The Wrong Brother's Bride

by Allison Merritt

  He watched the horses, unable to look her in the eye. “It doesn’t mean anything is different. I’ll sleep in the barn until your father decides he can’t tolerate us anymore.”

  “Why would you?” She touched his arm. “You’re my husband.”

  “Not the one you wanted.” No stranger to rejection, he shouldn’t feel disappointed by her love for Jeremiah. He suddenly needed some space, some quiet time alone to think about what he’d said.

  Loyal laughed.

  He scowled. “What’s amusing?”

  “Your temper and expression. I’ve seen children pout. Yours is positively pathetic. Forgive me, I shouldn’t laugh.” She stroked his arm, expression softening. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.” The lie was bigger than the one he’d told moments ago. “I’m going to work on the cradle.”

  “Wait.” She moved her hand to his chest and came closer. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. About your brother. I’m just—”

  “What is it?” He wasn’t sure he could stand much more talk about Jeremiah. He’d never live up to his brother, and he didn’t need constant reminders.

  “I hope you can forgive me after I tell you.” Loyal bit her lower lip.

  His pride was wounded, but he couldn’t imagine anything she’d say to make him feel any different about her.

  “I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. Not the way a woman about to marry a man she’s known her whole life should be.”

  August blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “We were good friends. My heart wasn’t in marrying him, even though we were close. I was tired of Papa’s overbearing ways. It was my chance to start a family and you know how much I love this farm.” She took a ragged breath. “It was so selfish.”

  “But the baby?” His throat felt clogged. “You said—”

  “It’s his. I didn’t lie. One evening after another long lecture from Papa about piety and how I shouldn’t associate with Jeremiah, I walked out here.” She hugged herself as though the heat had vanished, replaced by winter’s chill. “I meant to turn around before I got here, sure my temper would have settled after a mile. For some reason, I couldn’t stop walking. Jeremiah had just come in from the fields. When he smiled, oh, you know how it was. He could be so charming.”

  August nodded, ashamed that he was jealous of his dead brother. “I remember.”

  “It was impulsive, and I know he thought it settled everything, even though I didn’t make any promises. Then I realized I was pregnant and I didn’t have a choice. He was so happy. All his dreams were coming true, except I wasn’t the woman he thought I was. I’m a terrible person, August.”

  A fat tear slid down her cheek. Anguish hung around her like a cloud. His mouth was cotton dry. Even if it hadn’t been, he wasn’t sure what to say. Loyal didn’t love either of them.

  “Are you disgusted because I lied?” Her voice quivered. “I feel so awful about it.”

  August cleared his throat and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not disgusted, just surprised.”

  “Are you certain? He might have had real love. A woman who thought the sun rose and set with him. I deceived him because I was angry.”

  “You’d have grown to love him as a wife loves a husband.” He held her gaze, sure he spoke the truth.

  “We were friends all those years. I don’t think I would ever have loved him as much as he loved me. But I do believe I could have made him happy. Given him the family he always wanted.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

  She’d been carrying the guilt around since Jeremiah’s death. It was almost as bad as his own. August pulled her into his arms. If she hadn’t loved Jeremiah, what chance did he stand at winning her heart?

  “Don’t fret about it. You did make him happy.”

  Loyal rested her palms on his chest, pushing back a few inches. Her face was serious, her eyes wide. “There’s something else. It’s the truth. I never meant to imply that I don’t love you in return. You’re my constant. I admit at first I was afraid I’d made a mistake. Maud planted doubts in my mind, but you’ve erased each one over time. I care for you, August. I love you.”

  The world stopped. All other sounds vanished, the air, the animals, and crops. August couldn’t move as her lips parted and her words rang in his ears. He recovered from the shock, dipping his head to cover her mouth with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss with passion. His wife loved him.

  She didn’t need to know he’d loved her since they were children. They could make a future from where they were now. The jealousy he’d suffered as a boy over his brother’s luck with Loyal evaporated. Thank you, brother, for bringing me back to Wilson, and to Loyal.

