The Stepmother: An Everland Ever After Tale

by Caroline Lee

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare, her fingers twined around themselves in front of her lips. “Ma’am?” It was damn cold out here, and he was letting all the heat out. She shook her head once, although Jack couldn’t tell if it was in response to his question, or if she was trying to shake some sense into herself.

  Zelle whimpered in her sleep and nestled deeper into the crook of his neck. He would’ve patted her back to sooth her, but he was still holding the knife. The baby had drawn the mystery woman’s attention, though, and he watched her fear—or was it only surprise?—fade as her gaze swept over Zelle’s wispy pale hair. He tried again, “Ma’am?”

  This time, she met his eyes and dropped her hands from her mouth. He noticed that they were still twisted together, though. She took a deep breath. “I’m Meri Almassy.”

  She said it like it was supposed to mean something. “Yeah?” He knew he was being rude, but she still hadn’t explained anything.

  When he didn’t react sufficiently—what had she been expecting?—her dark brows drew together, making a cute little “V” that he itched to smooth away. Another deep breath, and he pretended not to notice the way her small breasts strained against the light gray of her coat. Why in the world would someone who looked like her show up at his door at this hour? There was no call for it, no good reason.

  “Are you the doctor?”

  Ah. There was a reason, but not a good one.

  So Jack scowled, and told the truth—”No”—and slammed the door in her face.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Did he…? Did he just slam the door on her? The door of the house that was going to become hers? Meri’s jaw dropped at his rudeness, and while she stood there, it dropped further. How… how dare he? How dare he?

  Apparently Doctor Carpenter had the manners of a goat. Or a pig. To slam the door on his future wife…! Meri harrumphed, snapped her mouth closed, and crossed her arms in irritation. Her first impression of her future husband was not a glowing one.

  Actually, this was her second impression of Jack Carpenter, and her first hadn’t been much better. When he’d opened the door, and she’d had to tilt her head back to see his face, she’d been shocked. Doctors were bookish and kind and plain! There was no reason for him to be so tall, so broad, so handsome. That realization had caused a genuine gasp and consternation when Meri realized that—against everything she’d expected—Jack Carpenter was attractive. Very attractive. Write-to-Lettie-and-tell-her-how-attractive attractive, even. His hair was the kind of black that sucked light into it, and it was shaggy around his ears. She hadn’t been able to see the color of his eyes, but his jaw had been strong under several weeks’ worth of beard, and his nose was intimidatingly crooked, like it’d been broken and healed wrong. His brows were hard slashes, and his cheekbones were high, and the hand that cradled the baby’s bottom was twice the size of hers.

  Oh yes, Doctor Carpenter was attractive, in a terrible sort of way. She wanted a man who was quiet and devoted and not so much larger than her that she’d be overwhelmed. She didn’t want a man like Bernard; she wanted a man who was gentle and mild. Men who looked like Jack Carpenter did not devote themselves to helping others. They—they wrestled bulls or climbed mountains or—or—or…

  Meri sighed, and bit her lip. No, Jack Carpenter was not what she’d been looking for in a husband, but he’d written so eloquently about serving others… Maybe she was wrong. Maybe just because he looked like an ancient Roman gladiator should, didn’t mean he wasn’t also a gentle doctor. Besides, she was here, and she needed a husband, a future…and his advertisement had been more than enough to woo her halfway across the country to Everland.

  She should give the man a chance, if nothing else. A chance to prove that his appearance—his handsome, dangerous appearance—wasn’t all there was to him. To prove that he really was the kind of man who’d write beautiful advertisements searching for his “help mate”.

  ...And she would’ve, by Jiminy, if he hadn’t just slammed the door in her face! Meri’s irritation rose again, and she straightened her shoulders. In only a few minutes she’d gone from shocked at his appearance to accepting that he might be gentler than he looked to realizing that the man was horrifically rude. She didn’t know if she could have her opinion changed yet again, but she was going to try.

  Besides, it was really cold out here.

