Monk's Bride

by Caroline Clemmons

“I know and it all tastes good.”

  The boy shook his head. “Not brolli.”

  Monk didn’t need long to figure out Liam meant broccoli. “Oh, but I like broccoli. Maybe you’ll learn to like it, too.”

  “Uh uh. I like cookies.”

  The adults in the room either smiled or chuckled.

  Monk couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Polly makes good cookies, doesn’t she?”

  Liam appeared to think for a few seconds. “Ma did sometimes, not now ’cause Polly cooks everything for us.”

  “So, your mother takes care of you. You have fun in the playroom?”

  The boy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Want me to show you?”

  Monk looked at Fiona, who nodded. “That would be nice.” Monk set the child on the floor.

  Liam grabbed his hand. “Come on, we have to go upstairs. Be careful and hold on to the rail so you don’t fall.”

  “I will, thanks for the warning.” Monk hadn’t been upstairs since Nate was injured and a patient here and Nate and Sarah’s son Joe was captive because of a broken leg.

  Once they had climbed the steps, Liam released Monk’s hand and hurried forward. “This way, Mr. Magle.”

  Monk marveled at the shelves of toys and children’s books. Scattered in the large room were a rocking horse, a child-sized table and chairs, two small beds, and a large adult-sized rocking chair.

  Liam picked up a wooden locomotive engine. “This is my favorite. We rode a real train to get here. We even slept on the train and ate our meals there. Ma wasn’t hungry but I was.”

  Monk hated that Betsie had gone hungry so that Liam could eat. He sat in the rocker. “Liam, do you think you can call me Monk?”

  “You’re not Mr. Magle?”

  “Yes, but my good friends call me Monk except your grandma. She calls me Michael, which is my real name. My whole name is Michael Magonagle. Monk is my nickname.”

  “Monk. Monk.” His expression gave the impression he was testing the sound. “I like that name.”

  Monk stood. “Good. Thank you for showing me your playroom. What do you say we go back to the parlor so we can eat supper.”

  Liam took Monk’s hand again. “Ma says I’m always hungry.”

  “You’re a growing boy. I think all boys your age need a lot of food.”

  “Did you when you were almost four?”

  “In fact, I don’t remember when I wasn’t hungry as a boy.” Sadly, Monk barely remembered eating when he was Liam’s age.

  His father had skipped out and his mother was ill and dying. Monk had begged food to give her and feed himself. If the church hadn’t helped, they would have been in terrible trouble.

  The parish priest made sure they had enough to survive, heat in the winter, and clothes for Monk as he outgrew his old ones. Father Benedict had talked the local doctor into treating Monk’s mother for free and supplying the medicine she needed. Monk would always be grateful for the help and comfort his mother received.

  “Did your Ma and Da give you lots of food?”

  “I wish they had been able to feed me. My father disappeared when I was three and my mother was sick.”

  “But, who took care of you?”

  “A very kind priest named Father Benedict made certain I had something to eat.” Never enough, as he remembered.

  “You had to go to church for meals?”

  “Father Benedict or ladies from the church brought food to us. My mother was too sick to go anywhere.”

  “What was wrong?”

  “She had consumption. That’s a sickness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe.”

  Betsie took Liam’s free hand. “You’ve asked enough questions for now.” She sent Monk a sweet smile. “Thank you for being patient. He’s curious.”

  “A sign of being intelligent. How else is he to learn things if he doesn’t ask?”

  Betsie sighed. “Teaching him what he can ask and what he can’t is a challenge.”

  Liam peered up. “Know what, Monk? I can’t ask grownups their age, ’specially not ladies.”

  Monk chuckled again. “Thanks, Liam. I’ll be sure to remember.”

  Betsie frowned. “What did you call Mr. Magonagle?”

  “He said I can call him Monk. It’s easier to say. He said that’s what his friends call him.”

  Liam tugged at his hand. “I’m your friend, aren’t I, Monk?”

