Mail Order Merchant_Brides of Beckham

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “Toria? Are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think tonight went really well.”

  Toria smiled in the darkness. She could hear sounds of him undressing, but all the lights were out, which made her feel much more comfortable. “I do, too. I think John has turned a corner. He seems genuinely happy to be here.”

  “I think he is.” Mortimer slid under the covers beside her, careful not to touch her. It was an awkward position for both of them to be in. “Thank you for welcoming my son as if he was your own, but not pressuring him by mothering him. I think that’s the key. You give him choices, but you’re not pushing him toward anything.”

  Toria rolled over so she was facing him. “I’m happy to be of any kind of help at all. I’m just glad he’s no longer determined to hate me.”

  “I don’t think he ever really wanted to hate anyone, but I could be wrong. His devotion to Grace was very strong.”

  His mention of his late wife’s name made her think of the woman who kept appearing to her then fading away. She didn’t mention Grace, though. She couldn’t. She had his attention for now, but she was certain as soon as he thought of his perfect first wife, she would be forgotten once again. “Goodnight, Mortimer. I hope you sleep well.”

  Mortimer went up onto one elbow. “I’d like to kiss you goodnight, if I may?”

  She loved the way he always asked for permission before kissing her. Soon, maybe he would realize he didn’t need to, but for now, the formality seemed sweet to her. “I’d like that.”

  His kiss was soft and brief. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Toria closed her eyes, falling asleep with a smile on her lips. He may not love her, but he treated her with caring and respect. What more could a mail order bride ask for?

  Early the next morning, she got out of bed and dressed in the darkness. She needed to bake the bread she had waiting in the ice box, as well as make breakfast and prepare lunch for fifteen people.

  She started with the bread, and while it was baking, she whipped up batter for pancakes. She made bacon and scrambled eggs to go with them, wanting a good breakfast for both men, but particularly for John. He was starting delivering full time that day, and she knew he’d need his strength.

  The siren’s call of bacon brought both men into the kitchen, each of them yawning. “We may have stayed up later than we should have last night,” Mortimer said with a grin.

  “That’s understandable. We had guests, and you two had a lot to catch up on. It’s not like you see each other every day!”

  Mortimer laughed. “My sweet little wife is sarcastic in the mornings.”

  “It happens sometimes.” She put breakfast on the table for both of them, but she stayed at the stove for a bit longer. She needed to boil the chicken that would be the base for her chicken and dumplings for the men coming for lunch. She was a little nervous about serving so many of them, but she was also excited. It was a new business venture, and something that would surely make a little extra profit.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Mortimer asked, frowning at her back.

  “Yes, in just a minute. I have to get lunch started, and then I’ll be there.” As soon as she finished, she sat down at the table, and realized then the men had waited for her. “You should have started without me!”

  “We have manners,” Mortimer said, taking her hand and bowing his head for the morning prayer.

  “I tried to take a bite of bacon, but Dad made me stop!” John said after the prayer, a grin on his face.

  “You sure are happy in the mornings,” Toria said. “Have you always been this way?”

  He nodded. “Most always. There was a time after Mom died that I was never happy about anything. Thankfully I made it through that, and I’m doing better now.”

  “I’m really glad. I’m sure your mother would have wanted you to be happy, even after she was gone. It’s not a sin to laugh and joke and be happy again.”

  John frowned. “I guess I never thought of it that way. Anytime I wanted to smile, I thought of her, and remembered I was supposed to be grieving. And then the guilt would hit me again.”

  Mortimer shook his head at his son. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt that way? I would have told you it was unnecessary. Your mother was the least selfish person I’ve ever met. She wanted you to be happy at all times above all else.”

  “But I needed to grieve her.”

  “Of course you needed to grieve her, but it didn’t need to last five years. She never would have wanted that at all.”

  Toria sat quietly, listening to the two of them talk. She felt like she should leave the room for such a private talk between father and son, but she needed to be there to get her bread out of the oven when it was done if nothing else.

  Long after they’d left for the store, she mulled over everything that had been said in her mind. She worried that her presence would keep them from being able to do the things they needed to do at times.

  “You’ve done the right thing, letting John move back in here. He’ll stay out of trouble and be far happier.”

  Toria turned and looked at the woman sitting at the table. “You’re Mortimer’s Grace, aren’t you? You’re his wife.”

  Grace gave one nod. “I was his wife. You are now.”

  “I’m not his real wife. Not like you were. He still loves you with everything inside him.” She kept working on getting all the cooked chicken off the bone as she spoke. “John has never stopped mourning you. I feel like I can never live up to your memory.”

  “You’ve told both John and Mortimer that you weren’t trying to live up to me, but that they should see you as your own woman. If you really believe that, why do you worry about living in my shadow?” Grace asked logically.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I could never possibly be good enough with the way your memory still plagues both of them.”

