A Mistaken Match

by Whitney Bailey

  “Mr. Schneider, I have a bounty I’m hoping you could help with.” Something told her it was better if she spoke first. She rambled on. “I’ve begun cooking lessons, and my practicing has produced an abundance of Apple Brown Betty. And my garden is yielding a fair amount more than I need at the moment. I thought you and the children might help me not waste all this food.” Her hands trembled as she continued holding the basket out in front of her body.

  He took three long strides forward and peered in the basket. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a grown woman needing cooking lessons.”

  Ann laughed nervously. “I agree, I’m a rather old pupil, but I can assure you it’s quite good. I made it from Mrs. Ludlow’s recipe.”

  He cocked a brow and rubbed a hand over his chin. He hadn’t shaved in several days. “Is that so?”

  “Where are the children?”

  As if on cue, George emerged from the barn, carrying a bucket full to the brim with milk. Sadie followed close behind clutching a crude wooden object to her chest.

  “Miss Cromwell,” she cried when she saw Ann, and dashed into her arms. The object she carried was sharp and uncomfortable, and it pressed into Ann’s skin as she embraced the girl. “Look what Papa made me!” Sadie cradled the object lovingly in her arms. Now Ann could see it had a head, arms and legs, and was wrapped in a scrap of burlap. A homemade doll.

  “It’s lovely.” Ann stroked the doll’s blank face.

  “Her name is Ann,” Sadie said. She blushed and buried her face into Ann’s shoulder.

  “George, come get this basket,” Mr. Schneider barked.

  The boy carried himself in a stoic way that showed how he’d shouldered far too many burdens at a young age. But his bandage appeared to be fresh, and his hair was combed. He flashed Ann a quick smile but didn’t say a word as he hefted both the milk pail and now her food offering.

  “I should let you children get back to your chores.” Sadie still had a firm grip around Ann’s neck, and it only tightened as she tried to leave.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered into Ann’s ear. “We miss you.”

  Ann’s heart tripped. Within a week she would never see these children again. She swallowed hard. “You’ll see me at church in a few days.” She looked pointedly at Mr. Schneider, and he nodded in agreement.

  Sadie eased her grip, and Ann slipped the girl’s arms from her neck. She knelt to hug her. George had already set off for the house, so Ann called out a goodbye. He stopped long enough to glance over his shoulder and nod. Ann left the Schneider house and didn’t allow herself to look back.

  * * *

  James held his hands out expectantly as she approached, as if awaiting an answer. He cupped his hands around his mouth as she grew closer and called out, “Well?”

  She found his concern, as always, endearing. Ann waited until she didn’t have to shout her reply. There was no telling how well their conversation would carry on the wind. “He didn’t point a shotgun at me, if that’s what you want to know.”

  James’s shoulders dipped in relief. “And the food. Did he take it? Was he offended?”

  “He didn’t appear to be.” She didn’t feel like talking about the Schneiders.

  He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. Her skin tingled. “I told you he liked you.”

  Ann forced a smile. The task she had just accomplished was nothing compared to what she was about to do. But it was for the best—for both of them.

  “James, I have something I need to tell you.”

  He grasped her hand and placed it on his arm. “You said I could share my news first, if it’s still alright.”

  Her heart would break regardless. What was a few more minutes until he’d said what he needed to say? She nodded.

  James patted her hand. “Let’s get some dinner first. Uncle Mac must be starving.”

  He was right. Uncle Mac waited for them on the front porch, tapping his foot impatiently. They hadn’t been gone more than twenty minutes, but like the trains, Uncle Mac’s appetite ran on a schedule.

  They supped on a light meal of late-summer vegetables and smokehouse ham, though Ann found it difficult to eat more than a few bites. You have no reason to be nervous, she reminded herself. But it wasn’t nerves that tickled her belly. She stole glances at James across the table. He looked at everything in the room but her, though a hint of a smile played on his face throughout the meal.

  After supper, James performed his evening chores while she washed the dishes. She watched him through the window, as she often did. He was so tall and trim, one would never guess his immense strength without seeing the way he hefted hay bales, and dragged his reluctant milk cow back into the barn. She pulled the cotton draperies closed. She should not be admiring a man who was not to be her husband.

  James came in from the barnyard glowing with a fine sheen of perspiration, and still possessing a strange smile Ann was at a loss to interpret. Had he guessed she planned to leave soon? Was he relieved? She pushed her own questions out of her mind and prayed for courage to say what must be said. To do what must be done.

  “Come, sit with me on the porch.” James offered his hand and she accepted. He’d washed up at the well pump, and his shirtsleeves were pushed up and damp. His calloused hands held hers as gently as one might cradle a china cup or a baby.

  Tears welled in her eyes. Though she longed to stay, she must leave before her heart fell any deeper. James deserved so much more than she could give. Staying any longer would only delay the start of the life he desired.

  Ann took a seat next to James on the worn wooden rocking chair. She drew a deep breath and summoned some courage. She knew she’d said he could share his news first, but she was afraid if she didn’t speak now, she’d never be able to.

