Faith ushered them into the parsonage’s parlor, totally heedless of the sooty tracks they left in their wake. “I’ll make you some hot coffee. Guess I better make a lot of it for all those folks outside, too,” she said, then left them mercifully alone.
Soot smudges became Ella, Nate thought, and kissed the one that decorated her nose. She gazed up at him in the soft light of the parlor lamp.
“When I was in the café, in the fire, I remembered everything, Nate. From the asylum...what happened to me. I—I’ve been... I’m not innocent, Nate. You need to know this.”
He’d suspected what had happened so long ago, of course, from her reaction the other time he’d kissed her.
“You are innocent, Ella. Nothing that was done to you was your fault, do you hear me? It’s all in the past, and it need not matter to us.” He thought maybe she’d already begun to realize the truth of this when she’d kissed him a few minutes ago.
Her eyes shone with tears. “Oh, Nate.”
“So, will you marry me, Ella Justiss?” he asked. “Dayton gave me the idea of setting up a furniture shop in town, so I reckon I’ll have a way to make a living here in Simpson Creek and won’t have to be hanging around in the café, pestering you while you cook,” he told her with a grin. “Unless you get any more rowdy cowboys trying to take liberties, that is,” he said, remembering the way they’d met.
She’d had a radiant smile until he mentioned the café, but now she stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Nate, did you get hit in the head too hard? My café is gone. The church drained their benevolent fund to give me the one that just burned down!” she cried, collapsing into his arms. “All that work, theirs and yours, and it’s all ashes!” She began to sob against his chest.
He rubbed her back, letting her cry out all the anguish that remained in her. “It’ll be all right, I promise you, Ella, you’ll have your café again—and we’ll have each other.”
“I love you, Nate, and I’ll love being your wife.”
“Good. Then that’s settled.”
“I suppose George might let me use the back of the saloon again, though it’ll take a while before we could buy a stove...”
“That’ll work until we can build you a new place, but it won’t take so long—not since I have this to sell.” He pulled the gold watch out of his pants pocket.
Her eyes grew round as dinner plates. “But... I thought that was stolen...”
“Salali didn’t get this when he robbed me,” he told her. “It was my father’s. God only knows why he didn’t sell it and put a permanent roof over our heads, but he didn’t, and when he was dying, he gave it to me. When Salali knocked me out, I fell flat on my face, and he never thought of searching my front pockets.”
“So you could have sold it and left Simpson Creek as soon as Bishop let you out of jail,” she said, blinking at the realization.
He shrugged. “I could’ve, but I felt bad about the saloon and your café being wrecked, so I thought I’d wait till I’d repaired what I could. Then I...kinda didn’t want to leave so much. This pretty cook behind the saloon had snared my heart, you see.”
He was about to kiss Ella again, when Faith came in with cups of steaming coffee, then said she was leaving to take coffee to those working to put out the blaze.
“If I sell this watch,” he went on once they were alone, “we’ll have enough to rebuild your café and build a house in the back for us and my furniture shop right by it, too. I’ll be too busy making furniture to pester my wife in her café—except at mealtimes, of course.”
“But, Nate,” she protested, “I don’t want you to have to sell your father’s watch. It’s all you have to remember him by.”
“I have my father inside me,” he said, and for the first time he knew that it was true, and valuable in a way that he had never realized before. “In all the skills he taught me, not in a thing,” he said, pointing at the watch. “I kept this not because I need to know the time at any given moment, but knowing someday I might need to sell it to accomplish something important. I thought ‘something important’ was getting to San Francisco and becoming rich and powerful. Now I know ‘something important’ is starting a life with you.”
“Nate,” she murmured, “I love you so much.” Then for an endless time they were lost in each other, until one by one, the members of the bucket brigade filed in to see them and assure themselves Miss Ella and Nate Bohannan were all right.
Sheriff Bishop eventually arrived to get their account of what had happened. They told him how Mrs. Powell had knocked each of them unconscious in turn, tied Nate up and set the fire—probably with the kerosene out of the lamps.
“I don’t know what happened to her after that,” Ella told the sheriff, appreciating Nate’s warm arm around her as she remembered the terror of waking up among flames and struggling to get out, knowing she might not be in time to save Nate.
“We found Mrs. Powell in the creek,” Bishop said grimly. “She must have caught her dress on fire, ’cause a lot of it was burned away. I figure she must have jumped in the water to put out the fire and hit her head on that big rock that sticks out on one side below the bridge.”
“Is she dead?” Nate asked as Ella clutched his arm.
Bishop nodded. “It’s probably a mercy, as bad as her burns looked.”
Next to her, Nate sighed, and Ella knew he could no more rejoice in Mrs. Powell’s death than she could, despite what Mrs. Powell had done. The poor demented soul. Having felt so insecure about her own future before, Ella knew how insecurity could fuel a person’s actions.
Those in the parlor cheered as they learned Ella’s café would be rebuilt and Nate would be staying in Simpson Creek as Ella’s husband. It was impossible to be sad anymore.