  She raised her hand to knock again, and then hesitated. He’d sent her the stagecoach fare to come way out here, but hadn’t the decency to meet her…hadn’t the decency to invite her in? Well, this was going to be her house, and she could darn well march in and make it her house.

  So, screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  Jack Carpenter’s home was…what was the opposite of cozy? Stark? It wasn’t empty, but there wasn’t much there that made it a home. A small table beside the counter and basins. Opposite that was the hearth and a chair with worn cushions, beside a footstool and a small table with the lamp. It was a tiny little room, and right now, very, very devoid of its owner. Meri let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  There were faint murmurs coming from behind the door along the left wall, and she assumed that’s where the house’s bedroom was. She was going to have to wait to give Doctor Carpenter a piece of her mind. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and forced herself to hold onto her anger; anger at Bernard, for showing her what she didn’t want in a husband; at herself, for allowing Lettie to convince her that becoming a mail-order bride was a viable solution; and most especially at Doctor-who-lacks-basic-manners-Jack-Carpenter. Oh yes, she was going to hold onto her anger at him.

  Because no matter how irritated she was, she could see herself here. In his second advertisement, he’d lovingly described his home, and she could imagine it with all the homey touches he’d written about; curtains she’d sewn, the smell of her bread baking, her books stacked above the mantel. That was the most galling part of this whole mess—she actually wanted to be married to him. Wanted to marry a man who wanted to build a better life, and wrote eloquently about his daughter and her future. She wanted to become little Zelle’s mother, to help him raise her up to be the good and decent woman he’d written about. Wanted to provide medical service to the women on the frontier, like she’d told him in her letters. Wanted to help him make this house a real home, and Everland a real town.

  Wanted to be Mrs. Jack Carpenter.

  …that is, until she’d met him.

  The bedroom door opened, and he backed out. She could see Zelle—who was at least two years old—sprawled on the bed on top of the covers, and Meri’s chest tightened. She’d seen the way he’d cradled his daughter at the door, and watched him tiptoe out of the room after lovingly putting the little one to sleep. He might look like a rough and dangerous man, but he had a soft spot for his daughter, at least.

  That realization made her loosen her grip on herself a bit, and relax slightly as he crossed towards her. She watched him run his hand through his hair in something close to exasperation, muttering something about walking in like she owns the place. He stopped to turn up the wick on the lamp and then turned towards her, his hands on his hips. She tried not to notice how dangerously handsome—handsomely dangerous?—he looked.

  “Alright, lady. I don’t like people showing up looking for help, but I don’t do house calls, neither. So what do you want?”

  For a doctor, he certainly didn’t speak like an educated man. Nor was his manner particularly gentle or civil. But at least it sounded like he was used to helping people. That was encouraging. The fact that he hadn’t acknowledged her name? Less than encouraging. “I’m Meredith Almassy... Meri?” she prompted when he continued to stare at her. She sighed, and put her own hands on her hips. “The woman you’re going to marry?”

  A slow blink, and then another, and then he curled his lip up and snorted derisively. “Lady, I’ve heard a
ll sorts of tales over the last year, but that one takes the prize.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mrs. Almassy, you can’t just waltz into a man’s home, drop something like that on him and not expect—”

  “It’s ‘Miss’, as you well know.”

  Her interruption had confused him. “What?”

  “My name is Miss Almassy.” It might’ve been Doctor Almassy, had she not allowed Bernard to scare her away from Philadelphia. “And I’ve answered both of your advertisements for a bride.”

  “…my what?”

  “You are Doctor Carpenter, aren’t you? Peggy and Gertie said this was the doctor’s house.”

  “I’m Jack Carpenter, but I don’t know any Peggy or Gertie, and I still don’t know who the h—who you are.”

  She cocked her head to one side, and repeated her name again. “Meri Almassy. You have gotten my letters, haven’t you? You sent me stagecoach fare when I replied to your advertisements—”

  “What advertisements?” Either he was the world’s best actor, or the confusion she was seeing on his face thanks to the lamp’s dim light was real.

