The Engagement Charade

by Karen Kirst

  Not long after the wedding, Nolan began displaying a troubling side to his personality. He’d become suspicious and controlling and had doubted her commitment to him and their marriage. He’d forbidden her to socialize with her friends and had limited her outings to church services and the occasional trip to the mercantile—always in the company of him or one of his family members. The isolation had chafed. She’d battled loneliness and had turned to God for comfort and strength.

  If only Nolan had kept his misgivings to himself, she might’ve received support from her in-laws. But he’d complained to them to the point they’d become hostile. The youngest child, Nolan had almost died at the age of three. Because of this brush with tragedy, his parents and older sister had cossetted him. They thought he hung the moon and stars and refused to attempt to see Ellie’s side of things. Their treatment of her had grown more antagonistic since Nolan’s passing, and she worried for her child’s quality of life in such an environment.

  “If you loved my son, if you respect us at all, you’ll give up your position.” Grief made the lines in Gladys’s visage more pronounced.

  “I did love Nolan.” Maybe not in the way God intended for a wife to love her husband, but she’d loved him as a fellow human being. She’d wanted good for him. Had tried to please and honor him. “And I can’t express how grateful I am to you for providing me with a home. However, I can’t do what you’re suggesting. I enjoy cooking. I haven’t done much of that since we got here. More than that, I need the income.”

  “For what? We feed you. Clothe you. We need you doing chores around here. Poor Nadine is working her fingers to the bone.”

  The stench of Howard’s cigars permeating the room made Ellie’s stomach churn. “She wasn’t complaining when I paid her my portion for room and board. She’s bought enough fabric for three Sunday dresses since I started work.”

  Gladys shot forward and gripped Ellie’s forearm so hard she yelped. “Don’t you sass me, girl. My Nolan may be gone, but that doesn’t give you the right to disrespect us. This is our home you’re standing in, don’t forget.”

  How could she? The Jamesons hadn’t welcomed her into their fold. They’d treated her like an outsider from the start. “You’re hurting me.”

  Howard finally spoke. “It’s late.”

  He moved to stand beside his wife. Tall and muscled from years of physical labor, his craggy features were so like Nolan’s it made her chest twinge with sorrow. She wished she’d been better at making her husband happy. She wished they’d had a stronger marriage.

  “We can discuss this tomorrow morning.”

  Uttering a huff of disgust, Gladys released her and trudged off to bed. Ellie didn’t waste time making her escape. “Good night, Howard.”

  Outside in the inky-black night, she breathed in fresh air tinged with scents of earth and pine and lightly rubbed the sore spot on her arm. She gazed at the star-studded heavens. You hung those stars, God. You placed the planets in the sky. My problems seem mighty to me, but to You they’re easily managed. Lead me, Father. Give me wisdom.

  She put a protective hand over her stomach and felt a rush of joy tempered with uncertainty. Please God, I beg You, let me keep this one. My husband is lost to me. The other babies are in the arms of Jesus. I want this child with every fiber of my being. I promise to love him or her and teach them to love You.

  “Ellie.”

  She jumped. “Ralph! I didn’t know you were out here.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Is there something you needed?”

  Quiet, gentle-giant Ralph Michaels had been a surprising ally. While he didn’t possess the backbone to go against his wife and mother-in-law, he’d provided subtle support, especially since Nolan’s passing.

  The lack of a lantern made it difficult to make out his expression. “I know your secret.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Was he referring to her desire to find a place of her own? Couldn’t be. She hadn’t voiced that to anyone, which meant...

  “You know about the baby?”

  “I saw you being sick the other morning out behind the barn, and again the other night.”

  Pressing her hands to her throat, she pleaded, “I beg you to keep this between us. I’m not ready to tell Nadine or Gladys.”

  “I haven’t said anything.”

  “Then why...”

  “You should leave this cove.” His eyes gleamed with purpose. “I love my wife. I’m aware of her faults, however. Never could figure why she and Gladys treated you the way they did.”

