A Bride For Finn (The Proxy Brides Book 5)

by Linda Ellen

  Many families, such as the Willoughbys, found themselves divided. Once the war was in full swing, the Willoughby boys, Lovell, Jr. and Lawrence joined rival armies to fight for their opposing convictions. Sadly, both had been killed in early battles.

  Thus, Charise’s childhood had not been the stuff of little girl dreams but, rather, one of loss, sadness and disillusionment.

  Without funds after the war, his ships lost, her father had taken to drinking and gambling, ultimately perishing in a carriage accident near the wharf. Their large home, her mother’s jewelry, furs, and the majority of her extensive wardrobe, had been sold to pay outstanding debts and Charise and her mother had moved in with an elderly, widowed aunt who had a small house close to the river.

  Soon after, Charise, who had always been handy with a needle and although only sixteen years of age, found a job in the alterations department of Fessenden & Stewart, a four-stories tall department store at Fourth & Jefferson. Her mother tried working, but having never held a job before, found it difficult to cope, and later that winter had succumbed to pneumonia after Charise found her wandering outside in a snowstorm.

  The loss of each one of her family members had been hard, but Charise found that she had suffered the most from her mother’s death. Even after nine years, it still brought on tears if she dwelled on it long.

  Eventually her bath water had cooled and wiping the moisture from her eyes, Charise had purposely turned her thoughts back to her new marriage, with hopes and dreams for the future.

  Suddenly, the sound of a thump in the next room brought Charise back to the present.

  She placed the bowl to the side and wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried to check on her husband.

  The door was ajar, just as she had left it the previous night so that she could hear if Finn called for her, and she peeked inside as she had earlier. He was sitting up, apparently getting ready to make use of the necessary. Catching a glimpse of his bare chest and some private areas on her new husband’s body, she felt her face flame.

  Stepping back quickly, she called through the opening, “Good morning, Finn. How are you this morning?”

  She heard a grunt and some other noises she couldn’t identify, and then her husband’s voice answered, “I’m fine. Give me a few minutes, alright?”

  Charise swallowed self-consciously and nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes, of course. Um, Finn...are scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns all right for breakfast?”

  He answered immediately, which eased her mind. “That sounds great, Charise.”

  “All right...well...call if you need me to help you with...anything.”

  He replied with another grunt, and she hurried back to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast.

  Ten minutes later, just as Charise was placing the food on the table, Finn managed to open the door to the hall and maneuver into the kitchen. Watching him and remembering his fall the evening before, Charise had to clench her hands to keep herself from rushing to his side. She held back because she had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t welcome being babied.

  Instead, she smiled and turned a chair so that he could lower himself into it easily, and went ahead and took her seat. He was careful and no incidents happened as he made himself comfortable at the table. Surveying the food, he smiled with pleasure and met her eyes.

  “Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. I can’t wait to dig in.” Then, he reached out and took hold of her hand, bowing his head to say grace over the meal.

  It warmed Charise’s heart that her husband was a God fearing man of faith. In his simple prayer, he thanked the Lord for his new wife as well as her and Sam’s safe trip across all those miles. He blessed the food and ended the prayer by asking God to bless their marriage and give them many years of happiness—and children—together. At that last item, Charise couldn’t help but smile.

  “Amen,” she said when he finished. He was still holding her hand as she looked up entranced with his unwavering stare. His eyes were sparkling with happiness as he drew her hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, Charise. Thank you for saying yes.”

  She let out a soft giggle as he wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m glad I’m here, too, Finn. And...you’re welcome.”

  He let go of her hand, picking up his fork to tuck into his food, as he placed a large bite of eggs and potatoes in his mouth, and with a relishing moan, quipped, “Mmm mm, this is sure good. Think I’ll keep ya.”

  Her mouth dropped open at that and her eyes flew to his, but then she chuckled as he winked.

