A Bride in Store

by Melissa Jagears

  Lord, if this isn’t the best thing for me, let me know. But it feels right.

  The cold meat under her arm propelled her to leave the heartwarming sight behind and return to Irena, who’d taken to her bed yesterday and hadn’t come downstairs for breakfast.

  At the boardinghouse, Eliza put the meat in the little wooden icebox, then tiptoed upstairs. She cracked open her friend’s door and peered inside the dim room.

  The bed creaked. “Come in.”

  Eliza crossed to the bedstead and frowned at the uneaten food on the dresser. “Still not hungry?”

  “I ate a little.”

  An inchworm would have eaten more. She bent over to feel her forehead.

  “Can’t an old woman lie in peace?” Irena moved away from Eliza’s hand, struggling to sit up. “You’d think you wanted to doctor instead of run a store with all your fussing.” A cough racked her body.

  “Would you like Will to look in on you?”

  Irena waved her hand for a split second before returning it to her mouth to cover another cough.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t bother with your permission. You should be looked at.” If only she knew where Will had gone.

  “Your hands on your hips don’t threaten me, missy.” Irena closed her eyes and leaned against the headboard. “When you get old, it’s hard to get over illnesses. My joints already ached before this fever.”

  She reached out a hand again. Irena sighed but endured the probing.

  “I’ve got the pain powders William gives me for my joints and plenty of his crushed yarrow for the tea he makes me, so don’t bother him.” She pulled her blanket to her chest. “Though I feel as if the fever’s returning. Perhaps you should make some of that tea.”

  “You’re a little warm, but nothing like last night.” She dropped her hand. “What about for dinner?” She frowned at the uneaten cheese and crackers on the bedside table. “I want to bring you something you’ll eat.”

  “Broth sounds good.”

  “Do you mind if I ask a question before I leave?” The haze marring Mrs. Lightfoot’s normally twinkly blue eyes gave Eliza pause, but would she have time to talk to her in the morning?

  She gave her a wavering smile. “All I’m good for is listening right now.”

  “Do you think I can do this store thing alone?”

  Irena rolled her eyes and shifted to open the end table’s drawer. She pulled out a thick book and tossed it toward Eliza. “You’re not alone. Mr. Raymond is supporting you—and I believe in you too.”

  Turning over the book, Eliza grinned at the merchandise catalog. “You must have ordered this the first day I returned from the bank.”

  “You’re meant to run a store. You’ll do just fine. Maybe things won’t work out as you’ve planned, but you’ll readjust and improve.” Irena’s eyelids fluttered.

  Eliza rose from the bed. She’d have to eat dinner by herself again tonight. If Irena didn’t recover soon, Eliza would have no one to celebrate with over the papers she’d sign tomorrow. Will or Kathleen wouldn’t appreciate a dinner invitation to celebrate their newest business competition.

  “I’ll bring your meal up in an hour or so.”

  Irena muttered her thanks. She’d most likely be asleep within minutes.

  Eliza paused on the stair to look through the narrow window on the landing. Would Will be upset she’d chosen her own store instead of helping him as he’d asked?

  She had to make good business decisions, not emotional ones.

  He’d be fine; she shouldn’t worry.

  Will slumped against the hard bedroom chair, trying to get comfortable for the long night ahead of him at Mrs. Raymond’s side. He didn’t know what else to do besides pray her through.

  The door behind him cracked open, letting a sliver of light brighten the dark room.

  Mrs. Raymond lay writhing on the bed, her painful groaning uninterrupted by her husband’s entrance.

  “Can I convince you to retire to the guest room?” Hugh, dressed in striped pajamas fancier than Will’s Sunday suit, shuffled in, wringing his hands.

  Will pulled the other chair closer and gestured for the man to sit. “You’re the one who needs rest. I’ll have few customers disappointed to see my Closed sign tomorrow, whereas you said you have several meetings.”

