The Substitute Bride

by Janet Dean

  On the back wall, a door led somewhere—outside or to another room? She hustled around the building and found a window. That meant a back room. Her pulse skipped a beat, then slowed as an idea planted itself in her mind, then bloomed.

  This could be a place for her and Robby.

  Maybe with just the two of them, she could give her brother the attention he needed. Perhaps get him to admit what bothered him, if he knew.

  Even with Anna no longer giving him the cold shoulder, the forlorn expression in his eyes hadn’t diminished. Ted treated her brother like a son, but Robby kept his distance, refusing his overtures, looking lost and miserable. Her brother’s sadness tore at her. She’d given him everything she’d thought he wanted. And it wasn’t enough.

  In a way she understood. She felt hemmed in, suffocated by the demands of her routine. She’d gone from a life of ease to a life of endless responsibility, all thrust upon her overnight, giving her no chance to find her own way.

  Ted was kind. Trying hard to get close. Too close. He wanted a real marriage when a business contract was what they’d agreed on. She had to keep him at arm’s length. She knew with certainty that if she loved Ted Logan, she’d lose herself. She’d become dependent on his smile, on his affection, on the harmony of their marriage.

  Then when he chose to withhold that smile, that affection, that harmony, she’d wind up like her mother…brokenhearted.

  This shop was her and Robby’s ticket to freedom, a chance for independence right here in New Harmony. Maybe here she’d find some air to breathe, some time to find her way.

  Would Ted allow it?

  Well, she hadn’t promised to obey, only to try. And hadn’t she tried and tried and tried? Lily and Richard would gladly help Ted with the children until Robby found his stride. She wouldn’t be leaving Ted in the lurch.

  She sighed. Ted would be upset, but surely God understood her need to help her brother. Her shoulders slumped. But where would she get the money for the rent? Lord, if this plan is all right with You, help me find a way.

  “It needs a lot of work.”

  Elizabeth jumped as if she’d been caught in a criminal act and reeled toward the speaker. Mr. Sorenson stood outside the back door of his store, a broom in his hand. He ambled over.

  “Two years ago we rented the place to a lawyer but the folks of New Harmony didn’t provoke enough lawsuits to keep him. It’s been standing empty ever since. The missus and I’ve talked about expanding, but we got more work than we can handle now. My desk’s buried under receipts and a pile of bills.”

  “I loved math in school. Bookkeeping sounds like fun.”

  “Fun? I’d sooner get a tooth pulled. And the missus can’t add two and two.”

  Here was her chance. “I’m sure I could handle your books. How much is the rent?”

  “What are you aiming to do with the place?”

  “I’d like start a ladies’ club, maybe a library, though I’d have to find some books.”

  He leaned on the broom handle and scratched his head. “Sounds citified.” He chuckled. “So it’s sure to please the ladies. Normally, I’d charge—” He stopped. “Did you say you could handle my books?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “In that case, it’s yours for the price of handling our accounts.”

  “That’s all?”

  “You’ll be doing us a favor.”

  Elizabeth reached out a hand and they shook. “You have a deal.”

  “Do you want to take a look around? See what you’re in for? It’s not locked.”

  Elizabeth opened the door. A three-inch shadow streaked across the toe of her shoes. She leaped back, pressing her hand to her bosom. “Looks like you already have a tenant.”

  Mr. Sorenson chuckled. “Mice included at no charge.”

  She pivoted and spotted dust and mice droppings everywhere. Nothing Tippy could help her with here. She’d wanted to escape the tedium of the farm, not add more work to her load. “Looks like I’ll need to borrow that broom.”

  Mr. Sorenson handed it over with a grin, then thumped the window with a fist and lifted it with ease. “That’ll improve the odor in here.”

  A small stove stood away from one wall. Cobwebs dangled between the chimney and the wall. She swung the broom, bringing down the webs.

  “I’ll fetch a bucket and some rags. There’s a pump out back for water.”

  They walked to the front. Another small stove. More webs but no sign of mice.

