The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  “Several of the ladies at the springs were wearing some charming little day dresses,” Eunice said, as if no insult had been given. “Perhaps I could arrange to stop by tomorrow afternoon and bring the foulard and describe one of the simple dresses I want.”

  “If you wish.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to Bailey Springs, have you, Miss Campbell?”

  “No.”

  “We went, of course, for Mama’s health. Dr. Moody is convinced that there is great medicinal value to the water there. We would have remained for a longer stay to enjoy the string band and the excellent stables and the tenpins alley, if I hadn’t been so eager to return to Aaron.”

  Maggie remained silent, simply staring boldly at the other woman.

  “Of course, you’re acquainted with my dear Aaron,” Eunice said, emphasizing her close relationship with the man.

  “Yes. I’ve made Mr. Stone’s acquaintance.”

  “He’s quite the ladies’ man, you know?”

  Maggie continued to stare silently, the beginnings of a smile forming on her lips. The widow was warning her off. That meant she was afraid of losing dear Aaron.

  “Of course, men are expected to run a bit wild before settling down,” Eunice said.

  Is the explanation to herself or to me? Maggie wondered. “You’re not worried about his other women?”

  Eunice’s high, shrill laugh betrayed her. “Mercy no. When the time comes, Aaron will marry a lady. I intend to be that lady. All the others are simply amusing little dalliances which mean nothing to him.”

  “You seem very sure.”

  “I am.” Mrs. Arnold smiled, but her lovely face had lost its color, and there was tension in her gentle voice.

  Maggie wanted the conversation ended. She conceded that she was no rival for this woman, but the longer Eunice Arnold talked, the more determined Maggie Campbell became to fight for the man they both wanted. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

  “Oh, yes,” the widow said. “But, no doubt, I will see you at the Brush Arbor meeting tonight?”

  “Of course. Cousin Wesley will be speaking.”

  “A dear man, Brother Peterson. A fine catch for any young woman.”

  “Will Mr. Stone be with you tonight?” Maggie refused to discuss Wesley Peterson’s desirability as husband material with this . . . this . . . lady.

  “Unfortunately, Aaron has business he must attend to tonight. I shall be with my parents. I’m sure you have heard of my papa, Mr. Henry Waite?”

  “Aunt Tilly speaks very highly of him.”

  “Well, yes.” Eunice scanned Maggie, a patronizing sneer beneath her pleasant smile. “I must be off. Aaron is expecting me to stop by on my way home, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  Mrs. Arnold turned to go. “Please continue with your . . . lunch. I can see myself out.”

  Maggie stood rigidly still, the anger within her reaching the boiling point just as she heard the front door slam closed. Her hand swept across her bed, sending pins, scissors, pattern pieces, and yards of material flying in every direction.

  “Damn her,” Maggie screamed through clenched teeth. “You haven’t won yet, Mrs. High and Mighty Arnold.”

  The early night sky was alight with after-sunset colors. Orange and crimson melted into streaks of gold, and shades of pink cast an unearthly glow on the surroundings.

  In a clearing, illuminated by numerous coal oil lanterns, stood a large arbor covered with boards and brush. Inside were split log benches and dirt floors spread with straw. The smell of earth and hay and newly cut wood permeated the air, and the sound of hundreds of human voices destroyed the quiet stillness of the woodland.

  Back home in Grovesdale, Maggie’s family had attended the yearly Brush Arbor meeting held after the crops had been laid by and before gathering time. Folks from miles around would come to hear the visiting preacher’s long nightly sermons. Maggie wished Pa could be here, for he dearly loved a good revival.

  Cousin Wesley had asked her to look her best tonight because he wanted to introduce her to Brother Osborne, the visiting minister who would be sharing the podium with him in these two-night services. She felt obligated, because of Wesley’s many kindnesses, to try to please him.