  Hugh hovered on the edge of the seat, as if uncertain sitting was a good idea. He stared at his wife rather than turning to Will. “Maybe I should cancel.” He scooted back against his chair but a second later perched on the front edge and turned, his eyes as wide as they were hours ago. “Are you sure?”

  Will couldn’t help but smile. How long until the shock wore off? “Yes, I’m positive.”

  “But she’s forty-two, and I’m fifty.”

  “Your age has nothing to do with it.”

  “But she said . . .” He pulled on the lapel of his pajamas as if the cloth were a tight cravat instead of a loosely tailored collar. “She said that her courses were over.”

  “Evidently not long enough.” Will folded his hands between his knees. “She’s not dying of a tumor as she feared—there’s a baby, sure enough—the fever, well, that’s something else. They need to be nursed through this.”

  “They? The fever could affect the baby?”

  Will nodded, his smile drooping. “It might’ve already.”

  “She’s wanted another child for so long. Can’t you do something?”

  “I’m not certain what’s causing her fever. I can fetch Dr. Forsythe in the morning, if you’d like. A second opinion won’t make me feel as if you’re slighting me.” In fact, with another baby at risk to his medical inexperience, maybe that would be best.

  Not that Dr. Forsythe would try diagnosing much. He’d most likely just give her calomel to clean out her system.

  Putting a writhing woman through such treatment seemed cruel. But maybe he shouldn’t favor the patient’s comfort over the accepted way of dealing with ill humors.

  “No, absolutely not.” Hugh grew rigid in his seat. “Not after the way the man treated her last time. She’d rather me let her die.”

  “Come now. If she were dying, you’d do anything to save her, wouldn’t you?”

  “Is she dying?”

  Will ran a hand through his hair. What if he was wrong? How could he face Hugh again? He’d had enough difficulty accepting his parents’ forgiveness after his arrogance resulted in his baby sister’s death and Nettie’s disability. They shouldn’t have forgiven him so easily.

  However, he still needed to say what he thought correct. “Anything can turn worse unexpectedly. But right now, I figure she’s all right. But you might not want to trust my say-so since—”

  “Forsythe’s being here won’t help. You’ve soothed her better in the last hour than either I or the maid.”

  “Then I’ll stay and keep an eye on her.”

  Hugh fidgeted.

  “Unless you want me to leave?”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “I was only concerned about you. Why don’t you hire a lawyer, sell that millstone of a store, and head to school?”

  Will sighed. “Even if I retained a lawyer, I can’t profit one hundred percent from a store when Axel might have some debts that need to be paid.”

  “But if he’s convicted, your percentage could be compromised too.”

  Will rubbed his brow. “I know. I’ve already talked to a lawyer. The judge will most likely place an injunction on an auction until Axel is caught, so I can’t sell now. Even if I could pay a lawyer to try to win me full ownership, I have no money, just a failing store—and if he couldn’t win on my behalf . . . how would I pay him?” Will clasped his hands together. “I hope to make the store profitable enough to exit with the clothes on my back when Axel is caught and the place is sold. . . .”

  Hugh grimaced and shook his head. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d listened to me years ago.”

  No doubt. But he’d not dwell on the what ifs—better to focus on what
he could do now.

  Considering the poor choices he’d made, he deserved to lose everything. But now that he’d set the store to rights following Eliza’s suggestions, maybe he could earn enough to cover his school fees and pay for Axel’s misdeeds.

  If he had enough time. “I’m making improvements to the store, and pray—”

  “I’m sorry, but if one more store comes into town, you’ll be sunk.” Hugh shook his head. “I’m afraid—”

  “Water?” Mrs. Raymond twitched, and her hand snaked out to the edge of the bed.

  Will grabbed the porcelain cup beside her, but Hugh stopped him.

  “I know you said I shouldn’t sleep near her, but can’t I do this?”