* * *
A fortnight later, Ella still hadn’t changed her mind about marrying Nate, much to his relief. Dressed in a beautiful dark green dress, which had been made up with skillful haste by Milly Brookfield, Ella Justiss became the bride of Nate Bohannan.
The wedding dinner was held at the hotel and prepared by Daisy Henderson, the new cook. She’d been promoted by the hotel owner because of old Mrs. Powell’s demise.
“Delicious.” Ella sighed as she tasted her first morsel of wedding cake. She sat next to her handsome groom, who wore the silver brocade vest and black trousers he’d been wearing when she’d first seen him, along with a new white shirt and a black frock coat lent to him by Nick Brookfield.
“Not bad, but she doesn’t cook as well as you do,” Nate whispered into his bride’s ear.
“You’re just saying that because you want me to keep you supplied with cake all the time, Mr. Bohannan,” she accused him with a wink.
“I won’t deny it, Mrs. Bohannan,” he said, grinning.
They would be living in a little cottage on the grounds of Gilmore House, the mayor’s palatial mansion, until their new house could be built. The café would be rebuilt first, rising again on the site of the old one. Nate’s shop would be built after the house, but it could wait because Dayton had offered to let him use the workroom at the mill again until the shop was constructed.
Mayor Gilmore made a point of taking out his new gold pocket watch, which Nate had sold to him for a very nice sum indeed.
“I think it’s time the groom made a speech,” he announced, and everyone began to clink their glasses in agreement.
“Aw, I’m not so good at speeches,” Nate protested, reddening as every guest’s gaze fell on him. “Wouldn’t you like me to kiss my bride again instead? I’ve found that’s one of my new skills.”
Beside him, Ella felt herself flush, but she didn’t mind her new husband’s suggestion a bit.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from GROOM BY DESIGN by Christine Johnson.
Dear Reader,
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Welcome back to Simpson Creek, where the ladies of the Spinsters’ Club make matches to achieve their “happily-ever-afters.” This Hill Country town has become a dear location to me, full of old friends and new characters asking for their own stories. I hope you like them, too!
As with all authors, I’m often asked where I get my ideas. In Ella’s case, I’d already decided she would be the next heroine in my series, but while deciding how to deepen her background, I attended my granddaughter Olivia’s school play, Annie. In the program, I read about the development of orphanages, and how at first, orphan children were placed in asylums right along with indigent and sometimes insane adults. That was what had happened to Ella, I decided, which made her occasionally unsure and feeling as if she had been damaged.
And who would be the most apparently unreliable man for her to fall in love with but a jack-of-all-trades who was helping to sell snake oil in a medicine show? I admit I have a weakness for “jacks-of-all-trade” since my own husband is one of those men who can build or fix seemingly anything.
And so the story began. Thanks for choosing A Hero in the Making. You can contact me via my website, www.LaurieKingery.com, or on Facebook, or Twitter—@lauriekingery.
Blessings,
Laurie Kingery
Questions for Discussion
Have you ever been subject to repeated nightmares about a particular subject? How did you deal with it?
Describe Ella’s and Nate’s reactions when they first meet. Do you think this is love at first sight?
How is their meeting different from when you met your husband or significant other? Do you believe in love at first sight?
How is Ella different from the career-oriented women of today?
Have you ever wanted to go into business for yourself, as Ella does? Did you do it? Why or why not?
How does Ella’s childhood influence the woman she has become?
Did you want to be just like one of your parents, or, like Nate, the opposite of one of your parents? Did you become like your mother or father? Why or why not?
What do you think of the Bible-theme verse, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares”?
Have you ever met a slick con man like Robert Salali? How did that come about?
When we first meet Ella, she is insecure and determined to trust no one, especially men. How does she change?
Have you ever developed a plan, as Nate does, only to have God lead you in a different direction?
Ella and Nate both have secrets. Ella’s, of course, is her asylum upbringing. What is Nate’s?
Do you have a confidante like Ella does, whom you can be “real” with? Why is that important?
How does Maude show support to her friend Ella?
Maude’s story will be next in the Brides of Simpson Creek series. What kind of hero would you envision for her?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.
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Chapter One
Pearlman, Michigan
July 1923
“No, no, no. I won’t do it.” Ruth Fox glared at her younger sister Jen. “We have enough to do without chasing after rich men.” She glanced at the dress shop’s clock before pressing another seam on Mrs. Vanderloo’s tea gown. The wealthy client wanted her dresses by five o’clock, and Ruth was running late.
“But think how it would help Daddy.” Jen, perched on a stool at the worktable, twirled a pincushion between her hands while their youngest sister, Minnie, hung on every word. “Three daughters at home costs money. If even one of us married a wealthy man, we could help Daddy get the treatment he needs.”
“Yes, we could,” Minnie echoed. Ruth’s baby sister would go along with anything Jen suggested, no matter how ridiculous, and this went far beyond ridiculous.
