AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories)

by Carmella Jones

  “Yeah,” he said. He paused for a long moment before going on. “When I put my family in the ground, I didn’t think I would ever love anyone again. Until I found you.”

  Cassandra began to cry and he embraced her more tightly.

  “I don’t want to give up on this,” he said.

  “Neither do I,” she said.

  Epilogue

  Jacob and Cassandra remained married, though their time in You Bet was short-lived. They left after much of the town burned in September of that year and went back to New Orleans where Cassandra gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Jacob raised him as his own, and they had three

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  Enjoy your book: The Bride’s New Life

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  The Brides New Life: Chapter 1

  I imagine the scenery of the train ride was beautiful. I was too busy rereading letters from my husband to notice. Well, he was my soon to be husband. I was riding the train in response to an ad.

  “Wife Wanted – Cherry Creek, Colorado. Male widower, age 38, and of comfortable income seeks wife. Domestic skills are a must.”

  His name was Jacob Johnson. The ad was forthright and gave little detail of courtship expectations or personality. His three letters were friendly, but also to the point.

  “Dear Ms. Mark, please tell me about yourself and send a photo. You will find a photo of myself in this letter as a sort of introduction. I like a nicely cooked meal, a clean home, and dirty boots on the porch. Nice to meet you, Jacob Johnson.”

  “Dear Ms. Mark, you sound agreeable and possess a charm of appearance. Would you consider joining me in Cherry Creek? I can provide a more than adequate life style for you and will require very little of you in return. Sincerely yours, Jacob Johnson.”

  “Dear Ms. Mark, I have purchased a ticket for you on the Kansas Pacific. I look forward to meeting you face to face. Yours, Jacob.”

  I had a perfectly comfortable lifestyle as it was. My parents had quite the hand in the east end of the Transcontinental Railroad. Enough so that Father grazed a tidy sum from all three companies competing to go the distance. I was younger at the time, but from what I understood it had to do with kickbacks from political funding of the venture. He even appeared at a Golden Spike ceremony.

  My parents had been laid to rest about two years now. I had been living with my sister, Rebecca, and her husband, Michael. She felt I was too young to live alone. I was nearly twenty at the time, but I understood. It was more a matter of being single and living alone. However, they did not yet have a child after 3 years and I was beginning to feel she used me for a surrogate.

  I was lucky to have hidden my letters otherwise she would have found a way to keep me home. I was lucky my brother in law liked to read the paper aloud to us each evening. I enjoyed the ads, but something about this one sounded different. I reread it that night when everyone else was asleep. The next morning I sent inquiry to Mr. Johnson.

  That was nearly a month ago. Now, I sat on a west bound train.

  I left a note assuring Rebecca of my love, safety, and a letter as soon as I was settled. I grabbed the luggage I had hidden while they were out to dinner at another couple’s house one evening. Then, I walked down the street to a carriage I had previously hired to take me to the train station.

  The train had been making good time and I was fortunate to not be on a train encountered by Jessie James or being used as part of the cattle shipment.

  I read the closing of the last letter one last time as we pulled into the station. I tucked the letter back in its envelope and put them along with the ad into a box of trinkets I had saved. A family on the train sent their boys to help with my luggage. I gave them each a coin in gratitude.

  As I stood by my things and looked around the plank, I did not see Jacob. He did not strike me as the type to be late. I feared that he may have changed his mind. I debated purchasing a ticket home again.

  Chapter 2

  “Hello, you must be Lillian Mark,” an elderly female voice said.

  I looked around and a short, round woman was walking in my direction.

  “Sorry I was not right at the train to greet you,” she said. “I was sitting just inside the station watching for you. I will be your chaperone.”

  “Chaperone?” I asked.

  “Yes, dear. Jacob, asked if you could stay with me until you two settle your arrangement. He will call on us tonight to court after you have had a chance to rest from your journey,” she said smiling.

  “I thought things were settled. He sent me the ticket. I came all this way,” I said.

  This situation was becoming confusing. I never considered that he might not have made up his mind. I hadn’t realized arrangements such as this still included courting. I took a breath and tried to think about what was happening.

  The old woman took my arm and gestured to a station worker. I realized she must have been of some importance. Her hands were gloved. Her dress looked newly tailored. There was not a bit of dust about her nor a hair or bobble out of place. As she guided me through the station she talked and nodded to people in passing. Men tipped their hats and women gave small curtsies.

  “My name is Mrs. Laura Goodman. Jacob worked for my husband, the late Sawyer Goodman, founder of Goodman Architecture,” she explained. “You are going to keep me company for a few days while you and Jacob get to know each other. We wouldn’t want you in a hotel and you certainly cannot stay together unwed.

  I tried to stifle my surprise and continued to listen as we climbed into her carriage.

  “Sawyer and I moved outside town once he began getting so many sky scraper contracts. We enjoy the city, but I like a view of the stars at night. It’s part of the joy living west of the Mississippi. Jacob’s house is not far down the road. An easy walk for younger people. I need to sit here and there, but Jacob is designing a nice gazeebo and picnic area between us,” she paused and gave me a smile. “He’s a nice fellow, Jacob.”

