A Bride for Keeps (8 page)

Now, Julia, or you won’t do it.

“Do you attend the same church as Rachel and Dex?”

“Yes.”

“They made mention your preacher comes out here once a month.”

“He’s scheduled to preach this week. Salt Flatts holds services every Sunday, but
I can’t justify the time and expense. Did you want to attend?”

She colored. More than attend. “Well, seeing that the preacher won’t be here again
for quite some time . . .” The phlegm in her throat caught. “If we were to do this
marrying thing, it’d probably be best to do it this week.”

She forced herself to look at him. His face hadn’t changed.

The warmth of blood rushed from her face. “That is, if you’re still agreeable to the
arrangement. I know I don’t know much about farming, but I’ve learned a lot from the
Stantons these last two weeks.”

His features didn’t waver. He didn’t even blink. She almost reached over to poke him
to see if he was still alive. She rubbed at the gooseflesh forming along her arms.
If he refused, her life looked more than bleak. But she wouldn’t beg him to say yes,
lest he get the wrong idea.

“So—” she coughed—“that’s what I wanted to talk about.” She stole another glance at
him. Her gaze lowered to the
squashed grass at his feet. Time to get the hardest part over with. “It’d just be,
you know, for companionship . . . nothing more. I know you want help, and that’s what
I can offer.”

“A companion?” He blinked.

Now she’d have to rip apart his dreams just like Theodore had hers—but at least Everett
got to choose. “We are nothing more than strangers. And we need to acknowledge that
one or both of us might never be comfortable with each other beyond friendship.” Namely,
her.

Did he take a step back? “You’d be all right married to someone you have no feelings
for? To give up ever having that?”

Julia shrugged. “I’ve given up on a lot of dreams.” She plunged on. “I thought with
the new house you were building, you could build us separate rooms for us to use until . . .”
No, she wouldn’t offer him any hope.

She went on. “You told me the first day you didn’t hold me under any obligation, and
I think it only fair to give you the same deal.” She dared a peek up from under her
lashes, but his face was still unreadable. “In other words, don’t feel bound to your
proposal. But I know how it is to live with no one to talk to, so surely we can be
friends. But . . . but of course, you may not want to be tied down to me given I’m
not interested in . . . having children.” What if he did want kids? She scrambled
around for an alternative. “Maybe an orphan . . .”

His expression hadn’t changed, but his gaze intensified. “An orphan?”

Julia picked a long stem of grass and started to peel it. “That’s if you want children.
I’m not opposed to raising orphans once we settle into a routine.”

“You don’t want any of your own?” His face was so hard. Had his lips even moved?

What little girl didn’t dream of children? But that dream was dead. Perhaps Theodore
had done her a favor—she’d never become like her mother. “My mother had eleven miscarriages
and stillbirths, plus one baby that didn’t live through his first day. I was the first
and only child to live. My grandmother had about as many children but only two survived.
And her mother before that . . .” She wrapped the stem tight around her finger. It
broke. “I watched my mother’s heartbreak hollow out her insides until she had nothing
to give me. She was too busy mourning and pining for the other twelve.” Especially
the last one who’d been born alive. But he’d died because she’d been too inept at
caring for her hours-old brother. “I can’t live through that again.”

“You’re afraid you’ll have the same trouble?”

“A doctor pretty much confirmed I would.” She dropped the spent grass to the ground.
“Of course, in light of . . . my conditions . . . I don’t expect you to answer right
away.” He’d told her the same thing two weeks ago. Would she have to wait weeks for
him to respond in turn?

“But you want to marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. For what else could she do? If he agreed to her conditions,
then he was the right man for her.

“Why?”

She stared at her hands. “I have nowhere else to go. I could get a job as a cook,
maybe a clerk somewhere, but I did that once, and . . . and . . .” Her mouth grew
so dry, she wasn’t sure she could form any more words.

“And?”

She glanced up at him for a second but couldn’t hold his searching gaze. “I’m a small
woman. Once a man with ill intentions realizes no one will call him to task over how
he
treats me, what’ll stand in his way?” The tears in her throat threatened to shut off
her voice. She’d written to Rachel the night she was cornered in the tavern stairwell.
Thankfully, her boss heard the scuffle, but she’d realized how precarious life was
as a hired girl. She’d hoped Rachel could advise her on how to find a better situation.

Well, Rachel’s suggestion stood before her now. But would Everett want to provide
for her this way? She shook her head a bit. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but
she had to try. “A girl usually looks to her father for that kind of protection or
has money to stay away from the riffraff—but neither of those are true for me. An
understanding husband is my only choice.”

