“I’m s-sorry, m-ma’am,” she managed.
“You should be,” the woman yelled back. Her dark brown eyes looked black in their deep-set sockets. “I have never met a more incompetent woman. First you burn a hole in mistress’s new silk gown, and now you’ve knocked over the birthday cake that is to be served tonight. Was to be served to night.”
Steam was practically shooting from the woman’s ears. Alice took in short gasps of breath, unsure of what assault would come upon her next. The woman had already backhanded her twice in addition to the knuckle slapping.
“I-I-I’m sorry.” She kept her eyes down, head bend forward.
If only she weren’t so much of a klutz. She’d worked in the Simmons house for the last three years though they had all been as equally terrible as this year had been. Mrs. Marks made sure of that.
“You will not eat tonight nor tomorrow morning. We’ll see if a little starvation will teach you to be careful,” she bellowed.
“Y-yes, ma’am,” Alice replied.
“Now get out of my sight. I don't want you near anything important. Go down to the laundry room and stay there until the party is over.” The older woman slapped the back of her head as she went, making the tears fall faster.
When Alice made her way from the room she slammed her hand over her mouth, covering up the sobs that threatened to escape. She practically ran to the laundry room and quickly closed the door behind her.
“Who’s that?” said a voice behind her.
Sending out a yelp like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, Alice jumped back, slamming against the closed door.
“Oh, ‘tis you Alice,” the matronly Mrs. O’Malley said, her kind eyes taking in Alice’s frantic look. “What’s ‘appened to you, dear?”
Alice pressed her lips together, shaking her head back and forth. She couldn’t bear to say anything, let alone trust herself to speak.
“It’s Mrs. Marks, isn’t it?” The perceptive woman must have noticed the widening of Alice’s eyes because she nodded slowly. “It is her. She doesn’t let up on you now, that one doesn’t. I'm sorry to see she’s done it again.”
Alice opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn't bear to have Mrs. Marks accidentally overhear her saying something contrary about her. It was better to remain silent.
“It’s all right dear,” the older woman said, her soft Irish accident soothing Alice. “We’ll make it through the party night just fine—there’s aplenty to do. But, what concerns me is after.”
Alice frowned. “After?” Her voice came out in a squeak.
“You’ve been here, what—t’ree years?”
Alice nodded.
“You ought to be married off to some handsome lad by now.”
Alice blushed. If only she could have met a handsome man who would take her away from the horror of working for Mrs. Marks. But that wasn’t about to happen in her life.
“I got me daughter up and married, you know.”
Alice took a careful step forward. “How?” she whispered.
“She became a mail order bride.” The woman beamed. “’Tis a wonderful thing, dear. She’s saving up money right now to bring me out West to live with her and her new husband. They aren’t rich by any means, but it’s a better life than here—I’ll tell you what.”
“I-I don’t know what a mail order bride is.”
The older woman beamed, her hands resting over her ample stomach. “Oh dearie, it’s simple. The Matrimony Journal publishes advertisements of men from the West. They are looking for brides—lovely girls just like you—and they’ll pay to have you go out West to them.”
Alice felt her cheeks heat. “Oh my,” she said.
“No, dear,” Mrs. O’Malley said, “Nothing untoward. They bring you out to marry. Simple as that.”
A spike of hope flickered through her. Could this be true? Could she change her own fate rather than stay enslaved and mistreated in this house?
“Is it real?”
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. O’Malley said, resting a gently hand on Alice’s shoulder. “And you know what? We’ll find you a husband and get you out of here as quick as we can. How does that sound?”
It sounded like a miracle. No, better than a miracle.
“It sounds…perfect.”
Chapter 2
Standing at the train depot Robert found all he wanted to do was run away. The only thing keeping him grounded was the fact that his son slept peacefully in his arms. Jack acted like an anchor, weighing Robert to the spot until the train arrived.
It came barreling into the station, the steam swirling around them. He checked to make sure Jack hadn’t been startled awake and couldn’t help the small smile that lit his features. Jack would always be the happiest thing he had in this life.
Looking up, his eyes collided with those of a petite woman with light blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked nervous and jumped when a heavy trunk thumped down on the boardwalk next to her.
He had a feeling she was Alice Winston—his soon-to-be wife. The realization felt like a knife in his gut, but he pushed past it, remembering his son. Jack needed a mother, even if Robert didn’t need a wife.
Sucking in a deep breath, he walked forward closing the gap between them. Her gaze darted everywhere, landing on him a few times but, as if she were nervous, she averted her eyes. Of course she was nervous.
“Are you Alice Winston?” he asked, finally standing a few feet from her.
Her hands twisted a lace handkerchief and she nodded her head. “Yes.” Her voice was soft, delicate, and held a slight tremor.
“I’m Robert Ames. This is my son Jack.”
Her gaze softened when it rested on Jack, a smile forming on her thin lips.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, meeting his gaze again.
Robert knew the next words he had to say wouldn’t be easy, but that they had to be said. “Are you ready to go to the church?”