  I smiled. She seemed like a sweet woman and to genuinely think well of Jacob.

  For the rest of the ride she talked about things we passed in town and a few small rules she had for her home.

  She showed me to my room and said lunch would be served at one o’clock. I unpacked, then joined her in the dining room where she had set the table with bread she made before coming to the station and sliced fruit and vegetables her gardener, Robert, had picked. We talked about my family back East and got to know each other a bit.

  “Do you have any hobbies or crafts?” Mrs. Goodman asked.

  “Well, I enjoy horseback riding and collecting things I find on my rides. I also crochet and paint. I play piano. I garden as well and like to go for walks collecting wild flowers,” I said.

  “Well, that’s nice. It is good to have hobbies, especially ones that allow a bit of fresh air,” she smiled.

  The maid, Prudence, cleared the table. Then, Mrs. Goodman took my arm again and we toured the garden. We had tea on the back porch and she told me stories about the area and its people until she felt she needed a nap.

  I continued to look around the garden collecting a few nice flowers and pebbles. This adventure had been a lot to take in so far and it was only the beginning.

  Mrs. Goodman was up again around 4 to begin preparing the evening meal. Prudence also cooked and served when there was company, but from what I gathered Mrs. Goodman preferred her independence. Even though Prudence was in the kitchen it was really more to assist Mrs. Goodman. I offered to help as well, but Mrs. Goodman told me to relax and prepare myself for dinner.

  Jacob was expected to arrive just before dinner was served at six an
d everyone seemed to be keeping themselves busy. I decided to use this time to write my first letter to my sister.

  “Dear Rebecca, The west is not as dusty as everyone would have us think. Well, at least, Colorado is not. I am currently staying with a nice widow named Laura Goodman. I will meet Mr. Johnson when he joins us tonight for dinner. Please do not worry; I will write again soon. Love, Lillian.”

  I spent a little extra time making myself presentable. I chose to wear a soft blue dress with my curls neatly secured and styled in a fashionable up-do. I wore a light perfume, modest earrings, and carried a book down to read in the sitting room until dinner was served or Mr. Johnson arrived.

  To my surprise he had been early. I found Mrs. Goodman and Mr. Johnson already in the sitting room with a tray of appetizers that had been prepared. Mr. Johnson noticed me first, and stood as I entered the room. Mrs. Goodman beckoned me in and gestured for me to sit on the couch at the end nearest her chair.

  “Ms. Mark, please meet Jacob Johnson. Jacob, this is Lillian Mark. Isn’t she lovely?” she asked with that same smile she had been unable to turn off today.

  He smiled, nodded, and offered his hand. As I extended my hand to take his, he turned it with the backside up and gave it a gentle kiss.

  “Nice to meet you, finally, Miss Mark. I have enjoyed our correspondence,” he said.

  He was also smiling. It was warm and friendly.

  “Like wise,” I said with a small curtsy, then sat.

  He continued to smile at me pleasantly as Mrs. Goodman told us what had been prepared for the meal. Then, she excused herself to check on the kitchen. I tried to smile back without seeming forward. Mr. Johnson was handsome indeed.

  “Was the train ride pleasant?” He asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “Mrs. Goodman seems nice. She’s very fond of you.”

  “Yes, she and her husband were my second family once I moved here. Mrs. Goodman and I have seen each other through love and loss,” he explained briefly.

  He was still smiling pleasantly, but he stayed in his chair opposite where Mrs. Goodman had been sitting.

  “What about your family?” he asked.

  I told him of my father’s work and prominence in the political community. We discussed my parents’ death; they were robbed and killed during a train ride for one of my father’s political commitments. I described Rebecca and Michael. Then, we talked a bit about the differences between life in the cities back east and what he had experienced in Colorado.

  Jacob and his late wife, Julie, moved to Denver in 1862 and he immediately started working for Mr. Goodman. He surveyed land for the company’s construction projects. Eventually, Jacob began designing buildings. Mr. Goodman took ill the winter of 1863 and stopped coming to work soon after. When Mr. Goodman passed, Jacob ran the business for Mrs. Goodman fairly and honestly.

  Misery struck one more time in 1864 when Julie was killed during the first flood in the lowlands. At that point, Mrs. Goodman and Jacob sold the business and he moved outside the city as well. They both lived more than comfortably off the profit of the sale.

  They were each the nearest either of them had to family anymore. He still designed sky scrapers occasionally, but now he spent much of his time exploring surrounding areas for silver. Ten years had passed.

  Chapter 3

  We were chatting and bonding over our losses when Prudence announced dinner. As we made our way to the dining room we found Mrs. Goodman already seated.

  “You two seem to have much to talk about. A few things in common I imagine,” she said with her smile.

  We ate, and it was a well cooked meal. Mrs. Goodman had prepared rice, biscuits, more vegetables from the garden, and a variety of meats from the butcher. After dessert she excused herself to bed and left Jacob and I to a little time alone. We decided to sit on the front porch and talk a bit more.