After hearing nothing but the whooshing sound of her heart in her ears for what seemed
like forever, she watched him turn his back on her. She wished she could run. Wished
she’d run earlier, but the lack of reply cemented her to the ground.

———

Everett swallowed and turned from Julia’s fidgeting form. With his back to her, he
let his face contort to mirror the confusion inside. He ached to talk to God aloud,
but she’d hear.

Lord, I don’t understand. She said she’d hoped to get away as soon as possible. Said
she didn’t want this life.

Her cough sounded behind him.

He had to give her a reply. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he said, “Give me
a minute.”

She gave him a sharp nod. “Take as many as you need.”

He stepped farther away, swiped his sweaty hair off his forehead, and took a deep
breath.

I said I wasn’t doing this again. And I wasn’t kidding. Not
one more time. Figured you done made it clear I’d remain single my whole life. I’d
reconciled myself to that.

He looked up at the fluffy clouds hanging low overhead, bright and cheery, the antithesis
to the storm rolling in his gut. Whatever plans she was talking about last night must
have fallen through. But he’d given his word. He’d said if she wanted to marry, he
would. Despite her ramblings about not holding him to it, would he be able to live
with himself if he didn’t?

And if I don’t take her up on this, Lord, I’m not trying this torturous wife-acquiring
business again. That’s for sure. No matter what you say.

He kicked a rock into the pond. The wind blew across the water, causing the ripples
to cascade across its surface.

She can cook and do farm chores well enough, and that’s what I need. I’d be mad to
think love comes without time. It’s not her fault I was immediately attracted to her.

He looked back at her. She was staring out over the prairie, arms clasped across her
waist. She might think marrying for protection was worth the commitment, but what
would happen when she decided she had enough of this life? She could sneak away, leaving
him unable to marry ever again.

But then, he’d already vowed never to get tangled up with another bride.

The rippling grasses undulated in the breeze all around her, tall enough to whip around
her slight hips.

How could he live with her platonically? He looked up at the clouds as they breezed
past.
Would you truly ask that of me?
No answer sounded from the sky, but he felt a peace. How he kept his thoughts pure
when looking upon other attractive women would work . . . for now.

Julia was right, though; they were strangers. But they
wouldn’t be strangers for long. And with time, caring—if not love—would come. He’d
not force her faster than he’d force any woman he might court. They were just going
through the marriage ceremony first for convenience.

“Julia?” He crossed the distance between them.

Her glistening eyes turned to him. Pink tinged her cheeks. Never before had he been
so tempted to comfort someone. He grabbed both of her elbows and held on, though she
tried to step from his hold. “I can build an extra bedroom. It can always be a nursery
later on.” He kept his gaze locked on her to see her reaction.

Her arms pulled in closer to her body. “For . . . for an orphan?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He tried to talk as soothingly as possible. “We’ll
go slowly. Goodness knows we’ve known each other for less than a month. But I’d never
force you to do anything until you were ready.”

“And what if I’m never ready?” Her chin tilted up in the air, and her words came out
strangled. “Would you keep your word?”

He examined the faraway look in her eyes and the sheen of wetness that had taken up
residence across the big, beautiful brown centers. Her tremble reverberated through
his fingers. Scared. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he knew that would not
help. “Did someone hurt you?”

She quickly looked down to the side and swallowed several times in a row. He kept
his hands from gripping her any harder. Someone had hurt her. Thinking of a man harming
her made him want to punch something. A lot of things.

Her lips stayed pressed against each other. She wasn’t going to talk about it.

Tugging ever so slowly, he finally convinced her to take a
step toward him. When she was close enough, he pushed her head against his chest.

Could he help her overcome her hurt? Once she realized she had nothing to fear from
him, she’d come around. He’d have to be sensitive. And patient.

“You have my word.”

Julia toweled her hair while looking at herself in the glass in the Stantons’ cabin.
No wonder Dex and Rachel hadn’t said much when she’d asked them to witness at her
wedding. Her face looked like she’d met with death itself.

She picked up the mother-of-pearl brush that had belonged to her mother. Losing count
of her strokes, she absentmindedly continued until her hand tired. It was hard enough
keeping her eyes open.

The feel of Everett’s arms around her had disturbed her sleep for three nights in
a row. Being enwrapped in a man’s arms whom she never intended to get close to was
wrong.

But it felt right.

And the mental churning of what was right and wrong had stolen the sleep she’d needed
to look beautiful on her wedding day. She examined her reflection. Puffy eyelids.
Red-streaked eyes. Pale, blotchy skin. No bride should look like this.

Maybe her face was trying to tell her something.

