Greg was a changed man. After the incident with Henry, Greg had checked himself into a Christian rehab facility. Their program was a six months long. The first two months were intensive therapy and counseling. In the last four months the people were released into the “real world” with their mentors so they could face their challenges head on. Greg had placed his trust and faith in Jesus Christ in those first months. When he got out, he contacted Becca and explained that he was on “parole” so to speak for the next four months but he would love to see her as he adjusted to a new life as a Christian man and made every effort to leave his past behind.
Becca was ecstatic that Greg had accepted the Lord and she flew out to see him every weekend in Denver where he trained, and later to his games. They had grown irrepressibly closer as the time passed and their faiths had deepened as they trusted in the Lord and their love for each other had grown and matured. The love was now founded deep in Jesus Christ on both sides and as they grew closer to the Lord in their personal walks, they grew closer to each other. On the last day of his therapy, Greg proposed to Becca, she accepted and they were married within the month. Three months later, they discovered that they were going to be parents. Now, four months in, both were excited to finally find out the gender of their firstborn.
Henry Miller, in the meantime, had been tried and found guilty of harassment, assault and attempted murder and was now serving his very long sentence in jail without hope of parole. Greg’s family had attempted to contest the living will without success for several months but were now quiet. Becca had re-united with her family but she and Greg decided to settle in Bend.
That night, as Becca reflected on all that had happened in their lives in the past year, all she could say was, “Thank you, Lord. You have been so good. So faithful. Thank you, Lord, I can’t ask for more.” Greg came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her neck and gazed up at the night sky. They both chuckled in amusement when they felt their little boy kick their joined hands from within his mother’s womb. “I think we have another football player in the family, Honey.” Greg whispered as he kissed his wife again.
*****
THE END.
My True Love
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter 1
Lloyd Dutton looked down at the child in his arms. She was almost a year old and he was starting to see her mother’s features come out on her face.
Nell, why did you leave me here? With her?
He instantly felt guilty. He loved his daughter Josie, but he hadn’t wanted to have children. At least not right away. The Good Lord had decided differently. And then he’d taken Nell away.
The grief knifed through him, as sharp as when she’d died eight months ago. She’d only had a few months on this earth with her child. How was that fair?
He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the rocking chair. The faint scrape of wood against wood the only sound in quite room. He had talked with Pastor Peter again that day. Lloyd couldn’t see how a good God would allow such a terrible thing to happen, and yet Peter had pointed out how he had grown closer to his daughter. Lloyd was again reminded that, despite the pain he felt, God was still in control. If only Lloyd could have better prepared for the future.
He shook his head. Peter had reminded him—again—that he was always trying to plan for things that couldn’t be planned for. His curse.
Then he thought of the second half of their conversation. About how Lloyd should look for a new bride. As if he could just put his feelings of her in a box and place it on a shelf with the other things of hers that he’d packed away. Impossible.
And yet the man had a point. Lloyd couldn’t go on much longer having ladies from the church watch Josie while he worked long hours as a ranch hand. It was either find a live in nanny—which seemed expensive and inappropriate—or get married again.
He almost laughed, though there was nothing humors about the situation. It was just the fact that he was thinking of marriage in such sterile terms. Peter had suggested a mail order bride and Lloyd had taken the Matrimonial Journal with him, though it had mostly been to make Mark happy. If he couldn’t appease him with his views on God, he could at least appear to heed his advice.
Moving slowly so as not to awaken Josie, Lloyd placed his daughter in her bassinet and opened the journal to peruse the advertisements. He held out little hope, but it he would at least be able to tell Peter that he had tried.
His gaze scanned down one column after another until he stopped on one that interested him. They listed accomplishments such as cooking and baking, but also referenced childcare experience. He felt underhanded, thinking of this potential wife as merely a nanny in job but a wife in title.
He paused, reading through the advertisement again. She sounded down to earth and responsible. Maybe….
Lloyd ran a hand over his face. Was he really considering this? His heart belonged to the woman he’d buried months ago. Was he so quick to fill her spot in his life?
Then again, he was agreeing to marry—not to love. He couldn’t expect for that to happen again, but he could choose the best mother for Josie. That was all that mattered. He would do anything for his daughter, even if that meant marrying again.
***
Millie Hoff studied her sister’s expression. It was never easy to tell what Morgan was thinking, but today was exceptionally difficult. She kept her eyes glued outside the window of the train but it appeared as if she wasn’t seeing anything.
“Morgan, what’s going on? Talk to me?” Millie asked.
After a few moments Morgan turned to look at her. “I can’t help but feel like this was a mistake.”
Millie’s heart pounded. “It’s not.”
Many things in their life so far had felt like a mistake. Like a father who beat them, a mother who was out most of the night with men other than her husband, living in a rat-infested apartment. But this—escape from all of that—was not a mistake.