  “I chose you to be Mortimer’s bride. I appeared to Bernard back in Beckham and told him you were in trouble down that alley. He didn’t hear you scream. I wanted you to be in the right place to be the one to marry Mortimer, because I know you’re the right woman for him.” Grace got to her feet and paced, surprising Toria a bit. Could ghosts really pace? Was she a ghost?

  “How did you know I was right for him?” Toria asked softly.

  “Are you kidding me? You are able to balance the books in a way even Mortimer can’t. You can cook and bake like no one I’ve ever seen. Your work ethic is unparalleled. You are truly a special woman, and Mortimer is lucky to have you.”

  “You wanted him to marry again?”

  Grace nodded emphatically. “Of course I did. I wanted him to move on and be happy. I wanted the same for John, but that’s harder. I hope that pretty little Patience from church will be good for him. Millie’s not for him. She’s a good woman, but she’s not the right person for my John.”

  “I really liked Patience. I like Millie too, but I agree. She’s wrong for John.”

  “I thought about Millie for Mortimer for a short while, but she’s still too young. You…you’re definitely the right woman for him. You just have to get past your insecurities about me. I never would have done half the work you do. I liked to sit around and have tea with other ladies and just soak up the gossip.”

  “You did?” That pronouncement was hard for her to merge with what she knew about Grace. “I thought you were perfect.”

  Grace laughed aloud. “I was far from perfect. I did love them both with everything inside me, but I had so many flaws. You put me to shame, Toria. I’m glad you’re here taking care of the two men I love more than any others.”

  “Tell me what I need to do to make Mortimer love me?”

  Grace shook her head. “There’s no way to make a man love you. You have to keep on as you’re going.” She turned her head. “He’s coming.” And she faded away.

  Toria thought for a moment about telling Mortimer what she’d seen, but she couldn’t do that. �
��I had a quick lull between customers so I locked the door for a moment. I wanted to make sure you remembered to bring me down lunch at eleven, so I can eat before your shifts of men start.”

  “I would never forget to feed you!”

  “John will come up and get his when he gets back. And Willie.”

  “I’ll make sure I set some aside for both of them.”

  Mortimer walked to her and took her into his arms, kissing her quickly. “I didn’t feel right kissing you goodbye this morning with John right there. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for him to move in after all.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be with us long,” Toria told him. “He’ll find a good woman and settle down soon. I can feel it.” And your dead wife was just sitting in my kitchen talking about it.

  “I hope you’re right. I like having you all to myself.” He kissed her once more before heading for the stairs. “Your cookies are all gone, by the way. After the new restaurant opens, I think you should devote your time to baking.”

  “Baking and working in the store. I’m so excited to be able to work with you every day. It seems that’s the way a marriage should be—two people working together for a common goal. Don’t you think?”

  Mortimer nodded, his face confused. “I’ll see you later.”

  As he walked down the stairs away from her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. Should he and Grace have worked together more? She’d loved her social time, and he hadn’t thought he should interfere with it. She’d known enough to manage the store when he was sick, but other than that, she’d rarely set foot in it. It had been his store, and not theirs.

  Maybe Toria was right. Maybe it was something they should do together.

  Chapter Eight

  The lunch went well for Toria. The men were all well-mannered and seemed to love the food she served them. They had seconds and sometimes thirds, but she’d prepared for an army, and they enjoyed what she made.

  After the third round of meals, John and Willie came up the stairs to have their lunches. Willie’s eyes widened at the small feast in front of him. It was obvious he’d been hungry for a while. “I should take this home to my family, not eat it all myself.”

  Toria shook her head. “You need your energy for the work you’re doing. I’ll send home anything that we’ve got left with you at the end of the day.” She’d planned to serve more dumplings for supper so she wouldn’t have to make another meal, but it didn’t matter. If he was willing to skip his lunch to take food home to his family, then his family needed it more than she needed to not cook another meal.

  “We can’t take charity, ma’am.” Willie sat down, still eyeing his food as if he wondered if it was really all right to eat it.

  “It’s not charity. My husband and John won’t eat the same meal twice like that. I need someone to take it. I shouldn’t have made so much.” Toria hated lying, but she knew it was important that his family eat.

  John’s eyes were dancing at her story. “It’s true. I’ll take you home and take the pot with me. I arranged it so my last delivery would be in Bachelor, so it’s no problem driving you home.”

  “I’d like that a lot.” Willie looked at his food, and then at Toria. “Is there enough for you?”

  Toria nodded, grabbing a bowl for herself. She’d eaten earlier, but if it made him feel better to see her eat, she could eat a little more to satisfy him. Sitting down at the table, she looked at John. “Would you be willing to pray for us?”

  After the prayer, Willie began shoveling his food into his mouth, obviously very excited that there was food for him to enjoy. When he’d finished—which took mere moments—he leaned back and looked at Toria. “It was a wonderful meal, Mrs. Jackson.”

  “Thank you, Willie. Would you like more?”

  The boy seemed to fight an internal debate, but in the end, he shook his head. “No, ma’am, but thank you for offering.”