  16

  Every ounce of strength August put into plowing and planting the cornfield was for his family. Every hour he was away from Loyal passed with the knowledge that she was waiting for him to return. He caught himself smiling for no reason when he was alone in the fields. Lovesick, which would have been pathetic if she hadn’t admitted she felt the same way. Gideon remained distant, though he began joining them for meals, and quietly reading his new bible in the evenings.

  Early on a Sunday morning two weeks after the storm, August lay next to Loyal, her back to his chest and bottom pressed against his groin. He curled a strand of auburn hair around his finger while he nuzzled her neck. She smothered a giggle with her pillow. He tugged her nightdress around her thighs, dragging his fingers up her smooth skin. A soft moan left her lips as he explored beneath the cotton material.

  The lilac fragrance she wore surrounded him, curling through his veins—a tonic he couldn’t live without. Her gown slipped down from her right shoulder, baring creamy skin. Unable to resist a taste, he kissed a path from her neck to the top of her arm. He slipped the tie from the end of her hair and ran his fingers through the reddish-brown waves. It curled around the shell of her ear and he pushed it away, rising on one elbow so he could kiss her lobe. He paused when he heard footsteps, followed by a rap on their bedroom door.

  Loyal’s eyes widened and she scooted away from him. “Papa?”

  “We’ll be late for church.” Gideon’s voice rumbled through the door.

  “Church?” August mouthed. He should have guessed this was coming since he’d heard the church roof had been repaired. He shook his head as Loyal slipped from bed.

  “We’re almost ready, Papa.”

  He watched her take a dress from the bureau and remove clothes for him as well. She held up two shirts. “White or blue?”

  “No. I’m not going to church, Loyal. Not today, nor ever.”

  “It’s important. He’s missed his congregation. Please do this for him.” She approached, still carrying the shirts. “For me?”

  He slouched against his pillow. She was his weakness and she knew it. “I’ll hitch the wagon.”

  * * * *

  August’s head bobbed toward his chest and Loyal nudged his arm. She put her hand over his and smiled.

  “Service is over. He noticed when you fell asleep.”

  “Told you I didn’t want to come,” he grumbled. “How long before we can go home?”

  “He wants to visit with everyone. They’ll reassure him that he isn’t going to lose his position as the preacher here. Perhaps we can find out how long before they can get started rebuilding the parsonage.” Her smile widened. “I’ll talk to the women and see what they know.”

  He rose from the pew then helped her up. At nearly six months pregnant, she had more trouble lifting herself out of chairs.

  Gideon made his way to the door, stopping to speak with a few people and shake hands. They seemed happy to see him in good health and congratulated him on the sermon.

  “Excuse me. There’s Frannie Lane. Her husband works at the lumber mill. She might know if the lumber is already cut.” Loyal squeezed his hand and made her way across the aisle.

  August rubbed his eyes. The lat
e summer heat, Gideon’s booming voice, and the rock-hard pew made an uncomfortable situation. He looked forward to getting home and eating the dinner Loyal had prepared yesterday evening. While he didn’t care for church, they both observed the Sabbath by finishing the big chores on Saturday or leaving them for Monday. The pot roast she’d set on the stove had started to fill the house with the fragrance of meat and spices early this morning.

  “August O’Dell?”

  He looked up when he heard his name, meeting the gaze of an elderly man with a bent back, leaning heavily on a cane. “Yes, sir.”

  The man’s blue eyes were sharp and fierce. “You remember me?”

  Should I? “I’m afraid not. You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been away.”

  “It’s Albert Carroll.” He managed to straighten a few inches. His hair was dark gray, though it was apparent he wasn’t as old as he looked. The man had suffered a misfortune that aged him prematurely.

  “Sir.” Unsure how to carry on with the conversation, August extended his hand.

  Carroll turned his nose up at the gesture. “I was sure the day you set foot in a church, the place would burn down around our ears.”