  “Will you need a table or two?”

  “Yes, and chairs. I hadn’t thought about those.”

  Mr. Sorenson waved a hand. “Got some grates out behind the store that’ll make fine bases. Barrel lids will work as tops. I’ll ask Cecil to nail them together. Covered with oilcloth, they’ll look fine.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Not often New Harmony gets a new enterprise.” He grinned. “Besides, the ladies might stop in for supplies once they’re done chatting here. And Cecil needs something to do besides hanging out at the store, getting in the way.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I expect the school will loan you a few folding chairs they keep on hand for programs and such.”

  “What a good idea. Thank you, Mr. Sorenson.”

  “Ted’s a man I respect. I’m happy to help out his missus.”

  Would Mr. Sorenson be so generous if he knew her plan to move in here? “Could I trade the basket of eggs out in the wagon for oilcloth to cover the tables?”

  “You’ve got a deal. I’ll get them.” He turned back. “It’s a relief to get that empty store off the missus’s nag list.”

  “Let me take down the sign.” Elizabeth hurried to the window and then handed it to Mr. Sorenson.

  “You know, Mrs. Logan, you’re just what this town needed.”

  “I am?”

  “A breath of fresh air. And a pretty one at that.” He tipped an invisible hat, then ducked out the back, the sign under his arm.

  Her chest filling with excitement, Elizabeth all but skipped to the front door and opened it, welcoming in the breeze and sunshine. She’d found something of her own, a place to exchange ideas and instigate change.

  In her mind, she pictured the women coming in, sharing, laughing—making plans for the town and for themselves. And in the process, she and Robby would find a modicum of freedom, a place to find their way.

  Mr. Sorenson cleared his throat, interrupting her daydreams. He put a bucket of water and the rags he’d promised on the floor beside her. “I don’t see any more mouse nests, just droppings. The missus sent over a scrub brush and a jug of vinegar to cut the dust. Anything else you need, holler.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The missus is jabbering about your ladies’ club. With you next door, I’ll probably not get a lick of work out of her.”

  “We’ll meet once a week, probably on Saturday. Women may not have much time or interest.”

  “Once the word spreads, you’ll be swamped with members.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “When can you show me your books?”

  “How about early Saturday? I can introduce you to my ledger, get you started. After you get that mess straightened out, I’d say once a week should handle it.”

  Elizabeth stepped outside with the broom and watched Mr. Sorenson head next door. She swung the broom and sent dirt flying. As Martha had always said: well begun is half done. For once the work didn’t feel like a chore. Not when it meant she’d take a role in town.

  “Excuse me.” A familiar fellow she’d met at the café the night she married Ted appeared at her elbow, wearing a plaid shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing a glimpse of long underwear. He removed his billed cap and squinted into the sun, deepening the grooves around his hazel eyes. “I hear tell you need tables, missus,” he said, plopping the cap on his head.

  “Please, call me Elizabeth. You’re Cecil, the genius with hammer and nails who’s going to make my tables.”

  A deep red blush moved
up his neck and disappeared beneath his cap. “Yep. Cecil Moore’s the name, but I ain’t never been called a genius.”

  “A man that handy is a gift to womankind.”

  “Well, I ain’t wearing no bow.” He hitched up his pants. “How many?”

  Stifling a grin, she took count. “Four should be plenty.”

  “If Sorenson’s got that many barrel lids out back, I’ll make ’em for ya. I’ll be back.”

  “Please don’t rush on my account.”

  “I only got one speed, missus. Rush ain’t it.”

  Elizabeth watched Mr. Moore shuffle away. Clearly his one speed was tortoise.

  Picking up the broom, she swept the store. Dust flew into her face and she coughed then sneezed, wishing for her red head scarf to cover her nose, especially if it would scare mice as well as chickens.

  Oscar, the other Moore brother, appeared at the door. Apparently word was spreading, all right, but not to the ladies.

  “Cecil tells me you’re going to form yourself a ladies’ club, whatever that is.”

