Tom gulped, feeling a cold chill arc up and down his back as he waited in the vestibule. Would she find him ugly? Run away, screaming at the top of her lungs?
Would they be able to come together?
Tom paced the floor, ignoring the more curious glances. He hadn’t cared that Heather had once been a loose woman. He wanted a wife to make his ranch a home and to have a woman to care for.
He’d prayed, just like Reverend had taught him to do before placing the advertisement. Prayed for a long while and begged the good Lord to send him the woman he needed. One with strength of character and one he could grow to love.
Two women had replied to his advertisement, but after further correspondence found they were unsuitable. When Heather responded in the manner he hoped for, he’d been overjoyed.
Their exchanges for the past few months had only cemented the notion in his heart.
They could have a good marriage. All they had to do was try.
Now that Reverend Esau needed a wife, he had to help him find the one he needed.
“Mr. North?”
At the sound of someone calling his name, he turned to see the clerk from the front desk behind him.
“Yeah?”
“There’s a woman here to see you. She said she’d prefer if you were to meet her outside.”
His heart flipped. She was here! She’d come just as he asked her to.
He jammed his hat onto his head and strolled out in the balmy weather these northern folks called winter.
His feet came to a stop as soon as they hit the sidewalk. Heather stood there, dressed warmly but her face was visible under the bonnet.
Lord, she was lovely.
Perhaps, he expected her to look like a woman who’d had a rough life as a loose woman. Expected to see some sort of physical traits of hard living stamped into her face.
Instead, she looked like something out of his dreams. Innocent and hesitant, like a young girl on the cusp of womanhood.
Ever since he was a boy, he wanted what his Ma and Pa had. His parents had often told the story of how they met and when they looked at each other at a barn dance and knew they had found each other.
Those green eyes, filled with uncertainty and shyness, let him know he’d found his way home.
“Thomas?”
Her voice had a high, clear quality to it. Cultured.
“Heather? You’re beautiful.”
Something moved next to her and he finally pulled his eyes away from the vision of loveliness who had somehow agreed to be his wife and saw two women flanking her. Stammering, he yanked his hat off his head. “Miss?” He nodded to the left. “Miss?” He did the same to the right.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” the one on his left greeted. “I’m Anna Madison. My friend, Delilah Hampton.”
Both women were pretty. Golden-haired and pale but his eyes were reluctant to focus on anyone else but Heather.
Tom stuffed the hat back on his head. “Is there some place we can go and talk?”
Heather’s sweet mouth opened and closed. “Yes, we’ve found a small café nearby. It’s a few minutes walk but—”
“Mr. North?”
Tom pivoted around to see the doorman coming toward him. “Yeah?”
The man held out a bluish gray scarf. “I believe this belongs to you. It fell in the vestibule area.”
Patting his neck, he found it bare. Taking the scarf, he wrapped it around his throat. “Thanks.”
The doorman gave a slight bow and went away. When he faced the women again, Miss Madison and Miss Hampton’s faces had paled to an almost ghostly white. Heather’s brow had scrunched. Underneath her breath, he heard her say, “I never thought anything of it before now.”
“Thought about what?” His eyes shifted among the women, wondering why the welcoming air had changed.
“Nothing,” the one called Miss Hampton said, a smile gracing her face. “You wouldn’t have any relatives here with that same last name of North now, would you?’
Tom nodded. “My folks are dead, but I got a brother name Simon. Don’t talk to him too much. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.” He grimaced as he always did when he thought about his older brother. “He doesn’t know that I’m here. But what’s that got to do with anything?”
***
Delilah kept her teeth clamped down to prevent the mad laughter threatening to erupt. It was madness after all. How could the fairy-tale groom of Heather’s story be kin to the villain of hers?
“Ladies, is something wrong?”
Delilah shared a look with Anna who gave an imperceptible shake of her head. Her eyes shifted to Heather and back again.
No. She wouldn’t do anything to ruin this chance at happiness for Heather.
“Not at all, Mr. North,” Delilah said smoothly. “Shall we go?”
Prompted by the question, they all walked away from the front of the hotel. Delilah lagged behind to give Heather and Mr. North some privacy. Anna followed suit.
“What are the chances of such an extraordinary thing?” Anna whispered.
“I don’t know.” Delilah pulled on the edges of her gloves. “However, he doesn’t seem as if he carries the same deviousness and temperament as the other Mr. North.”
“I agree. Look at how he couldn’t take his eyes off Heather.”
Anna meant it, of course, in a darling way. There was nothing lustful in Mr. North’s eyes.
Her mind traveled back to Mr. Simon North and how he looked at her. Delilah’s skin crawled. No, she didn’t think Mr. North would ever look at Heather like that. She allowed the memory of Mr. North’s first sight of Heather to ease away the tension that had gathered. Mr. North had appeared smitten by Heather, his blue eyes roving over her face with something akin to adoration.
“I wonder what it would be like to have a man’s love,” Anna said in a dreamy voice.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” she nodded in the direction of the couple in front of them. “Mr. North had already decided to marry Heather. Seeing her in the flesh must have solidified it for him. What must that be like?”
“Wonderful, I would say.”
