Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3)

by Carré White

  “I’m just fine, despite the fact that I’ve got no husband.” He seemed to be guiding me towards some unknown destination. “Where are we going?”

  “Breakfast.”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about food.”

  “You are fond of it.” Now he had made a joke, smiling.

  “I adore food, that’s true. It’s such a luxury.” His smile faltered briefly at that. “What I wanted to discuss with you is about food. If I had a cook stove, I could make my own things. I’ve got some money, and I can buy what I need at the grocers and mercantile. All that’s missing is a cook stove and some crockery. That way you wouldn’t have to spend all your money feeding me.” We were nearly at the restaurant.

  “Your room’s too small for a cook stove. It’s not built for it either. The pipe for ventilation has to be installed, and Mrs. Wexler won’t go through that expense. I suppose … I guess, you could use my stove.”

  That was one of the best ideas I had heard in ages. “I could.”

  “If … if you wanted to make meals.”

  A smile toyed around the edges of my mouth. “And eat whenever I wanted to.”

  “Yes, that does go along with having one’s own stove.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Nick. That’s a mighty fine idea.” He held open the door to the hotel, while a man and woman passed through. The mention of the shortened version of his name did not seem to bother him. I preferred it, because Nicolas did not roll off the tongue as easily as Nick. However, his look was perplexing now, and I longed to know what he thought. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” We hadn’t entered the building yet, but he continued to hold open the door, as more people went by. “Nick?”

  “Let’s go in. People are staring.” His hand remained on my back, as he steered me through the door. The touch sent a tingle down my backbone, the feeling sweetly pleasurable.

  Chapter 8

  After breakfast, I spent the day on my own, but it was marvelous, because my mood had never been this elevated. I felt oddly happy, almost exuberant, cheerfully shopping for the things I needed to make several meals. Not knowing what staples Pastor Kinsley already had, I bought coffee, sugar, rice, and beans, along with some meat for tonight’s meal. I craved chicken dumplings, remembering how my mother used to make it, all thickened and bubbly in sauce. The meal would require a great deal of work, and I hurried to finish the chore, wanting to have everything ready before Nick returned from church.

  As I stood before his door with the packages in my hand, I realized he had not given me the key. I lifted the doormat, looking for it, but it was not there. Rising onto my toes, I felt along the frame, displacing a fair amount of dust in the process. The key sat towards the end, and I snatched it triumphantly. Entering his abode, it struck me how clean and tidy the space was; the bookshelves held neatly arranged volumes, and a stack of newspapers were in a basket. A small table and two chairs stood in the corner of the kitchen that remained open to the rest of the room. A burgundy sofa and a rocking chair occupied the remaining space, while a bedroom was through the only other door.

  Busying myself with the meal preparations, I hummed happily. Plenty of firewood was available to heat the stove, and he had an icebox, which held milk and eggs. A cupboard to the left brimmed with cans of preserves and supplies, in a good variety, with bags of flour and beans on the lowest shelf. Pots and pans hung from a wall, while a small sink stood upon a cabinet. I chopped onions and celery, until the aroma of cooking lingered in the air. By the time the dumplings floated in the stew, I had already straightened up the mess I had made and set the table, finding a candle to use in the center. Having nothing to do, but wait for Nicolas to arrive, I sat on his sofa and read a newspaper, feeling quite at home and content.

  When the door swung open, it startled me, and I jumped. “Hello.”

  Pastor Kinsley stared, equally surprised. “H-how did you get in? I never gave you the key.”

  “I found it over the door.” I gazed at him from the sofa, folding the paper in my lap. “I’m nearly caught up on all the world news. I haven’t read the paper in a good long while, not since Lloyd died.”

  He strode into the room, eyeing the stove. “That smells good.”

  “Chicken dumplings. My ma used to make it. It’s a miracle I remembered the recipe.” Scratching his chin, he approached the table, seemingly unsure of what to do. “Sit down, if you like. It’s all ready. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He hesitated a moment, his hand on the chair, but then he pulled it out, sitting. “All right. How … I didn’t have chicken. How did you buy the things you needed?”

  “I have money.” Lifting the pot on the bubbling concoction, I ladled out a heaping portion. “I’m not entirely helpless, Nick. I have enough to get me through for a while.” I left the bowl before him. “Here you go. I hope you like it. I had a taste earlier, and it’s lovely. I confess, I might’ve had a bowl already, but I’d be happy to have another.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t expect any less of you.”

  Sliding onto the seat next to him, I gazed happily at his pleasing countenance. “I’ll wait.”

  Bowing his head, he said, “Lord, thank you for this delicious meal I’m about to eat and for Mrs. Wellington’s resourcefulness. As always, I ask humbly for your blessings, that I may strive to do your will in all things. Please help Celia to settle well in Boot Creek, and watch over her, because she’s about to have a baby. Amen.”

  “Amen,” I said, smiling.

  He took a bite, chewing and moaning. “Good.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You didn’t have to do this, Celia.”