  Monk ruffled Liam’s hair. “You sure are, and you’re a good one at that.”

  Polly came to the door. “Dinner is served.”

  Monk offered Betsie his arm and they went to the dining room. He held her chair and lifted Liam onto the high chair beside her. He didn’t know where to sit—beside her or Liam.

  Fiona gestured to the chair beside Betsie. “You sit there, Michael, so I can sit by my grandson. I so enjoy spending time with him, especially after missing almost four years with him.”

  Grandpa said the blessing then he and Rafe talked about a case at the law office.

  Monk leaned toward Betsie. “You look especially beautiful this evening.”

  She lowered her gaze. “Thank you. Mam and Grandpa insisted I have new clothes. I feel a scandalous spendthrift but I don’t want to shame them with my old clothes.”

  “Quite right. He has a reputation in the community of being fair and generous. If his stepdaughter wasn’t dressed well, people would wonder why.”

  “That’s what Mam said but I still feel like a millstone around Mam’s neck. I admit I love the house and atmosphere and the beautiful clothes. Feeling differently would be impossible.”

  “This is a perfect home, tastefully decorated but still welcoming. Soon, perhaps you and Liam can visit my home. With an escort, of course, to chaperone.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Betsie tried to be the picture of decorum. At the same time, her insides quivered and her heart raced and beat like a drum. She hoped Monk couldn’t hear the pounding.

  Mam insisted she let Liam feed himself. He was getting less messy. She supposed she’d babied him before they came here. His personality had blossomed and his vocabulary returned in the short time since they’d arrived.

  She fought to keep the conversation going but Monk’s presence next to her had her floating weightlessly. Get a hold of yourself. You’re not a schoolgirl.

  After dinner, Fiona said she would put Liam to bed. Betsie kissed her son good night and promised to check on him later.

  Monk offered his arm. “Would you like to sit in the gazebo or would you prefer a stroll through town?”

  “I do love the gazebo, but I’d like a walk. The food is so good and so plentiful that I fear gaining too much weight to wear my lovely new clothes.” Besides, she’d like to be away from the house in case their conversation was overheard. Not that she expected to say anything scandalous, she just wanted to be alone with Monk.

  He guided her to the front door and grabbed his hat from the hall tree. “If the others match the dress you’re wearing tonight, they are spectacular. You look beautiful this evening.”

  She looked down, trying for modesty. “You’re too kind. Why don’t you tell me about the places we pass?”

  “Happy to. The house on our left is where Preston Youngblood lives. He’s the owner and editor of the newspaper.”

  He droned on about each home or business they passed. She asked questions, which proved she was listening. When they reached the train depot, they turned so they’d return on a different street.

  “Isn’t this the street on which you live?”

  “Yes. Soon I’ll ask Fiona to accompany you so I can show you the interior of my home. Sarah decorated it with input from Pearl and Fiona. That was before Katie and Rena joined the family. I was afraid with so many opinions it might turn out like a train wreck, but I was pleasantly surprised.”

  Betsie’s couldn’t help laughing. “Sarah was so friendly. She chatted as if we’d known one another all our lives.”


  “Until she met Nate, she hardly said a word, or so I’ve been told. I didn’t know her then, of course. I met her through Nate.”

  “I’m eager for Liam to meet some of his new cousins for playmates. He’s never played with other children.”

  “The Kincaid children are all well-behaved if boisterous. I think he’ll enjoy them. Ask Fiona to arrange for some of them to come over and play with him. I believe Pearl and Drakes’ youngest three would be good friends for him. Storm and Rena’s youngest two, Lottie and Susie, are also about the right age.”

  “I’ll talk to Mam tomorrow. Which brings up another question. Mam said you go to Mass. I was surprised she’s going to the Presbyterian Church with the Kincaids. Where is the Catholic Church?”

  “Allow me to call for you in the morning. Which Mass do you prefer? There’s one at 7:30 and one at ten.”

