The Substitute Bride

by Janet Dean

  But maybe here in this church, in the Bible Ted shared with her in the pew and at home, she’d find the answer for the empty ache she carried and the anger devouring her peace.

  One final song and the service ended, leaving Elizabeth with an odd sense of loss. But she didn’t have time to examine her feelings. Parishioners flooded the aisles, greeting her like a long-lost friend instead of a newcomer.

  Outside the wind had come up, blowing the women’s skirts and lifting Anna’s bangs off her forehead. Spying Grace Harper across the way, Anna took off at a run.

  “Did you enjoy the service?” Ted asked.

  “Yes, very much.”

  The pleased expression on his face revealed his desire for a wife with strong faith instead of a backslider like her. He leaned close. “Henry only called out twice during the sermon. Anna created a racket kicking the back of the pew only once. A good service all in all.” He winked. “If we swapped the kitchen chairs for pews, maybe Anna would behave better.”

  Ted’s attempt at humor told Elizabeth he didn’t blame her for Anna’s attitude. But he’d blame her for keeping Robby’s existence from him. If only she had the courage to inform him about her brother. She would, as soon as she earned money for their tickets. This morning, she’d look for an opportunity to speak to Mr. Sorenson about a job.

  Rebecca caught up to them with Faith draped over her arm like a rag doll. “Have you finished hemming your dress?”

  “Not yet, but when I do, I’ll wear it to church.”

  Before Elizabeth could ask if Rebecca had found time to make her own dress, the womenfolk of the church surrounded them.

  Lydia Sumner and Lucille Sorenson greeted her warmly while Elizabeth scrambled to keep the names straight of the women she’d met inside. Gertrude Wyatt—buxom with flawless skin; Ruth Johnson—tall, willowy, wearing jet bead earbobs; Carolyn Radcliff—petite with sun-streaked hair.

  “Why, I’d heard Ted got himself a wife,” Ruth Johnson said, giving her wide-brimmed, bow-bedecked hat an adjustment, setting her earbobs in motion.

  “Is that a new hat?”

  Ruth beamed. “It arrived yesterday from the Montgomery Ward Catalog.”

  “It’s lovely,” Elizabeth said. “Perfect for the shape of your face.”

  “Ted’s new wife’s a dear,” Lucille Sorenson interrupted. “Bought all her niceties from me.” She flashed a look at Ruth. “Not like some folks who feel the need to order from the catalog.”

  Mrs. Radcliff frowned. “You really should stop broadcasting people’s shopping lists, Lucille.”

  A blush dotted the proprietor’s cheeks. “It’s good for business.”

  “The Sorenson Mercantile stocks everything a farm wife could want,” Elizabeth said, trying to ease the sudden tension.

  Ted shot her an amused glance; he then leaned close and murmured in her ear, “The hens are clucking their approval. Appears they’ve welcomed you into the coop.”

  Elizabeth coughed to cover a burst of laughter. Someone patted her on the back.

  “Mrs. Logan, are you from these parts?” Gertrude said.

  “I’m from Chicago.”

  “Chicago!” Gertrude clasped her hands. “Such a grand city. Will’s cousin, Mary Beth, lives there. She’s married to a slaughterhouse man name of O’Sullivan. Wouldn’t it be something if the two of you knew each other?”

  “O’Sullivan? Uh…”

  “Oh, you could hardly miss noticing Mary Beth.” Gertrude waved a palm. “Red hair, freckles, a pretty girl, but she’s let herself go since the babies started arriving.”

  Carolyn patted her friend’s arm. “Chicago’s a big place, Gertie. You can’t expect Elizabeth to remember Will’s cousin even if she’s the size of Orville’s prize Angus.”

  Gertrude’s face fell like an underdone cake. Martha’s only cooking disaster, according to her nanny. “I thought it would’ve been lovely if they’d met.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I bumped into a woman once with more freckles than a hive has bees, but the only words we shared were an apology.”

  “That’s gotta be her!” Gertrude exclaimed. “Imagine that. Why, we’re practically family.”

  Across the way a knot of young ladies giggled. A few days ago, Elizabeth would’ve fit that group. Now she mingled with married women. Odd how she didn’t fit anywhere.

