Winning the Mail-Order Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  Her fingers squeezed his as she closed her eyes and shook her head.

  Sensing she was thinking about Josiah, Brett had to let her know what he thought. “No one would blame you if you didn’t marry him. They—”

  “I can’t go back on my word,” she whispered. “I can’t. I’ve told Rhett and Wyatt too many times that a person has to make good on their promises.”

  “In most instances I’d agree with you,” he admitted. “But not in this one. At some time or another we’ve all made a choice we thought was the right one, only to discover we were wrong. Admitting that is just as important as making good on promises made.”

  Several things had been happening inside him while they’d been sitting on the floor next to each other, whispering in the dark. Things he’d been ignoring. Not only how his heart drummed so hard it almost hurt to breathe, or how parts of him were fully aware she was wearing little more than a nightgown and he had on only a pair of britches. But it was the sadness in her voice that made him want her to understand she did have a choice to not marry Josiah. No one should ever be forced to do something they didn’t want to do.

  Still holding her hand, he leaned forward, and though his intent had been to place a small kiss upon her forehead, a stronger desire inside him took over. A blaze of fire shot through his veins as his lips brushed against hers.

  She gasped, and just when he’d convinced himself he should pull back, her lips moved against his.

  The way they pressed against his was a perfection he’d never experienced. A powerful instinct had him leaning closer, demanding and receiving more. He’d never concentrated so hard on a connection, or the revelations created by a single kiss. Deep inside, he knew this kiss had the ability to change his life.

  Her hands were grasping his shoulder and his were holding her waist when their lips parted. She’d been the one to pull back. She then pushed him farther away before she covered her mouth with one hand.

  “I—I shouldn’t have—”

  Not willing to listen to her regrets, Brett said, “I’m going to lift you into bed and then go get Mrs. Chadwick to put on a fresh poultice.”

  Without giving Fiona a chance to protest, he hoisted her off the floor and gently laid her on the bed, being extra careful to not jostle her leg.

  “Brett, I—”

  He pressed a finger against her lips. “I’m going to go get Mrs. Chadwick.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The fresh poultice hadn’t seemed to cause any additional stinging or throbbing. It may have, but Fiona had simply been beyond feeling it. Her mind and body had been too focused on other things. Like kissing Brett.

  How had that happened?

  She knew how, and she knew why. Brett was everything she’d been hoping to find in a man. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she’d fallen in love with him the moment she’d found him feeding her children.

  Which was ridiculous. A person didn’t fall in love that fast. Learning to love someone took time. Only, he was just so likable. So easy to like. And so easy to love.

  Of its own accord, a smile pulled on her lips as she thought of watching the sunrise with him, and sitting on the floor in the dark whispering to him.

  She’d known he wasn’t a drinking man and had sensed that even before asking him. The fact Josiah had deliberately lied about that erased her smile.

  “How is your leg feeling this morning?”

  Having been lost in thought, Fiona pulled her gaze off the window and turned to the man standing in the doorway. “Much better, thank you, Dr. Graham.”

  “That’s good,” he replied while setting his bag on the foot of the bed. “I just ran into Martha. She said to tell you she’ll be along shortly.”

  “That is kind of her,” Fiona said, “but I’m sure I won’t need to be waited on today. The boys and I will go back to the other house.”

  “Not yet, you won’t. That leg may feel better while you’re lying down, but that will change if you try to put any weight on it. I’ve seen plenty of snake bites and, take my word, you need to stay right here for at least a couple more days.” Pulling back the sheet, he started to untie the bandage holding the poultice in place. “How did you sleep last night?”

  Before Fiona could answer, Mrs. Chadwick, who’d followed the doctor into the room, said, “I didn’t hear a peep out of her all night. I changed the poultice around two or three, but she slept right through it.”

  Fiona hadn’t slept through it but had pretended to. She’d feared Brett had returned with Mrs. Chadwick and hadn’t wanted to face him. In four days she was to marry another man, and that had her stomach churning worse than the bitter medicine had made it yesterday.