  The brothers didn’t resemble each other. Oscar was portly, baby faced and short. Cecil was as thin as a reed, long faced and wrinkled.

  “Yes, I am.” She returned to her sweeping. If she kept getting visitors she’d never finish before school let out.

  Oscar swung his head side to side. “Don’t look like much.”

  “It needs cleaning,” she said, ending on a sneeze.

  He guffawed. “Yes, ma’am, it surely does.” He grabbed the broom from her hands. “You’d better git some air. I’ll finish this.”

  Elizabeth took a look at the man’s thick waistline. A little work wouldn’t hurt him. She grabbed rag and pail and walked outside to wash the window. When Oscar finished, she stepped inside to clean the other side.

  “I hear tell you called my brother a genius,” he said.

  “Well, you are a knight in shining armor for protecting me from all that dust, Mr. Moore.”

  “Shucks, weren’t nothing.”

  “You kept me from a coughing fit or worse.” She smiled. “I don’t call that nothing.”

  The two men might not look alike but they both had blushes that would put a new bride to shame.

  “Your brother is making tables out of crates and barrels. Isn’t that the cleverest thing you’ve ever heard of?” she said, rinsing out her rag.

  “He fancies his self a carpenter, but hammering crates together don’t make him a craftsman.”

  Apparently the Moore brothers had a competitive streak.

  Oscar surveyed the room. “These floors could use mopping.”

  She gave the window one last scrub and then wiped a hand over her brow. “As soon as I get a bucket of clean water, I’ll get started.”

  “I’ll fetch it. It’s too heavy for a dainty thing like you.”

  “Thank you. Your mother raised good men.”

  “We raised ourselves, ma’am. Didn’t turn out to be Jesse James so I reckon we done okay.” Oscar disappeared then returned with the bucket. “Where do you want it?”

  “I’ll start back here.” She dropped to her knees and dipped her rag into the bucket.

  “You’ll mess up your dress,” he said, getting a rag. “Can’t hurt these here overalls.”

  Oscar started in the back and Elizabeth followed behind him, washing the woodwork. Her skirts kept getting tangled up around her. If only she had on pants, though the sight might shock the Moore brothers into apoplexy.

  Mr. Sorenson appeared at the door carrying red-checked material. “Here are those oilcloths you wanted. Oh, let me do that. You’ll ruin your dress. It’s so pretty, too.”

  “I hemmed it myself—well, with a little help from Ted.”

  “It’s hard to picture Ted with a needle in his hand—”

  “He didn’t sew—”

  “Though I recall watching him stitch up a piglet’s leg.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Squealed its head off, but that didn’t stop Ted. He clamped that squirming shoat between his knees and—”

  Elizabeth gulped. “I’ve got the picture.”

  Mr. Sorenson grabbed the cloth and went to work. Elizabeth washed the back window, imagining curtains out front and trying to put out of her mind the image of Ted’s pig doctoring.

  Though there was one thing she’d learned. Farmers made do. Farmers were jacks-of-all-trades. Farmers weren’t squeamish.

  Nothing about Elizabeth fit farm life.

  Around noon Mrs. Sorenson appeared carrying a tray with three thick slabs of ham between slices of fresh-baked bread and tin cups of hot tea. “Hubert, I left your dinner and the Moore brothers’ on the table in the back. Mind the store. I’m eating with Elizabeth.” Once they’d left, Lucille smiled at Elizabeth. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have you handling our books. You’ve given Hubert a new lease on life.”

  “I’m getting the better deal.” She nibbled on her sandwich. “Would you know where I could get two cots?”

  “Well, sure, we’ve got some nice ones.” Lucille frowned. “Why would you need cots?”

  She couldn’t tell the proprietor her plans. Not until she’d talked to Ted. She owed him that much.

  But Lucille didn’t leave the subject alone. “Are you planning on moving in here?”

  “I might be.” She swallowed a sip of water, flushing the food she’d eaten down her suddenly dry throat, and then explained her reasons for bringing Robby there.

