A Groom's Promise

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Yes.” A pain jabbed inside his stomach, and it did not belong to the sickness. It came with the redhead who would enter his room.

  ***

  As Winifred bent over him to present him his soup, the downstairs grandfather clock gonged twelve. “Eat what you can of this lunch. You’re not going to get better unless you regain your strength.”

  He sat up in bed. “Thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

  Biting her tongue against uttering she was forced into it, she instead attempted a smile. “I hope you’re on the mend.” Even though this man irritated her, she still hated to see him in ill health. “It’s got to be trying for you to just lie in bed.”

  He nodded, his brow furrowing. He grabbed the utensil, dipped it into the broth, took several spoonfuls, then looked up at her.

  Her body tingled. How could this impertinent man make her do that? Her hands shook as she reached for the bowl to set it on the table, hoping he would not grasp her wrist like he did earlier.

  Grinning, he asked, “Again, do I make you nervous, Miss Winifred?”

  “Well …” She glanced at the container.

  “I see I do.” He laughed.

  A tinge of anger grew inside her. What audacity he had to assume anything about her. The sooner she got out of here the better, but no, she had to get those covers and return. She stepped toward the door.

  “You leaving?” he asked. She darted her gaze to his.

  I wish. “No, I’m going to get some blankets. Opal told me where she stored them.”

  He smiled. “That’s good.”

  She hastened her exit, hurried toward the hall closet, and opened the oak door to shelves of linens and blankets. One of the quilts took her breath away. It had a large orange-red rose in the center surrounded by green leaves and dotted with rose bud borders. She stroked the heavy quilt’s soft material. This beautiful covering sure would provide him the warmth he needed. Her face became hot as she remembered his comment about her presence making him warm.

  Taking a deep breath, she draped the items in her arms. As she made her way into the bedroom, he stared at her. Oh, that man. Why did his looking at her bother her? Because you won’t admit you like him. She shook her head. No, she could never acknowledge that, and besides, she was not drawn to him. As she stretched the quilts toward his neck, her grip on the fabric slipped and her palm touched the hairs on his chest, which protruded through his cotton shirt. She jerked her hand away, her heart beat rising.

  “I’m sorry I’m having that affect upon you.” He laughed.

  “Nonsense.”

  “You know what you are?”

  “No,” she huffed.

  “You’re a pretty redheaded peach,” he wheezed.

  Peach? What did he mean? That he really believed her attractive or he appreciated her kind care? One thing she did know is he brought out the best and worse in her, and that mix did not make a good combination.

  ***

  The Sunday’s morning sun warmed the air around Hugh’s bed as he stood beside it. He smiled and straightened his shoulders, glancing at his healthy reflection in the shaving mirror. Color had returned to his cheeks. Thank God. Tomorrow, he would return to Archie’s, and he no longer must put up with that irritating Winifred. But in his heart, he knew he would miss her tender care and her welcoming lips. He never thought a redhead would appeal to him. However, she did and more than he wanted to admit. Reaching for his derby, he set it square upon his head. Amazingly, Alex’s gray-tweed suit fit him along with this hat. He sure could not go to church without being properly attired, and his own suit needed pressing. Mr. Crowley was doing that later today. Opening his bedroom door, he strode into the hallway as something bumped into his leg. He turned toward the scratchy object.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Winifred pulled her caramel-colored parasol away from him.

  “So you, too, can bump into someone?” He laughed, his gaze focusing on her thin waist tucked inside her brown skirt trimmed with ruffles.

  She blushed.

  He grinned. “Will you miss me? I’m returning to Mr. Smith’s tomorrow.”

  Winifred cleared her throat. She took a long step to get ahead of him.

  He chuckled and matched her stride until they descended the steps.

  Alex met Winifred at the bottom of the stairs. Hugh climbed down the last step.

  Cries of laughter circled the entryway as Teddy burst into the room. Abigail followed.

  “You stop pulling my pigtails. Do you hear me, Theodore?” Abigail’s face contorted into a scowl.