  Clearly, he’d wronged Carroll in the past. “You aren’t the only one who wondered.”

  “The devil take you, O’Dell. While you’ve been away enjoying the fruits of your labors, I’ve struggled to repair the damages you did. I hope your ill-gained crops wither to dust, your wells dry, and your livestock suffer the plague.”

  Taken aback, August stared at the man’s reddening face. “I’m not sure I understand why you’d say those things inside a church, Mr. Carroll. It’s possible we had an altercation, but I can’t recall it.”

  “Altercation! You’re a damned thief. You ruined me.” He jabbed a gnarled finger into August’s chest. “Everything I had is gone because you stole from me. So I wish the same on you.”

  “What is it I’m supposed to have taken?” He forced the words out as worry carved a hole in his gut.

  “You’ll remember. I hope you think on it every second until you do. While you’re wondering, I hope life gives you the same miseries it’s given me.” Carroll pushed past him, muttering under his breath.

  The other churchgoers who hadn’t yet gathered in the back looked at August as though he’d just wronged Carroll. They parted to let the crippled man pass. August clenched his fists, trying to quell the tremor running through him. Across the room, Loyal laughed and her friend touched her stomach, sharing a smile. Grateful she hadn’t heard, he mumbled a pardon as he moved through the small crowd. He needed fresh air and time alone to clear his head if he was going to figure out what Carroll’s accusation meant.

  The church crowd dispersed slowly. August paid little attention. He sat atop the buckboard, waiting for his wife and father-in-law, tension building in his muscles as he sorted through memories from his youth. He couldn’t place Carroll in any of them.

  Loyal walked next to Gideon as they came outside. For the first time in weeks, he looked happy. August stepped down from the wagon to help him up and then assist Loyal.

  “You didn’t stay inside long,” she remarked.

  “Too many people, too little space.” Most of them probably had reason to blame him for something.

  “It’s nice to get out once in a while and see everyone. You’ll get used to it.” She patted his arm, giving him an encouraging smile.

  If every Sunday went the way this one had, he wanted to stay secluded at the farm for the rest of his life. He understood it wasn’t easy for anyone to forgive him. Openly talking about his actions in church wouldn’t help him overcome his mistakes.

  Loyal leaned close, putting her mouth near his ear. “You seem unhappy. What’s the matter?”

  “I have a few things on my mind. It’s nothing to do with your father or the church.” That, at least, was the truth.

  She smiled at him again. “We’ll be home soon. You’ll feel better with a full stomach.”

  The way his stomach tightened, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything. August flicked the reins at the team and set them into motion toward home.

  * * * *

  Once August had the corn planted and another cutting of hay bundled into the barn for the winter, he helped with rebuilding the parsonage. In the beginning, the men seemed reluctant to accept him, but after a few days, they welcomed his help. The wreckage was cleared away and the frame went up quickly. Because Gideon was a single man, they’d elected to build the new parsonage smaller and in such a way it would be easy to add onto when Gideon retired and they found a new preacher with family.

  After a few days, Albert Carroll’s accusations shifted out of August’s mind. If the old man really believed August had something to do with stealing from him, he’d have contacted Sheriff Fowler. Instead, August focused his attention on his wife and the new addition to their family.

  It seemed to August that Loyal grew a little rounder every day, and the hot late summer weather caused her to tire easily. He let her sleep in most mornings, preparing breakfast for himself and Gideon. They didn’t speak much, but it seemed their heart-to-heart had solidified a truce. He wasn’t sure it would hold out forever, though he’d take what he could get.

  When he wasn’t helping raise a house, August sanded and smoothed the cradle. Loyal didn’t venture to the barn much these days. So busy working on the finishing touches for the baby’s wardrobe, she seemed to have forgotten he’d promised to build the cradle. It was nearly finished, and he was waiting for the right time to present it.

  * * * *

  Loyal put her hand to her back as she straightened from the lowest drawer on the bureau in the spare room. “Papa, I must be losing my mind. I was certain I left those blankets for the baby’s cradle in here.”