Her cheeks heated to a rosy color and she nodded. “Yes.”
Without another word he turned and walked through town, hoping she was following. He knew he was being awful, not accommodating to her nerves at all, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care enough to stop. This all felt like a terrible charade. One he played in unwillingly.
They reached the church and he forced himself to wait for her, holding the door open to let her pass in front of him into the dim interior.
Pastor Rosen sat in the front row of pews, his head bowed. Robert envied the man the ability to remain calm while Robert’s own emotions were rubbed raw. They made their way down the aisle and the pastor stood, his bright smile a contrast to the solemnity of the setting.
“Hello and welcome,” he held out a hand to Alice. “You must be Miss Winston. I’m happy to meet you.”
She dipped her head, remaining mute.
“Can we begin?”
“Yes,” the pastor said, concern resting in his eyes as they jumped between Robert and Alice. No doubt he was wondering if there was any affection at all between them. “Let me get my wife to hold Jack for you.”
Before Robert could protest the pastor disappeared and returned quickly with his wife, a sweet, short woman with frizzy graying hair.
“Let me take the little one,” she said, smiling. “Children are a blessing, aren’t they?”
Robert nodded and Alice smiled at the kind woman before turning to look at Pastor Rosen.
“Let us begin.”
Robert stood before Alice, his eyes often jumping back to his son resting gently in the woman’s arms. His son was the reason for all of this, and it was worth it only because of him. Robert needed only to remember that. To remember Mary’s words to him, Take care of our son. Tell him always of my love.
Now, looking at Alice in front of him, he felt the absence of Mary like it was a live thing. Like part of his heart had been cut out leaving him broken. He wasn’t whole; he couldn’t be again.
He said the req
uired words and soon they were walking out of the church as husband and wife, making their way toward his wagon.
He was a husband again, though reluctantly. Pulling Jack closer, he focused on his son. Anything for his son. Everything for his son.
***
Alice felt the pounding of her heart in her ears. It matched the rhythm of the horses as they rode toward Robert’s small shack at the edge of the ranch he worked on. It appeared in the distance and she saw that it was modest but not in disrepair. It had obviously been well maintained. That said something about the man.
She snuck a glance at Robert, almost feeling the coldness radiating off of him. He had barely said more than three words to her at a time since she’d arrived. Granted, she wasn’t talkative either, but she wasn’t sure what to say.
What did a woman say to her husband on their wedding day when all they had to go off of was a few shared letters and a mutual need? He needed a wife to care for his son, she needed a husband to care for her.
Care for her.
She wasn’t even sure she knew what that meant or what that would look like. It certainly didn’t look like what she’d thought. Perhaps she had hoped for some sort of spark between them. For something…magical. She nearly smiled at the thought—her head was filled with foolish notions. It’s what had gotten her in trouble during her housework chores before. Certainly she was klutzy, but she also had trouble staying away from daydreams.
The wagon jerked to a halt and she came back to reality. She jumped down without assistance and held up her hands to Robert. “I can take Jack,” she said. It was a risk, but she wanted to show him that she wanted to do her part.
He looked down at the boy then back at her. It took him much too long to make a decision, which was telling in and of itself, but he finally leaned down and handed the boy to her.
She held him tightly to herself and made sure she walked with care up the steps to the door. He let her in and she surveyed the home. The sitting area and kitchen were one large space with a hall that led to what she assumed were the rooms.
“Your room is this way.”
She followed Robert, his countenance grim, down the small hallway. He placed her bags at the foot of the bed. “Jack sleeps in my room.”
He stood there looking at her and she wasn’t sure what to do. Say something in acknowledgement?
Robert moved to take off his hat but the sudden movement reminded her of Mrs. Marks and Alice flinched. Robert’s eyes narrowed in concern and he pulled his hat off, moving more slowly.
She flushed bright red and turned to leave the room making her way back toward the kitchen. She wasn’t back with Mrs. Marks. Robert wouldn’t hit her—at least she hoped he wouldn’t. She couldn’t walk around scared of her shadow.
But no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t fully stop being afraid. It had been her existence for as long as she could remember.
Robert followed her into the kitchen and showed her around, finally saying, “I get up early to get to work. I’m gone most of the day and come home around dusk most days. Mr. Collins works us hard, but it’s a good job. Do you need to know anything else?”
She looked up at him, taking in his shaggy black hair and penetrating green eyes. He was handsome with a square jaw and high cheekbones, but his features remained hard. There was no softness in this man.
Did she need to know anything else? Yes. She needed to know who he was. Who had she just pledged to love and honor for the rest of her life? But as reality started to sink in she began to wonder if there would ever be love between them. Could Robert let go of what was holding him captive? Because surely there was something there.
He’d been wounded somehow, that much she could see as his haunting gaze traveled from her to his son. It was only in those times when his eyes rested on Jack that she could see a glimmer of something…hope maybe? Resolution? Determination?
Whatever it was, Jack was the foundation of this man.
She let out a sigh. “No, I should be fine. I’ll be up to make you breakfast and have dinner ready for you when you come home. Jack and I will be fine.”