Ruth finger-pressed the next seam and reached for a hot iron off the old stove. On hot summer days, she wished for an electric iron, but those cost money, and every cent was needed for the hospital. “You could best help by basting that blouse for me.”
Naturally, Jen ignored her request. Of all the sisters, she possessed the least skill and interest in sewing. Her dreams leaned more toward the adventurous, like flying airplanes.
Jen plunked the pincushion down on the worktable. “You heard the doctors. Daddy needs that electrical treatment.”
“Electrotherapy.”
“Whatever they call it. The point is it’ll cost more. After this latest episode...” Jen’s voice drifted off in concern. “Did you see the look on Mother’s face? And then she left for the sanitarium that very afternoon. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Ruth had to stop this conversation from escalating into hysteria. “We don’t know that.”
“Because no one tells us anything.” Jen crossed her arms. “Do they think we can’t figure it out? We’re grown women. Tell me the truth, Ruthie. Mother left you in charge. I saw you looking through the ledger last night. We don’t have the money for the treatment, do we?”
Ruth hesitated. It hadn’t taken her long to discover they were deep in debt, but revealing that fact would serve no good purpose. “I’m sure Daddy and Mother have taken care of everything.”
Jen looked doubtful.
“Even if they haven’t,” Ruth added before Minnie picked up her sister’s pessimism, “it doesn’t mean we need to hound rich men. There are more reliable ways to make money.”
“It would take twenty years to earn it on our wages,” Jen countered, “and Daddy needs the money now. That’s why marrying into wealth is such a good idea. You heard the story of Nurse Walker when we last visited Daddy. How her patient Mr. Cornelius fell in love with her and paid off all her debts?”
Ruth hated to admit the story had tumbled around in her head, too.
“He was rich.” Minnie’s eyes lit with excitement. “From oil.”
“Automobiles,” Jen corrected. “But it doesn’t matter how he made his money. What we need to do is find our own Mr. Cornelius.”
Ruth shook her head. “That was just a story. Even if it is true, that sort of thing only happens once in a lifetime.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Minnie fairly quivered with excitement. “I know someone just like Mr. Cornelius. Mr. Brandon Landers helped Mrs. Simmons when he fell in love with Anna.”
“That’s not the same,” Ruth said, though in some ways it was. The man had given Anna and her mother a home when they lost theirs. In time, he fell in love with Anna and married her. Anna’s mother still lived in the guest cottage on the Landers estate right here in Pearlman. “He married Anna for love, not money.”
“I love his brother, Reggie, and in time Reggie will love me,” Minnie insisted. “It’ll be just like Mr. Cornelius and Miss Walker.”
Ruth would never understand her baby sister. After initially shying away from the college man, she had developed a crush on him. This plan of Jen’s provided just the vehicle to encourage Minnie’s fancy for a man who didn’t deserve her.
“Mother and Daddy would never let you marry at your age,” Ruth cautioned.
“Eighteen is old enough. P
lenty of girls my age are engaged, and some already married. I wouldn’t want to wait forever, like...”
Though Minnie stopped before uttering the hurtful words, Ruth knew her sister meant her. Ruth had never had a beau, never danced with a man and never experienced a romantic kiss. Oh, she longed for it all. A home. A family of her own. A good Christian husband, poor but hardworking. A man who wouldn’t mind a plain wife with poor eyesight. Countless tearful prayers had been sent heavenward, but at twenty-six, she was a spinster.
Minnie was right about girls here marrying young, but she didn’t understand that a man didn’t love you simply because you loved him. That applied doubly to rich, handsome men. The wounds they inflicted lasted a lifetime.
Ruth attacked the seam with the iron.
“I’m sorry, Ruthie,” Minnie said with a sob. “I didn’t mean anything by it. But can’t you see? Daddy needs our help, and this is the perfect solution.”
“We are already helping by taking care of the shop and house and praying for him.” Yet as Daddy’s heart grew weaker, Ruth feared the small contribution they made would never be enough. But marry for money? That road led to nothing but heartache, as their oldest sister could testify. Beatrice had married the heir to the biggest fortune in town, yet she’d confided to Ruth that her marriage was struggling.
Jen drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Any little bit would help. Even if we can’t marry into wealth, at least we wouldn’t be living at home anymore. Daddy wouldn’t have to feed and clothe us. Any decent husband would help pay for the treatments.”
As Jen ticked off the benefits of her idea, Ruth paused in her pressing, iron held high so it wouldn’t scorch the delicate georgette crepe. Her sister had a point. None of them brought in much from their part-time jobs. The dress shop had lost clients. Maybe marriage was the only answer. Unfortunately, no man would look twice at plain old Ruth. Jen dashed around in trousers half the time, discouraging all but the most forward-thinking man. That left Minnie, and Ruth couldn’t abide the thought of her baby sister marrying that idler Reggie Landers.
A Hero in the Making Page 24