  “I doubt Ted will think much of the idea. No husband would—” Her gaze turned speculative, but she didn’t ask questions.

  Once Lucille took her tray and disappeared next door, Elizabeth heaved a sigh. Moving in here would cause people to talk, but helping Robby came first.

  With an hour until she had to gather the children from school, Cecil showed up with the tables. “May not look like much but they’re solid and won’t tip, if’n the ladies put their elbows on ’em.”

  Elizabeth covered them with the oilcloth, not exactly linen but practical and cheerful. Though smaller than she’d like, the tables were sturdy, serviceable and cost nothing. Something she’d come to appreciate.

  By the time she left, Elizabeth’s club room shone. Cecil stayed behind, insisting he’d wait to help her with the chairs.

  At the school, Elizabeth spoke to the teacher, who assured her the chairs wouldn’t be missed until the eighth-grade commencement at the end of the month. Feeling optimistic, Elizabeth asked for twelve. Robby helped the older boys load them in the back while she herded Anna and Grace into the wagon.

  Anna twisted on the seat to take a look. “Where are we taking the chairs?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t very well explain about the ladies’ club until she’d talked to Ted. “To a shop next to the mercantile.”

  Anna looked puzzled but forgot about the chairs when Grace mentioned the upcoming spelling bee.

  True to his word, before she’d stopped the horses, Cecil lumbered off the Sorenson porch to retrieve the chairs. “Well, Anna girl, looks like your new mama is opening one of them fancy clubs for ladies.”

  Anna’s eyes grew wide and she scampered down from the wagon and dashed inside the building.

  Once she dropped off Jason, Elizabeth would talk to Anna. Ask Ted’s daughter to give her a chance to talk to Ted.

  About the ladies’ club.

  Soon to be her and Robby’s quarters.

  Was she making a mistake? Did God approve of her decision? He’d opened that door Ted talked about. Still, doubt nagged at her. She wasn’t ending the marriage, but with every day packed with chores and children, she never had a minute to examine what she wanted. But if not for Robby’s unhappiness, she wouldn’t take this step. She had to find a way to restore his joy, even if it meant taking drastic action.

  If she hadn’t taken action in Chicago, she’d be married to Reginald Parks and Robby would be in boarding school.

  A sense of peace surrounded her, as if God Himself had g
iven her permission to flee. Would Ted see it that way?

  Chapter Seventeen

  The minute Elizabeth drove in with the children, Ted took one look at her and knew something was up. He said nothing, not through supper, nor while they shared the task of putting the children to bed. But now as they sat at the table drinking coffee, separated by inches but miles apart, he had to know her plans. “Looks like you had a good day.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re different. There’s a glow about you.” She’d never looked more beautiful. “It’s becoming.” He took her hand. “What happened today?”

  Her eyes lost their sparkle, becoming guarded, even wary. As a gambler, he’d mastered the nuances of expression. She locked her gaze with his. In that moment, Ted knew that he wouldn’t like whatever she had to say. He squared his shoulders. “Tell me.”

  “I’ve found something of my own, something that will make me happy.”

  “You’re unhappy here.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She removed her hand from his grip. “Not unhappy exactly. Just not happy. It’s not your fault, Ted. Or the children’s.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Biting her lip, she looked away, a furrow between her delicate brows. “It’s hard to explain.” Her fingers trembled on the handle of her cup. “I need freedom.”

  He could barely get the words out, but he had to know. “You want a divorce?”

  She shook her head. “I made my promise to you before God.”

  Weak with relief, he slumped against the back of his chair. But if not a divorce, then where would this conversation lead?

  “I’ve jumped into this marriage. I tried to handle your and the children’s expectations, but the truth is I don’t know what I want, who I am. I need the freedom to find out.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Mr. Sorenson will let me use the empty building next to the mercantile in exchange for taking care of the store’s books. I plan to form a ladies’ club.”

  “So your head for figures will pay for this adventure.”

  “I used to want adventure.” Tears filled her sapphire eyes. “Now I just want…me.” She sighed. “I’m confused.”