  “Of course.” Will’s heart twisted at the sight of the hard-nosed businessman sliding next to his wife’s sweaty form, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her bed-mussed hair. He’d seen heartfelt affection between his parents, but the longing to embrace a woman of his own consumed him as he turned his head away from the Raymonds.

  Because the woman he envisioned in his arms was Eliza—a dream as far out of reach as his medical degree.

  “Why don’t you go down the hall and get yourself bedding from the linen closet?” Hugh tipped his head toward Will. “I’ve sat in that chair. Deborah chooses furnishings because of their beauty, not their practicality.”

  And that’s what his love for Eliza was. A love for a masterpiece, but an impractical relationship at best. She was too smart to marry a man who was as penniless as the day he was born.

  Maybe the judge would allow him to sell the Men’s Emporium to Eliza, then he could go to school and come back for her. But she’d have to clean the butcher’s floor for many years before she had enough money to buy the store.

  Why couldn’t Hugh have done something for her? Will’s shoulders slumped as he trudged from the room.

  There was no reason to make her a partner, because she’d lose everything to Axel’s crimes as easily as he. She’d been hurt enough. He’d not set her up to fall victim to Axel again.

  Chapter 17

  Eliza rubbed the last streak off the glass display encasing her store’s stacks of patterned china. If she’d been anywhere close to heaven, it was here, standing in a gleaming showroom filled with goods of her choosing, arranged to her satisfaction.

  Of course, she needed more merchandise and tables, but the rest of what she’d ordered would arrive soon. With no savings to help her recover if she had a month of poor sales, everything had to go as planned. Thankfully, Mr. Raymond had allowed her six months before her first payment on the inventory loan was due.

  Leaving her apron behind, she stretched before heading out into the afternoon sunshine and end-of-day bustle. She breathed in the sudden gust of wind shooting in from the prairie and momentarily erasing the smell of horses and dank alleys.

  Catty-corner across Main Street, Will passed near the butcher’s. Her heart pumped a bit harder at the sight of him. Since she’d skipped church the last two weeks while cleaning and preparing, she’d missed seeing him.

  Surely God would forgive her for not attending church to be a good steward of the chance He’d given her.

  Will about-faced past the butcher shop and then headed back in the direction he’d come from.

  She waved. “Will!”

  The woman passing by on the street looked up at her with a scowl.

  Eliza lowered her arm and shrugged.

  Will glanced over his shoulder before turning in to the butcher’s alley. Was he looking for her? It wasn’t Thursday. She’d hoped to have caught him last Thursday, but had gotten caught up polishing her store’s staircase spindles until her stomach insisted she go home to eat.

  After locking the door behind her, she raced across the busy street but stopped short of the butcher’s alley to catch her breath. Using a window to redo her hair, she reined in her misbehaving tendrils, the pink scar taunting her. Had Will been wrong to promise it would fade with time?

  She rushed around the corner and bumped into Will, their heads knocking together.

  “Ugh.” Will winced and put a hand to his jaw. She pressed the heel of her hand against the throbbing in her brow.

  “And I thought I liked your being tall for a woman.”

  “Sorry.” But at least she’d caught him. By the chin no less. “Were you looking for me?”

  “Um, well, just passing by.” He colored and rubbed his red neck. “How’s your head? I could escort you home and measure out something for the pain.”

  “No need to bother. It’ll go away in a moment.”

  “Oh.” He looked positively depressed that she hadn’t a headache.

  So what if she’d decided weeks ago not to ask him to visit her more often? Why couldn’t she spend a little time with him before he found out she’d likely ruined his chances of getting to medical school anytime soon? “Perhaps you could check on Irena though? She hasn’t been feeling well.” Her own stomach churned—but more from what she was keeping from him than any sickness she might have caught. “She felt well enough to get out of bed for a handful of days, but she retired to her room again this morning.”

  “What’s her ailment?”

  “She has a cold.” Eliza shook her head. “But she tells me it’s nothing but old age.”