  Alex turned to the children. “You two behave. We’re going to church and besides, we have company.”

  “Company?” Teddy’s brow furrowed.

  “Yes, Mr. Hugh Warren.”

  “Oh, but he’s no visitor. He’s been staying with us for days,” the little boy replied as he stared at his father.

  “He’s still company, Theodore,” Alex said in a stern voice. He directed his attention from his son to Hugh. “We’ll be taking the buckboard, and since there’s not much room for the two of you, I think it’s a good idea for you and Winifred to use the buggy.” His eyes twinkled.

  Miss Winifred bit her lip. “Oh Alex, I’ll be glad to squeeze into your wagon. I don’t take up a lot of room.” She looked down at her wide skirt. Frowning, she glanced at her brother-in-law. “Well, I guess my dress and parasol could get in the way.” She sighed.

  “It’s fine. Just enjoy your ride, and we’ll all meet up at First Lutheran.” He grinned and glanced at Hugh. “Take good care of her.” The family left.

  The duo stood there in silence before he smiled and reached for Winifred’s hand. “Your hand, my lady,” he said, his voice stiff. Her small fingers caressed his. Hugh inhaled her lilac soap. Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, he led her to the entrance door then held it open. She scooted passed him to the outside, her flowing skirt blowing in the breeze. She raised her frilly umbrella and twirled it. Oh, why did she have to do that? It made her irresistible, and that was the last thing he needed. He couldn’t fall in love with this woman. He just couldn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Winifred grasped Hugh’s hand as he assisted her into the buggy. Hugh snapped the reins, urging the horse forward. The sun glimmered upon her. As she placed the parasol beside her right leg, a cool breeze whipped around her. She pulled her shawl tight. Studying his silhouette, her gaze traveled from his brawny frame to his countenance and his pronounced nose, which reminded her of those paintings of President George Washington she saw in one of her school primers. Tips of Hugh’s hair blew in the wind. Handsome. He glanced her way, and he gave her that irresistible grin of his. She clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling.

  “Why, are you afraid of me, Miss Winifred?”

  “I’m not.” Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

  He laughed. “I think you are.”

  When will we reach the church?

  Hugh cleared his throat. “That’s the stream where Alex and your sister sealed their love for each other.”

  How does he know that? Winifred looked to her left to see the overgrown trees and the bubbling brook. Geese honked in the distance. The area definitely made a beautiful scene, not as much as the ocean near Charles City, but pretty just the same.

  He slowed the steed to a stop and looked at the stream. “It is inviting, isn’t it? I can see how this,” he said, pointing to the water, “helped put Opal and Alex together.”

  “Yes, but – but how do you know this brook put them together?”

  “Alex told me. He found Opal here before she was to meet up with the minister and marry him. But instead, this is where they found and embraced their love for one another.” He smiled. “Quite romantic, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Her brow furrowed. But why did he tell her this?

  “Perhaps this, too, is where we could iron out our differences,” he said, his te
nder gaze meeting Winifred’s. He reached with one hand as he steered the horse down the path.

  His strong hand caressed her glove, stirring up prickling sensations within her. Taking a deep breath to steady her resolve, she stared straight ahead of her. However, the effort was useless since the vibrations of his touch lingered and still exuded strong passions within her. In a moment of weakness, she shifted her attention to him and said, “You may call me Winifred.”

  His mouth opened wide. He smiled. “Thank you.” He smiled and released his hold from hers then flapped the reins.

  Winifred did not dare glance over at him. She could not, for her heart had failed her once, and it could do that again. She inhaled the moist air as they proceeded down the tree-lined path before encountering a stretch of sparse vegetation. What a wild country. Nothing so primitive existed in Charles City, Virginia, but for the first time, she could see how this prairie land won her sister’s heart.

  ***

  Hugh pulled up the buggy in front of the Lutheran church and parked several feet down from a row of wagons. He stepped from the rig and hastened to Winifred’s side. He extended his arm to her. Her soft fingers squeezed inside his. Hugh’s heart rate sped up. Wiggling out of her seat and grabbing her umbrella, she stood beside him.