  She dropped one hand to the pocket of her jacket, reassured by the crinkle. “Your advertisements for a mail-order bride. I answered both, and you sent me fare.”

  “Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “So that I could come marry you.”

  He burst into laughter. The harsh bark made her wince. It sounded like he wasn’t used to laughing, like he wasn’t sure how. His laugh was rough and course, just like him, and wiped away the tiny bit of congeniality she’d been feeling towards him after she’d seen how he loved his daughter.

  Meri frowned. “Are you laughing at me, Doctor Carpenter? Because I was naïve enough to believe that you would follow through on your promises? Why would you send me the stagecoach fare if you weren’t planning on holding up your end of the bargain?”

  He sobered, although his laugh hadn’t been exactly cheerful to begin with. “Lady, I’m laughing because your story is ridiculous.”

  “You’re insinuating that I’m not telling the truth?”

  “I’m flat-out calling you a pretty little liar. I didn’t send for a bride.”

  He thought she was pretty?

  Wait, he thinks I’m a liar?

  “I am most definitely not lying, sir. You are the one who had the audacity to advertise for a mail-order-bride and then—”

  “Miss Almassy, do you have any proof of any of this? Any reason I shouldn’t just toss you back outside with your things?”

  If her back got any straighter, she’d be leaning backwards. Meri felt her ire rising even further, and she slowing inhaled, counting to ten like Lettie had taught her during the long months of studying when the books seemed overwhelming. “I will have you know, sir, that I’ve kept your advertisements as proof.” His brows rose, and she pretended it was because he was impressed with how calm she sounded in spite of her anger. “Why did I keep the advertisements, you might ask?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I kept the letters because I wanted to remember how I met my husband. My husband, Doctor Carpenter, because I was coming here to marry you, and I wanted to be able to show them to Zelle and our other children when they asked.”

  In the lamp light, his face paled. She watched him swallow and glance towards the door to the bedroom. Apparently the mention of Zelle convinced him that she wasn’t just joshing him, that she was being serious.

  Any sense of achievement was wiped away when he stepped closer to her, his jaw hardening into a look of determination. Meri resisted the urge to step back; she fisted her hands in her skirts and lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his eyes. And stopped breathing.

  Heavens, he had the most beautiful eyes. They were a clear, dark blue that held secrets, and reminded Meri of the pond back home on a still day. And they had the unfortunate ability to pin her to the spot, utterly defenseless.

  They were close enough now that he didn’t need to speak above a whisper. “The advertisements, Miss Almassy?”

  She thought that he was doubting her again, but then she saw his raised hand and realized what he was asking. Berating herself for being a ninny, she scrambled in her deep pocket, and removed the newsprint clipping. She’d read it a thousand times over the last weeks, but had kept it neat and folded, to be able to read it a thousand times more. So it was with a bit of hesitance that she held it out, as if afraid that he’d steal her prize.

  Maybe he saw that, because he scowled and lifted it out of her hand himself. In that moment, that so-brief touch, a shock went through Meri, as if she’d touched a hot kettle so quickly she hadn’t noticed until the sensation reached her brain. But it wasn’t pain, it was…something else. Something warm and pleasant and safe that she didn’t want to name.

  He hadn’t noticed, apparently.

  Still scowling, he unfolded the paper, and moved closer to the lamp to read it. Unconsciously, Meri moved with him, thinking only to protect her prize. He didn’t notice, but the dark slash of his brows dipped lower as he read. When he reached the bottom and saw his name, his scowl deepened to a frown, and she saw genuine anger in him, then.

  Almost scared, she blurted, “See? I’m not lying.”

  “This isn’t a joke? You didn’t set this up?”

  It was her turn to laugh then, a despairing bark that matched his. “Why would I do that? Why would I make myself look like a fool?” Then she met his eyes.

  “I didn’t write this.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t give a fig about this town. And no one in their right mind would marry me. I’m not…not in a position to marry right now.”