  “I wasn’t good enough for Nolan. I failed to make him happy.”

  “They worshipped him,” he agreed. “I’m afraid of what they’ll do once they learn you’re carrying his child.”

  Apprehension coiled tight. What if they tried to turn her own child against her? If she hadn’t been good enough for Nolan, she certainly wouldn’t be a satisfactory mother for his child. The fact that Nadine had never been able to conceive added an extra layer of worry.

  His fingers brushed her upper arm. “Do you have enough money saved for a place of your own?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t spent any besides the portion I’ve been giving Nadine.”

  “You should make inquiries in town,” Ralph said softly.

  Her mind spinning, she agreed. “I think you’re right.”

  She’d been toying with the idea for months—now it seemed she had to put thoughts into action. Ellie would go to any lengths to protect her child.

  Chapter Three

  Ellie was patting out the biscuit dough the next morning when Alexander descended the stairs earlier than usual. Her pressing problem was momentarily forgotten as embarrassment stung her cheeks. She could only imagine what he thought about her tactless in-laws.

  “Good mornin’, boss.” Flo cracked another egg into the bowl of flapjack batter. “Would you like breakfast?”

  He stopped on the bottom tread, his inscrutable blue gaze locked onto Ellie. “I already ate.”

  Shrugging, Flo went back to cracking eggs.

  Alexander was in the habit of fixing his own breakfast in his apartment. No doubt he stuck to bland foods like oatmeal or scrambled eggs with toast. She wasn’t sure what he’d done for lunch and supper before she came, but since the day he’d returned from the doctor, she’d prepared special dishes that wouldn’t aggravate his stomach. He ate them alone in his office, a sad state of affairs in her opinion. Not that what she thought would make a difference to him.

  As usual, his formal attire accentuated his natural reserve. Clad almost completely in mourning colors—midnight-black vest, pressed black trousers and polished, round-tipped shoes—a bottle-green dress shirt provided welcome color. His clothing fit his whipcord-lean frame to perfection. His glossy raven locks were combed off his forehead, the ends curling around his collar. He’d shaved today. Ellie admired the clean planes of his handsome face before jerking her gaze back to the biscuits.

  I’m happy his health seems much improved, that’s all, she assured herself.

  His footsteps didn’t carry him to the hallway, as expected. Instead, he approached the table near the stoves where she worked.

  “Mrs. Jameson.”

  She frowned, wondering exactly when she’d come to dislike being called that. “It’s Ellie,” she countered. “You call Flo and Sally by their first names. Why do you refuse to use mine? Did you have a schoolmate named Ellie when you were young? A girl who teased you unmercifully? Or an old, crotchety aunt named Ellie who pinched your cheek too hard and made you eat beets?”

  Flo’s chuckling filled the sudden silence. Alexander looked taken aback. “You’re the first Ellie I’ve encountered.”

  “Then may we cease with the formality?”

  “Ellie, I�
�m going into my office now.”

  “Can I get you a glass of milk? Or chamomile tea?”

  “No milk. No tea. No weak coffee. Under no circumstance do I wish to be disturbed today. I do not want to hear the day’s menu or be consulted about decorations. Is that clear, Ellie?”

  Irritated, she slapped the dough with more force than necessary. Flour puffed about her fingers. Why must he be so determined to resist her attempts at friendship? “Perfectly clear, sir.”

  “Good.” Turning on his heel, he stalked toward the hallway.

  “Oh, Mr. Copeland?”

  Shoulders tensing, he twisted around, one haughty brow lifted in impatience. “Yes?”

  “Does fire warrant your attention?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fire. Do you wish to be told if there’s a fire?”

  Flo ceased stirring the batter, humor touching her fleshy features.

  Alexander opened his mouth to speak.

  Ellie cut him off. “What about a robbery? Would you like to be informed of such an event? Or an altercation between customers?”

  He tilted his head to one side, an errant lock of hair sliding into his eyes. “Did you skip breakfast?”

