Bride for Calvin
Page 3
“Yes, we will. Is the mercantile still open?”
“I think so, but just for a few minutes. If we hurry—”
She was already heading for the door, and he grinned again as he followed her. Good—she was the kind of girl who liked to take action. That would suit him well.
When they walked into the mercantile, the owner handed Faith a letter. “This has been waiting for you, miss.”
She took it, a curious look on her face. “A letter? Already? Oh, it’s from my mother. I wrote her from Miss Hazel’s as soon as I knew I was coming to Reindeer Rock. She must have wanted a letter to be here to greet me.” She tucked it into her pocket and smiled at Calvin. “I’ll read it when we get back. We’d better grab those groceries before they close.”
Calvin smiled back. He knew she must be dying to read her letter, but he appreciated that she was putting his stomach first. Of course, he imagined that she was hungry too.
They packed a box full of the basic necessities, and Calvin carried it back across the snow to their cabin. Faith immediately went to work lighting a fire in the stove with the wood that was stacked next to it, and Calvin went out to find water. When he returned, he stood with his hands over the bright new blaze. “I’ll chop more wood here in a bit,” he said. “It’s cold work, that’s for sure.”
“Do you have warmer gloves?” she asked.
“I thought these would be sufficient, but I was wrong.” He nodded at the black gloves he’d tossed on the table when he came in. They looked nice, but they weren’t practical for doing outside jobs, and especially not in this sort of biting wind.
“I’ll knit you some. I saw a good selection of yarn at the store just now—I’ll go back tomorrow.”
Calvin nodded. “I’d appreciate that, Faith.”
Suddenly, things seemed a little awkward, more so than before. Up until now, they’d been caught up with getting ready and making the trip, and now, here they were, husband and wife, in their own cabin, and they had nothing to talk about. They had shared one dance in a parlor and one quick conversation in the moonlight, and that was all they could base their relationship on. Had these been normal circumstances, he would have taken her to parties and concerts over a period of several months, and they would have known quite a lot more about each other. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and they’d be courting after the wedding instead of before.
She had pulled an apron from her bag and tied it around her waist. She looked rather becoming as she mixed up what appeared to be biscuit dough. “The former occupants left the place decently clean,” she said over her shoulder. “I was worried about that on the way here.”
“It would be terrible to have to clean everything the moment we arrived,” Calvin replied. “Would you like me to carry your bags into the bedroom?”
“Yes, please,” she replied.
He placed her things on the bed, then stood there, staring at that piece of furniture. His feelings were so unsettled that he couldn’t imagine asking for any sort of physical intimacy at this point. He couldn’t even say that he felt like a brother toward her—he would know a great deal more about a sister than he did this new wife.
He looked up at a sound and saw her standing in the doorway. “I don’t plan to share the bed with you yet,” he told her. “We’ve just met, and I feel we should know each other for a while first.”
She nodded. “I think that’s wise. The biscuits are in the oven, and I’m warming up some beans. I’m sorry our first meal isn’t going to be very exciting, but I’ll have more time tomorrow to make something nice.”
“I’m not concerned. I’m just glad to have something hot—and to be off the back of that dogsled.”
She smiled. “I think I’ll be using my own two feet to get around for a while myself.”
Chapter Four
Faith had tried to make the beans livelier by stirring in a bit of brown sugar. It helped, but the meal was still very simple, and she planned to do something much better the next day. Things had become so awkward once they arrived back at the cabin after going to the store. Neither of them knew what to say—at least at Miss Hazel’s, they had something to talk about, even if it was just a list of their qualifications for marriage. Here, there was nothing, and they ate in silence.
She washed the dishes quickly, then rearranged the chairs near the fireplace so they could each sit near the dancing flames.
“Thank you for dinner,” Calvin told her. “I’ll go out now and chop more wood—we’ve used up nearly all that was left.”
“Thank you,” she replied, then watched as he bundled up and stepped outside. What a nice, polite evening they were having—two complete strangers living in the same house. She appreciated knowing that she’d have the bed to herself for a time, but she would have liked feeling as though she had an option, as though he wanted to share it, but was giving her space. His demeanor earlier had seemed like he didn’t care at all. While she didn’t expect him to be madly in love with her after two days, it would be nice if he was the smallest bit attracted to her.
A crinkle in her dress reminded her that she had a letter waiting to be read. She smiled as she pulled it out. She’d written her mother the day after she arrived at Miss Hazel’s and told her all about learning to cook and the friendship she was developing with Minnie and Olivia. She’d tried to keep her letter upbeat and positive, not wanting her mother to worry about her.
She unfolded the page and began to read.
Dear Faith,
I’m so glad you’re enjoying your lessons so far. The other girls sound delightful, and as though they’ll be good friends to you. You’ll need that companionship in a new place so far from home while your husband is away at work. My goodness—your husband. It seems so odd to write that. I do hope you’ll tell me all about him when you meet him, and of course about your home and the town where you’ll be living. I would love to come for a visit when you’re settled, if that’s a possibility.