  She considered a few seconds. “I’d better choose the one at ten so I have time to get Liam up and dressed. Do you mind if I include him?”

  “Of course not, I took for granted that you would. You realize that if you go to the early Mass, you could also go to church with the Kincaid family.”

  She laid her free hand on her cheek. “I hadn’t thought of that. What would the priest say? Would I be excommunicated?”

  Monk chuckled softly. “Father Patrick is a kind man and would only be happy you include Mass. You have to keep in mind that things are different here in the West. I guess you’d say we’re more ecumenical.”

  “I hadn’t realized. Our priest in Memphis forbid us to have anything to do with Protestants or other religions. Many times that created fights on Saturday night.”

  “Ah, see how much healthier the attitude here is? You know Grandpa and Fiona had both the Presbyterian minister and a priest at their wedding.”

  “I was so surprised when she wrote that. I couldn’t believe it was allowed. Perhaps I should take your advice and go to early Mass and then with the Kincaids. I know Mam wants to show Liam to her friends.”

  “She wants to show her beautiful daughter to everyone, too.”

  “You flatter me. All right, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go to early Mass and then I can go with Mam. She’ll be pleased and so will Grandpa. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. I usually go to the early Mass. That gives me the rest of the day to relax.”

  “You seem like someone who enjoys solitude, am I right?”

  “A little. My work more or less places me in the spotlight. So, I like being on my own to putter around the house part of the time, read, nap, whatever I feel like doing. I enjoy being around other people, but not all the time.”

  “I feel the same. I had one neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, who I visited. She was Mam’s best friend and very kind to me. Other than her, I was alone most of the time. Liam and I attended Mass then came straight home.”

  Monk stared at her. “Your husband didn’t go with you?”

  Before she thought, she said, “Phfft. He didn’t want me to go in the first place but he was always sleeping off the night before.” She wished she could bite her tongue and take back her hasty words. “I-I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “I shouldn’t have pried. I apologize”

  Bitterness crept into her voice in spite of her fighting for control. “You can tell ours was not a happy union. I haven’t told Mam details because they would upset her horribly if I did. I don’t mind sharing with you. I just can’t talk about everything yet. Give me time to settle in and feel sure of myself.”

  He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. His voice was soft as a caress, “You have all the time in the world. I’m glad you’ve come to Kincaid Springs. I hope you’re always happy here.”

  How could she not be? She’d gone from destitute to a princess. “I love being here and all the friends I’ve made. You’ve been especially kind, Monk.”

  “Nonsense. I haven’t done anything another person wouldn’t do. You’re easy to be around and I enjoy being near you. Liam is a fine lad and I’m fond of him.”

  He enjoyed being near her? “He certainly adores you. You bought him food when he was hungry—although that didn’t turn out well, did it?—and played ball with him and went to see his playroom.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a great deal. Here’s my home. Hard to tell much about it in the dark. Guess I should leave a light burning or get a yard lamp.”

  “A yard lamp would be safer. I’m so afraid of fire.”

  “Always a consideration. We have a fire department but the pumper truck can only hold so much water. Makes me careful.”

  “I like that your house is not on the main street. I imagine that makes it quieter.”

  “Probably. I haven’t noticed any noise except the dog two doors down barking occasionally or a rooster crowing. Those sounds don’t bother me.”

  “You’ve never married?” Why had she blurted out that question?

  “Never have. Until Nate and I came here, we’d never been in one place for long.”

  “Mam said your job was to keep him out of trouble—that’s according to what Nate told her.”

  He chuckled. “His parents took me in when I was homeless and starving and cold. They were good people, although not accepted by society. They operated the Lucky Times Palace, a saloon where people went to gamble. Some of the saloon girls took men to their room but not Nate’s mom.”

  “Oh, not an ideal atmosphere to raise children, no offense intended.”

  “None taken.”

  Please, not another gambler. She couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice, “Did you gamble, too?”