  So, my new husband is the teasing type...hmm...my brothers used to tease me like that. All right, I know how to play that game. She feigned relief and wiped pretend perspiration off her forehead with the back of one hand. “Whew, that’s a relief. I was worried.”

  He let out a guffaw at that and took a drink of coffee. “I bet.” Then as they both forked up another bite, their eyes met and Finn smiled again, his eyes twinkling. “Yep. I think things are going to work out just fine, Mrs. Maynard. Just fine.”

  Charise agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Thank you, Toby,” Finn heard Charise say from directly below where he sat on the back porch, his casted leg propped on a second kitchen chair. The young man had offered to do chores for Charise, and Finn had insisted she have the boy carry the used chamber pot to the outhouse. She seemed pleased and downright relieved to have the help.

  “You’re welcome, Miz Maynard,” he heard the boy say, and then just as the lad came into view through the porch rail, he looked back over his shoulder at Charise and nearly tripped.

  “Oh, be careful! Don’t drop it!” he heard her caution as she probably pictured what a mess it would make if the boy were to drop the wretched thing. Finn watched anxiously as the young man stumbled forward but mercifully righted himself and held onto the metal receptacle. Finn was thankful it wasn’t the ceramic variety.

  The young man’s pale, freckled face flamed red and he mumbled, “Don’t worry ma’am, I got it,” before shuffling away to attend to the task.

  From his perch, he heard Charise chuckle and the swish of her skirts as she turned to make her way back inside the building. He imagined her shaking her head at the clumsy youth’s antics.

  A sense of peace and contentment settled over him and he couldn’t help but allow a fine smile to spread across his face as it registered deep in his soul how much better things already seemed with Charise installed as mistress of his home.

  Ahhhh, he sighed as he laid his head back and closed his eyes, remembering the previous evening—their first evening together as husband and wife—and how they just seemed to mesh. Already. Who would have thought?

  Once they had finished eating Dorothea’s delicious stew and chatted as Charise had washed the dishes—with him drying them as he sat at the table—Charise had offered to help him take a sponge bath...what had she called it? Oh yeah, a bucket bath. Well, whatever it was called, it had been a much less embarrassing event with Charise helping rather than Elvira.

  They had spent some time relaxing and conversing in the parlor, during which he marveled at how they seemed to compliment one another’s personalities so well, until finally he had insisted that she go on to bed and try and get some rest. He smiled softly as he remembered her gentle kiss to his cheek, and the warmth of her hand in his as they had bid one another good night.

  After she’d left him alone, he had heard her shuffling around in the bedroom, albeit quietly, and he figured she was putting away her clothes. He’d smiled and nodded, understanding immediately that the tension and excitement of finally meeting one another had chased her fatigue right out the door.

  Then, he had heard her footsteps as she had made her way downstairs. Even before he discerned the sound of a fire being made in the stove and the water being pumped, he had suspected she’d given in to the temptation to take a bath in his big, claw foot tub. He surely understood
that, as he couldn’t wait to finally be able to indulge in that luxury again—once his blasted cast was removed. She’d made a point to tell him she had expected, at most, something along the lines of a metal hip bath, and he’d made a mental note to tell her the saga of the tub’s journey from Chicago.

  She had stayed downstairs for quite a while. In fact, he had drifted off to sleep and hadn’t heard her footfalls come back up the steps. It gave him a good feeling, though, to know that his home contained an item that she thoroughly enjoyed.

  For the next few minutes, he tried to imagine what changes his new wife would wish to make to their home above his shop.

  Charise spent some time tidying up the bathing room and supervising Toby as he brought in more firewood for the stove.

  “That’s enough for a while, Toby. Thank you,” she smiled at the youth, suppressing a chuckle as she watched a blush infuse his face and neck.

  “You’re welcome, Miz Maynard. Anything else you need, you just say it and I’ll do it. Don’t matter what, I’ll do it. I used to help out Miz Sharpe when her and Mister Sharpe had the tavern here—and the hotel above.”

  “Oh?” Charise couldn’t help but ask, “You knew the previous owners well?”