  “That’s good to hear,” the doctor said. “The first night is usually the roughest.”

  “She slept like a baby,” Mrs. Chadwick insisted. “I’ll be more than happy to come back tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Fiona said. Another night of sleeping in Brett’s house had her heart racing. “Really, I won’t need—”

  “Now don’t talk nonsense,” Mrs. Chadwick said. “Martha will be here today, Maggie this evening, and I’ll be back tonight. We have it all scheduled. There are others who want to help too. Martha will see to scheduling them in for an hour or so.”

  “Yes, I will,” Martha said, poking her head in the doorway while removing the calico bonnet covering her red curls. “You must have already fed Brett and the boys, Joyce, I saw them as I walked past the feed store.”

  “Brett was up with the sun,” Mrs. Chadwick replied. “And those boys weren’t far behind him. They didn’t want to wake Fiona, so Brett took them all down to the hotel for breakfast.”

  “That’s Brett,” Martha said. “I do declare there isn’t a more generous man in this town. Some woman’s gonna be mighty lucky to marry him.” Martha stopped next to the bed. “You too, Dr. Graham. You’ll make a fine husband. Why, this town is just full of men who will make good husbands, isn’t it, Joyce?”

  Nodding, Mrs. Chadwick agreed, “Most certainly. Less one or two of course.”

  “Of course,” Martha agreed. “But one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole crop.”

  The undercurrent between the two women was so obvious Fiona would have had to be unconscious to not feel it, or to understand who they were talking about. She’d tried to explain to Brett that she didn’t have a choice when it came to marrying Josiah. She’d not only given her word, the man had paid good hard-earned money for her and Wyatt’s and Rhett’s train fares.

  Furthermore, admitting a mistake wasn’t the same thing as going back on your word. Mistakes could be fixed, but going back on your word couldn’t.

  And so she wouldn’t.

  Even if her heart wasn’t in it as deeply as it should be.

  She’d have to fix that.

  Learn to love Josiah.

  The sinking feeling inside her said that would be hard. Very hard.

  Her mind continued to bounce about, causing the little voices inside her head to keep talking until they gave her a headache. Upon discovering that, the doctor insisted she take a few more teaspoons of the bitter medicine.

  Joyce Chadwick left at the same time the doctor did, and Martha, who it was impossible to say no to, insisted Fiona put on a fresh nightgown. One Martha had brought with her this morning, claiming it was a gift.

  The gown was sky blue with layers of white lace sewn onto the neckline, cuffs and hem.

  “It’s too lovely to sleep in,” Fiona said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Martha said, “which is why I want you to have it. You’ll be receiving plenty of company today.”

  “Company? Who?” The thought was enough to make her throat go dry. Lying in bed, whether dressed in the beautiful nightgown or not, was no
t how Fiona wanted to greet company.

  “Members of the quilting club will be stopping by on and off today. I’m setting up a schedule of who will assist in your care for the next week.”

  “I—I’m sure I won’t need care for that long,” Fiona insisted.

  “Yes, you will,” Martha replied matter-of-factly. “Some are bringing meals. Others have volunteered to wash bedding and such. Everyone wants to help. That’s how it is around here. I’ve brought along some tea to serve while you’re meeting the ladies. There’s not a one of them you won’t like. I promise.” At the doorway, she ordered, “Now you rest up, you hear?”

  Despite all her misgivings and the guilt swimming about inside her stomach, Fiona had to smile. If all the women in Oak Grove were similar to the ones she’d met so far, she would indeed like them.

  Fiona’s mind was about to settle in on that thought and what that might mean, when a knock sounded. The murmur of voices said Martha had answered the back door, and Fiona smoothed the bed covers and the lovely blue gown in preparation of meeting another woman from the quilting club.