  “I won’t look proper unless I open my parasol,” she said, her sweet lips curving up into a small smile. Winifred pushed the frilly umbrella open. A gust of wind whisked around them. She grasped the handle tighter to secure it, but in spite of her best efforts, the breeze pushed the parasol’s mushroom top into Hugh’s derby, knocking it onto the dirt. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Mean to do that,” he interjected. He chuckled and reached for his derby just as another puff of wind carried it several feet to his left. Running toward it, he reached for it as the breeze swirled and picked it up, landing the hat right in front of Winifred.

  She glimpsed toward him as he lowered his body and grabbed the derby. “I’m really sorry. Really I am.”

  ***

  Looking up at her, Hugh lost his balance and plowed into her. She fell, her dress flying up in the air, exposing the pantaloons’ lace edges. He glanced at her lovely ankles. His face grew warm. Right at this moment, he wanted to hug and kiss this “refined” lady. He could not, of course, or a scandal would erupt.

  “Hugh,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she attempted to pull her skirt down below her ankles. “You. Why are you so clumsy? Look at me. What will the church members say?” She scooted her body, trying to right herself.

  The incident, indeed, made for a bad scene, but he could not help finding humor in it. He smiled at her. He got to his feet then reached for her hand and quipped, “We’ve got to quit meeting like this.”

  “Oh, Hugh,” she replied, her eyes misty. Standing beside him, she gazed at her skirt dotted with grime. “How am I going to go into church like this? Where is my parasol?”

  He scanned the area, locating it a few feet from them. He picked it up and stepped to her. He presented it to her. “Here it is. You’re all in one piece, now.”

  “No, don’t you see my quandary?” She sniffed and placed her hands on her hips. “My dress and parasol are spotted with dirt and the fringe is all tangled.”

  She no longer looked like an elite plantation woman, but he liked seeing her like this. She looked. … What was the word? Like a person he could love. A woman he could take care of for the rest of his life. Studying her attire, he broke out in laughter.

  “Mr. Hugh, this is no way to conduct yourself in these circumstances,” she said in a stern voice.

  “Isn’t it, Miss Winifred?”

  “No!” Biting her lip, she surveyed his countenance. She blinked then blinked again. Except for a squirrel scampering up a walnut tree, they stood there in quiet before a giggle escaped her throat. “Alright. Alright. I do see some amusement in this.”

  “Good.” He winked at her then stretched out his hand and led Winifred toward the grey stone church. Voices floated around them as people continued to arrive and enter the building. Winifred’s hand trembled. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Glancing at her dress, she answered, “How am I going to explain my predicament?”

  “We’ll tell them the truth. Scripture says ‘the truth will make you free.’ Besides,” he proceeded, “you look beautiful regardless of your so-called predicament.” He inhaled the fragrant smell of the ruby-colored roses, which lined both sides of the entrance door. Tightening his grip on hers, he faced the oak door. He released his hand from hers and pushed it open as the church bells gonged ten times.

  ***

  The pianist played the last hymn, “Blest be the tie that Binds.” Winifred sang the words: “We pour our ardent prayers; Our fears, our hopes.” She stopped. She could not sing the rest of the line. I’m fearful of what people will think of me. Studying her dress, she took a deep breath. Tears welled up in her eyes. Glancing at Hugh, she straightened her shoulders. He met her gaze then he smiled. She believed he understood what bothered her. Of course, he would. He was familiar with the Southern etiquette and the importance of appearance.

  The minister said the closing prayer. Books clunked shut. People shifted in their seats, and footsteps clomped on the wooden floor. Winifred stayed seated. Hugh grasped the edge of her skirt. She relished his support. The church emptied. Winifred turned to him. “Let’s go now.”

  He nodded and stood up, guiding her to the door. They exited. The reverend strode away from the entrance to talk with a group of parishioners.

  Winifred sighed with relief. She wondered what he would say about her improper church attire.