At the mention of his son’s name Robert’s eyes met hers again. She held his gaze though she wanted to drop it. Finally, he nodded once then turned to leave. “I need to go put the horse away.”
And with that he was gone.
Chapter 3
It had been several weeks since they’d married. Alice rose early, made him breakfast, and had dinner ready by the time he came home each day. Just like she’d promised. But she barely heard more than a sentence or two from him most days. It was almost like she was living alone.
Then again she didn’t help things either. It wasn’t just Robert who was quiet. She had adopted a silent as the grave mentality too. He didn’t engage her in conversation and she responded in kind.
It was too intimidating to think of talking to him. The longer it went when he didn’t say anything, the larger her fears of him grew. Suddenly, she found herself waking up from night terrors where Mrs. Marks transformed into Robert as he stood over her, hand held high.
Even thinking about it now sent chills down her spine. Robert sat next to her on the wagon bench seat on their way to town, but she fought the urge to lean away from him. It was foolish, he hadn’t done anything to make her think he would mistreat her, but she’d lived with that fear for so long.
They pulled up in front of the general store and he helped her down, handing Jack over to her. The little boy wiggled and made cooing noises as they walked up the steps into the grain-scented building.
She had grown fond of the little boy, his funny antics amusing her during the long hours of the day. Jack made up for personality where Robert was lacking. She could already tell that the little boy had a type of natural compassion, something she encouraged in him.
The small isles of the store drew her in, creating a type of game for her to see what was down each one. Her imagination grew with each item she hadn’t seen before. Just as she rounded the corner, her arms cradling Jack, her foot caught the edge of a crate that held a towered display of canned goods.
The world slowed as terror raced through Alice. The cans wobbled on the stand, the top tipping further than the rest. In an attempt to still the motion, her hand shot out, but she overestimated the distance. The next thing she knew the small store was filled with the sound of metal cans clanging to the ground. The sound startled Jack, causing him to burst into screams.
“What in the world?!” The shopkeeper barreled around the corner, his tall frame filling the isle.
“I-I-I’m s-sorry,” she stammered.
“Calm that baby down!” Her hands went to soothe Jack but the boy’s cries only increase with the shopkeeper’s harsh tone.
“I’m s-sorry, he got scared.”
“Then you shouldn’t have knocked over my display in the first place.”
“I didn’t m-mean to—”
“Look at this mess,” the man practically yelled, tossing his hands out to the side. His action caused Alice to flinch.
“What’s going on here?” Robert said, coming up next to the shopkeeper.
“This fool knocked over my display, that’s what. Look at the mess she’s caused.”
Alice felt the heat of embarrassment rush over her. Her palms began to sweat and her heart beat erratically in her chest. She was so clumsy…
“Just calm down, friend,” Robert said, clapping a hand on the man’s arm.
The shopkeeper jerked away from Roberts touch, the motion startling Alice even more, causing her to step back. Her foot landed on top of one of the round cans and, before she knew what was happening, she careened backwards.
The force of the downward momentum caused her to clutch Jack more tightly to herself and she twisted around, making sure that when she landed Jack would be safe; she would cushion him with her body.
Robert lunged forward, but not before she thudded on the hard wood floor, the can under her ankle causing it to
twist in a painful direction.
“Alice, are you all right?”
Robert was next to her in an instant, taking Jack from her and looking down at her with concern. It surprised her, seeing so much emotion directed toward her, but her focus slipped to her ankle.
“I—my ankle.” She grimaced in pain.
He checked it and looked back to her. “You’ll be all right. It’ll just be sore.”
She nodded, wanting to believe him but distracted by the pain. He helped her stand, supporting her with an arm around her waist.
“I’ll be right back,” he shot at the storekeeper, “I’ve got to help my wife to the wagon.”
Despite the pain in her ankle and the shame of embarrassment written on her features, the word wife resonated through her.
Robert had just called her his wife!
***
Robert saw to Alice, making sure she was in the wagon securely and had Jack with her, then he stormed back into the general store.
Seething with anger, he rounded on the shopkeeper. “I hope you’re happy now,” he spat.
“Look, sir,” the man said, putting his hands up in a defensive posture, “I didn’t mean to make her fall. Honest. I was just…you know, angry at her ruining my display. That was all. It was an accident—I get that.”
Robert knew the man was telling the truth, that he hadn’t meant to startle her, but all he kept replaying over and over again was the look of absolute terror in Alice’s eyes when the man’s hand had moved.
It clenched something deep in Robert. There was definitely something in Alice’s past. Some type of awful, terrible thing that cause her to react the way she did to loud noises and sudden movements. Granted, she was klutzy, he’d seen that enough at home, but there was an extra level of stress that didn’t fit the situation.
“Look, tell your wife I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have come down so hard on her.”
Robert snapped back to the present, realizing he’d gotten distracted by his thoughts about Alice.
“Good,” he said, his frown lessening, though only slightly. “It was an accident. Have some grace.”
[2016] A Widow's Love Page 7