  Maggie watched as Aunt Tilly and Uncle Chester disappeared into the huge crowd milling around and about, slowly assembling in the arbor. She hugged the borrowed navy fichu about her shoulders. She was trying not to be nervous, but her navy-and-white gingham dress was new, the matching navy straw bonnet and wrap a loan from her aunt. She had never felt quite so dressed up in her entire life. If only Aaron could see how nice she looked. But it was Wesley who would compliment her appearance tonight.

  “Looks like everybody in the whole town is here,” Micah said, tugging on the stiff collar of his starched shirt.

  “I haven’t seen Mr. Coleman or Mr. Stone, either one,” Judith said.

  “Men like them have better things to do than listen to a couple of Bible spouters holler about hellfire and damnation,” Micah told his young sister.

  “Flibberation!” Maggie said. “They’re the kind that need to hear a good sermon most.”

  “Look, there’s Wesley.” Jude waved at their cousin. “He’s coming over this way.”

  Just as Maggie turned, Wesley took her hand. “Margaret, my dear. I’d like you to meet Brother Osborne.”

  The elderly, white-haired man smiled and shook hands with each Campbell in turn as they were introduced. “We have great hopes for Brother Peterson. He is such an inspired speaker, and his good works in this fair city are abundant.”

  “We’re much beholden to Cousin Wesley,” Maggie said. “His kindness has been a blessing to my family.”

  “I understand young Micah will be attending school in Florence with Brother Larimore this winter,” the preacher said.

  “Why, yes,” Maggie said, noticing the frown marring her brother’s boyish face. “That is, if I can save enough money to pay his tuition.”

  “Wesley said you were a hard worker,” Brother Osborne said. “A commendable trait. Most helpful in a minister’s wife.”

  Brother Osborne didn’t seem to notice the sudden silence because he was quickly drawn away by others eager to meet the visiting evangelist. Wesley smiled, patted Maggie’s hand, and whispered that he would see her later. Then he humbly followed his guest.

  “Let’s see if we can find a seat inside,” Maggie said.

  “Looks full to me,” Jude said.

  The three Campbells began making their way through the crowd, smiling, nodding, and speaking to new friends and acquaintances. Tuscumbia had proven to be a friendly town, most of the local citizenry warm and welcoming. Maggie had decided Aunt Tilly was right. If they worked hard and maintained spotless reputations, she had a chance of keeping her promise and securing a bright future for all of them.

  “Maggie,” a familiar voice called.

  “Hello, Mrs. Mobley,” Maggie greeted her best customer, a lady with whom she was forming a friendship.

  “You look lovely tonight,” the older woman told the younger.

  “We’ve got matching dresses,” Jude said, eager for attention.

  “So I see,” Alice Mobley laughed. “You look lovely too, Judith.”

  “Is that your husband?” Jude asked, pointing to the stocky, brown-haired man sitting up front near the preacher’s podium. “I saw him with the twins.”

  “Yes, that is my Clarence. He’s an elder, you know,” Mrs. Mobley explained, a twinkle in her eye. “That’s why he’s in the amen corner.”

  Judith giggled but quieted instantly when Maggie nudged her with a well-aimed elbow.

  “I must get to my seat.” Alice Mobley, looking rather fetching in her gray-blue crepe dress and white lace shawl, gently squeezed Maggie’s hand. “It was good seeing you.”

  After much searching, the Campbells found an empty space on the next to the last back seat, and were i
n place only seconds before the song leader began the first hymn, “Amazing Grace.”

  Only a few people had their own hymnbooks. Most of the congregation sang from memory, having recited the words countless times since childhood.

  Maggie listened to the voices blending in unharmonious praise to the Lord, but the words and feeling were so real that the imperfection was made perfect. Her own sweet soprano joined in the singing as did Jude’s and as did Micah’s bass.

  Song after song filled the night air, carrying the message of hope and salvation to all of God’s creatures. The crowd, filled with the spirit, welcomed Brother Wesley Peterson as he stood before them praying fervently. Many amens were heard at the closing as silence filled the arbor when the good reverend began delivering his message.