  “Heck yeah...I mean, sure thing, ma’am...I’ve lived here all my life. Everybody knew Mister and Miz Sharpe. They were good people. Shame about what happened...”

  Finn hadn’t yet told her how he had acquired the building or anything about the previous owners. Her curiosity simply couldn’t be snuffed. “What happened to them, Toby?” she asked as they walked together from the bathing room into the large area containing Finn’s shop.

  “Well, it was a few years back. Mister Sharpe was helpin’ unload some whiskey barrels off a shipper’s wagon and the horses got spooked and jerked the wagon forward. Some of the barrels fell off and landed right on top of him, knocked him flat down, and busted him up inside somethin’ awful. He never got over it. Miz Sharpe took over runnin’ things, but they were gettin’ older, didn’t have no sons to help. Finally, he, Mister Sharpe, died and Miz Sharpe didn’t want to have the place any longer. She blamed the tavern for her husband dyin’, said it was dealing with the whiskey that done killed him. So, she put out the word that if anybody wanted the buildin’, she’d sell out for the best offer.”

  “And Finn bought it.”

  “Yess’m. Everybody know’d he’d been savin’ his money and wantin’ to get his own business. He always said he hated workin’ at the sawmill. He’d learned how to cut hair in the army durin’ the war. He even cut some general’s hair, and he wanted to open his own barbershop.” Charise nodded, as Finn had told her a few stories about his army days. “He made her an offer and she took it. She left two days later on the stage bound for back east somewhere, Chicago, I think. I heard her tell Mr. Maynard she sold the buildin’ to him cause she knew he was gonna use it for somethin’ besides servin’ liquor.”

  They had been slowly walking through the downstairs and reached the large, covered object in the corner. Charise’s curiosity got the better of her once again. Heading toward it, she muttered, “I’ve just got to see what this monstrosity is.”

  Pulling on the tarp, a rank odor wafted out as it fell partially off to reveal a haphazard pile of saloon tables, chairs, spittoons, ashtrays, crates of empty glasses, and a pile of playing cards. “Mister Finn didn’t know what to do with all this junk, so he just shoved it all in the corner and covered it up. Said he’d deal with it later,” the youth said with a wide grin, laughing when Charise wrinkled her nose at the sight and smell of some of the objects. Goodness! The spittoons had been used—and not cleaned! She shivered in disgust.

  Then she shook her head with a half smile. Surely, there must be a better use for that corner other than the storage of old saloon miscellanea. She would discuss it with Finn and see if he had any ideas yet.

  Just then there was a knock on the front door and Charise turned her head to see the familiar build and face of her brother-in-law through the glass. Toby hastened over and unlocked the bolt.

  Sam’s face lit up and his eyes crinkled mischievously as he came in and spied Charise standing with her hands on her hips near the distasteful pile. He laughed and reached up to stroke his beard.

  “I see you found out what was under there.”

  She looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “I did. Now I’m wondering why it’s all still here and what we can do about it.”

  Sam tipped back his head and released a single, loud ha! “You’ll have to take that up with Finn.”

  She gave a decisive nod. “I intend to.”

  “How is he this morning? He still sleeping?” Sam asked teasingly. She shot him an embarrassed look, knowing he probably thought they had...gotten to know one another carnally during the night.

  “No, he’s up. I think he’s out on the back porch, grumbling about being housebound.”

  Her burly proxy husband set his hands on his hips, his expression sobering as he considered her words. “You know...I’ve teased him about those steps and all, but...I could have you a staircase built in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Would you like that?”

  Charise’s heart thumped in gratitude at her generous brother-in-law’s offer and she stepped close to him. Laying one hand on his arm, she gushed, “Oh Sam! That would be wonderful! It would help not only Finn, but me too, in so many ways. Would you really do that for us?”

  Sam chuckled at her enthusiasm and patted her hand as he inclined his head affirmatively. “You betcha. I’ve got enough scrap lumber at the mill to build steps for half the houses in town. I’ll make a few calculations and start on it in the morning, all right?”