  “Yes, I did. I don't have a cook stove. You’ve plenty of provisions. I left everything I bought with you. Your sink has running water. I’m in awe of it. It’s convenient not to have to dash out to the well every time I need water.”

  “It saves time.” He continued to eat, until the bowl was empty.

  “More?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Sliding from the seat, I waddled over to the stove, feeling heavier than ever. Eating well these past two days had added weight, as I felt the pull in my lower back.

  “You should rest. You look tired.”

  “I’ll go to my room shortly.” I poured the broth into his bowl. “There you are.”

  “Thank you.”

  I sat again, resting my chin in my palms, while the elbows remained on the table. “I plan a trip to the water closet after this. I’m going to have another bath.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea.”

  “Then I’m going to start that book you gave me. I’m quite eager to read it.”

  “I hope you enjoy it.”

  “What did you do today?”

  “Church business.”

  “What sort of preacher are you?”

  “Baptist.”

  “I’m Catholic, but I’ll take whatever religion I can get. I haven’t gone all that often. We lived so far out that traveling ten miles for a service was too much. Lloyd and I went once a month.”

  “What’s your background?”

  “I’m from Irish stock, like I said. My family came from Cork, which is near the sea. They left during the potato famine. They came to escape the corruption from greedy landlords and find a better life.”

  He chewed, while nodding.

  “They lived in Manhattan for decades, having ten children. My ma married a butcher, and they decided to head west, and that’s how I ended up in Texas. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

  “I like your accent.” He grinned.

  “It’s god-awful, I know. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ve heard worse.”

  “What made you want to be a preacher?”

  “My brothers were outlaws.” His grin grew.

  “Is that true, or are you pulling my leg?”

  “Well, my older broth
er, Todd, did end up in prison for a while. He was always rubbing one sheriff or another the wrong way. Last I heard, he settled with a divorcee and had a few kids. My sisters are all married. Whenever I get to Missouri, I stop by for a visit. It’s a rather large family, Celia. With fourteen siblings, including me, it’s a mad house.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Then you add all the children, and it’s a down right circus.”

  “Do you want to have many children?”

  He blinked, not having anticipated that question. “Um … I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “I’d like lots.”

  “Lots?”

  “Lots of children.”

  “Well, you’re off to a good start. You’ll be having a little one soon enough.”

  “But he needs a daddy. I can’t have anymore, if I don't have a daddy for the one I already got.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Hershey is devising a scheme to remedy that as we speak.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t want to do that mail order thing again. That was a lousy idea. I’d rather get to know the man I’m going to marry. I had little choice with Lloyd. I married him within a week of meeting him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my ma died. Pa died months earlier, and then she went. I was on my own. I’m always on my own,” I muttered.

  “Perhaps your luck will change?” He looked hopeful.

  “I’ve been praying really hard for somebody I could love, that loves me back. I know it’s far-fetched and the stuff of fairytales, but I really would like someone I’d want to kiss a lot too. I’d want to not be disgusted by the sight of him naked. Or just the smell of him in general.”

  “A-are you speaking about your husband?”

  “My deceased husband, yes. He was … ” I wrinkled my nose … “repulsive.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’d much rather be with a man who’s clean and good-smelling like you. Whatever cologne you wear sure is nice, if you don’t mind me saying so. It’s really lovely.”

  He placed the spoon on the table, his look inscrutable. “I didn’t know. My sister, Annabel, makes scented soap. I think that might be what you’re smelling. I don’t wear cologne.”

  “She’s got a talent there, to be sure.”

  “I suppose she does.”

  I longed to know why he hadn’t found a wife yet, but I kept that question to myself. “Well, it looks like it’s all gone.”

  “I’m sorry I ate everything.”

  I got to my feet. “It’s no matter. There’s more where that came from. I’ll be back tomorrow to cook something new. I can sure get used to three square meals a day.” My hands went to my hips. “Your collection of newspapers and books is something I’d like to look into more too, unless you don’t want me prying into your things.”

  “Like finding my key and taking over my kitchen?”

  “You said I could use your cook stove. I had your permission.”

  “I’m teasing, Celia.” He got to his feet. “I’ll walk you to the door. Thank you again for supper. It really was delicious. What other things can you make?”

  This was a favorite topic. “Baked Apple Dumplings and all sorts of puddings, and steak with gravy and fried chicken with potatoes and gravy. I like anything with gravy.”

  “So do I.”

  I turned to him at the door. “If I had a recipe book, I could cook whatever you wanted. What do you like to eat?”

  “I’ve no preference, but I hate brussels sprouts.”

  “I don’t like those either, no matter how you make them.”

  “You have a lovely evening, Celia. Enjoy your bath and your book.”

  “I will. I’ll be as clean as a whistle soon enough. I’d say another bath or two should do it.”

  “You look just fine.”

  I wondered what sort of women appealed to him. “I’ll look better once I’m not so fat.”

  “You’re not fat. You’re with child.”

  “But nothing I own fits. None of these dresses were designed for this sort of thing. I’m eager to wear clothes that fit properly.”