  Maggie became absorbed in the sermon, inspired by every word. Her concentration was broken by the feel of Jude’s fingers thumping on the side of her thigh. Finally she glared at her sister, questioning her rudeness with a disapproving look. The little girl seemed to be examining the people seated several rows in front of them across the aisle. When Jude nodded her head in that direction, Maggie followed her gaze, and suddenly stiffened. There sat Eunice Arnold.

  Maggie had known the other woman would be here, but she had hoped to avoid seeing her. No doubt, the stately older couple at her side were her illustrious parents, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Waite.

  Maggie tried to look away, but she couldn’t. Her curiosity overcame her better judgment. Wasn’t it best to know one’s enemies? Eunice appeared to be as perfectly groomed as always, radiating an air of wealth and breeding. Maggie decided that the color purple was very ugly. Of course, that decision had nothing to do with the fact that Mrs. Arnold’s dress had a polonaise of lilac Indian pongee print with a basque and sleeves of purple silk. Nor did the fact that a purple silk bonnet adorned the other woman’s head have anything to do with Maggie’s sudden dislike of hats.

  She became so absorbed in thoughts of the Widow Arnold that Maggie missed the end of Wesley’s sermon and was able to grasp only bits and pieces of Brother Osborne’s enthusiastic message. Eunice Arnold had the respect and admiration of every Tuscumbia citizen. Her family was considered one of the finest in the state, almost as prominent as the Colemans. She had been born and bred to be the perfect wife for a rich gentleman. She was beautiful, intelligent, cultured, and well educated.

  How could a girl like Maggie compete? She possessed so little in comparison. A pretty face and a quick mind were hardly equal attributes. Maggie knew herself well, good qualities and bad. For some men, men like Wesley Peterson, she would make a better wife than Mrs. Arnold. But not for Aaron Stone. If he wanted a lady with social standing and a highly respected lineage, Eunice was indeed perfect. Maggie was a good woman capable of giving much to a man, but no one would ever be impressed by the fact that she was James Campbell’s daughter.

  After three hours of singing praises of the good word, the meeting closed to the strains of “Blest Be the Tie That Binds.” Maggie sang, her voice steadily growing louder as she tried to clear her mind, praying to the Lord to forgive her for allowing her thoughts to stray to worldly matters.

  When the crowd dispersed, Maggie decided not to try to make her way to Wesley. She could see him at home later. She knew that he and Brother Osborne would stay until the last sinner had left. Aunt Tilly had suggested that the Campbells stay for a while after the meeting and enjoy the fellowship of the congregation’s other young folks while she and Uncle Chester rode on home. Maggie looked forward to the long walk on this warm June night. She wasn’t used to having a buggy. Back home they walked nearly everywhere, using the wagon for hauling things and on long trips.

  Questioning her siblings, Maggie found that they were as eager as she was to leave and enjoy the solitude and family companionship of their walk. Saying good nights and good-byes a dozen times over, they finally made their way past the densest areas of the crowd when Maggie spied Eunice Arnold, surrounded by the town’s most prominent ladies. Staring a minute too long, Maggie caught the other woman’s attention. Brown eyes clashed with gold ones as superiority fought with determination, the victor uncertain.

  “Let’s go.” Micah tugged on his older sister’s arm, drawing her out of her dazed state of mind.

  Immediately the Campbells found the path to the road and headed for home. Carriage after carriage passed them, and many people on foot walked ahead of and behind them. The three of them talked and laughed and reminisced about back home in Tennessee and happy times when Pa had been alive.

  A Whitechapel buggy pulled out from a small side road, the driver stopping directly in front of the Campbell family, riveting each person’s attention to the trim black vehicle. Inching closer, Micah could see that the top was folded down, making the driver instantly recognizable.

  “It’s Mr. Stone,” the boy said, surprised by the man’s appearance.

  Maggie’s heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Hey there, Mr. Stone,” Judith said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was waiting for Maggie,” Aaron admitted.

  “Really?” Jude asked.

  “Why were you waiting for Maggie?” Micah asked in a protective, brotherly way.

  “It’s all right, Micah,” his older sister said. “You and Jude walk on ahead. I’ll catch up after I talk to Mr. Stone.”