  Charise smiled and reached up on tiptoe to bestow a kiss to his beard-roughened cheek.

  “Thank you, Sam. What would we ever do without you? I’m sure Finn will be as thrilled as I am.”

  Chapter 7

  T he new couple’s second evening together went much like their first. Charise had spent the day finding places for the rest of her clothing and personal items, making lunch and supper for the two of them, and enduring a visit from the erstwhile Elvira. Quite early in the evening, Charise found herself bone weary, and realized the travel fatigue had finally won out over the excitement of getting used to her new home.

  By the time the sun had slipped behind the top of the building next door, Charise felt as if she was going dim as well and could barely keep her eyes open. It was all she could do amidst nearly non-stop yawns to get Finn settled on the settee for the night, groggily shed her clothes, don her nightgown, and fall into bed—not stirring until the rising sun shown through the hall window and into the open bedroom door.

  She rolled over in the big bed and stretched leisurely, feeling refreshed and clear headed.

  Climbing out of bed, she washed herself awake at the dry sink on the stand in the corner, dressed in a fresh skirt and blouse, and made her way outside to make use of the outdoor facilities. Slipping back inside and climbing the interior steps, she peeked in to see that Finn was already stirring, so she hastened to get the fire going in the cook stove and started breakfast.

  Finn had told her his favorite breakfast was French toast with honey and blackberry preserves, with crisp bacon on the side. Glad she had baked two loaves of bread the day before, she was anxious to make the dish for him using her friend Beth’s recipe. Oh...I hope we have cinnamon...

  It wasn’t long before she heard a splash of water from the extra dry sink she had found in one of the storage rooms and had asked Toby to place in the parlor for Finn to use. Right on time, as she was frying the toast, she heard him thumping into the room behind her.

  Her back to him as she worked at the stove, she smiled and called over her shoulder, “Good morning.”

  “Morning, sweetheart! Sure smells good in here. You making what I think you’re making?” he asked. She heard the grin in his voice and nodded.

  “Your favorite, to celebrate our second morning as husband and w
ife.”

  “Woman, you’re gonna spoil me,” he chuckled.

  “That’s the plan,” she laughed as she finished his slices, placed them on a warmed plate, turned, and was suitably impressed that he was already seated and waiting.

  “You’re getting around quite efficiently with your crutches now,” she observed as she set the plate in front of him and poured coffee in his cup. He commented that he figured he had finally found his center of balance—once the house had settled down with less...stress. She shook her head at him, but couldn’t help a soft giggle, as she knew to what—or whom—he was referring.

  Returning to the stove, she dipped and began to fry her own servings of the scrumptious dish.

  Finn waited until she was seated before starting to eat and reached for her hand to say a quick blessing over the meal. Then, as he called her his treasure, Charise grinned.

  Digging in, he moaned in delight. “Honey, these are amazing. They taste even better than Ma used to make. What do you use that’s different?”

  She sent him a grin and tilted her chin coquettishly. “My secret recipe. Or rather, it came from Beth Ann’s grandmother, but it’s still secret. I had to swear on my life not to share it,” she giggled again, thoroughly pleased at his reaction.

  He smiled back, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Well, whatever is in there, it sure is good.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “Beth Ann...that was your roommate, right?”

  “Yes...and I surely miss her,” she answered faintly, thinking of her best friend’s teasing laughter and undying friendship. “We met at Fessenden & Stewart. She worked at the perfume counter on the first floor and I worked back in the alterations department.” She met his eye and he nodded, remembering that she’d told him about her work in her letters. “We became fast friends the first day I was there,” she explained, remembering those first unsure days; they had both been so young. “She was two years older than me, and seemed so accomplished and self-assured.” She took another bite and glanced his way. “I don’t remember if I told you, but from the age of ten Beth had been raised in an orphanage. Once you reach eighteen, they boot you out and you’re on your own. She’d only been working a month when I started.”