His Substitute Wife

by Dorothy Clark

  “If you hand me your plate, I’ll serve you.”

  As a husband would. She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Only one spoonful, please. I’m not hu—” He glanced at her, and she hastened to cover her slip-of-tongue. “I haven’t a very large appetite. Father always fretted that I didn’t eat more.”

  “Perhaps this mountain air will change that.”

  “Perhaps.” She stared at her plate, wondering how she would manage to eat when it felt as if Linda were sitting at the table with them.

  “I used to watch the trains come and go when I first arrived. Now, I barely notice them—though it’s hard to miss the whistle.”

  She watched Blake take a bite of his food, and her throat tightened. He was trying so hard to act normal. “I suppose you get used to them after a while. I’d never—” Don’t talk about home! “That is, I’ve always traveled by carriage before.” She took a breath and hurried off that slippery slope. “I never realized how vast this country is. The plains stretched on and on. And the mountains—” Stop babbling! “—are incredible.” She reached for the bowl and threw back the towel. The aroma of hot biscuits rose like a cloud. Blake’s head lifted. She moved the bowl toward him. “I made biscuits—if you’d care for one. I didn’t know if you liked them, so you needn’t be polite...”

  “They look delicious.” Blake lifted one of the lightly browned biscuits from the bowl, split it and reached for the crock of butter. “Perhaps I should open the window. The train passengers would come running if they smelled these.”

  She returned his smile, matched his effort at polite conversation. “The train has left. There aren’t any passengers.”

  “Well, that’s their loss, then.” He took a bite of biscuit, raised his eyebrows. “Truly. Those soldiers would love these biscuits.”

  His surprised look of appreciation eased the coil in her stomach. At least he liked her baking. “Why are there so many soldiers on the trains, Blake? Where are they going?” She lifted a bite of potato to her mouth, determined to eat when he was doing his best to put her at ease.

  “Most of them are going to Fort Bridger, I imagine. The Indian attacks—”

  “Indian attacks!” She dropped her fork and glanced toward the window.

  “You’re in no danger, Audrey. I would never have sent for—” His words choked off. She slid her gaze back to him, noted the throbbing pulse at his temple. “In spite of...everything, I would never have let you stay if I thought you might come to harm.”

  “I know that, Blake. I’m not concerned for my safety. I’m shocked. I hadn’t thought about Indians.”

  “That’s not surprising. There aren’t many in New York City.”

  His attempt at humor made her heart ache. She lifted the coffeepot off of the trivet and filled their cups, added milk to hers. “Have you seen any Indians since you came to Whisper Creek?”

  “A few.”

  She froze with a bite of biscuit halfway to her mouth and stared at him.

  “But only at a distance. They appear every now and then at the edge of the valley and then disappear again. I think they’re just checking to be sure none of us are intruding on their land—Mr. Ferndale issued strict rules about that.”

  “So I need to learn where the boundaries are.”

  “You’re fine as long as you stay in the town.” He smiled reassurance. “The miners at South Pass are asking for trouble, and they’ve got it. We’re safe enough as long as we don’t break the Fort Laramie treaty.”

  An image of the black chunks tumbling down the chute into the tender car on the train flashed into her head. “The coal miners are the ones being attacked? How will the trains run?”

  “The men at South Pass aren’t mining coal—they’re after gold. And they’re staying in the area despite the Indian attacks.” He shook his head, took a bite of food and reached for another biscuit. “Greed makes a man take risks that make no sense otherwise.”

  “So does love.” She heard the words and rushed into speech, aghast that the thought had slipped out aloud. “Or so the poets say—Keats and Burns and Donne. Do you enjoy poetry, Blake?”

  “I did.”

  The clink of his fork against his plate blended with the bitter words. She broke off a bit of biscuit and put it in her mouth. It tasted like dust—but at least she had an excuse not to respond. She stared down at the food on her plate and held back a sigh. She wasn’t accustomed to parsing every word before she spoke, but it seemed a habit she would have to form. There were simply no safe subjects. Everything led back to Linda.

  “Mr. Ferndale came to the store a short while ago.”

  She looked up, found Blake’s gaze fastened on her. “Was it terribly...difficult?”

  “No.” His lips slanted in a crooked grin. “That will come on Sunday.”

  The grin was almost real—almost like when they were friends. Her stomach fluttered. “Why on Sunday?”

  “We are invited to dine at the Ferndale home after the church service.”

  “Oh.”

  His grin widened. “Don’t look so worried, Audrey. Perhaps there will be an Indian attack, and we will miss the dinner.”

  “An attack!” She stared at him and her lips twitched upward. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Not if it calmed your fear and made you smile.”

  The flutter increased. A soft tinkling floated up the stairs.

  “That’s the store bell.” Blake placed his fork on his plate and pushed back from the table. “Excuse me, Audrey, while I go take care of my customer. And thank you for the meal. You’re a good cook.”