Everett tried not to squirm in the rickety chair in the back of the church. The preacher
spat and hollered. Hard to imagine
this fiery man performing his wedding ceremony. Reverend Vale favored the same rant,
scaring his parishioners enough to lace their consciences with guilt if they didn’t
return to hear him spew the same thing the next month. Everett assessed the preacher’s
speech and identified repeated bits of monologue. The sermon was almost over. His
pocket watch said 11:38. He’d be marrying Julia anytime now.

Next to him, old Lady Fritz cleared her throat and glared.

He stopped his jiggling feet.

His ears tuned out the rest of the sermon, and his gaze sought Julia sitting up front
next to Rachel and Emma. He had paced outside church before the service, so the chairs
near them had filled before he calmed enough to sit still.

He halted his restless feet again.

Julia sat ramrod straight in the dress she’d worn when she stepped off the train.
An ivory dress full of little flowers. He remembered a huge red bow around her waist,
though he couldn’t see it. Her hat seemed alive, topped with feathers that moved in
the drafts blowing through the structure that doubled as a school during the winter.

He’d been afraid she wouldn’t come to church. He’d been afraid she would.

“Our Father, which art in heaven . . .”

Everett bowed his head and crushed the hat in his hands. He tried to focus on the
prayer, but his mind refused.

“It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement and nuptials between Everett
Cline and . . .” Reverend Vale glanced at a piece of paper in his hand, “Julia Lockwood
following the service. Before you leave, please stay and witness the first wedding
I have the pleasure of performing among you.”

Everett choked and covered it with a cough. Murmurs
floated around him. He didn’t know where to look. He’d not asked for the congregation
to witness.

“Congratulations, Everett!” Mr. Fritz clapped him on the shoulder. “Couldn’t find
a prettier girl this side of the Mississippi, I reckon.”

A whisper rasped behind him. “She’s actually going to do it?”

Sweat formed on his brow.

“The last mail-order bride that pretty was Jonesey’s wife.” Another low male voice
responded to the previous man. “And you know how long that lasted.”

A snigger popped out. “She wasn’t anywhere near that pretty. I give her three months.”

Everett’s hat was an unrecognizable wad in his hands. Had he fooled himself? He’d
never met Jonesey’s wife, but he knew the man had fallen for the pretty mail-order
bride he’d married. Then half a year later, she’d left him with no warning.

The abandoned man had advised him not to trust a mail-order bride after he’d heard
about Kathleen marrying Carl, but Everett had dismissed Jonesey’s counsel.

And then Helga came . . . and chose Ned Parker.

Everett gripped the edge of his seat. Julia was different. She’d asked to marry him.
She wanted to marry him. But then again, not a real marriage. His stomach flopped.

“Would the couple please proceed to the front?” Reverend Vale’s smile beamed. The
gaiety seemed odd after his fierce preaching face.

Everett clamped his hand on the back of the chair in front of him. He pushed himself
to his feet, testing their steadiness before unclamping his hand. Though every muscle
told him to flee, he moved forward. The faces of most of his neighbors displayed well-wishes
as he moved to the front.

He’d given his word, though it might hurt him in the end. His mind shut off thinking.
It was time for doing. Tugging on his coat, he tried to make it lie flat. His hands
shook in the attempt.

Julia arrived before him, front and center. She didn’t look at him, just the preacher.

He stopped next to her. Her rosy-cheeked face turned his direction for a second before
returning to the pastor. The quiver in her lip told him she had pushed herself up
front too.

Holding his
Book of Common Prayer
, Reverend Vale trailed his finger across the pages as he read aloud.

“‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face
of this Company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; . . .’”

Everett forced himself to stand still.

“‘. . . which is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men; and therefore
is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly,
advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.’”

Everett trembled. What had he done? His eyes shut.

God, forgive me for rushing into a sacred union.

Reverend Vale, perhaps hungry or impatient, let only a small sliver of silence interrupt
his reading upon asking whether the congregation, bride, or groom had an impediment
to the marriage. His voice boomed straight into Everett’s face. “‘Wilt thou have this
Woman to be thy wedded Wife, to live together . . .’”

Everett couldn’t concentrate on the words. Fortunately, at the pause he knew to say,
“I do.”

Julia echoed the same a few seconds later.

Did she really? Until death parted them? He took in her tiny nose, long neck, and
petite form. Would he have to live
with her and not touch her? Or would she end his agony and run off like Jonesey’s
wife? Was there a shred of hope he’d be able to overcome her fear of men so he could
take her in his arms and feel her melt into his embrace, instead of resisting?

He stared at the top button of the preacher’s shirt. He’d go crazy if he didn’t stop
thinking.

“The ring, Everett?”

He scrunched his eyebrows at the minister.

Reverend Vale ducked his head and whispered, “The ring?”

“Oh.” Everett felt his pockets before remembering he didn’t have one. “It’s . . .
I don’t have one with me.”