I’m especially glad to hear about the relationship you’re forming with the little girl. You’ve always had such a tender, compassionate heart, and as you can’t have children of your own, I’m glad that you’ve found a child to share that love with.
There was more on the page, but Faith’s eyes had stopped on that line and couldn’t move from it. What on earth did her mother mean, she couldn’t have children of her own? How did she know? How had it happened? What . . . She dropped the letter in her lap and stared into the flames of the fire. Why didn’t she know about this?
She could hear the rhythmic sound of wood being chopped outside. Calvin. He believed she’d be able to give him children. He’d married her based on who he believed she was, and now . . . now she wasn’t that person anymore. Or rather, she never had been that person. It was all a lie.
The door opened, and with it came a sharp gust of wind. Calvin came in with his arms full of wood and kicked the door closed behind him. “This will get us through the night and first part of the morning,” he said. “I’ll chop more before I head over to the Mountie station.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically, glancing at him and then away again.
He piled the wood next to the fireplace, carried some over next to the stove, and then shucked off his coat. “Is something wrong?”
“Hmm?” She looked at the letter, then up at him. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just worn out from the day.”
“I am too. Nothing like miles and miles of travel to wear you out.” He stepped into the bedroom and came right back out with some folded blankets. “We seem to be well equipped with bedding, so I’ll make a pallet out here by the fire. The heat seems to be carrying into the bedroom quite well, so we’ll most likely both be warm.”
She realized he was suggesting going to bed early, and that sounded wonderful. “I’m glad. A nice warm bed sounds perfect right now.” She rose from her chair, then paused. “I hope we’ll find time tomorrow to sit and talk, get to know each other a little.”
“Oh? What sort of fun?”
“Maybe a concert from time to time—I hear the wolves put on a marvelous concerto.”
She smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood in the home. “I’ll look forward to it. And I’ll have a better idea of what we need after breakfast—I’ll take inventory of what was left for us and make a list.”
“That sounds good. Night, Faith.”
“Goodnight, Calvin.”
She stepped into the bedroom and changed into her nightclothes, pulling on an extra pair of stockings against the chill of the floor. The air in the room was warm, though, just like Calvin had said, and that was a blessing. After two days of breathing cold air or trying to breathe through a scarf, she enjoyed the thought of her nose not freezing off her face.
Once in bed and with a candle lit on the table near her elbow, she decided to read the rest of her letter.
You’re not to worry about anything going on here at home. We’ll all be quite well in your absence, although we’ll miss you. The dogs seem a bit lonely especially. They’ve been sitting in the foyer staring at the front door, waiting for you to come home. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to come for a holiday or something—you’ll have to tell us all about the Mountie life and if there are vacations or any sort of thing.
Write again when you can.
Mother
Those dogs always had been a bit of a handful. Faith smiled to realize that she missed them too. Perhaps that’s why she’d felt an affinity for the sled dogs and also for Finnegan. She had enjoyed animals quite a bit growing up.
She blew out the candle and slid down under the covers, so glad that the bedding was fresh. If she’d had to stop everything to clean the cabin the moment they’d arrived, it would have been terrible, just like Calvin had said. Dinner would have been much later, and there was no way to wash and dry bed linens quickly. They’d be sleeping on musty blankets, and that was something she simply couldn’t stand. She likely wouldn’t sleep a wink on them. These, however, smelled fresh, and she found her eyes slipping closed despite the heaviness in her chest.
She would send her mother a telegram the next morning from the mercantile and ask for more information about her condition. Then she would have to tell Calvin. With any luck, he wouldn’t be too angry, and if he wanted to send her home, she’d make it back safely. She didn’t look forward to the idea of another sled dog journey in the freezing cold, but if that’s what was to happen, she’d try to approach it with a good attitude. It was the least she could do.
***
Calvin lay awake long into the night, watching the fire burn down to orange embers. It was still giving off enough heat to be pleasant, and at dawn, he’d stir it to life again. As he watched the vapors rise from the ashes, he thought about everything that had led him to this point. He was too exhausted to sleep, and his brain wouldn’t mellow into that nice dozy place that welcomed dreams.
He’d known from the time he was a little boy that he wanted to be a Mountie, and he’d never given much thought to being a husband. Now he realized that maybe it was something he should have considered. Faith was a very pretty girl and she was kind besides, and he imagined that they’d find ways to get along well together, but he wanted more than that. He wanted friendship. He wanted companionship. He might even want love, if he had any clear idea how to go about that.
Right now, his new bride was sleeping in the next room, and he was lying in front of the fire. That wasn’t how a wedding night should be, but they hadn’t chosen the conventional route by any means. He would love to take a wife in his arms and hold her. One day at a time, one step at a time, and then they would know how they felt about each other.
There was something about the look on her face when he’d come in from chopping wood—something wistful, something disappointing. She’d received some news in that letter, he was sure of it, but she didn’t feel comfortable sharing it. That was hardly a surprise. It would take time to build up the kind of trust it would take for that sort of confidence. His first goal, then, as he tried to figure out how to be a husband, was to build trust. That was a difficult thing to demonstrate, but he would figure out how. Hopefully, in time, she would come to him when she was upset, and that would be a positive step in their relationship.