  “It will be nice to try some of your cooking,” he said. “What would you say is your specialty?”

  “I guess that is a matter of opinion. I most enjoy baking, but can cook whatever I put my mind to. I’ve never encountered a recipe I couldn’t learn and make my own in time,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging, but I didn’t want to feign modesty either.

  “Delightful,” he replied. “I love to eat. Mrs. Goodman is a wonderful cook, but it would be nice to have a home cooked meal without having to leave home.”

  “Perhaps we can fetch her to dine with us?” I asked hoping to steer the conversation toward the real reason I had travelled so far.

  “Your letters were quite amusing,” he continued. “I am glad you are as friendly in person. Your picture hardly did you justice.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You are handsome yourself. You are friendlier than your letters. I mean, you seemed friendly, but you are much more open than I imagined.”

  “My letters were a bit to the point,” he agreed. “You are here now, though. That makes the greatest difference. Being able to look someone in the eyes has always been the best way to get to know someone.”

  “Do you feel you are getting to know me well?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I hope you feel the same,” he replied.

  I supposed I was, but what I really wanted to know was his intentions.

  “Mr. Johnson,” I began.

  “Please, call me Jacob,” he requested.

  “Jacob,” I began again, “you seem like a very nice man. You seem established within the community and not wanting for anything. How is it you are unmatched? I mean, why would a man such as yourself need to advertise for a wife?”

  “You are an engaging young woman, Lillian, in appearance and personality. Yet, you have answered such an advertisement,” he said simply.

  I nodded and ran through the entire day and situation in my mind. I guess he could read the concern on my face.

  “I had a position to fill, so after 10 years vacancy I placed an ad. Then I received an interesting inquiry from a young woman in Kansas City. She sent a photograph that was quite charming. Her letters seemed to long for independence while also promoting skills and qualities that would be admirable in a wife,” he said.

  I sat taken aback. Our marriage contract seemed to have an emphasis on contract.

  “I will still stand by the requests of my letters – a tidy home, hot meals, and companionship when I am not working. I will not pressure you for any other intimacies if that is what you are wondering. That was never my intention,” he said.

  I believed him.

  “So, you are suggesting a marriage of friendship then? Wife by occupation? There would be nothing more?” I asked.

  He sat facing me a bit more directly.

  “Do you think you could be content with such a life? Such a marriage?” he asked.

  I thought a moment longer, but just as I was drawn to his ad I still felt drawn to him now. I wanted to learn more and know him better. Surely there was more to him for a woman such as Mrs. Goodman to dote on him as she had.

  “Jacob, if you are asking, I will marry you. I think we complement each other,” I replied.

  He smiled and sat back. I sat more comfortably as well. We discussed things a bit more. Then, we bid each other good night.

  As I climbed the stairs to bed I noticed Mrs. Goodman’s light turn out under her bedroom door. I wrote my sister a new letter. There was much to say now that I met Jacob.

  Chapter 4

  The week moved pretty swiftly. Jacob visited again the following evening and the three of us had dinner. Again, Mrs. Goodman went to bed early, but this time she took dessert to her room. I had made pastries filled with vanilla cream. Jacob praised their lightness and confessed to having a sweet tooth as well. The following day, we picnicked in Mrs. Goodman’s garden. I prepared sandwiches and a few sides with a variety of muffins for dessert. She joined us, but when we were done eating she encouraged us to take a walk around the yard while she took a nap.

>   “I do think your chaperone is remiss in her duties,” Jacob chuckled.

  “You, sir, have not been paying attention. As we make our next turn keep your eye to her bedroom window. You will notice a tiny gap that appears in her curtains occasionally,” I laughed back.

  We continued a few steps. I thought on the sound of his laugh. I liked it, but he didn’t use it often and even now he stifled it quickly.

  “You appear to be right,” he said.

  We had another small chuckle and then returned to gather the picnic items. I gave the leftover food to the gardener and Jacob carried the basket and blanket for me as we headed toward the house.

  At the very least I could say he was a gentleman. He had proven himself courteous and polite. I felt he was holding back his emotions, though. I wondered if a marriage between us could be as supportive as my parents’ marriage or share a friendship like my sister and Michael.

  “Do you regret not having a proper courtship and proposal?” he asked.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it,” I answered honestly. “I never imagined myself to be the marrying kind.”

  He raised an eyebrow, surprised.

  “My parents had a good marriage, and my sister was fortunate to find a man as suited to her as Michael,” I said.

  “Did you not imagine such a life for yourself as well?” He asked.

  I felt I was being interviewed again, but continued to answer honestly.

  “I suppose I imagined married life for myself on some level. I guess I hoped to travel a little first or that my sister would eventually pick a nice fellow for me at a certain age. I’ve just never wanted to feel tied down,” I said.

  I stopped walking and Jacob stopped beside me. We were standing at the servants’ door to the kitchen.

  “Your ad seemed like an opportunity to fulfil my desire to explore as well as my sister’s pending wish that I marry. I want a life on my own terms,” I said.

  He nodded then opened the door for me. Inside, Prudence took our things from Jacob’s hands and we made our way to the parlor.