  Her fist slipped from her hip. “Sir?”

  “I’ve noticed you have a tendency to lose your equanimity when you skip a meal.” He made a circling motion to indicate their workspaces. “Perhaps you should eat something.”

  He quit the room, his office door closing with a decided click.

  Flo’s chuckles brought Ellie out of her stupor.

  “What just happened?” Ellie spread her hands wide.

  “Our boss revealed he’s not as oblivious to goings-on as we thought.” She winked. “He’s right, you know. You do get tetchy when you’re hungry.”

  “Humph.”

  Ellie tried not to take her frustration out on the dough. Her customers wouldn’t be satisfied with biscuits as hard as river boulders. She contemplated the puzzling exchange all while bustling about the kitchen. Part of her was inexplicably pleased that he’d paid enough attention to notice something as personal as her moods. The other part quailed at the prospect. What else had he concluded but hadn’t voiced? Could he have added her extreme fatigue and frayed emotions together to equal her current condition?

  She wasn’t sure why the thought of his knowing unsettled her. Pregnancy was a sensitive time for a woman, especially one without a husband. Alexander was her boss. Not only that—he’d created an emotional barrier between himself and his employees. He was neither amiable nor approachable. Alexander Copeland was not a man to invite confidences. Hard and aloof, he didn’t possess finer feelings. Why, he probably had never even courted a lady!

  By the time ten o’clock rolled around, Ellie was eager to embark on her mission to find lodgings. Ralph’s warnings resurfaced, dislodging her consternation over Alexander. She had more important matters to attend to, like securing a future for herself and her baby.

  After explaining her intentions to Flo, who readily agreed to start on the potato gratin that would accompany the roast at the noon meal, Ellie went to inspect the room for rent at the post office. The owner of the building, Lyle Matthews, was a pleasant man who’d likely be a good landlord. However, the room was narrow and musty and the weekly fee far beyond her means. She thanked him for his time and, disappointed but trusting God would provide for her needs, hurried across the street to the mercantile to pick out material for the café.

  The proprietor and his wife, Quinn and Nicole Darling, were exceptionally helpful. No matter how busy, the couple remained patient and kind and treated each of their customers with respect. Today, Nicole laid out bolts of fabric for Ellie to peruse. She came close to choosing a ridiculous lime-green cotton printed with pink birds simply to irk Alexander. She reined in the impulse and, for the curtains, chose a sensible, soft yellow that would lend cheer to the space. The tablecloths would be white with matching yellow overlay. With her purchases recorded in Quinn’s ledger, she was on her way out the main entrance when a board of announcements caught her eye.

  The papers consisted mostly of ads for prized bulls and assorted livestock, farm equipment and workers. Her hope had fizzled by the time she read the last one.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Ellie scooted out of the way as a heavyset farmer removed an ad for a rabbit hutch and, with a nod, ambled down the aisle. She looked at the board again and realized a second paper had been hidden by the one he’d taken. As she peered closer at the wrinkled note, her heart leaped with excitement. She ripped it from the nail and hurried onto the boardwalk.

  After leaving her purchases at the café, Ellie walked to Mrs. Calvin Trentham’s house. Located near the church, the white clapboard house boasted a shingled roof and black shutters. Late-summer flowers provided bursts of violet, orange and green along the foundation. Thick groves of deciduous trees dominated the landscape and gave way to the steep, forested mountainside a couple of acres behind the house.

  Ellie’s chest grew tight. The farmhouse was very similar to her grandparents’, the last place she’d felt completely safe and free to be herself. She squared her shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. Her summons was answered by a diminutive woman with gray coronet braids and periwinkle-blue eyes set in a thin face.

  “May I help you?”

  “Good morning, I’m looking for Mrs. Trentham?”

  “That’s me.”

  “My name is Ellie Jameson. I saw your note at the mercantile. Do you still have a room to let?”