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“Nonsense,” Millie said. “I didn’t share anything about myself that was too personal. We’re practically twins. It’ll be fine.”
“But what will he say when he finds out…”
Millie’s heart constricted as her sister cradled her abdomen, the slightest of bulges visible but only to a sister who could tell.
“He already has a child. He’ll welcome another.”
Morgan’s face heated. “I don't think that’s what most men would think.”
Millie swallowed. Morgan had been assaulted a little over two months ago when Millie had been gone to the small seamstress shop she worked in. They hadn’t known until a few weeks ago that she was pregnant. At the time the only alternative Millie saw was to pass her sister off as the one who had been writing to Lloyd Dutton from a mail order bride add Millie had placed.
She had already negotiated to bring her sister with her, but now that Morgan was with child it only made sense to have her marry Lloyd. Millie was still young and could make her own way in life, but Morgan—an unwed mother—would be ridiculed.
Their plan, if it could be called that, rested on the good graces of Mr. Dutton, and the sacrifice of Millie, but there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister.
“He’s a nice man Morgan.” But nice was even the beginning to who Lloyd Dutton was. He was kind, caring, funny…
She thought back to their first letters with fond memories. At that point he had only known her as Miss Hoff. They had made a joke out of being exceptionally formal. She’d been thrilled when he went along with it.
But, when it became clear that Morgan needed a husband more than Millie did, she had told him her name was Morgan. Her sister had been furious when she found out, but by then it was already too late.
“He may be nice but all men have a mean side.”
Millie knew her sister spoke out of hurt. “Morgan, you’ve got to at least try to get to know him before yo
u make up your mind about him.”
“Look Millie, I didn’t ask for this. Any of it.”
Millie felt the sting of Morgan’s words—she was talking about more than just their train ride out west, but Millie couldn’t help but feel personally affronted.
“I’m sorry but—” The train lurched forward and Morgan and Mille both reached out hands to brace themselves against the sudden slowing.
“What’s going on?” Morgan gasped.
“I don’t know?”
Cries rose up around the train but one word sent ice-cold fear through Millie’s heart—Native Americans.
Chapter 2
Lloyd’s pulse thudded through his veins like the pounding of horse’s hooves. The train Morgan and her sister were coming in on had been delayed by a week due to a Native American attack. He’d learned of the news early on but felt helpless as to what he could do. He couldn’t leave Josie with anyone and even if he did race off to save her there was no telling what he would find.
Word had come that the train would finally be arriving that day but he didn’t know what he would find. Would Morgan be all right?
He placed the platform but halted as soon as he heard the sound of the train, then he stopped, Josie in his arms, and watched. Lloyd barely dared to breathe, but soon the train came to a stop and several passengers got off. One of them was a woman with dark hair and slight frame with red-rimmed eyes. Could it be Morgan? He knew she had negotiated with him to bring her sister along but this girl was alone.
Chancing speaking with the wrong girl, he stepped forward. “Morgan Hoff?”
The girl jerked, as if his words had shocked her, and looked up at him. Her lip trembled and he could see that she’d been crying.
“She was my sister,” the girl said.
His heart plummeted. Was?
“I—I don’t understand.” Josie began to fuss and he readjusted her position in his arms. The girl’s eyes dropped to his daughter and the shadow of a smile flitted across her features before it was gone, replaced by grief.
“She died in the attack on the train.” More tears filled her eyes and she reached up to place a hand over her mouth.
“I—” he halted, unsure of what to say. He was well acquainted with grief but it never helped to say that. “I'm sorry.” He looked at her—really looked—and realized she was exactly like he had pictured Miss Hoff, that is, Morgan.
They had started writing letters on extremely formal terms and it had become a bit of a joke. Something he’d been shocked by really, but Miss Hoff—Morgan—had such a healthy sense of humor that it had helped him laugh again.
She’d finally told him her name was Morgan, but he would always think of her as Miss Hoff just as he wished she would call him Mr. D as she’d come to do. She claimed it was after a favorite novel by Jane Austen but he liked that she had a nickname for him—even if it was formal.
None of that mattered now. She was dead—yet another woman in his life whom he’d come to care about snatched away from him.
He snapped back to reality. Her sister was here without her. What was he supposed to do?
“I…I’m not quite sure what to do,” he admitted honestly.
She seemed to rally, wiping her tears. “I'm sorry. I’m not myself. I’m Millie Hoff. I’m pleased to meet you Mr. D—Dutton. Please, call me Millie.”
He started. Had she almost called him Mr. D? No, he thought. He shook his head; he was imagining things now. “Why don’t we go to the parish house? I’d arranged for you and…well I’d arranged housing here.”
She nodded and, before he could say anything else that could prove to be more painful than helpful he led the way through the towns streets toward the parish house.
His thoughts wandered as he held Josie close. What was he to do with Millie? She had come out West to accompany her sister and he’d agreed seeing as he’d rather have a wife and her sister than no wife at all, but now he only had the sister. It was an awkward position to be put in, but even thinking that made him feel guilty.