  He glanced at her as if perplexed. “Used to. I’m pretty good at card games—or was—but I never wagered more than I could afford to lose.”

  “Not like my late husband. He lost everything without a thought of what Liam and I would do.”

  “Sorry that happened to you. I can’t understand why a man would act that way. Defies my nature.”

  What a relief. “Please go on with your story.”

  “When Nate’s mom died, he and Cal—that was his father’s name—went traveling. Cal hooked up with an old friend and invited her to St. Louis. She was stuck in a little backwoods village and jumped at the chance to leave the place where she lived.”

  “I’m sure she felt relieved.”

  “No doubt. When Cal married her and gave her his first wife’s ring, Nate took it hard. For some reason he thought Cal was being unfaithful to his mother’s memory. He left home and that’s when I had a devil of a time keeping track of him.”

  “He’s lucky he had you.”

  “I was lucky to have him and his family, too. I don’t remember my father, barely remember my mother. If I have any kin anywhere, I’m not aware of them.”

  “That’s too bad. I have kin in Ireland. I don’t know of any here but there probably are some since so many Irish have come to the United States. But now it doesn’t matter because you have the Kincaid family as yours.”

  “They treat me as one of the family. I’m what you might call shirt-tail kin, just hanging on by a few threads.”

  She stopped and put her hands on her hips and faced him. “That’s not how they think of you, Monk Magonagle. You stop feeling sorry for yourself or putting down yourself right now. You’re a respected member of the community and the family members have treated you as one of them.”

  He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am. You’re right. Guess I’m always afraid of what they’re thinking. You see, Nate and I came here with… well, dishonest intentions. It’s a long story, too long for our walk. Anyway, Nate was trying to locate Joe’s father and contacted Pinkerton’s. When we got several communications from them, people assumed we were Pinkerton agents. We didn’t correct them.”

  She returned her hand to his arm and they resumed walking. “What happened with Joe’s father?”

  “He’s dead, thank the good Lord. Tried to take Joe with him but Nate saved the boy. Almost lost his own life doing so.”
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  “My goodness, you’ve lived an exciting and adventurous life.”

  “Another reason I’m happy to settle down here. I like putting down roots, having a good job, my own house, good friends. Sure beats being a confidence man.”

  “I’m glad we’re both here even though I feel like a burden to Grandpa and Mam. They assure me that isn’t so.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I have no choice but to remain. I certainly wasn’t doing well before I came here.”

  They were at the Kincaid front door. She hated their time together was over.

  Monk put his hands on her shoulders. “Betsie, may I kiss you goodnight?”

  Inside she was yelling yes!, but she pretended to be demure. She certainly didn’t want him to think she was a hoyden. “I think that would be all right.”

  He removed his hat and pulled her into an embrace. She’d thought he meant a kiss on the cheek, but that wasn’t the case. His lips sought hers softly at first, then as if he would consume her. Without conscious thought her arms went around him, pulling him closer.

  When he broke the kiss, it was as if she’d been deprived of a part of herself. Each of them panted with ragged breaths. He held her a few minutes longer, his forehead against hers.

  “I apologize for getting carried away.”

  “Please don’t. I was hanging on to you as if I was drowning and you were a life preserver.”

  He brushed an errant curl from her face. “Then you’re not sorry?”

  “Not a bit. I have to admit I was carried away, too. Perhaps it’s not proper to admit, but I enjoyed your kisses.”

  Her admission brought a wide smile to his face. “Goodnight, Betsie. I’ll be by to escort you to Mass in the morning. I hope I may call again soon.”

  “I look forward to both.” She slipped inside and hurried to her room.

  She changed into her night clothes and crept in to check on Liam. He was sound asleep with his dog cuddled close but had kicked off his cover. She leaned over to give him a kiss and tuck his sheet around him.

  Her lips still tingled from Monk’s kiss. He was her beau, a serious beau. She wanted to dance around the room. Instead, she crept to her room and crawled into her bed. She’d have sweet dreams tonight.