  “James, despite the mistake that brought me here, I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed staying on your farm.”

  James leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked with hers. A trickle of perspiration trailed down her neck.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Ann. I feel much the same way.”

  Her mouth was like cotton again as she looked into his eyes. She should have brought a glass of water with her.

  “James, I know we were waiting on a letter from Mrs. Turner, but...”

  He lifted a finger to interrupt her. Slowly, from his breast pocket, he withdrew a slim envelope.

  “That’s why I wanted to speak first, Ann. Mrs. Turner’s letter arrived today.”

  Ann’s heart dropped. So this was why James hadn’t stopped smiling, and why he’d been acting so strangely. Mrs. Turner had no doubt found him another match. Her pulse quickened. Was this woman coming soon? She had to leave. She had to leave at once!

  “I’ll leave tomorrow,” she announced. Tears welled in her eyes and she looked away from James to hide them.

  “Ann, you don’t need to leave if you don’t want to.” He must have leaned even farther forward in his chair, because his warm voice was now inches from her shoulder. “The letter from Mrs. Turner says this wasn’t a mistake at all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  James held his breath and waited. Ann continued to stare out over the south field.

  “What did you say?” she asked, her voice not more than a whisper.

  He pressed the letter into her hands. “There was no mistake—at least not in Mrs. Turner’s eyes. She was more than aware of my request for a plain bride, which is exactly why she sent you to me. Here, read for yourself.”

  She turned slowly toward him, her blue eyes wider than he had ever seen. She stared back at him, the envelope trembling in the breeze on her palm. “Would you please read it?”

  He took the envelope back and retrieved the crisp ivory sheets inside. He skimmed through the polite formalities until his gaze aligh
ted on the paragraphs that had sent his own heart racing hours before. He cleared the catch in his throat and drew a deep breath.

  “Though Ann Cromwell is not a plain girl, it was never my intention to ignore your request. Instead, it is always the utmost desire of the Transatlantic Agency to ensure happy matches. I have it upon excellent authority that Ann is as hard a worker as they come, and I believe she would be well suited to the labors of farm life.

  “I must admit, Mr. McCann, there was something beyond Miss Cromwell’s impeccable work ethic that compelled me to make this match. You see, it is a certain type of gentleman who requests a beautiful bride. I’ve grown quite fond of Miss Cromwell, which is why I could never match her with such a man. Your request was the first of its kind in our office. It certainly gave us pause. But what is more, it gave me hope Miss Cromwell could be matched with a man who would look beyond her beauty. She has a rare heart, and I prayed it would find a match with yours.

  “It is my greatest hope that in the time it has taken for this letter to reach you, Miss Cromwell’s other great beauties of heart and character have become evident. If you still desire a new match, please telegraph our office at once. If you do not, we will interpret your silence as blessed news.”

  James didn’t want to look up from the letter, but he had to gauge Ann’s reaction. If only she’d read the letter herself, and he could have surveyed her face for some clue to her feelings. Like any other mail-order bride, she was under no obligation to stay. Ever since reading the letter, he’d mulled over his many missteps and chastised himself for each one. All because he’d thought she was intended for another.

  He slowly raised his eyes to her face. She was staring down at her lap, and her face held no elation. His heart seized. She glanced up and gave him a weak smile.

  “I spoke with Mr. Davis today. Did you know he’s opening a new store in Indianapolis?”

  James head spun with the abrupt change in topic. “I heard mention of it, yes.”

  She looked down again. “He wants to sell my handkerchiefs there.”

  “That’s wonderful.” He grasped for more words. “You have a great talent.”

  Her porcelain skin tinged pink. “Thank you. It means much to hear you say that.”

  The letter burned like fire between his fingers. Had she heard its contents, and simply ignored them? Was she disappointed she wasn’t meant to be matched with a wealthy man after all? Was she waiting for him to express his feelings before she revealed her own? He’d spent the summer reminding himself another woman would one day arrive to take Ann’s place, and reminded Ann often of the better life he thought she had waiting for her. She must think he wanted nothing to do with her.

  What are my feelings? He’d slipped up often, hurting her feelings unintentionally. The letter gave him permission to admire Ann. To woo her. But was it too late? There was only one way to find out.

  “Ann, would you like to stay at the farm awhile longer—with me?”

  Her cheeks colored a deeper pink that only made her more beautiful. Her lips trembled as she opened them to speak. “I’m afraid that’s what I was going to tell you tonight. I have enough money to pay you back for my passage. Mrs. Williams paid me half today for the wedding lace, plus the money for the handkerchiefs, and I’ll receive the other half upon Priscilla’s approval of my work. Now Mr. Davis has asked for my handkerchiefs for his store, and I believe I can support myself. I thought I might leave on Monday, but I’ll understand if you’d like me to go sooner.”

  Her words were a knife to his heart. His mind flashed to Emily and the night she’d broken their engagement. It had been on this very porch, though she hadn’t been nearly as gentle as Ann was being now.

  “I see.” He should have known the letter would make no difference. Just because Ann proved she could hold her own on the farm as well as anyone didn’t mean she wanted that life. And it didn’t mean she wanted a life with him.