  “Where did you and Ted meet?” Ruth took up the slack. “Far as I know he hasn’t left town.”

  Ted shifted the weight of his sleeping son and widened his stance, obviously uncomfortable with the question, but Elizabeth saw no point in hiding the truth. “At the depot.”

  “Well, of course, but when was the first time you met?”

  “That was the first time.”

  Lydia Sumner beamed. “Isn’t that romantic? She and Ted married in our parlor the day she arrived.”

  “You’re saying you never laid eyes on Ted before that day?” Carolyn Radcliff’s eyes went wide with shock.

  “Elizabeth is what I’ve heard called a mail-order bride,” Lydia Sumner explained.

  Gertrude gaped. “Well, I do declare. I’m speechless!”

  “Well, however you two met, congratulations, Elizabeth. You’ve accomplished something the single women of New Harmony hadn’t been able to do,” Rebecca said with a wink.

  Ruth Johnson frowned. “Why would you marry a stranger?”

  “Ted never seemed like a stranger, not from the minute we met. Why, his greeting nearly swept me off my feet.” True enough. Ted’s talk about milking cows and strangling chickens had all but made her swoon.

  Ruth Johnson waved a finger Ted’s way. “As the saying goes—still waters run deep.”

  Ted coughed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  Rebecca laid a palm over her baby’s face and took a step back. “I hope you two aren’t coming down with something.”

  “Your dress is lovely, Mrs. Logan,” Ruth said. “A collarless dress must be new.”

  “Ah, quite new.”

  A puzzled look came over Lydia Sumner’s face. “I distinctly remember that dress having a collar.”

  “I’ll have to remove the collars from my dresses.” Ruth fingered the lapel on the front of her frock. “I can’t keep up with fashion.”

  A dark-haired woman, her bonnet covering her face, walked past, herding four children in front of her, glancing neither right nor left.

  “I’ll be right back.” Lydia Sumner hustled after her.

  Elizabeth watched the pastor’s wife put an arm around the woman. The two put their heads together. “Who is that?”

  Gertrude frowned. “Lois Lessman. Most likely her husband Joe’s over at the saloon. His gambling’s going to put his family in the poorhouse.”

  “I hate gambling,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Can’t you close down the saloon?”

  All eyes filled with speculation and darted to Elizabeth.

  Mumbling something about finding Anna, Ted trudged toward the group of girls playing on the lawn.

  Elizabeth’s heart thudded in her chest. She’d revealed too much, raising the ladies’ suspicions. How would they feel—worse, how would a religious man like Ted feel, if he discovered her father was a gambler?

  “It’s a dirty shame. Lois takes in ironing and laundry, cleans for the Moore brothers. Does everything she can to see to it that her boys don’t go to bed hungry.”

  The attention of the group turned back to the Lessman family and off her, easing the tension between Elizabeth’s shoulder blades. Perhaps here in this town, she could find a way to ensure gambling split no family apart.

  “So how do you like New Harmony, Elizabeth?” Gertrude asked as Lydia Sumner returned to the circle.

  “This is only my first trip to town since our wedding.”

  “It’s a good place to live.” Rebecca’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Just hope we can stay.”

  Lydia Sumner slipped an arm around Rebecca. The pastor’s wife must wear
herself out ministering to the women of the congregation. “Are you thinking of moving?”

  “We don’t want to, but if this drought doesn’t end, the decision may be out of our hands.”

  Her new friend’s struggles pinched at Elizabeth’s mood.

  “Let’s not borrow trouble,” Lydia advised. “Remember God’s in control and we’ve got His ear.”

  “Well, it’s April. We normally have had lots of rain by now,” Rebecca said softly.

  The group grew quiet. Elizabeth supposed everyone had a stake in the weather. If the farmers did poorly, the whole town suffered. “Perhaps we should all wash our windows. That always brought rain in Chicago,” Elizabeth said brightly.

  Five troubled faces turned to her then eased into smiles.

  “Yes, and we could keep our laundry on the line,” Gertrude declared with a chuckle.

  “Or plan a picnic,” Carolyn offered.

  Lydia patted Elizabeth’s arm. “You’re good for us, my dear.”