  “You won’t have to wait long.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re going to need a little bed for the baby and a chair. I might lend you my rocking chair. That way you can feed him in it.”

  My grin grew. “And now you’re calling the baby him.”

  “You said you were having a boy.”

  “I sure hope so. If it’s a girl, she’s gonna be really upset at me for naming her Noah.”

  “It’s a fine name.”

  “Not for a girl,” I giggled.

  “Noleen then.”

  “Or Nora.”

  “Yes, those are all acceptable, but I hope you have a boy. I’m fond of the name Noah.”

  “So am I.” I stood in the hallway, hearing a baby crying. “Someone’s upset.”

  “That’s little Hamish. He belongs to the John’s Family.”

  “Oh. I haven’t met them yet.”

  “I’m sure you will, in time.”

  “I’m sorry about the mess. I can clean the dishes tomorrow. Just leave them in the sink.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can manage.”

  “Well, good night, Nick. It’s been an enjoyable supper. You sure are easy company.”

  “So are you.”

  I reached into my pocket. “Here’s your key back. You can leave it above the door again.”

  “Why don’t you keep it? That way you can come whenever you like.”

  “That would be marvelous. I’d love that.”

  His smile fell marginally, transforming into something thoughtful. “I would too.”

  “See you later then, preacher. Have a good night.”

  “And you, Celia.”

  He waited, standing in the hallway with his hands in pockets, until I had reached my room. I closed the door, leaning against it, while an enormous smile split my face. Good gracious, but I was fond of that man!

  Chapter 9

  Determined to be helpful, I awoke early the next morning, happily swinging my legs over the side of the bed. With my belly being as large as it was, sleeping had become a challenge and finding comfortable positions even more so. If I lay on my back, the baby pressed into my bowels, so laying on my side seemed the best option, but I needed a pillow between my legs. Then there wasn’t a pillow available for my head. I would have to ask Nick for another one.

  These were the thoughts that jumbled around in my mind, as I dressed and readied myself, determined to make breakfast. Using the key, I let myself into the pastor’s abode, finding his bedroom door closed. Knowing he remained asleep, I puttered around the small kitchen, making coffee and flapjacks, while reading one of his older newspapers at the table.

  Nicolas appeared a short while later, dressed in a gray nightshirt and striped drawers, with a little string tied in front. Startled to see me, he quickly combed fingers through his hair.

  “Good morning,” he said in a slightly gravelly voice.

  “Morning.” I smiled brightly. “Everything’s ready.”

  “You didn’t have to make breakfast, Celia. We could’ve gone to the restaurant.”

  “It was nothing. I made eggs too.”

  He poured a cup of coffee from the percolator. “Thank you.”

  “There’s sugar and milk.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  “I tried to wait for you, but I’ve already eaten. You slept so long. Are you well?”

  He sat across from me. “Yes, I’m well. It’s only eight. I’m typically not at church until nine.” His eyes looked bleary. “I’ve a late night tonight. It’s Bible study and then coffee.”

  “That sounds lovely. Can anyone come?”

  “Of course.”

  “When is it?”

  “At seven.”

  “Are there many people?”r />
  “Quite a few.”

  “Mostly married folks, right?”

  “Some unmarried.” He took a sip. “Are you planning on meeting your future husband tonight?” A chuckle escaped him.

  “You never can tell. I’m certainly in need of one.”

  “I think you have plenty of time to make up your mind. You don’t want to marry poorly, or you’ll be stuck forever in something rotten.”

  “Well, I can’t have that.”

  “Fate intervened the last time. It doesn’t sound like you were all that fond of your first choice.”

  “No, I really wasn’t. I married Lloyd outta sheer necessity, which is what most women of my station are forced to do. It would be a dream to marry someone I loved.”

  “And wanted to kiss,” he supplied, smiling over the rim of the mug.

  “That too. Especially that.”

  “And someone who smells nice.”

  He had woken in a fine, teasing mood. I adored this side of him. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone who meets all of those requirements.”

  “I sure hope so.” A knock sounded on the door. “Are you expecting someone this early?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” He got to his feet. “Excuse me.” As he strode across the room in bare feet, I couldn’t help admiring the way the drawers looked full in the seat, the material having been pleated to the narrow waistband. Opening the door, he faced Mrs. Hershey, who smiled gregariously, breezing into the room.

  “Oh, there you are. I wondered if you’d be here.” She glanced between us, her look questioning. “Is … is there a reason for this morning visit, or are … you just waking?”

  The implication of her words hit me like a slap. “No! I’m only making breakfast. I wasn’t here all night. Oh, goodness, no.”

  “No, indeed she was not.” Pastor Kinsley stood with his hands on his hips. “She has no cook stove, so she’s using mine. There isn’t a law against that, is there?”

  “No, but people might talk.” She approached the table. “Good morning, Celia. You look fine today.”

  “Thank you, so do you.”

  “Did you see Doc Baker?”

  “I did.”

  “And what did he have to say?”