His Substitute Wife

by Dorothy Clark

  “Oof!”

  His warm breath gusted by her cheek, his hands clamped onto her shoulders, held her steady. She came to a heart-pounding halt bent forward over the drawer with the top of her head pressing against his chest.

  “Are you all right, Audrey?”

  The question was a little breathless. Small wonder with the drawer jammed into his stomach. She was breathless, too. “Yes.” The word was smothered by the cloth pushing against her face. She tried to straighten and failed. He tightened his grip on her shoulders, gently pushed her back until she was upright.

  “Why don’t I take this?” His hands brushed against hers as he grasped hold of the drawer. “Just out of curiosity... What are you doing with my shirts?”

  The shirts and pillowcase were all askew. So was her hair. She could feel the curls tumbling every which way onto her forehead and temples. Wonderful! They would match the red of her burning cheeks. She tugged her bodice back into place, shook her skirt hems straight and looked up. “I thought it would be...handier for you if your clothes were in...your bedroom.” His gaze lifted over her head toward the open door behind her. She snagged her lower lip with her teeth, wishing she could say one thing that did not bring that strained look to his face. “I was taking them there—one drawer at a time so I could manage them.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat, lowered his gaze back to meet hers. “And how were you going to move the dresser?”

  An excellent question. She shoved her hair comb back into place and lifted her chin. “I hadn’t thought that out as yet.”

  “I see.” He frowned and blew out a breath. “I appreciate your...concern, Audrey. But I don’t need to be protected. Nothing can change what has happened. Linda chose another. And while that knowledge is raw and painful, I will come to grips with it given time. Now, come and show me what you intend to do in...my bedroom. And the next time you get an idea like this, call me. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He stepped aside.

  She swallowed back a protest that she was not protecting him, only making things more convenient, and walked ahead of him to his bedroom. She glanced up at his face when he entered. He looked in the direction of the cot and the table, stopped and stared.

  “What’s all this?” He put the drawer down on the floor, bent down and looked at the corners of the blanket and sheets trapped beneath the legs of the cot. He shook his head, straightened and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “That’s clever, Audrey. I wish I had thought of it. My feet would have been a lot warmer these past couple of months.” A smile touched his lips, then faded.

  She released her breath, thankful he wasn’t angry with her presumption in making over his room—or was pretending not to be. “I hope it works.”

  “It looks as if it will.” He headed back for the door. “I’ll get the rest of the drawers, then bring the dresser.”

  She looked at his set face and stepped into his path. She’d meant to spare him pain, not cause it. “There’s no need for you to interrupt your work in the store, Blake. I can manage—”

  “No. I’ll do this.”

  Her stomach sank. Did he think she was overreaching her position in their arrangement? “But the store...”

  “I have no customers demanding my time. Won’t have, until I’m able to put up that sign.” He glanced around the room. “Where do you want me to put the dresser once I get it in here?”

  “I thought on the back wall next to that door, but you—”

  “That’s as good a place as any. I’ll be back.”

  And she’d be gone! She wasn’t going to stand here and watch him do the work she’d started. “Before you go...”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering about dinner.” Would he eat anything, or was this another mistake? She squared her shoulders and pressed on. How could things get worse? “I saw packages of meat in the refrigerator. Would roasted beef suit?”

  He nodded and looked away. “Roasted beef is fine.”

  His taut features said he was only being polite. Probably he had as little appetite as she. Still, they had to eat—and she needed something to do. “Then, I’ll go start dinner.” At least she wouldn’t make any mistakes while—

  “Can you manage the fire?”

  The question rasped along her already frayed nerves. She jerked to a stop and spun about to face him. “I have been doing the cooking, tending the house and caring for my family ever since my mother died four years ago, when I was sixteen. Of course I can manage a fire. And I can do anything else I set my mind to as well—including moving that dresser!”

  She snatched at a strand of hair tickling her neck, jammed it back into the loosened figure eight twist at her nape and jutted her chin into the air. “I may have stumbled with that drawer, Blake Latherop, but that’s because you startled me! I am not incompetent. Or clumsy!” Tears stung her eyes. She whirled and headed for the hallway, her skirts swishing.

  “Whoa, wait a minute!” Blake’s hand clasped onto her wrist, drawing her to a halt.

  She stiffened and blinked to clear her vision, swallowed hard when he grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him.

  “I meant nothing disparaging by my question, Audrey. It was not a comment on your capabilities, only a statement of my ignorance of them. I can’t know if you can manage a fire, any more than you can know if I like roasted beef. We have a lot to learn about each other.”

  She drew a breath and nodded, shamed by her outburst. “You’re right, of course.” She pulled her lips into a rueful smile. “I guess you’ve just learned that I can be a little...overly sensitive at times. Though I try not to be.” His lips twitched, slanting into that grin he used to give her when they were friends. Her stomach fluttered. She lowered her gaze from his face, sought for something to say to dispel the odd feeling. “Father said it comes from my having red hair.”

  He let go of her shoulders and peered down at her. “I thought it was red hair and a temper that went hand in hand.”