Not that he wanted her to be upset. That look on her face had pulled his heartstrings. No, if he had his way, she would never be upset again.
***
Faith got up early the next morning and was pleased to see that Calvin had brought in the additional wood and more water. She didn’t know where he was at the moment, though—a glance around the cabin told her he wasn’t home. She dressed and braided her hair, put on her apron, and mixed up some flapjacks. She’d found eggs and bacon at the mercantile the night before, and that would make a nice breakfast. She’d get some soup simmering on the back of the stove while she ran back over to the mercantile, and she’d make bread and maybe a cake, and . . . and she’d do whatever she could to keep her mind off her letter from her mother until she had more answers.
If she proved herself to be a good cook and an able housekeeper, Calvin wouldn’t be too upset, would he? And if he was upset and sent her way, well, it wasn’t meant to be. She’d figure it out. Her reputation would be somewhat smeared, but she could find a job somewhere and say she was widowed. One way or another, she would be all right.
The flapjacks were on the table next to a heaping plate of bacon when Calvin came back inside, stamping the snow off his boots in the doorway. “That smells delicious,” he said as he crossed the room, pausing to kiss her cheek before he hung up his coat. She stood motionless, caught completely off guard. He’d kissed her just as naturally as anything, with no hesitation, and she didn’t know what to think. It was startling, but it was nice . . . It was nice and startling.
“Thank you,” she replied, not knowing what else to say. It then occurred to her that she was saying that a lot, and not much else. “And I appreciate the wood and water, too.”
“My pleasure.” He motioned to the table. “Are you ready for me to sit, or do you need a little more time?”
“The eggs are done now, so please, be seated.” She brought the skillet over to the table and set it down next to the bacon, then slid into her chair. “Do you say grace?”
“Always. I need all the grace I can get.” He chuckled, then bowed his head. His words were simple and sincere, and he thanked the Lord for his wife, which also caught her off guard. What a lovely and unexpected thing for him to say.
After they’d said amen, they served themselves, and Calvin grinned after his first bite. “I don’t know if Miss Hazel taught you this or if you already knew it, but these are the best flapjacks I’ve ever had.”
Faith smiled. “My mother taught me how. I think Miss Hazel feared for my culinary skills—I dropped a skillet in her kitchen and nearly gave her a heart attack.”
“What’s a dropped skillet from time to time?” He forked up a bite of eggs. “Umm. Fantastic.”
“I’ve started the list of supplies we talked about. Is there anything in particular you don’t like?”
“Nothing comes to mind. I’ve never been particularly picky.” He held her gaze for a moment. “Faith, I did quite a lot of thinking last night. We both agreed to this marriage as if it were a business arrangement, and I suppose that in a way, it is. But I’d like us to be friends, real friends, and I hope that you’ll come to feel comfortable around me and that we can share our thoughts and feelings with each other.”
She was surprised at the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I’d like that too. Very much.”
“And someday, when we have children, I want them to know that their parents hold each other in deep regard,�
� he went on. “You’re a quality woman, Faith, and I’m blessed to have you in my life.”
She dropped her gaze to the table. More tears came, but for an entirely different reason.
He finished his meal, not seeming to notice that she had stopped eating, and pushed back from the table. “I’m off. Feel free to walk around the town, visit with the other brides, meet the people who live here. I’m sure there are a lot of friends to be made.” He put on his coat and hat, then paused at the door. “Have a good day.”
“You too,” she replied, once again tongue-tied. He was going to wonder if she was capable of holding an entire conversation, but she knew that if she tried to say more, her voice would sound thick with tears, and she wasn’t ready yet to explain why her emotions were so tender.
After he pulled the door shut, she washed up the breakfast dishes, then made a few more notes on her list. Raisins would be nice, if they were available. And what about other items? She thought the curtains were in decent shape, but she wouldn’t mind a new tablecloth. She’d think about that later, though, as it wasn’t a necessity. Filling the larder was her first priority.
She placed a large pot on the back of the stove and diced up some of the vegetables she’d picked up the night before. Potatoes, carrots, and celery went in with a bit of onion. A nice, slow simmer was all she needed, and that was just the right amount of heat the stove was now putting out. She’d have around an hour before she needed to tend to it. She checked everything to make sure it was safe, and then she pulled on her cloak and headed out.
“I’d like to send a telegram, please,” she said as soon as she entered the mercantile. It was best to get this out of her way so it wouldn’t press on her mind quite so much—but she knew she was fooling herself. It would press on her no matter what.
“Of course,” the shopkeeper said, passing her a slip of paper.
She wrote her mother’s address at the top, then thought for a moment about what to say. At last, she wrote, “Rec’d letter. Confused—what about children? Please advise.” She hoped that would be sufficient—she didn’t want the shopkeeper to know about her condition before Calvin did. That wouldn’t be fair at all.