A Mistaken Match

by Whitney Bailey

  He pushed through the flood of memories and the odd squeezing sensation in his chest, and focused on her minor wound. It didn’t even require bandaging, and within moments the salve had already soothed much of the redness.

  She excused herself to her room to wash up and change, and James escaped to the barnyard to do his morning chores before their trip into town. When he returned his heart tripped again. Ann stood at the stove wearing the same dark green traveling dress she had worn on her first day.

  “Will you be ready to leave soon?” she asked cheerfully as she plated two perfect eggs.

  James groaned inwardly. Why did he feel as if they were repeating their first days together, only running in reverse? Though he was certain they’d return that evening, it felt as if he were taking Ann to town to send her away. He tried to shake the feeling as he washed and changed for the trip but it clung to him, heavy and inescapable.

  * * *

  James accompanied Ann into Mrs. Williams’s shop. Though he knew the stains on the lace were almost imperceptible, he wanted to be there to take full responsibility.

  “Did Delia tell you about the sale?” were the first words out of the dressmaker’s mouth when they entered. Ann beamed and nodded. Delia squeezed Ann’s shoulders.

  Sale? What sale?

  The plump woman turned to James. “I’m sure you were so proud of Ann.”

  James nodded dumbly. If Ann had sold one of her handkerchiefs, why hadn’t she told him?

  Mrs. Williams pulled an envelope from the pocket of her half apron and pressed it into Ann’s hand. “And what Delia couldn’t have told you yesterday, was that we sold a third in her absence.”

  Ann’s hand trembled as she grasped the envelope. James had been in the shop when they’d set the prices. She’d likely just been paid almost twenty dollars. Or was Mrs. Williams also paying her for Priscilla’s lace? In that case, Ann no longer had a reason to stay at his farm while they awaited Mrs. Turner’s letter. She could repay him for her passage and move into Donahue’s Hotel while they awaited word of her true intended.

  Or a hotel in any other town...or city.

  His stomach twisted. She was always going to leave, but now it felt as though her departure was becoming real. He’d never considered he might grow fond of Ann Cromwell during her stay. He’d only worried he wouldn’t be able to resist her beauty. Now he barely noticed it. Not when her numerous other qualities shone even brighter.

  The room grew strangely quiet. All three women were staring pointedly at him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” he said, hoping someone had spoken to him.

  Mrs. Williams pursed her lips. “I said you must make sure Ann sees Mr. Davis while you’re in town. He stopped in the other day and was so impressed with Ann’s handkerchiefs. He said he wished to speak with her.”

  “Of course, of course.” The grocer likely wanted to commission something special for his wife.

  A few minutes later, James stumbled outside into the blistering August heat with Ann close at his side. Her cheeks had flushed rose pink when Mrs. Williams handed her the envelope, and the color hadn’t diffused.

  “Where to next?” she chirped.

  His head was thick with indecision. Hadn’t he said he was going to the mill to accept the extra work? Until now he hadn’t realized how much that decision hinged on Ann staying with him awhile longer. The millwork would mean extra money to help buy Ann a few nice things. He hadn’t even realized he’d planned to do that until now. A ridiculous thought. He should be saving money for his new wife—whoever that would be.

  “Did you want to come in with me?” Ann had stopped in front of Davis Mercantile.

  “If it’s alright, I think I’ll run a few errands.” What errands, he didn’t know. He needed time away from Ann. Time to get a hold of himself. To think rationally.

  If Ann thought he acted strangely, she didn’t let on. Her full lips spread wide, turning a smile into a grin. “Of course. I’ll wait by the wagon until you’re done.”

  The New Haven Library sat across the square, and James hurried into it, grateful to have a true errand to complete. The librarian promised to put together a selection of books Uncle Mac would enjoy, and asked him to return in a few minutes.

  He stepped back into the blinding sun on the street and considered going to the mill after all. It would be good to see Frederick, and Ann’s help in the fields meant he did still have time to take on the extra work before the harvest needed his attention. His head began to clear as he strode purposefully down the sidewalk. No matter how much his heart had tried to persuade him these last few weeks, he had to imagine a future without Ann Cromwell.

  A storefront on his left reminded him of another errand, and he stepped inside. Writing to Mrs. Turner had used the last of his envelopes, and he’d forgotten to purchase more.

  “James McCann, just the man I wanted to see!” announced the pimply young postal clerk behind the counter. “I have a letter for you!”

  James’s heart pounded. “You do?”

  “Yep,” the young man said, flourishing a slim envelope. “And it’s all the way from England.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ann stepped from the stifling sidewalk into the pungent heat of Davis Mercantile. Coffee and leather aromas tickled her nose. A young man behind the counter coughed and colored scarlet at the sight of her.

  “May I help you, miss?” he squeaked as he hurried toward her.

  Ann’s beauty had elicited this reaction more times than she could count. It generally garnered her prompt service in the shops, even when they knew she was a maid. An extra scoop of horehound candy from the confectionery if she batted her eyelashes just so. She’d always considered her beauty an asset. Now, as the young clerk rushed to her side, even as an older woman waited ahead of her at the counter to be served, irritation twinged her.

