Ella said, indicating the table where she laid the folded pages the sheriff had returned. “We’ll give them a bit of time,” she finished walking back out with Minnie and sliding the parlor doors closed.

  Chapter 27

  10 For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. 1Timothy 6:10

  “Marni,” Braden’s voice was a gentle hum in her ears, and she lifted her face from her hands and threw her arms around his n
eck.

  “It’s all right honey, it’s over now,” Braden crooned, his heart aching for the woman he loved, even as the fear that she would turn away from him in her grief quivered in his soul. “I wish I could make this whole thing go away.”

  Marni rested her head on Braden’s shoulder as the tears swept over her. All of the pain, sorrow, and anger that she had buried so long ago washed over her again, and she felt weary to the roots of her soul.

  “What can I do?” the young farmer asked wanting to take away all of Marni’s sorrow.

  Slowly getting herself under control Marni pulled back lifting her handkerchief and wiping her eyes. “I don’t think you can fix this,” she sniffed. “How could someone be so cruel?”

  Braden pulled the young woman close again, stroking her back in a slow soothing manner. “Some people will do anything for money,” he said, anger a bitter bile in his stomach. “They don’t care who they hurt as long as they get what they want.”

  Marni leaned into Braden borrowing his strength and finding comfort in his arms. It couldn’t have been easy for him sitting there thinking her dead husband had come back for her, yet he hadn’t left and had stayed to support and comfort her in her time of need.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Marni said, sitting up at Braden’s soft chuckle.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I was afraid I was about to lose the woman I loved, but you were confronted by a ghost. Are you going to be all right?”

  Marni nodded drying her eyes once more and reaching for the letter before handing it to him. “This makes a big difference,” she said, pressing the pages into his hands.

  “This is for you,” Braden protested. “I shouldn’t read it.”

  “I want you to,” Marni insisted, nodding and pushing the pages at him once more.

  Braden studied Marni’s face for several seconds, gazing into her dark eyes until he was sure she meant it then bent his head and began to read.