They all stopped at the corner to allow a couple of carriages to pass. “Is it any further?” Mr. North asked.
“Not much,” Delilah responded.
They continued walking as Anna and Delilah drifted further behind. “I want to marry for love,” Anna said. “I won’t settle for less.”
“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” Delilah interjected.
Anna glanced up, her features in a fierce scowl. “We always have a choice.”
Delilah decided not to disagree with her, letting out an indecipherable sound that could be construed as anything. Once upon a time, she longed for marriage and children like she supposed most women did. Sometimes, when she was alone at the Society, she read and reread the story of Ruth in the Bible. A book of only four chapters and yet, it was one of her favorite stories of all.
She often wondered what Ruth had thought about things. To think she’d gone from being a widow of one man to the wife of another. To know that she would be cherished, not simply because of an obligation but because he loved her.
The verse drifted back in her mind, “…This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor.”
The man, Boaz, had shown in that phrase his own vulnerability. He had stayed away from her knowing that she was a youngish woman and he an older man. Had he thought he could never have a woman like Ruth…young and attractive?
And Ruth…perhaps she was just as surprised that a man as sophisticated as Boaz would want her.
Foolish thoughts.
More than once she wished she’d been named Ruth instead of Delilah. Delilah was the seductress that lured Samson to his doom. She betrayed him for money and never looked back.
That sounded too much like her mother. A frown took hold of her m
outh. From what Matron had told her some time ago, her mother had wanted to live the life of a loose woman. “Like Delilah, she used her wiles to get what she wanted from men. Your mother chose this path for herself. That means that this desire is in you. We here at the Society wish to stamp out that in-born wickedness within you before it’s too late.”
A woman like that could never be a wife or a mother of good Christian stock. No matter how much she wished to be.
Her mind wandered back to Matron’s offer.
Delilah wavered. Her mother’s blood flowed through her veins. Though she spent the last decade with the Society, hadn’t they kept her from riotous behavior? This dingy, kind, strict prison had prevented her from living the lifestyle her mother had. Matron had said that she was the one they sought to use as an example for other women.
Her eyes drifted back to Heather. They had never discussed how she came to that place in her life. Delilah was comfortable with not knowing. If a child was starving, you didn’t ask how they came to that state – you simply fed them as soon as you could. What mattered was helping when the need was great. Heather had benefited from that.
Her eyes then rested on Anna walking beside her. Could she possibly leave Anna alone?
They arrived at the small café and were served hot drinks. When the server had taken their order, Heather reached out and patted Mr. North’s hand. In a shy voice, she announced, “We’re going to marry in two days’ time.”
Delilah’s heart throbbed with an odd, but familiar ache as she congratulated them.
“I can hardly wait,” Mr. North said with uninhibited eagerness. A blush flowed over Heather’s cheeks.
“Now stop it, Mr. North. You’re embarrassing her,” Anna admonished. “How soon after the ceremony will you be leaving for the Montana territory again?”
The sparkling sheen in Mr. North’s eyes dimmed. “Well, that depends.” He tapped his rough fingers on the clean white tablecloth. “I’m here to help a friend of mine.”
Heather’s head tilted to the side. “In what way?”
“Well, the reverend I told you about, Heather?”
She tapped a finger to her chin, her brow furrowed in thought. “Are you referring to your friend, Reverend Caldwell?”
Mr. North gave a curt nod. “That’s him.”
Anna leaned forward. “Reverend Caldwell? You never told us about him, Heather.”
She gave an apologetic lift of her shoulders. “Thomas has only spoken of him once or twice. Haven’t you?”
“I can get used to you calling me by my first name. Never sounded as good as when you say it, Heather.”
Delilah forced the smile to stay.
Keep smiling even when it hurts.
Why should she feel upset simply because Heather and Mr. North had found each other to their liking?
It wasn’t as if she were jealous.
The moment the thought voiced itself, she knew it was true. Maybe not green with envy or ravenous with bitterness but some part of her wanted to have the same thing Heather had found.
I am the daughter of a loose woman. I cannot be married or else I risk turning into my mother.
“What does this Reverend Caldwell need?” Heather’s asking broke Delilah from her train of thought.
Mr. North started as if coming out of trance. “A mother,” he blurted.
“A mother?” Anna frowned. “Don’t all of us have a mother?”
“I bungled that up, didn’t I?” He grinned, looking boyish once more. “I meant he needs a mother for his son. Well, not his son but his son nonetheless.”
Mr. North’s face reddened as all three of the women looked as if he’d grown three horns on his head.
“Thomas, why not start from the beginning,” Heather suggested kindly.
The man nodded. “Yeah, the beginning. That always helps.”
“I would think so,” Anna muttered under her breath,
Delilah sent her a sharp look. “Don’t be rude, Anna.”
“Well, it started a little over two weeks ago when he opened his door and found an Indian lady and her son bleeding in the snow.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tom’s ears burned at the tips as a cocoon of pin-drop silence enveloped the table.
“Bleeding?” Heather’s lovely voice whispered in horror.
“In the snow?” Miss Madison exclaimed.