  Oh, Linda, how foolish of you to let Blake go. He’s a wonderful, kind and thoughtful man. She stared down at the cold food on her plate, sighed and rose to clear away the dishes. Sunday. Her hands trembled as she scraped the scraps from their plates into the bucket beneath the sink cupboard, ran hot water and swished the soap holder through it to make suds. Please, Almighty God, don’t let me fail Blake on Sunday. Help me to remember the story we have decided upon.

  Her skirt hems whispered across the floor, a soft accompaniment to the litany of facts flowing through her mind as she put the leftover food away while the dishes soaked. We met when Blake was courting my older sister. We exchanged letters after Blake came to Whisper Creek...

  * * *

  They had made it through the first day. And that major hurdle had been cleared without any disagreement. Blake had been most understanding about her moving his things out of what was, after all, his bedroom. He was a very nice man. Audrey gathered her brushed hair at the nape of her neck, reached for a ribbon then paused, listened to an unfamiliar sound in the silence—a sort of...whisper. Where was it coming from? She let the long wavy mass of her hair tumble free, walked to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. The sound was fainter. Blake must be having another restless night. She pressed her ear against the wall separating the two bedrooms. All was silent. The sound must be coming from outside.

  She glanced toward the door set in the wall a short distance from the bed. It had to open onto the porch she’d seen this afternoon. The white silk of her dressing gown floated around her nightgown, the hem brushing the tops of her matching slippers as she crossed the room. The whisper grew louder. The waterfall!

  Of course! She should have realized... Was it visible from the porch? The moon was almost full. She stood a moment gnawing at her lower lip. Blake had been reluctant to talk about the porch that afternoon, but surely it would be all right to go out there. He hadn’t told her not to. And he was abed... She grasped the knob and twisted. Cold night air rushed in the opened door, fluttered her dressing gown. The whisper grew to a muted murmur. She stepped out onto the porch, closed the door and moved through the shadowed darkness beneath the roof to the railing. Moonlight silvered the face of the mountain, glinted
on patches of water showing between the feathery tops of the towering pines at its base.

  A pungent smell of pine peppered the fresh night air. She lifted her gaze to the top of the mountain, caught her breath at the sight of the sparkling water cascading from beneath the jagged slash of snow glittering against the dark sky, at once menacing and beautiful.

  A shiver chased down her spine; bumps rose on her flesh. She wrapped her arms about herself for warmth and stood drinking in the stillness. Water rippled in the dark, calming, soothing. The tension of the day drained away. Her mind drifted free of her will, imposed an image of Blake looking down at her against the darkness.

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

  How kind he was, considering her while he was suffering the pain of betrayal. Linda didn’t deserve him! She stiffened, jolted from her reverie. How could she be so disloyal to her sister!

  She lifted her chin, turned her back on the beautiful scene and went inside. A quick puff extinguished the oil lamp. Her dressing gown slipped off with quiet sibilance against the silk of its matching nightgown, shone in the slits of moonlight poking through the slats of the shutters. She shivered in the night chill, stepped out of her slippers and slid beneath the covers, tucked her feet beneath her long gown and waited for the bed to warm. Blake’s image returned, hovering against the darkness.

  I don’t need to be protected.

  Was that what Blake thought she was doing? Was she? Was that what caused that disloyal thought about Linda? No. That was pure foolishness. A man like Blake didn’t need protection; he only needed her help at the moment. And it wasn’t for his sake alone she had moved his clothes. Having him come to this bedroom for them would have been...awkward. She stirred, stared into the deepening darkness of the room, discomfited by the half-truth. Well, what if she did think of doing so to spare him pain? It was only another way of trying to make up for writing those letters for Linda—but he couldn’t, mustn’t know that. He would be so wounded to know Linda hadn’t cared enough to write, and he was already wounded enough by her betrayal.

  Do you mother everyone, Audrey?

  Her hands tightened on the blanket she clutched beneath her chin. What an unflattering image Blake had of her. And how unlike a bride! It was certain he didn’t think of Linda in motherly terms. A worm of jealousy wriggled through her. She had always faded into Linda’s shadow. Well, not now. Let Blake think what he would. She was his bride as far as anyone in Whisper Creek knew, and she would act like it!

  She flopped onto her side, tugged the cover close and closed her eyes, mentally sorting through the dresses she had brought with her, wishing, for the first time, that she owned a fancy dress adorned with lace and ruffles like Linda wore. She may only be Blake’s stand-in bride, but she wanted to do him proud when they went to the Ferndales’ for dinner on Sunday.

  The green silk. Yes... She yawned, snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets. It would have...to be...the green silk...

  * * *

  Blake froze at the sound of a door closing. He’d thought everyone was asleep. If Garret came out and saw him standing on the path to the pond—

  Movement caught his eye. Audrey. He jerked his gaze up to the porch, hoping she was only being curious about where the door led. The hope died as she walked out of the shadows to the railing. The waterfall. Guilt struck him anew. He should have taken her to see it.

  He glanced at the tree beside him, decided it would draw her attention to move and stayed motionless in its shadow. He didn’t want to have to explain why he was out in the night instead of in bed—not that she wouldn’t already know. The cold slithered over his neck and down his spine, uncomfortable now that he wasn’t walking, but he wouldn’t have to stand there long. She would get cold and go inside.