  Standing a few feet from the door, Alex called to her. “Come over here. I want to introduce you to a good friend of ours.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Winifred peeked up at her escort. Her cheeks grew warm. “What should I do?” she whispered.

  “Meet the lady. Don’t be afraid. I’m here and we’ll face this predicament together.” He smiled before proceeding toward the woman.

  She did not want to admit it, but his soothing words gave her comfort. She raised her parasol in the air. Dust particles flew. A couple across from them coughed. Hugh took her hand and clutched it tightly as he led her to her brother-in-law. For the first time, gratitude filled Winifred’s being. His strong, yet tender touch softened her heart.

  Alex scanned Winifred’s attire and grinned. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a fistfight.”

  Winifred swayed back and forth and glimpsed up toward Hugh.

  Hugh exhaled a long breath. “No, well, actually there was an accident. The wind tossed her parasol to the ground. I reached down to get it, and as I did so, I bumped into her, and she fell.”

  No, I can’t let you do this. She sighed, thankful for him wanting to take the whole responsibility for the incident. She took a deep breath before she shifted her gaze to her brother-in-law. She clutched her hands together and placed them in front of her waist. “Hugh is covering up for me. I – I opened my parasol. It struck his hat, landing the derby on the dusty soil. I’m afraid it got dirty,” she said in a soft voice.

  “Don’t worry.” Alex chuckled. “A lot worse has happened, such as the time I sat on my derby and squished it. It looked like a jester’s hat, except there were no hanging tassels.” He paused. “Oh, I forgot to introduce you to Mrs. Mary Brown.”

  Winifred studied the round-faced woman, who wore a dark green shirtwaist. The skirt finished with a pleated hem. Although not a pretty woman, her style showed prominence. Winifred glanced at her own soiled dress. Would she accept me like this or would she be like the women from Virginia? Her throat constricted.

  Mrs. Brown gave a sweep of Winifred’s attire before meeting her gaze.

  Winifred gulped.

  The corners of Mrs. Brown’s lips curved up into a wide smile. “Nice to meet you, and you?” she asked as she looked over at Hugh.

  Alex chuckled. �
��Oh, I forgot to introduce you to Hugh Warren. He, too, is new to the area.”

  Hugh extended his arm and shook the lady’s hand. A series of children’s squeals permeated the area, where the water fountain was located.

  Abigail chased Teddy around it.

  “You can’t catch me,” shouted the boy.

  Alex turned to them. His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to leave. We’ll see you two at home.”

  The three of them stood there a second as the wind swept around them, lifting up the bottom of the women’s skirts. A flutter of leaves dropped to the ground, reminding Winifred of the upcoming winter and how she promised her father she would return before the full force of autumn arrived. A sting of sadness pierced her heart. A lady’s voice broke Winifred’s thoughts, directing her attention to Mrs. Brown.

  “I’m arranging a barn dance once harvest ends. Hope you two can attend. Young love needs to blossom before snow settles in.” She giggled, glancing from Hugh to Winifred. “Well, I hope to see you there, and again, I’m happy to meet newcomers.” Mrs. Brown spun around and headed toward the parked wagons and buggies.

  Hugh watched the lady leave then shifted his gaze to Winifred. Grinning, he said, “I don’t suppose you’d want to go to that square dance with a bumbling man like me?”

  She nodded, her heart sinking. Oh, she wanted to go with him, but could she break her pa’s heart once more? Opal’s choice to marry and stay in Nebraska had devastated him.

  ***

  The next morning, Hugh buttoned his white shirt then put on his necktie before grasping his smoke-gray suit trousers off the guest bed. He needed to thank Mr. Crowley for cleaning his soiled clothes and starching his shirt. It really was nice to actually get into the clothes he wore when he arrived. Pulling up his pants, his mind raced with the thoughts of returning to Archie’s. He so looked forward to getting into his own bed, although this one sure was a lot more comfortable. Of course, he wanted to see his brother. How did he fare without him being around? He also wanted to settle the matter of the loan. Riding with Alex to the bank, he finally could talk with him about that. Alex said his clerk could drive him back home.