  “In the meantime,” Elizabeth said, “we can work on getting the streets ready for all that rain. From what Ted told me they’ll turn into a muddy river.”

  “What a good idea! What do you suggest?”

  Mrs. Radcliff waved a hand at a group of boys tumbling in the yard. “Before we solve all the problems of New Harmony, our youngsters are getting restless.”

  The ladies broke up, moving off to gather their children.

  Gertrude turned to Elizabeth. “I can’t wait to hear more about your life in Chicago. I’ve never been to a big city.”

  A rocklike weight settled to the bottom of Elizabeth’s stomach. What if these women really knew her? Uncovered her secrets? They wouldn’t think much of her then. Suddenly the privacy of the farm sounded good.

  Elizabeth hustled to the wagon. Across the way, Mr. Sorenson stood talking. Asking him about keeping his books would have to wait until the next time she came to town.

  Ted helped her onto the seat, handed the still-sleeping Henry into her arms, then swung Anna aboard and scrambled up beside her. His humor-filled gaze met hers over Anna’s head. “I’ll be the laughingstock once the men hear I nearly made you swoon at the depot.”

  Elizabeth squirmed. “Well, at least the men won’t be removing their collars merely because I scorched mine,” she said, eliciting a chuckle from Ted.

  Her heart skipped a beat. And the women won’t be quizzing you about your life in Chicago the next time you meet.

  Elizabeth stood on a chair in the kitchen, trying not to fidget, while Ted held a yardstick against the skirt of her new dress and pinned the fabric for a hem. To keep from giving in to a crazy urge to run her fingers through the golden hair on his bowed head, she clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

  Perhaps Ted prayed as he pinned. The man talked to God at every opportunity.

  She couldn’t shake the feelings of remorse the pastor’s sermon had surfaced that morning. She’d tried to lay all her regret for hurting Mama at Papa’s feet.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Ted said. “Something wrong?”

  Everything. “Nothing.”

  “You sound like something’s bothering you.”

  She sighed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

  “Haven’t we all.” He rose to his feet and dropped the packet of pins on the table. “I hope I didn’t make a mess of this. I measured every few inches and it looks straight, but—”

  One look at her face and he lifted her off the chair. “You’re not talking about housekeeping, are you?”

  “No.” Tears filled her eyes.

  He tilted her face up to his. His tender expression tore at her. “We all have regrets, Elizabeth.” He motioned toward the yardstick. “God doesn’t love us according to a measure of our goodness. Or withhold His love by calculating the number of our sins. Whatever we’ve done, He’ll forgive us. All we have to do is ask.” He squeezed her hand. “Have you asked Him?”

  Unable to speak, she nodded. Countless times she’d asked God for His forgiveness.

  “Then He has. Psalm 103:12 says, ‘As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.’”

  If only she could share Ted’s confidence, his strong faith. But she didn’t feel forgiven.

  “Trust God, Elizabeth. He’ll never let you down.”

  Perhaps she could trust God. But could she trust Ted? What would he do when he learned she had a brother and intended for Robby to live here? Would he forgive her for keeping the truth from him the way he promised God would?

  Ted took her hand in his, his firm grip warm, soothing. “You’re my wife. I don’t want to let you down, either.” His callused thumb slid over the top of her hand.

  She fought the comfort of his touch. “I’m a housekeeper, not a wife, with two children to care for and every imaginable chore to do.”

  “Being a wife is hard work.” His attention dropped to her lips. She forgot to breathe. He leaned closer and closer still, until she could see every eyelash. She’d never noticed that narrow circle of silver, stunning against the black of his pupils. “But I could name some benefits of the job.”

  Before she could ask for a list of those benefits, his hand encircled the back of her neck. With gentle fingers, he tilted her face to his. She got lost in his intense gaze, asking permission. As with a will all their own, her eyelids fluttered closed. A feathery touch of his lips, gentler than butterfly wings, caressed her lips. The kiss grew, deepened, sending tremors to the core of her.

  And a sense of rightness she refused to accept.

  Love had destroyed Mama.

  She clasped his hand and removed it. “Let’s get one thing straight. You were the one who called our marriage a business deal. I may be a substitute bride, but a business deal doesn’t include love.” She took a step back. “Or kisses.”