Miss Hampton gazed on in shock, her reaction more intense to Tom’s eyes. Whereas the other two had paled, Miss Hampton had the appearance of death warmed over.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so blunt.
Tom let out a silent sigh. Not for the first time did he wish he had Reverend Caldwell’s knack for knowing what to say at the right time.
The right time.
Tom’s eyes shifted over the women again. How truthful should he be about everything? Jacob was certain that women would never give men like he and the Reverend a chance. Tom couldn’t believe that. If women knew how decent the brothers were—well, how decent the Reverend was, they’d be shooting each other to become his bride.
Should he tell the whole truth?
Miss Hampton leaned forward. “What happened?”
Tom tugged at the collar of his shirt. The danged string tie strangely tightening around his neck.
Mebbe it’s that lie you fixin’ to tell cloggin’ up your throat like a log in the river.
“Reverend Caldwell’s brother, Jacob, had heard something outside his door. Thinking mebbe someone had come calling, he opened it to see an Indian woman lyin’ there. He told me the woman was covered in icicles and frost. Her lips blue. Right near the edge of her outstretched hands was the bundled-up baby. Although she was almost blue and couldn’t hardly move, she was still trying to crawl to get her baby.”
A collective gasp went up at the table. Tom felt the blood drain out of his body as he saw tears forming in the women’s eyes.
He gulped as he broke into a sweat. What did a man do with tears? You can’t shoot ‘em. Can’t take a bow and arrow and pin them to a tree. Can’t take a knife and slice them away.
Tears were a woman’s secret weapon in his mind. He’d rather face a wild boar right now than deal with them. Seeing Heather’s tears about cut his heart in half.
“Maybe I should stop,” he pondered out loud in a weak voice. “I didn’t mean to upset ya.”
“No,” Miss Hampton cried sharply, drawing attention from the other diners to their table. Miss Madison, with a wet but bewildered look on her face, patted Miss Hampton’s arm in a comforting manner. Tom noticed Miss Hampton’s eyes were stuck on him, not even acknowledging Miss Madison’s presence.
“If you’re sure,” he replied in a wary tone.
Both women nodded. “We’re sure.”
“He and Reverend Caldwell hurried up and brought mother and baby inside. Thanks be to the good Lord, the baby wasn’t hurt at all. Reverend said that the baby must have not been in the snow long, or maybe its mother had wrapped her body around his. Whatever the reason, the baby was all right.
“But the mother wasn’t.”
“What had happened?” Miss Hampton’s brown eyes bore into his.
“Reverend said she’d been shot in the stomach area. Weren’t no help for her at all. He did the best he could for her but even the doctor he sent for couldn’t do anything to help her. After three days, he buried her not too far from his cabin.”
Miss Hampton winced. “That poor woman.”
“Who on earth would shoot a woman?” Miss Madison breathed, incredulity making her voice rise. “Why?”
Tom shrugged. “I’m not sure. Reverend decided to raise the woman’s son as his own.”
Miss Hampton’s mouth opened several times before she said, “That’s very commendable of him.”
“I think so, too. His brother, on the other hand, don’t feel the same way.”
“His brother?” Miss Madison’s eyes narrowed.
“Jacob told him to wash his hands of the boy—”
“A boy?” Miss Hampton interrupted, an odd light in her eye.
“Yeah. A healthy, bouncing, squalling boy. He’s got a pair of lungs on him that can fell a tree.”
“He sounds adorable.”
Tom’s mind flashed with the image of the reverend slumped over the child’s cradle, rocking it back and forth with brown bleary eyes, a scraggly beard, and long disheveled hair. Yeah, the little tyke was mighty adorable when he wasn’t screaming his head off.
“The Reverend is not going to give the boy up, and it’s causing some bad blood to form between him and his brother.”
Miss Hampton appeared outraged. “Surely this brother can understand the reverend’s sentiments.”
Tom rubbed at his cheeks. “I think his brother understands well. He just doesn’t care.”
Miss Hampton’s cheeks grew rose colored. “I see.”
“Despite what the reverend thinks, he can’t raise the child on his own. He needs a wife and a mother. I want to see if there’s a woman willing to become what the child needs.”
He turned toward Heather. Her green eyes were no longer wet with tears and he breathed a little easier. “Maybe the agency that connected us together can help us find someone who’d be willing to leave and help the reverend.”
“I don’t understand something.” A curious frowned was stamped on Miss Hampton’s face. “You put an advertisement in the paper. Why doesn’t Reverend Caldwell do the same?”
Tom shifted his gaze away.
I was afraid you were going to ask that.
The moment had arrived. He could either tell the truth or not.
If not the whole truth, then at least half, Tom.
Yeah, he could live with that.
Nudging away a vision of the Reverend preaching about obeying all the commandments and not just a couple, he gushed out. “The reverend’s a proud man. He’ll give the shirt off his back for anyone but when it comes to asking for help, he has a hard time accepting it. I convinced him to let me see if I could find someone here in Philadelphia that might be willing to come.”
“But, isn’t there a woman there who would be willing to help?”
Tom shifted in his chair. “Not a lot of women where I live, Miss Hampton.” That much was true. “Those who live there are already spoken for in some way.”
A Bride for Esau Page 3