  He pushed his chilled neck back against his collar and looked up. She had wrapped her arms about herself and was standing looking out into the distance. The moonlight made dark smudges of her long eyelashes, silvered the crests of her delicate cheekbones and played over the crests and valleys of the long curly hair falling about her face to rest on the shoulders of a white silk dressing gown. His gut tightened. He stared up at her, mesmerized by the purity of her beauty.

  On the mountain a wolf howled for its mate. He jolted to his senses, jerked his gaze from Audrey and scowled at the ground. What was wrong with him, reacting like that?

  A door opened and closed. Audrey had gone inside. He glanced up to be sure, then crossed the open moonlit path to the loading dock, sat down at the top of the steps and removed his boots. The moon slipped behind a cloud, hid its silvery light. He tucked his boots beneath his arm, crossed to the door and slipped into the storage room. The dimmed oil lamp lit his way upstairs to the hallway. He set his jaw, averted his gaze from the bedroom on the right—his bridal chamber—and made his way to the bedroom where he would spend another sleepless night alone.

  Chapter Five

  “Thank you.” Blake looked up and snagged Audrey’s gaze with his. “It feels odd, having you pour my coffee. I’m still not used to this...marriage.”

  “Nor I.” Her eyes clouded. A shadow flitted across her face. “I’m praying I won’t make any mistakes tomorrow.”

  A very real possibility if his mere mention of their situation brought that look of concern to her face. Hopefully the Ferndales would mistake her unease for a bride’s anxiety. “You’ll do fine, Audrey. And I’ll be right there with you in case you start to feel uncomfortable. Not that I’ve done much to help you thus far. I’m afraid I’ve been too self-absorbed to consider—” He stopped at the quick shake of her head.

  “That’s not true, Blake. You have been most thoughtful in these circumstances. It’s been two years, but I remember how devastated I was when John broke our—when he broke his promise to me.” Her long skirt flared out around her as she turned toward the stove. “Truth be told, I’m surprised you can abide the sight of me.”

  He shot to his feet, grabbed her shoulder and stepped in front of her. “Don’t ever think that, Audrey. I’m very appreciative of the sacrifice you made—continue to make—by coming here to save my store and all I have invested in it. And beyond that, I value your friendship. Linda’s...behavior has not changed that. I’m sorry I’ve been so consumed by my feelings I haven’t made that clear to you.” He pasted on a smile, looked down into her eyes. “We are in this together, Audrey. From now on I will do better at holding up my part of our agreement—and our friendship. And to show you I am a man of my word, I am going to take you to see the waterfall later today—when it warms up outside.”

  “That’s not necessary, Blake. I—”

  “—will agree to the excursion without argument, please. Walking to the waterfall will help us to relax. It will take our minds off of this strange situation we are in and help us become comfortable in each other’s company again.” His words echoed in his head. He frowned, suddenly aware of the error in them. He was comfortable in Audrey’s company—always had been. It was the reminder of Linda’s betrayal that was tearing him up and keeping him in turmoil.

  “But you have to tend the store. I don’t want to—”

  He drew his brows down into a mock scowl. “You aren’t going to go all ‘redhead’ on me, are you, Audrey? I said ‘please.’”

  “Redhead!” She gazed up at him a moment, then let out a huff. “It seems I made a mistake in telling you about Father’s opinion concerning the color of my hair.”

  “It seems so.” He looked into her eyes, grinned.

  She gave another huff and walked to the stove. He picked up his cup and followed her.

  The coffeepot clanked against the top of the stove. She slanted a look at him over her shoulder. “I imagine it would be too much to expect an apology?”

  “I imagine.” He leaned back against the worktable, blew on the steaming coffee
and took a swallow, reluctant to end the repartee. It felt good. “Remember yesterday when we agreed we had a lot to learn about each other?”

  “Yes...” She gave him a suspicious look. “Are you changing the subject?”

  “Not at all. I’ve just learned something about you.”

  “Oh?” She gave him another look—an uneasy one. “And what might that be?”

  “You’re not very good at feminine wiles.”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  He chuckled at her gasp. “Take feigning displeasure—like you were trying to do over my ‘redhead’ comment. You said the right thing. But those gold flecks in your eyes brightened up and sparkled. It gave you away. You looked amused, not displeased. Didn’t John ever tell you that?”

  “Certainly not. John was too much the gentleman to tease a lady.”

  “Then he probably never mentioned that the way you blush also gives you away.” The pink on her cheeks deepened. So did his grin. “Yep. Just like that.”

  She jerked her hands up to cover her cheeks. “You’re—you’re...”

  “Honest?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of incorrigible.”

  “That, too.” He laughed and took another swallow of coffee.

  Her lips twitched. She turned and snatched the dirty pans off the stove, brushed by him and stepped to the sink. “I’ll wash these breakfast dishes and then be ready to go whenever you choose.” Water spurted out of the spigot into the dishpan.

  “Good.” He emptied his cup and handed it to her. “Friends?”