  Blinking in surprise, the woman chuckled. “I posted that months ago. When I didn’t get any takers, I figured Mr. Darling had tossed it in the waste bin.” Waving Ellie inside, she closed the door and gestured toward a room to their left. “Would you care for coffee?”

  Clutching her reticule in her hands, she shook her head, her ponytail tickling her neck. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg and yeasty bread clung to the air, putting her in mind of cinnamon rolls. Her stomach rumbled. If she wasn’t queasy, she was starving. There was no in between.

  “No, thank you. I can’t linger. I work at the Plum, and I’m needed back to help with the noon meal.”

  “I patronized the place years ago. Hated to see Mrs. Greene leave.” She nodded in understanding, her gaze keen. “Are you from here originally? I don’t recognize the surname.”

  “I arrived in Gatlinburg in May. My husband passed in June, and now I find myself in need of alternate lodgings.”

  Mrs. Trentham made a commiserating noise and patted Ellie’s hand. “You poor dear. I lost my Calvin a decade ago. We were together for forty-five years.” Glancing about the neat room made cozy with quilts and colorful knitted throws, she said, “Our children have all moved away. The quiet gets to me sometimes. That’s why I decided to rent a room. I’ve been praying for just the right person.” She smiled, little wrinkles fanning out from her eyes. “You’re the only one to answer my ad. How about I show you around and then you can decide if it suits you?”

  “I’d like that.”

  While not large, the house boasted a separate kitchen and pantry, main living room and two bedrooms. The room Ellie would reside in had two windows, both with views of the rear property, pretty rural scenes. Blue-and-white-checked curtains echoed a blue, white and rose quilt covering the bed. An oversize wardrobe dominated one corner. A slim table carved from pine held a kerosene lamp and pitcher and bowl for morning ablutions.

  Mrs. Trentham tapped the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “I store extra mattress covers and blankets in here, but I could clear it out for your things. What do you think? Will it suit you?”

  Ellie turned from the window. “I like it very much. But there’s something you should know.” She sucked in a breath and took the plunge. “I’m expecting a baby. Come March, you’d h
ave not one but two boarders.”

  Her face lit up. Clapping her hands together, she enthused, “How wonderful for you! A child to remember your husband by. I wouldn’t have placed that ad if I hadn’t craved company. A baby in this house would bring it back to life.”

  “A baby fussing in the middle of the night won’t bother you, Mrs. Trentham?”

  “Please, call me June.” Her expression became reminiscent of bygone times. “My husband used to say I slept like the dead. My sleep is rarely disturbed.”

  Ellie pushed aside her lingering concern. They’d adjust once the time came. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  Alexander was perfectly aware he was behaving like an adolescent. His younger brother would tease him unmercifully for hiding out in his office and waiting for Ellie to leave before making his escape. Shifting on the fallen tree that served as his seat, he watched as one by one the stars popped out in the post-sunset sky. His fishing string bobbed in the water. His lamp cast golden light on the bank but did little to disperse the shadows. Night blanketed the countryside in complete darkness.

  He smothered a yawn and considered going home. Ellie had asked for fish, however, and it felt wrong leaving empty-handed again.

  In his peripheral vision, a second man-made light registered. Balancing his pole against the log, he stood to his feet and studied the figure traversing the field. He was about to have company.

  “Hello there,” he called.

  The light stilled. He could make out the figure of a woman. “Mr. Copeland?”

  Shock washed over him. “Ellie? What are you doing out here on your own? I thought you’d gone home.”

  Her steps were slow. “I did.”

  The brush of tall grass against her boots joined the frogs’ chirruping and occasional hoot owl. When she reached him, the evidence of tears made his mouth go dry. Curious emotion locked his chest in a vise. Aside from her periodic bouts of testiness related to hunger, the young widow was consistent in her sugarcoated optimism. Ellie Jameson looked at life through rose-colored glasses. Seeing her in such a despairing state was so unusual he wondered briefly if he’d nodded off and was engaged in a rare dream.