  What else had her beauty brought her? Had it ever gained her anything of value? Would William Atherton have taken notice of her if she had been as plain as the bride James pined for? She had known the value of hard work for as long as she could remember, but as she grew older, she’d expected her beauty to bring her something more. Hadn’t she even imagined the agency had garnered more for her match than others? Young, sweet girls she’d deemed not as attractive as herself. The twinge of irritation devolved into nausea.

  Dear Lord, please forgive my prideful nature.

  The prayer settled her stomach like warm chamomile tea. She smiled at the clerk waiting patiently by her side. “Would you please assist that woman at the counter? I believe she was waiting before me.”

  “Of course, of course. Let me know when you’re ready,” he said before returning to the counter at half the pace he’d used to reach Ann’s side.

  “Miss Cromwell?” A man’s deep voice echoed from the dark rear of the store.

  “I’m here, Mr. Davis. Mrs. Williams said you wanted to see me.”

  The store owner emerged from behind a man-sized display of canned green beans and potatoes. His thick mustache turned up at the corners when he saw her. “I did want to see you. I stepped into Mrs. Williams’s shop the other day to see if she had anything new. Your lace greatly impressed me. It’s simply exquisite.”

  As Ann’s cheeks warmed, she prayed again to be released from her pride. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “May I take a few moments of your time?”

  Ann nodded and followed him into a small back office. He took a seat beside a tiny walnut desk piled high with papers, while she perched on a nearby chair.

  “I’m obviously not the only one who likes your work, Miss Cromwell. I’d already heard Priscilla Vollrath put much of her wedding dress into your obviously capable hands. Two of your handkerchiefs were sold during my time in the shop, and to local women. I can onl
y imagine how well they’d sell in a larger city.”

  The reminder of the sales and the money in her pocket filled her with excitement and trepidation. She had enough money to give her some security when she was on her own again, after Mrs. Turner’s letter arrived.

  After James asks me to leave.

  “Did you want me to create something for your wife, Mr. Davis?” Even with the tremendous sum in her pocket, she would take any additional income offered. Only the Lord knew if or when she’d ever find success outside New Haven.

  Mr. Davis laughed. “Yes, I’m sure she would love me to commission something for her, but that wasn’t why I wanted to speak with you. Miss Cromwell, have you heard of the city of Indianapolis?”

  “In-dee-uh... I’m sorry, what was the rest?”

  He chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. I have the opportunity to open a brand-new department store there with my brother, and I’m taking it. Four stories high in the best part of the city. My nephew Leroy, the one behind the counter today, will be taking over this store.”

  “Congratulations, Mr. Davis,” she said, puzzling over what this had to do with her.

  “We’ll have a large women’s department, covering all of the second floor. We want to offer our customers the finest goods in the city, and I think your handkerchiefs would be the perfect addition.”

  Ann’s heart stopped. She’d certainly misheard. “Excuse me?”

  He paused, clearly trying to figure out what she hadn’t understood. “They have department stores in England, don’t they?”

  “Of course.” She’d walked by Harrods numerous times, always wishing she could afford more than a stick of candy if she stepped inside. Would she ever have dreamed her work might be offered for sale in a store such as that? The heat in the room grew stifling. “We have Harrods.”

  “Ah, yes, I’m somewhat familiar. This store won’t be on near as grand a scale, but it will be the largest in Indianapolis. Which is why I want to offer certain goods that can’t be had from any other shop. If you’d like to do business with me, I’ll need a large selection of handkerchiefs ready when we open eight months from now. Multiple copies of at least a dozen styles to start. Does this interest you?”

  Ann’s mouth filled with cotton. Dozens of handkerchiefs, for sale in a large city where wealthy women would acquire them. She glanced about for a pitcher of water but found only papers and empty crates.

  Mr. Davis took her silence as hesitation. “I can only advance you a small percentage to pay for supplies, but we can make the terms of the sale the same as you have with Mrs. Williams. I hope you don’t mind that we discussed your arrangement.”

  “You’ll pay sixty percent?” she choked out.

  His mustache screwed up at the corner and he stared at her long and hard. “Alright, seventy percent. But not until the sale. You can bring them to me until I leave New Haven, but then you’ll need to cover transportation fees for the goods themselves.”

  Ann swallowed hard. “Where is Indianapolis?”

  “Why, it’s just one state over. If you took the train in the morning, you’d be there by evening. A package can arrive in as little as a few days.”

  Her head spun. So much had happened today. Was God guiding her path as she’d prayed for? She stood and offered her hand. “Mr. Davis, I believe I’d like to do business with you.”

  * * *

  Ann’s heart thudded against her ribs and her hands trembled as she waited for James in the wagon. She had no reason to be so nervous, she reminded herself. She’d learned within hours of her arrival in New Haven that her time there was finite. For weeks she’d fretted and worried over how she could support herself when she left, and God had opened door after door. She did the math in her head. With the money from Mrs. Williams, there was no reason she couldn’t be on a departing train within days. Indianapolis was as good a place to live as any, and she’d be close to the store to deliver her handkerchiefs as often as Mr. Davis wanted them.