The minister frowned. He glanced at his book for a few seconds. “Then take her hand.”

Everett clasped Julia’s equally clammy fingers in his.

“Repeat after me: With this pledge, I thee wed.”

Everett spoke the words verbatim.

Julia’s slipping hand stole his attention. He gripped tighter lest her sweaty hand
break free from his.

“Amen.” The whole congregation startled him with the end.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her wide eyes turned to face him. Pretty as a doe startled in a dewy flower-filled
meadow.

His smile disappeared. The thought of her lips touching his, her skin against his
own, ratcheted up his heartbeat. How had he been so ignorant to believe he could behave
himself with this woman under the roof of his one-room cabin? The words they’d repeated
before God meant he could take her into his arms and hold her all night long. Every
night.

Every bride had hurt him, but this one . . . this one would trump them all. And he’d
just agreed to allow her to do so for the rest of his days.

How could he kiss her?

The murmur creeping about the room grew louder in his ears.

She peeped up at him through dark lashes. His gaze wandered down to her mouth. A mouth
he’d been commanded to kiss. Her sharp intake of breath drew him in. And for a second,
nothing but the feel of her lips existed.

“Congratulations, Miss Lockwood.” An older woman Julia had met at the mercantile the
day she arrived in Salt Flatts quickly covered her mouth with a gloved hand. “I mean,
Mrs. Cline.”

I’m Mrs. Cline.

The next man in line stepped forward. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cline. I’m Mr. Stewart
and this is my . . .”

An older man in a patched coat penetrated the haze and took her hand. “Congratulations
on your marriage. What a happy day.”

“Yes, thank you.” Her mind whirled at the attempt to remember the names of people
introducing themselves. Julia’s cheeks ached. Perhaps more from the falsity behind
the smile than the smile itself. And her lips buzzed. She’d rubbed them with her hand,
but the feeling of Everett’s kiss wouldn’t disappear.

At the end of the line, Rachel hugged her neck. She called over to Everett a few feet
away. “Come, you two. Let’s eat.”

Rachel’s quilt lay under a tree away from the rest of the congregation. A young lady
with strawberry-blond hair frizzed about her forehead sat near William, but other
than her, Julia was relieved no more strangers wanted to see her happy face. She lowered
herself to the ground and let the smile drop.

Dex placed a basket beside her. “Rachel made two lunches. With Nancy’s basket, we
should be able to fill William’s stomach.” The girl next to William blushed prettily.
He stopped rifling through his mother’s basket and made a silly face at his father.

Everett lowered himself next to Dex, but stopped halfway down. He straightened and
looked at Julia. She tilted the basket in his direction to indicate they should share,
and he moved to sit next to her, the basket between them.

Dex prayed, and Julia pulled the food from the basket Rachel had packed. She hadn’t
thought about eating after church. Filling her trunks had been all she was capable
of doing last night.

John, of course, chatted away, oblivious to the adults’ silence. Nancy and William
were in their own world, and soon he assisted her to her feet, and they walked off
hand in hand. Ambrose ran off to play after stuffing one last bite into his mouth.
Emma busily stuffed grass and rocks into her pockets.

Julia fiddled with her fried chicken. Her basket overflowed with special foods. Her
heart pooled in a puddle of warmth at her friend’s gesture of making such a special
meal for her. And all she could do was pick.

She reached in for more, but instead of food, her fingers bumped into Everett’s. She
withdrew her hand as if she’d found fire. He held her gaze for a second before lowering
his eyes and pulling out two biscuits. He handed her one, his focus resting on her
mouth again.

Turning away, she tore the flaky pastry apart before nibbling on it. Her nerves were
out of control; she hoped the awkwardness would leave after a few days.

John’s conversation waned with the amount of food he ate, and Rachel tried to fill
the silent gaps with funny things
the kids had done that week. Stories everyone had already heard or witnessed. Julia
tried to chuckle at the right places, but all she could do was think of Everett sitting
beside her. And try not to think of Everett at all. His even breathing kept her from
succeeding.

They all fidgeted, ready to go. Except her. Maybe she’d never be prepared to go. He’d
promised her he’d wait until she was ready, but the shudder that went through him
at their kiss frightened her. What if he didn’t? What if he . . .

Her stomach twisted with nausea. Staying forever in the churchyard was not a luxury
she had. She’d committed herself to this path.

Everett stood and brushed off his slacks. “I need to catch Mr. Jackson before he leaves.”
He strode away.

Dex grabbed the baskets. “I’ll gather the boys.”

John followed in his father’s wake.

Rachel stared at her with an empathetic turn of her brow, pulling Emma onto her lap.
“Are you feeling well, honey?”