  A tear slid down Ann’s cheek. “I wish I could say yes, I truly do.”

  His heart tripped. “Then say yes.”

  Fresh tears trickled down and he reached out to wipe them away. She didn’t stop him. “You don’t have to say yes to forever, or even to staying here,” he told her, his voice as soft and persuasive as he could make it. “We’ll find you somewhere to stay. I’m sure the Ludlows have some extra room.” Words tumbled out faster than they ever had before. He reached for her hands and she gripped his in return. “I’ll give you as long as you like to make a decision. I’ll wait years if I have to. Please, give me a chance to win your heart.”

  “I can’t, James. I can’t.” She released his hands and stepped to the edge of the porch, putting her back to him. His words had not been a comfort. Instead, he’d upset her all the more. Befuddled, he walked tentatively to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed but didn’t turn.

  “What’s wrong, Ann? Why can’t you stay?”

  Her shoulders heaved with deep, irregular breaths. “You should write to the agency. They should be able to send you the right match,” she exhaled.

  Confused, he turned her to face him. “Didn’t you hear the letter? Mrs. Turner said there was no mistake. She meant to send you here.”

  Ann blinked slowly. Her lashes were dark and wet with tears. “She sent me here because she thought you might overlook my...shortcomings. But I know you, James. I know how important this farm is to you. How important family is to you. Even if you could accept me, I’m not the woman you deserve.”

  James drew her to his chest and she sank against him. “I know God didn’t make you for farm life, and I’m sorry I ever thought less of you for it. Which is why I’ll never ask you to lift a finger on the farm again, if you’ll only stay with me.”

  She sucked in a breath. “James... I can’t. I could never ask you to—would never ask you to...”

  “Give up the farm?” he finished. “I don’t have to. I’ve arranged everything. Frederick always said there was a job for me at the mill if I wanted it. Now I do. His business is growing, and he wants me to assist Victor in the management when I’m not working the land. If I work both jobs, I can hire a farmhand and you’ll have plenty of time to work on your lace. To work on anything you want.”

  “No, this isn’t right.” She lifted her hands to his chest and pushed against him, but he pulled her gently back.

  “What isn’t right? That I want us to get to know one another? That I want to give you everything you deserve? That I... That I’m falling in love with you?”

  “You want to give me so much,” she hiccuped through sobs. Then, as if she’d finally surrendered to his embrace, she buried her face into his chest. His hands rose up and tentatively stroked her soft, golden hair. “You want to give me so much, and I can give you nothing in return,” she continued.

  His right hand cradled the back of her head, while the other lifted her chin to face him. His mouth pressed to her cheek and hovered over her lips. She exhaled and pushed up to meet him. Their lips met in a searing kiss. She pulled away and he drew her back to him.

  “You can give me everything,” he murmured into her hair.

  “James, I can’t,” she protested.

  “Why can’t you? I know you feel something for me, too.” He stroked a tender line along her jaw, and his fingers ached to tilt her face up for another kiss.

  Ann kept her head down, speaking into his chest. “You want children, don’t you? I know you do. You’ve said so more than once.”

  “Of course I want children.”

  She stole a glance upward and their eyes locked. “And that was how I knew our match was a horrible mistake from the first day we met. You had only one request of the agency—a plain bride. I also asked for one thing in my match. A man who would be content not to have children with me.”

  James laughed nervously. “I don’t bel
ieve you. I know you want children. I see the way you are with Sadie and George.”

  Ann’s face remained as unreadable as stone. “And I didn’t believe you wanted an ugly bride, but it was true. You want children, and no matter how terribly I might desire them, it can never be.” She paused and looked down at the porch floor. “You see—I can never give anyone children.”

  His heart skipped. “You can’t know that. You’re so young. Why, you’ll only be nineteen next month.”

  Ann pushed against him, and James relaxed his grip, though only enough for her to take a half step back. He tipped her chin up so she would meet his eyes again.

  “When I was in service, I fell in love—or at least I thought I was in love. He was charming and handsome, and I believed all of his lies of loving me in return, of planning to marry me. I allowed myself to be seduced, and the result was a baby.”

  His heart dropped. “You had a child?”

  “A boy. He’s with a fine family now, but yes, he was mine once—for a moment.”

  She stepped toward him but something pushed James back. His hands grew numb and he dropped them to his side.

  “There were...complications afterward. When I finally saw the doctor, he said the damage was too extensive to heal. I would never bear another child.”

  James’s mind was a blank. Of all the responses he’d imagined she might have—all the objections—he could never have imagined this.

  “Please, James. Say something.”

  The screen door banged open, startling them both. Uncle Mac rushed out, pointing to the road. A horse and rider headed their way at breakneck speed. James stepped off the porch as the horse turned down his lane.

  “It’s Jed Zwebel.”

  James’s neighbor was red faced and gasping and galloping straight toward them. He pulled on the reins and the horse skidded to a stop inches from the porch. “James, we need you quick. Delmar Winter has gone for the doctor, but the accident is only a mile from here.”