What was Millie Hoff thinking? Did she wish to return home? Did she expect to stay? What was he going to do?
***
Millie’s thoughts were scattered about. Mr. D—Lloyd Dutton—was exactly as she’d pictured him from his humors descriptions. She’d written foolishly to him with humor and without a care to what he would think of her at first. She’d insisted on calling him Mr. D as he insisted on calling her Miss Hoff and they had progressed from there.
But seeing him here—and feeling the loss of Morgan—she wasn’t sure what to do. Tell him that it was, in fact, she who had written to him this whole time? Or would he think she was just lying to stay? Worse yet, would he be angry for the subterfuge?
The heavy blanket of grief rested over all of her thoughts though. The terrible images of the attack, the last moment she’d seen Morgan alive before she’d fallen and gotten knocked out. The memory of waking up to see her sisters body beside her. She felt sick to her stomach and rested a hand over her abdomen.
She’d not only lost a sister but a niece or nephew as well. It was enough to make her cry for days—and she had. But now, though the tears rested just beneath the surface, she had to be strong. Had to find a way to maneuver the difficult situation of telling Lloyd the truth about her and Morgan.
He wouldn’t want a liar as the mother of his child though…she knew that much about him. Was there any hope he could understand?
They reached the front of the parish house and he knocked, sending her an apologetic look. “I’ll have someone bring your trunk here for you.”
She nodded once, her eyes flitting to the little girl in his arms again. The child was just as he’d described her. Cherub like and adorable. She wanted to hold her, but now was not the time to ask.
When the door opened a kindly older man smiled back at them. “Oh yes, hello Lloyd. Please, please come in.”
They stepped inside and a woman smiled back at them from her place by the stove. “Good to see you again, Lloyd. And look, you brought that little angle with you.”
She watched as he forced a smile and then looked back at the pastor. “Could I have a word, Peter?”
The man smiled kindly back at Millie then returned his gaze to Lloyd. “Of course. Why not hand off that bundle of joy to the lady here. She looks quite capable.”
He smiled at her and she had the strange feeling he could read her thoughts. His smile widened when Lloyd handed Josie over and she cradled the little girl against herself.
“We’ll be right back ladies,” Peter said.
Millie watched the disappear out the front door again and knew they were going to talk about her. More precisely—what to do with her.
“Welcome, dear,” the woman said. “I’m sorry my husband is no good with introductions. I'm Anne and that was Peter.”
“Hello,” she said, her voice small. “I’m Millie Hoff.”
“Ah yes, the sister, correct?”
Millie knew what she meant and almost wanted to correct her—she was the sister who was supposed to be the bride—but she couldn't say it. Couldn’t force herself to tell what she and her sister had done to Lloyd. The deception and the lies.
“Yes, I’m Morgan’s sister.” At least that was the truth.
“Come and sit. They shouldn’t be long.”
Millie considered the woman. “Did you know about Morgan’s death?”
“We heard about the attack,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Seeing only you, and the look on your face, tells the rest of the story.” She placed a cup of coffee in front of Mille and sat down, leveling her gaze on her. “How are you dear?”
Millie wanted to beg off her probing question, but she felt her heart crave the ability to talk about.
“I—I feel lost.”
“I understand,” Anne said. “She was your sister. It will take time to process her loss.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “But I don’t know what to do now.”
Anne
regarded her, her gaze dropping to the babe in her arms, then coming back to rest gently on her. “All things will work out—I am confident of that. It will just take time.”
Though she barely knew this woman, there was something in the way she spoke that soothed Millie.
It would take time.
Well, of everything she didn’t have, time was one thing she had too much of.
Chapter 3
Lloyd rubbed the back of his neck as he stared Peter down. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“Well, what is to be done?”
Lloyd’s head snapped up. “What is—I can’t just marry her sister because the woman I was going to be married died. I mean…it’s not like they didn’t have the item you wanted in the general store so you picked up something else.”
“No, no, of course not,” Peter said, his expression softening. “I just mean to ask if you have considered your options?”
“Of course I have,” he snapped. Then he softened his expression. “I'm sorry. I just…I wasn’t expecting any of this.”
“I dare say she wasn’t either.”
“No, of course not. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling.”
“That’s just it. You can.”
“True.” Admitting that was like admitting Nell’s death all over again. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“I see it this way,” Peter said, “You can’t know anything unless you talk with her.”
Lloyd felt his frustration mounting. He respected Peter and came to him often for advice, but the man had a knack for saying wise things without saying much of anything. He had a way of asking questions and hinting at things like no one else Lloyd had ever met.
“But…” Lloyd faltered.
“You’ve lost the potential for one wife, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another option for you.”
“Are you saying I should marry the sister?”
[2016] A Bride's Journey Page 42