  The disappointment that knotted her stomach when the bedroom door opened had her questioning her ability to do several things. Including not losing her temper.

  Red-faced and pulling his suit jacket across his chest, Josiah stomped into the room. “I would have provided you with a washtub if you’d said you needed one.”

  Thrown by his statement, Fiona didn’t have a response. Except to realize learning to love him would come a close second to learning to love the snake that bit her.

  “Now, Josiah,” a tall and slender woman said. “I’m sure Mrs. Goldberg isn’t worried about a washtub.”

  The woman’s voice was so high-pitched it made Fiona’s spine quiver.

  “I’m sure she’s sorry she didn’t ask for your assistance. Everyone in town knows you are always more than happy to oblige when asked.” The woman’s features were as narrow and thin as she was, including the fingers on the hand she held out. “I’m Abigail White. My brother, Teddy, and I own the Oak Grove Gazette. I write all the articles for the newspaper and Teddy prints it.”

  Fiona shook the woman’s hand, which was oddly cold in comparison to the temperature of the room. “Hello.”

  The woman then pulled the pencil out from behind her ear. “I’m here to write a story about you.”

  “Me? Whatever for?” Fiona asked with a good amount of fear settling into her stomach. She was too full of secrets, of things she didn’t even want to admit to herself, to talk to any reporter. The ones who’d written about Sam—all over Ohio—had cast very unfavorable images of anyone who had been related to the robbers.

  “Because a snake bite is a serious accident,” Josiah said. “Readers need to be informed.”

  “Oh,” Fiona said while nerves still danced in her stomach. “Well, there’s not much to tell.”

  Abigail poised her pencil over the top of a pad of paper. “It’s my understanding you and Brett Blackwell were at the river when it happened.”

  “No,” Fiona said. “My sons and I were at the river. They were playing in the grass and I was washing clothes. The snake—”

  “Where was Mr. Blackwell?”

  “I don’t know,” Fiona answered. “I heard him shout out a warning just before I was bit. He hadn’t been there until then.”

  “What happened then?”

  The memory made her heart skip several beats, which made her uncomfortable thinking about explaining how Brett had picked her up and carried her, therefore Fiona simply said, “He took me to the doctor’s house. I’m sorry, but it all happened so fast, it’s a bit fuzzy in my mind, but the snake was in the wat—”

  “So Mr. Blackwell could have been at the river with you and you don’t remember?”

  “Abigail,” Martha said, walking into the room. “I don’t believe people care if Brett was there before she got bit or not. We are all just glad he got her to the doctor’s house in time. Which is what your article should focus on. How people should respond after being bit. Dr. Graham can answer that better than either I or Mrs. Goldberg, but in his absence, I will state the best action is to seek his assistance immediately. One of the snake’s fangs had broken off in Mrs. Goldberg’s leg and needed to be removed. He then set a poultice on the injury to draw out the poison. We have changed that poultice regularly and will continue to do so until the doctor advises otherwise. You can quote me on that.”

  The sneer Abigail gave Martha was chilling. The one she settled on Fiona wasn’t any warmer. “I’m assuming you are being well taken care of by the people of Oak Grove.”

  “Yes,” Fiona answered. “I’m overwhelmed by their generosity.”

  “And why is that?” Abigail asked. “Did you not have any friends back in Ohio?”

  Once again, Fiona was speechless.

  Martha, however, had plenty to say. “How many friends she had back in Ohio is none of your business, Abigail. It has nothing to do with a rattlesnake bite.” Grabbing the reporter by the arm, Martha continued, “I’ve made tea, which I was going to offer you a cup of, but considering you have all the information you need, I’m sure you’ll want to get back to your newspaper office to write the story.”

  Abigail twisted against Martha’s hold. “Why did you insist upon being brought here, Mrs. Goldberg, to Mr. Blackwell’s house?”

  “She didn’t,” Martha said, pulling Abigail toward the door. “I insisted. Just as I’m insisting you leave now. I’ve told you before that poking your nose where it doesn’t belong is going to get you in trouble.”