  “I’d have guessed with her joint pain she wouldn’t want to stay in bed too long.”

  Exactly. “However, she doesn’t want you to come.”

  He frowned, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Had that upset him? He claimed he didn’t want to be called on as a doctor yet, but maybe he had some doctoring pride after all.

  “But if you walked me home and she didn’t greet you, that would naturally cause you enough concern to check on her, yes?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” He smiled at her and held out the arm not carrying his medical box. “Shall we?”

  She glanced back at her shop, not certain she should take his arm. Would Irena mention her store to him? Oh, the indecision . . . the indigestion. She tightened her stomach. Should she tell him? Would that make the inner roiling settle? It’s not like anything would change if she didn’t tell him—he’d just realize a few days later that she’d chosen to hurt him in order to help herself.

  But a man could pick up and do whatever he wanted with no worry about his place in society, his ability to provide for and protect himself. Unlike a woman. How often did a lady alone, abandoned, without any family or nest egg to depend upon, get a chance to actually pull herself out of poverty without throwing herself at the marriage altar to anyone who’d have her?

  And why did it bother her so much that she’d made the decision to chase her dream, so much that she feared telling him? This was a business decision—nothing more, nothing less.

  The arm Will held out slumped. Eliza grabbed for his elbow before her hesitation made him pull it back. Would he enjoy having her on his arm if he learned her secret? “Yes, let’s go now.”

  Keeping her gaze off the store as they passed, Eliza pressed a hand against the internal unease. No reason to cause Kathleen and Will extra days of worry—because nothing could be done to ease what she’d set in motion. She’d not announce the opening of the five-and-dime until it was perfect and ready for business. Will and Kathleen would find out about her venture along with everyone else in town.

  But owning her dream store felt less wonderful each time she reined in her impulse to visit the Men’s Emporium and tell Will everything before opening day. If Will felt anything for an unattractive spinster like her, her owning a business that would kill his profits would douse any interest he had. Why not enjoy his polite attentions for a few more days?

  “I haven’t seen you in church lately.”

  She swallowed and forced herself to look up at him. “Busy cleaning.”

  He tipped her a smile. “You’ve gotten that much work?”

  She nodded and dropped her chin. “I’m glad you have the time to check on Irena.”

&nbs
p; “You should know you can call on me any time.” His voice sounded slightly desperate, as if he wanted her to call on him every day. That couldn’t be true, could it?

  Did he know his thumb was rubbing a lazy circle on her arm?

  Will cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  When a minute of silence passed, she looked up at him again. His eyes were closed though he was still walking.

  “About what?”

  “Do you think I should go to school . . . no matter what I need to do to get there or how long it takes? Or do you . . . or would you rather I . . .” He huffed.

  What was making him so tongue-tied? They’d discussed this plenty of times before. “Of course you should go to school. It’s where you’re meant to be.” Though her heart slowed at the contemplation of how long he’d be gone . . . and how long it would likely take him to get there now. “How many years is school?”

  “Two or more. Longer if I have to work at the same time. And I don’t know when I’ll get there, since I decided it’s only fair to make sure Axel’s debts have been covered first.”

  “How are Axel’s debts your responsibility?” If anyone shady knew how easily Will felt responsible for someone else’s problems, he’d get swindled more often than he already was.

  “Considering you’ve been his victim, wouldn’t you be cross if I didn’t—” He jerked to a halt.

  She faltered. “What’s wrong?”

  He stared at the cedar shingle hanging on metal hooks beside the door of a white false-fronted building. Doctor J. J. Benning in hammered metal letters glinted in the sun.

  How long did Will plan to stand there and stare? “Did no one tell you about the new doctor?”

  “This changes everything.” His mouth went slack, and his shoulders fell. Pulling away, he clomped down the sidewalk as fast as the horse pulling a buggy beside them.

  Though she was tall, the sea of petticoats around her legs nearly kept her from matching his stride. “Will?”

  He didn’t seem to hear.