  She crinkled her nose and headed for the kitchen, her shoulders warm from his hands. “I’m afraid I also have one of those—on occasion.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His teasing tone took any possible insult from the words. He walked with her as far as the door, paused there with his hand braced on the jamb. “If there is anything you need and can’t find, come and tell me. I’ll get it from the store.”

  “All right.” She watched him walk away, then took a package of meat from the refrigerator and hurried toward the stove, her steps quick and light, her spirits buoyed by their brief moment of shared banter. Perhaps they could make this unusual arrangement work after all. Perhaps they would even become friends again. She lifted a cast-iron Dutch oven from a shelf on the wall and began preparing their meal, hope warming her heart.

  Chapter Four

  Blake hurried down to the store, spotted the dark-haired man standing by the hardware and smiled. “I thought I heard the bell. Good afternoon, Garret. How can I help you?”

  “Afternoon, Blake.” Garret Stevenson nodded, walked to the counter and set down a box of door hinges. “I guess congratulations are in order. I heard your fiancée came in on the six ten yesterday, and you were married last night.”

  “You heard right.” Blake tugged his lips into a smile, shook Garret’s offered hand and steered away from the topic of his marriage. “Are those hinges all you need today?”

  “No.” Garret jiggled the wood bucket dangling from his left hand. “Mitch and his crew are running short on nails.”

  “Not surprising—I hear a lot of pounding going on over at your place.” He led the way to the kegs of nails sitting against the back wall. “How many of what size?”

  “Five pounds of the fours, and one small keg each of the tens and fourteens.”

  Blake piled the
small kegs on the cart beside the display, weighed out and dumped the four-penny nails into Garret’s bucket, then walked back to the counter and pulled out his account book to enter the charges. “How’s the hotel coming along? I can’t see what’s going on now that it’s all closed in. Do you still think you’ll be open for a few guests by the end of next month?”

  “Actually, it’s coming along faster than I expected. Mitch has got his crew working sunup to sundown finishing the rough work on the second and third floors.” Garret slid a box of cabinet hinges over beside the box of door hinges and added one of cupboard door pulls. “Might as well get these. Mitch is starting on the kitchen. He’s framing out the food cupboards and pantry today. You’d better order the stove and refrigerator we talked about. I’ll be needing them soon.”

  “I’ll place the order right away. They should be here before the end of the month.”

  “Good enough. Oh, and order two of those new flush down water closets and two bathing tubs like the one you’ve got upstairs. My hotel is going to be so comfortable the guests won’t want to leave.” Garret carried the boxes over to the cart, placed them in the bucket sitting on top of the piled kegs and grasped the handles. “I’ll bring your cart back as soon as I unload these things.”

  “You can just leave it on the loading dock. I’ll get it when I need it.” He watched Garret disappear into the storage room headed for his back door, then wrote out, addressed and sealed the orders for the requested items. Pride spurted through him. His judgment in taking a chance on coming West to Whisper Creek had been sound. The store was making a nice profit due to all the building going on in the new town. And the families who would come as the stores and homes were completed meant a good steady business for the future. Along with the train customers he hoped would swell his coffers. He swept a glance toward the back room. He’d planned on moving the hardware items back there as the construction slowed, then using the present space for a larger stock of groceries, dry goods and household things that would be in demand as the town grew. Not that it mattered now—he wouldn’t be here.

  His sense of accomplishment fled and his mood soured. He entered the cost of postage for the orders in the debit column, shoved the account book and writing materials back on the shelf beneath the cash box and picked up the orders. Another of his plans ruined. There was no need to seek to have the Whisper Creek Post Office located in his store. He’d be gone by the time he could be given formal acceptance as the postmaster.

  He slid the orders into his pocket, took a coin from the cash register and glanced at the clock. Twenty-seven minutes until the next train headed east came through—more than enough time to walk to the station and give Asa the orders to put in the mailbag.

  He walked to the back room, grabbed boxes of hardware, carried them into the store and placed them on the displays to replace the ones Garret had bought. The activity helped to hold thoughts of Linda at bay. Soft footfalls sounded overhead. He tensed, glanced at the clock—twenty-four minutes until train time—still too long. It was only a five-minute walk to the station, less if he hurried. But it would get him away from...everything.

  A shadow moved through the pool of sunlight on the floor. He looked toward the window, winced at the sight of Mr. Ferndale approaching the door. He wasn’t ready to face the man. He hadn’t perfected the answers he would give to the questions that were certain to come up when he introduced Audrey as his wife. How could he explain marrying the wrong woman in a believable way?

  The jingle of the bell on the door stiffened his spine. He forced a smile and stepped forward. “Mr. Ferndale, how may I help you, sir?”

  “I’m running low on candy.” The stocky man pulled a round tin from his pocket and handed it to him.

  “Yes, sir. One tin of candy, light on the lemon drops and heavy on the peppermint.” He stepped behind the counter, lifted the covers off the glass candy jars, filled the tin and returned it. “Will there be anything else, today?”

  “Mrs. Ferndale wants a jar of marmalade—she says you know which one she prefers.”

  He nodded, crossed to the shelves holding the groceries, took down a small stoneware jar of lemon marmalade and set it on the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Only an invitation for you and your bride to come to our home for dinner after church service on Sunday. Mrs. Ferndale and I wish to welcome your bride to Whisper Creek.”