  He looked up from the bible on his lap. “I can’t say I noticed them there before. You’re sure they weren’t in your own bureau?”

  The last few weeks, Papa had become more accepting when she talked about the baby, even admiring her handiwork with the needle on the embroidery she’d stitched for the gowns.

  “I’m certain. That one is full of August’s socks and underdrawers.” She blushed when the words slipped form her mouth. He didn’t want to hear about her husband’s unmentionables.

  “Come sit a while, Loyal. You look peaked.” Papa patted the seat beside him.

  “I can’t. There’s a cake in the oven I need to check and I have strawberries to pick.” She rubbed the small of her back, dreading bending over the bushes.

  He looked at her over the rim of the spectacles he used for reading. “I’m sure your cake will taste fine without strawberries.”

  She smiled. “It’s August’s birthday. I’m making him a special cake. He’s seemed distracted lately and I thought it might cheer him.”

  Secretly she worried he didn’t find her attractive anymore. Once she’d entered the seventh month of pregnancy, she’d given up the blouses, skirts and dresses she’d worn when he first came home. They no longer fit right. She’d made two new dresses with a bigger girth. Lovemaking became increasingly difficult as her waist expanded. August was sweet about it when she was tired, and he took on more chores to make life easier for her. His temperament hadn’t changed, but he spent more and more time in the barn, or working on the new parsonage.

  For his thirty-first birthday, she planned a nice dinner with a cake. She hadn’t done anything arduous today, hoping she would have the energy to make love with her husband tonight. Hoping he would want to make love.

  “His birthday, eh? By all means, the man of the house ought to have strawberries for his cake.” Gideon rose from the sofa. He’d stopped using his crutches a week ago, walking with only the smallest limp now. “I’ll start picking while you tend the cake.”

  Loyal smiled. His offer to do something for August made her heart sing. “Thank you, Papa.”

  He approached her. “I’m only doing it because I hope you’ll treat an old man wi
th similar love on his birthday.”

  “Of course I will.” She placed a kiss on his smooth-shaven cheek. “We’ll have to hurry. He might come home any time. I think he said they’re getting the roof on your house this week. The windows and doors will be installed next.”

  He nodded, his gaze far away. “We can look at it this Sunday. I’ve been fortunate that my parishioners are so generous.”

  “You’re a good leader,” she assured him. “A wise man who guides them through trouble and strife. They’re fortunate to have you.”

  Papa shook his head. “Bah. They tolerate me and my ramblings. Best we should hurry, before August arrives.”

  It warmed her heart, the way he offered his help. The men in her life seemed to tolerate one another most days, though they still snipped and glared now and then. Papa’s helping hand was another step toward showing he was beginning to accept her marriage. A relieved sigh left her as she went to check the cake.

  Loyal carried the platter of roasted chicken to the table. Potatoes, carrots, green beans, hot biscuits, and a tureen of gravy completed her menu for the night in addition to the cake with strawberries and cream. She lit candles, placing them around the kitchen for a soft glow that accented the evening light coming through the windows.

  “You set a table well, my dear.” Papa stood in the kitchen doorway, a faint smile on his lips. “I just saw August turn his horse out. Are you ready?”

  “As soon as I check my hair. With the humidity, I feel as though it’s wild as a bush.” She tried to pat it back into the knot she’d created earlier, wondering if she had time to braid and put it up.

  “You look fine. He won’t notice such a trifling thing as your hair when your face is bearing a smile.”

  “You’re too sweet, Papa. Go ahead and sit down if you like. I want to meet him at the door.”

  “Don’t dally. I want to eat before this fine meal gets cold.” He gave her a mock stern frown. “No sense wasting good food the lord gave us.”

  She waved him away and removed her apron, hanging it on a peg near the back door. Loyal smoothed wrinkles from her blue gingham dress as she made her way across the house. Through the screen, she saw August with Sorry at his heels as usual.