  She still might have to seek employment as a maid for a short time. The Indianapolis store wasn’t open for business yet, and because she’d delivered the lace early, Mrs. Williams couldn’t pay her the full amount until the dress was complete and Priscilla approved it. She’d take any job she could until then. But Mr. Davis had gone on to describe his store in detail, including the custom dressmakers he planned to employ, and Ann’s future rose up in front her. Indianapolis was a large city and close enough for her to afford passage there. All she needed was a little more of God’s help, and the next stage of her life could be a bright one.

  If this was God’s will for her life, why did she feel something tugging her back with an invisible string? She should be elated at the prospect of what was to come, not filled with trepidation. Ann chided herself for hesitating. Nothing held her here. Nothing but—

  “James!” When he appeared across the square, she called out his name in spite of herself. Did he blush when she called to him? His cheeks must be flushed from the summer heat.

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long,” he apologized. He passed her a stack of library books when he approached, and his muscular arms swung his body into the wagon even faster than usual. He removed his hat and mussed his hair with both hands. Ann found the habit both telling and endearing. What did he have to be nervous about? That he’d left her waiting so long? No, it had to be something more than that. All of his movements carried a sense of frenetic energy.

  “How was your afternoon?” she asked.

  “Very good,” he answered, and gave her a peculiar half smile.

  “Were you able to see Frederick at the mill?” Perhaps she could keep up this small talk forever. Anything to put off the inevitable task of announcing her departure. If only she had followed God’s clear path for her life years ago, she could be the wife James deserved—one who could give him children.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured before glancing her way. The shadow cast from his hat brim brought out the green in his hazel eyes. Her stomach tumbled. If she told him now, while they rode side by side in the wagon, she might not have to gaze deeply into those eyes.

  James’s hand darted to hers and gave it an unexpected squeeze before grasping the reins again. Ann’s heart leaped, and she fiddled with the envelope of money in her pocket. She didn’t have to say something right away. James was in a good mood, likely because of the work he got at the mill. She could stay a few extra days, couldn’t she? There were the needed goodbyes to Delia and Mrs. Williams, and the matter of Priscilla’s dress. One stray snip of the scissors, and they might be in need of her services. It would be best that she stay at least until the final fitting.

  As they drove alongside the Schneider farm, Ann thought about how Mrs. Ludlow’s absence meant that Sadie and George needed her close to keep an eye on them. She mentally tacked on more and more days to her departure date. It was easy to think of reasons to stay a little longer. It would be nice to watch Priscilla walk down the aisle, and Ann had been invited along with the rest of the town. Soon it would be harvest time, and James could always use an extra hand, no matter how inexperienced.

  “I’d like to try to take the Schneiders something this evening,” she announced.

  James nodded in agreement. “Please be careful. I have something I’d like to talk to you about when you get back.” His voice was warm like fresh honey. She shivered in the stifling heat.

  “And I have something I’d like to speak with you about,” she replied.

  James furrowed his brow. “I’d like to go first, if that’s alright.”

  Ann agreed, and at that same moment Old Harriet turned down the lane toward the house. Uncle Mac sat in a rocker on the porch, and jumped up to greet them. Ann passed the library books down to him and he shuffled them between work-worn hands. “G-good, good,” he murmured in approval.

  James le
aned in, closing the distance between them on the wagon seat. “I thought you might take the Schneiders the rest of the Apple Brown Betty and some cream. Maybe a few of the extra vegetables from the garden. If you’re still up to it, of course.”

  “Of course I am!” she said, a bit too forcefully. Was it always this hard to breathe when he was so near?

  Ann jumped from the wagon and made straight for the garden. She’d left the children food by the fence row for weeks before Hal’s accident, but never more than they could eat before returning home. A glass of milk and a bowl of wild blackberries, or two hard boiled eggs and some bread and butter. She’d worried more would raise both Hal’s suspicion and ire. Half an hour later she set out for the Schneiders’ laden with enough food to last the children a few days. James had never accompanied her before, but as she passed by him in the barnyard, he fell in lockstep beside her. He remained by her side until they reached the great oak by the property line where he’d watched over her when she’d returned the children.

  “If you see him, remember to say it’s from you, not me. I think he liked you when you met.”

  Ann rolled her eyes. “How could you possibly know that?”

  James squeezed the fingers of her free hand. “Because everyone likes you.”

  Ann bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. This was exactly why she should have told him her news on the wagon ride rather than making excuses for staying longer. It was so hard to concentrate looking into those eyes.

  He patted her on the back. “Go on—it’ll be fine.”

  Ann climbed over the fence row before she could think more about it. Last time the children had given her a measure of protection. This time, what was to stop Hal Schneider from leveling his shotgun at her head? Sweat beaded on her forehead as she neared. She prayed for courage. She only had to leave the basket at the door, knock and dash back as fast as her legs could carry her.

  She ran-walked across the barnyard and was feet from the front porch when Mr. Schneider appeared from around the corner of the house. Ann jumped at the sight of him and thrust the basket out in the air toward him.