  “Let me drive you home, Maggie,” Aaron said. “I think we need some time alone to talk, don’t you?”

  “I’ll walk, thank you.”

  “I don’t think you want your brother and sister to hear what I have to say.”

  Micah tensed, but did nothing when Maggie agreed. “You take Jude on home. I won’t be long.”

  “Maggie?” her brother asked, questioning her judgment.

  “Go on now,” Maggie told him. “This is something I have to do.”

  Begrudgingly Micah walked on, pulling a wide-eyed Judith behind him as Aaron stepped down to assist Maggie into his buggy.

  They both sat in silence for several minutes after the buggy started moving. She was so close to him that her shoulder kept bumping against his arm as they rode along. Maggie suspected that he had ended his business tonight with a drink because the smell of whiskey was strong in the air around him.

  “Would you have any objections if Phineas were to marry Daisy?” Aaron asked.

  “What?”

  “Phineas wants to marry Daisy,” he repeated.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Are you agreeable?”

  “Of course,” Maggie snapped. “If Daisy wants to marry him, it’s fine with me.”

  “Phineas is a good man. He’ll take good care of Daisy.”

  “And she’ll make him a fine wife.”

  “I’ve never known Phineas to care so much for a woman. He’s obsessed with her.”

  “She loves him, too. They should have a god life.” Maggie envied Daisy. She had found the right man, and nothing stood in the way of their happiness.

  “Phineas saved my life when I was just a boy,” Aaron said. “I owe him a lot.”

  Maggie simply nodded, wondering if Aaron intended to share this special memory with her, but when he said nothing else, she remained silent.

  “Maggie . . .”

  “I saw Mrs. Arnold. She was at the Brush Arbor meeting tonight.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Why aren’t you taking her home?” Maggie wanted him to deny any plans to marry Eunice, to deny any feelings for the other woman.

  “I’ll see Eunice tomorrow night. I’m taking her to a performance at the opera house. Tonight, I need to see you, to work things out between us.”

  “What things?”

  “I owe you an apology for last Sunday.” He knew that he owed her more than a mere apology. Few ladies would ever forgive a man for the type of behavior he had displayed.

  Maggie said nothing.

  “Everything that happened was entirely my fault,” he said.

&nbs
p; Still Maggie said nothing.

  “I know you’re an innocent young girl, and that I’ve taken advantage of your feelings for me.”

  Maggie gasped.

  “Don’t try to deny it,” he warned. “I know you are as attracted to me as I am to you. I’ve never been so besotted with a woman before in my whole life.”

  “Oh, Aaron.”

  “I want you, Maggie Campbell. I want you so badly that I wake up at night in pain. You’re all I can think about.”

  Maggie smiled and reached out to touch his big hand holding the reins. “Oh, Aaron. I feel the same way.”

  From the feel of his broad hand, she was aware of his entire body stiffening. “But it’s wrong, Maggie. We can’t act on our feelings. I like you too much to take advantage of you again.”

  “But—”

  “I could never offer you marriage. You’re a fine woman, and, if things were different—”

  “I’m not good enough for you,” Maggie cried. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Aaron denied. “God, no! I’m probably not nearly good enough for you. I’m a rich man’s bastard, his beautiful, young mistress’s illegitimate son.”

  “Aaron.” Tears filled her eyes, her small hand covering his once again.

  “I’ve just given you secret information about my past that half this town would kill to know.” He wasn’t sure why he had blurted out the truth that way. Very few people were ever privy to his past. “I trust you not to spread it around.”

  “No one will ever know from me.”

  “I’m very rich, Maggie,” he said bitterly. “But all the money in the world can’t buy a man respect. The right wife can.”

  “Eunice Arnold?”

  “Yes, Eunice,” he admitted. “She can give me everything I’ve always wanted.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “I won’t allow anything to stand in my way. Not even my desire for you, Maggie.”

  “I understand,” she said. “If all you’re willing to offer me is an affair, then, you’d destroy my dreams as surely as I’d destroy yours.”