  His eyes turned stormy. “What do you have against affection? I’d hate to live the next forty years without it.”

  “I’d rather be hitched to a team of oxen than yoked by that burden.”

  “That can be arranged, wife,” he muttered.

  Elizabeth spun on her heel and raced to her room, matching the speed of her pounding heart, taking with her a void she didn’t know how to fill.

  She closed the door and leaned against it, sliding her fingertips over her lips, reliving his kiss.

  Her demonstrative father had kissed Mama as often as she’d let him. Elizabeth had always known Mama loved Papa. Loved him to death. Kisses meant nothing. She’d put no trust in Ted’s.

  Elizabeth was grateful for the time alone while Ted drove Anna and Jason Harper to school. Well, not exactly alone with Henry in the house, but somehow she managed to read the Bible for a few minutes, hungry for words to guide her. She’d just breathed a prayer to God to help her handle each day when behind her the door creaked open.

  Ted’s gaze lit on the Bible, then her. “I’ll set up the laundry for you,” he said.

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  She took Henry from his high chair and plopped him in the pen Ted had fashioned from chicken wire while Ted lugged laundry tubs and carried water to fill them. All the while he avoided her eyes, obviously still angry over last night’s stalemate. Having fulfilled the role of a good husband, he said goodbye and then walked to the barn.

  Watching his retreating back, Elizabeth sighed. Except for providing the roof over her head and the food on his table, she dared not count on Ted. He needed a mother for his children. The reason he’d married her. She needed to give Robby a home. The reason she’d married him. Assuming Ted agreed to bring Robby here, they’d both get what they wanted.

  So why did she feel so hollow?

  Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, Elizabeth pushed the first load of clothes under the sudsy water. An hour passed, maybe more. Elizabeth arched her back, then blew out a puff of air and once again bent over the washtub. Ted had called this warm, sunny, breezy weather a perfect laundry day. She couldn’t imagine
doing this chore when the weather turned cold.

  Lois Lessman washed clothes and took in ironing to pay the family’s bills. If only Elizabeth could help her. Surely if the proprietor of the saloon understood that gambling was damaging a family in town, he’d put a stop to it.

  She chuffed. How likely was that when it came to bringing in business? But even if it were, Joe Lessman would find a game somewhere else. Hadn’t Papa?

  Her sore knuckles struck the ridge of the scrub board. Elizabeth grimaced. Washing Henry’s diapers had rubbed them raw. “I hope you’re grateful, young man.”

  Henry hung over the fence, gnawing on a wooden spoon, showing no appreciation for the pain he’d caused. Poor tyke probably had enough of his own with those teeth pushing through.

  She boiled the diapers, and then dropped them with a stick into the rinse water. At the line, she used one clothespin to fasten the diapers together, saving time and pins. Anna had made a family of clothespin dolls, decreasing her supply. Flapping in her face, the diapers smelled fresh, clean.

  She refilled the tub with clean water for another load. The time dragged by as she stirred, scrubbed, pinned. She fished in the tub and pulled up Ted’s white shirt, his Sunday best.

  Now pink!

  Something was definitely wrong. But what?

  With all her might, she scrubbed the shirt on the board but the new color remained.

  Heat zipped through her veins. Her dress. Her only good dress! She shot a hand into the washtub and yanked it out.

  Her beautiful dress was streaked with shades of maroon. She moaned, dropping it into the rinse water, then brought up her head scarf, now faded. Under the suds, the water was red.

  Tears stung her eyes. She had to get far away from all this hated work.

  “What happened to my shirt?”

  Elizabeth jumped.

  Ted stood across from her, arms folded across his chest, staring at the pink garment draped over the washboard.

  If she’d had the strength, she’d have thrown her dress at him. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to use that return ticket to Chicago. Even Reginald Parks sounded good.

  Ted surveyed the damage to their clothing then the world of hurt on Elizabeth’s face. He loped to the house. Nothing could be done about her dress, but perhaps he could save his shirt. He returned with the blueing mixture Rose kept on hand. Gradually the garment lost its pink hue, giving him optimism he’d be able to wear it on Sunday.