  Once she had the woman over the threshold, Martha reached back and closed the door. Their exchange could still be heard but was hushed enough that Fiona couldn’t make out the words.

  She didn’t need to. The beauty of the sky blue gown she wore seemed to suddenly become stained with a bright red A. Fiona had to swallow the lump that formed in her throat as Josiah stepped closer to the bed. She’d sat on the floor beside Brett last night in nothing but a thin nightgown, yet she felt far more exposed now than she had then.

  The image of him, of his bare chest, that formed in her mind didn’t help the inner guilt assaulting her.

  “You’ve created quite a scandal, Fiona,” Josiah said.

  She’d willingly accept her own shame, put that blame on herself, but she wasn’t about to let him overlook his responsibility for what had happened. “Do you think I don’t know that?” she asked. “Do you think any of this is what I wanted? Well, if you do, let me tell you how wrong you are. I expected to come here and be welcomed by the man who had invited me. Invited me and my sons to move here and become his family. That’s what I expected, Josiah. Instead, we were shunned by that very man. You may not see it that way, but I do. You acted as if you didn’t want anyone to know why I’m here. Why? Why would you invite us here and then act as if you were ashamed of us? I didn’t lie. I didn’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

  He sighed and with a plop sat down in the chair beside the bed. “No, you didn’t.”

  Flustered, she had one more point to make. “You knew what you were getting. That we were penniless. Yet you behave as though we are too big of an embarrassment for you to own up to.” That was exactly how she felt, and that was also one of the reasons she’d wanted to leave Ohio so badly.

  “I apologize if that is how I have made you feel,” he said.

  She couldn’t help but notice how humbled he appeared with his head hung low. Another splattering of guilt filled her stomach. She didn’t want to demean him. Knowing how that felt, she’d never want to impose that upon someone else. “I’m sorry, Josiah. I don’t mean to put all the blame on you, but to be honest, I’m not sure what to do. If you’ve changed your mind about marrying me, just tell me. I’ll figure out a way to reimburse you for the train fare. Figure out someth
ing for the boys and me. I—I just can’t keep doing this—living as if it’s all a farce.”

  “I can’t either,” he said. “None of this is how I’d planned things.”

  “Then what is?” she asked, sensing his frustration might be as thick as hers. “What did you want? What do you want?”

  He stood and walked to the window, looking out through the opening with his back to her. Fiona held her breath. A part of her, a large part, wanted him to say he didn’t want to marry her. That was wrong. She shouldn’t feel that way. But couldn’t deny she did.

  “I want a wife, Fiona,” he said. “I need a wife. A politician, a businessman, should be married. That’s why I encouraged the Betterment Committee to bring marriageable women to Oak Grove. I instantly recognized that none of the five women who arrived would be suitable for me, but then your letter arrived. A widow with two children. That seemed perfect.”

  “Until you met us,” she said.

  He turned about, and for the first time, honesty seemed to fill his eyes. “No. I’m sorry if it appears that way, and I understand that it might. I am ashamed of how I handled things. And I realize that is just an excuse. The truth is, I started having doubts before you arrived. I’d even hoped you’d changed your mind.”

  “Why? What had happened?”

  “A whole lot of nothing and everything put together, my dear.”

  As odd as it was, his endearment didn’t irritate her. He was clearly distressed and sorrowful.

  He paced the floor between the bed and the window. “The other brides caused a bit of a fiasco. Especially the McCary sisters. Neither one of them married men who had contributed to the cause. The men did in the end, but that upset the others, and they blamed me. To be honest, I didn’t know if all five of those girls would be getting married as they’d agreed or not. People were pounding on my door at all hours of the day and night, wondering what I was going to do about it. I had half a notion to scrap the entire idea, except I had five women in town, over two dozen men vying to marry them and an acquaintance back in Ohio scrounging up more to send out here.”