  Toria understood. If he ate more, he’d be taking it from his mother and siblings. She’d been raised poor, but never as poor as his family obviously was. She wished there was a way she could help more, but she couldn’t let the boy know that she was giving him “charity.”

  After John and the boy had left, she worked to scrub up the last round of dishes. She’d done a good job of keeping them up while the men took turns eating. Then she realized that she had nothing to cook for supper, because she’d promised the chicken and dumplings to Willie, so she went down the stairs to the store.

  Mortimer smiled, happy that his wife was there to help him. When she walked over and whispered softly why she needed new food, he nodded to her. “Just show me what you take.”

  She hurried over and chose something for their supper and went upstairs with it, getting it started. Back down the stairs she went, getting one of the work aprons Mortimer kept lying around and tying it around her waist. “Do you want me to take the cash register?”

  “Would you be willing to go over and make the yard goods area more pleasing? I tend to lose a lot of business to the dry goods store down the street. For some reason, people think they should buy food here, but fabrics from them. Maybe you can help with that.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t even realize there was a dry goods store down the street. I need to get out more! How many people live in Creede?”

  “There are more than ten thousand between Creede and Bachelor.”

  “That’s the same size as Beckham! Oh my. And there’s no restaurant?”

  “Sure there is. The one we had burned down, and Edwin McRae, the former owner, is running one out of his kitchen. It’s just not big enough to serve all the men who need to eat there. Even after the restaurant that the Grahams are building, you could keep your Monday noon thing going if you wanted to. There’s enough business for another three or four restaurants in town, if not more.” He shrugged.

  “I need to learn more about this town if I’m going to make it my forever home!” Toria raced off to the yard goods, studying the display, and then working on making it more pleasing to a woman’s eye. She loved the idea of making it perfect.

  Mortimer watched her go, his mind zeroing in on the word, “if.” Did that mean she was making plans to go somewhere else? Wasn’t she happy in Creede? Now that she was in his life, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to do without her. He hoped he was wrong, because he didn’t want to keep her if she was unhappy.

  When John came back, announcing he was about to make his last delivery of the day and take Willie home, Toria hurried upstairs and got the big pot. “Your mama will need to add a little water and warm it up, but other than that it’s fine.” She resisted the urge to add loaves of bread to it, because she knew that Willie would then know it was charity. Sometimes it was hard to walk the fine line between helping someone and making them feel uncomfortable, like they were a project.

  Willie thanked her and hurried to put the pot into the wagon before rushing back inside to help John load the wagon again. As Toria watched him work, she was amazed that such a wiry boy would work so hard. He obviously cared about his family a great deal to be willing to do so much for them.

  After they were gone, Toria went upstairs to start supper. She was just making baked chicken and baked potatoes, so she didn’t have to sit over them and watch them. When she was finished, she descended the stairs again, spotting Mortimer on her way down. He looked sad, and she knew he was thinking of Grace. That’s who he was always thinking about when he looked sad.

  She began fixing some of the displays and disappeared into the back room to make sure things were restocked. She knew her job well, but she wished she was a better wife to poor Mortimer.

  When it was time to close the store, he walked to the door, and turned the sign. “It’s been a long day,” he told her.

  She nodded. “Long, but good. I’m happy I had so much to do.”

  He shook his head at her. “I’m afraid you’re going to work yourself to death if you keep up this pace. If you cut everything else out, y
ou could just work in the store with me.” He would enjoy it if they could work together all day every day. It would make him very happy.

  “While that’s tempting, I think it’s good for me to keep up with the baked goods and work on my knitting.” Truly, she couldn’t be around him that much, knowing he was still pining for his dead wife. What could she possibly do to make him realize that she was a good woman who was determined to love him?

  She stopped for a moment, an expression of grief coming over her face. She’d fallen in love with her husband, and there was no way he would ever love her. How was she going to be able to continue to be around him?

  Mortimer saw her face, and realized she must be missing home. What else could it be? “If you’d like to go home for a visit for a week or two, I wouldn’t complain.” He would hate every second of it, but he wanted her to be happy.

  His words came as a slap in the face. He wanted her to go. He needed to be away from her for a while. Why was she never good enough? “Just let me know when you want me to go, and I will.” She wondered if he’d buy her a round trip ticket, or only one way. He obviously didn’t want her, so maybe she should go back to Beckham? What would she do there, though? Sebastian was still there, and she didn’t need to deal with him.

  He turned his back on her, pretending to straighten something on the shelf behind him. “Maybe after Christmas? We’re very busy here during Christmas time.” Maybe if she waited that long, she would no longer feel the need to go. That was his hope, anyway.

  Of course he’d choose a time for her to leave that would be best for the store. She was a helper to him…a partner of sorts. She wasn’t someone he could ever love. “I’ll go finish supper while you close up. What time do you expect John back?”

  “Probably in ten or fifteen minutes. Go on and get everything ready.” He watched as she hurried up the stairs, leaning over the counter and burying his face in his hands.