  Two days! His stomach knotted. He forced a smile. “We would be honored to accept your kind invitation.”

  “Excellent! Mrs. Ferndale will be pleased.” A smile touched the portly man’s mouth. “She’s beside herself with excitement at the prospect of talking with another woman. It’s been lonely for her since she came to join me.” His thick fingers wrapped around the marmalade jar. “We’ll see you on Sunday.”

  He watched John Ferndale leave the store, stood waiting until the bell over the door stopped jingling, then spun on his heel and headed for the storage room. He couldn’t take any more talk about his marriage. He would walk to the station by the back path he used to trundle his orders from the trains to the store.

  The liquid whisper of the waterfall accompanied his steps across the loading dock. He glanced at the glimmer of water peeking through the branches of the towering pines that muted the cataract’s roar and clenched his jaw. He should have taken Audrey to see the waterfall. He’d known there would be no customers. It had been obvious Asa Marsh was not going to take the time to send passengers to his store.

  He stopped, ran his fingers through his hair and sucked in a lungful of the brisk morning air. If only the pain of Linda’s betrayal would dull. If only the memories of her would fade. He didn’t expect them to go away, but if he could just bury them deep enough to get through these next weeks...

  He stared at the shimmer and flash of the water between the trees, guilt piling on top of all the other emotions roiling around in him. All Audrey wanted was to see the waterfall. That was all she’d asked of him since she came, and he’d let her down. He needed to concentrate on Audrey—on his obligation to her.

  He straightened, drew his shoulders back and headed for the train station, resolve strengthening with his every step.

  * * *

  The long blast of a whistle echoed through the kitchen, muted but clear. Another train had arrived. Audrey pulled her biscuits from the oven, snuggled them into the towel lining the bowl she had waiting and placed them in the warming oven. Dinner would keep while Blake tended to his customers. Surely, they would come this time. She smiled at the prospect, pushed the curly wisps of hair back off her warm face and hurried to the window beside the dish dresser to watch the passengers come.

  The road from the depot was empty. She lifted her gaze to the passengers milling about on the station platform and frowned. Obviously, they had not yet been told about Blake’s store. She rested her fingertips on the window ledge and watched them, reining in a spurt of irritation. Mr. Marsh had his job to do, certainly. But this was the third train today. Surely, he could spare a moment to—

  “I forgot to tell you—”

  She gasped and whipped around, stared at Blake standing in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, Audrey. I always seem to startle you.”

  “It was my fault. I was woolgathering and didn’t hear you come upstairs.” She lowered her hand from the thudding pulse at the base of her throat. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

  “That I bought a dinner bell.” He strode into the kitchen, gestured over his shoulder. “It’s there on the shelf by the door. It’s small and I thought you might not notice it. It will be easier for you to ring the bell than to walk down the stairs to tell me when meals are ready.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, Blake.” Of course the bell was meant for Linda’s comfort and ease. But Linda isn’t here... Worry settled over her. “Thank you for telling me.”

 
He stepped to her side, peered out the window. “What was drawing your attention?”

  “The train’s arrival.” His face went taut. He nodded and turned away. She took a breath and fought back words. Nothing she could say could comfort him. Or her. She turned and looked at the train. Her chest tightened. Where are you, Linda? Will I ever see you again? Tears stung her eyes.

  “I know this...situation...is difficult and painful for you, Audrey.”

  Blake’s voice, deep and quiet, brought more tears surging. She wiped them away with her fingertips and opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, his eyes warm with sympathy.

  “I wish there were some way to make all this easier for you.”

  His understanding flowed over her like a wave. Her throat constricted at his kindness. “And I, you.”

  He nodded, gave her a searching look. “Do you mother everyone, Audrey?”

  Was that how she appeared to him? She flattened her palm and smoothed a wrinkle from the apron she’d found in a drawer. “I suppose I do—though I don’t mean to.” She raised her head and looked full in his eyes. “Someone had to step into Mother’s place when she passed away and take care of Father and—” He stiffened. She clenched her hands, swallowed back her sister’s name. “It’s become a habit.”

  The quick double blast of a whistle floated through the window behind her, announcing the train’s imminent departure. The twenty minutes had passed without—“Dinner!” She brushed by Blake and ran to the stove, snatched up a towel and pulled the roasted beef and vegetables she’d transferred to a crockery dish from the oven, then stood holding it, uncertain of his appetite. The steam rising from the dish wafted by her nostrils. Her stomach, knotted by concern for Linda, recoiled.

  Blake’s footfalls sounded against the floor. “I’ll carry that to the table for you.”

  He was going to eat! She shook off her surprise, slipped out of the apron and took the biscuits from the warming oven. She followed him to the table she’d set earlier, bowed her head and glanced through her lowered lashes at Blake as he asked God’s blessing on their meal. There was determination in the set of his shoulders. She drew her own shoulders back and prepared to follow his example at their first meal together as—She jerked her mind from the unsettling thought and closed her eyes. Almighty God, please help us to find our way to a place of ease in this marriage that isn’t a marriage.