  She made a point of looking around the room, at the bare furnishings and the sagging roof. “Looks to me like you need a wife rather badly.”

  He snorted. “You need your eyes checked, lady. There’s nothing here for a wife.” She gasped, and he shrugged, like it didn’t matter to him that he’d offended her. He was infuriating.

  But he wasn’t entirely unfeeling. He ran his hand through his hair again. Why would she notice that sort of thing, now? “Listen, Miss Almassy. I didn’t write that letter, and if you didn’t write it, then that means someone’s playing a not-so-funny trick on us. I don’t like the way that sounds, but I can’t do anything about it tonight. Can you?” Meri shook her head numbly. He sighed. “Then we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You can stay here.”

  “Here?” she couldn’t help her squeak.

  “Here.” He point at the hearth. “There’s no hotel in town. So you can stay here ‘til you figure out where you’re going. I’ll be in the bedroom with the princess.”

  She had to ignore the bit about figuring out where she was going. She “was going” here, as far as Meri was concerned. Instead, she asked, “Zelle’s a princess?”

  His eyes narrowed. “She’s my princess.”

  Nodding to show that she understood, Meri hurried to reassure him. “Of course she is. All parents feel that way.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I…” She was just being polite. “I’ve spent years in school to treat women and children. I didn’t particularly want children of my own, but…” She took a deep breath, and decided to show him that she wasn’t completely unfeeling. “When I was young, I lost both of my siblings to childhood diseases. I decided to become a doctor to fight against that kind of loss.” Surely he’d understand that, if he was a doctor himself? No matter his specialty, out here he’d have to treat all sorts of people.

  And was it her imagination, or did his expression soften a bit? “I’ll make you up a pallet on the floor. We can talk more in the morning over breakfast. It’s beans.”

  And then he stomped out the front door, letting in another blast of frigid air. He returned, lugging her trunk and bag and pushing them into the corner. He brought out some musty old blankets and hastily arranged them for her, and then pointed
out anything she might need for the evening. She didn’t say anything in response, until he opened the door to the bedroom to slip back through. He paused, turned slightly, and said in a low voice, “Good night, Miss Almassy.”

  Long after his breathing evened with sleep, and she was left to lie on her lumpy bed of old blankets, Meri whispered, “Good night, Doctor Carpenter.”

  It was heavenly to be able to stretch out after the stagecoach journey, even if the bed wasn’t anything like home. The thought of home brought tears to her eyes, because she’d pinned all of her hopes on this place becoming her home. She’d make it cozy, along with Doctor Carpenter, and they’d have something to be proud of. But he wasn’t who she thought he was, and someone owed her for that. For dashing all of her hopes. Tomorrow, she vowed. Tomorrow she’d get to the bottom of this.

  How could a doctor claim to be devoted to his art, but then tell her that he wasn’t going to marry her? On the other hand, he had let her stay here, proving that he wasn’t completely heartless. But if he hadn’t written the advertisements to begin with, then there was a possibility that he wasn’t nearly the dedicated doctor he’d—or someone had—claimed him to be. On the other other hand, she’d seen the way he’d cradled Zelle—his daughter who looked nothing like him, and must be a constant reminder of his dead wife—and knew that he was capable of gentleness and devotion, despite his appearance.

  There’s hope for you yet, Jack Carpenter.

  Meri woke before dawn, shivering. The coals in the hearth told her that Doctor Carpenter hadn’t bothered to feed the fire; he probably hadn’t needed to, buried under all those blankets. The small room had been toasty enough when they’d gone to sleep, despite the comings and goings, but now she wished she’d worn her jacket to sleep.

  It wasn’t until she heard it again that she realized the cold hadn’t woken her; a noise had. Lying there in the darkness, she tried to pinpoint it. There! It came again. A mewling cry from Doctor Carpenter’s room, followed by his low murmur. The child must’ve been an early riser, but he didn’t sound happy about it. In fact, when Zelle gave out a loud whimper, Meri realized that the girl wasn’t happy either.