AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) (93 page)

Looking up at Ruth, Miriam told her friend that the following day she would accept that single offer. Ruth smiled in satisfaction. She wished her dear friend happiness, but she was also more than ready to leave the chaos of the city behind. She wanted to return home and begin her own new life.

***

That very Saturday, Miriam watched Ruth get on a coach that would take her out of town and back to Lancaster County. The two young women knew this was goodbye forever, for Miriam would never be welcomed back, and just corresponding with Miriam could cause trouble for Ruth as well. They both shed a few tears as the reality hit them, and they hugged fiercely before Ruth climbed into the coach and solemnly waved goodbye to Miriam who was having her own luggage loaded onto a taxi to take her to the train station where her journey west was to begin.

Miriam watched as the men loaded her luggage, then she climbed into the horse drawn taxi, her stomach in knots as she considered Ruth’s dilemma when she returned to the community. Ruth would not lie, but Miriam knew she would do her best to keep Miriam’s whereabouts from Owen. Both women knew that Owen was reckless enough to try to go after her, risking his own shunning. So Miriam was relieved that her own train was to leave in just an hour, and Ruth would not get back to her family until late that night. At that point, Miriam would be well on her way to Topeka.

***

Five days later, a small man who presented himself with a business card inscribed with his title met Miriam at the depot in Topeka; he was one of the lawyers Mister Walters had hired. The small man was clearly overdressed in the Midwest summer heat, constantly dabbing at his face with a cloth. However, he was kind to Miriam and helped her get her luggage loaded into the back of an open wagon, which he then climbed up on beside her and directed through the bustling city.

Miriam was too nervous about her new groom to even ask the man with her what he was like. She suddenly envisioned him to be similar to the lawyer, and she smiled to herself as it struck her funny. However, she knew he was a man of means so she contented herself with that. That also took away some of the shock when the man pulled the wagon up in front of a huge home with a fancy brick facade and thick white pillars that supported a two-tier wrap-around porch.

As Miriam gazed in open wonder at the splendid home, the lawyer leaned in with a wink. “Fancy home for a place like Topeka, but the Walters are originally from somewhere down South. Missus Walters insisted they bring a part of their heritage to Kansas, and Mister Walters obliged with a home representative of the plantation life they left behind. Look at it, ma'am. They have a few hired hands who were with them in Georgia, who insist that, as grand as this home is, it is still only a fraction of the size of the home they left.” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he climbed out of the wagon and helped Miriam down.

He then ushered her into the home, where a genteel older lady with steel-grey hair and wise eyes met her.

“Ah, Mister Worthing! How nice to see you again!” The older lady moved to clasp hands with the lawyer while Miriam stood looking around the grand foyer with its wide staircase, fancy marble floors, and huge chandelier hanging in the center. Doors led off from the foyer. Through one she could see a room with plush couches and at least one wall lined from floor to ceiling with books. Her attention on the books, she started when the lady stepped up to her. "You must be Miriam.”

Miriam took the woman’s hand in her own and smiled. "Yes.”

“Welcome to the family, my dear. I am Geraldine Walters, but you may call me Gerty. I am afraid our son’s rash rush to find a bride in his own way has shocked not just our family, but our social circle as well. Tell me, which family do you come from? I am not familiar with the name Beiler. Is your family new to America perhaps?”

Miriam glanced around the grand room and then met the older woman’s gaze.

“Beiler is Old Amish. I come from an Amish community in Lancaster County.”

Geraldine stepped back in shock. “Amish!”

She glanced at the lawyer, who cared not one way or the other where Miriam came from so long as his client, the young Mister Walters, was content with his new bride. His brow creased as he considered the mountain of paperwork he would have to dive into if this mail order marriage was unacceptable to him after all.

Geraldine looked at the lawyer. “Was there anything else, Mister Worthing?”

The small man stammered under the imperious gaze of the prestigious woman. "No...Well...There is the matter of payment.”

Geraldine waved the matter away. “You will be adequately reimbursed, I assure you. Thank you for seeing Miss Beiler...” at a “humph” from the lawyer, she paused and noted the slender gold band on Miriam’s finger, "OH! Miss Beiler no more, it appears. Well, that will certainly quiet some people’s arguments.”

Miriam grew increasingly confused. She was not aware of social standing or ranking and had no idea that a family of good repute might look down on her for not being from a family with a particular financial background. As she realized this new reality, her nervousness grew. Geraldine noted her confusion and growing distress; not being a cruel woman despite her desire to keep up appearances, she took pity on the young lady.

“Mister Worthing, you may go.” And without waiting for the man to say his goodbyes, Geraldine took Miriam by the arm. “My dear, you must be exhausted. Come. I will take you to your new husband, let the two of you get acquainted, and then you can rest a while before dinner. What do you say?”

Miriam saw kindness in the woman’s eyes, and while her words and insinuations made Miriam feel almost unwelcome, the kindness there helped alleviate some of her budding fears.

Geraldine led Miriam past the grand staircase and out of the foyer. They entered a large room with expensive furniture scattered about and huge French doors open to the outside. Geraldine pointed out portraits and pieces of furniture that she had brought with her from Georgia as she led Miriam out the doors at the back of the house.

The large yard that opened before Miriam was something she imagined heaven must look like. The lawn was cut close and well tended. Every hedge and bush and flowerbed was well manicured, no weeds, no dead or dying leaves lingering. The porch that appeared to wrap around from the front of the house did continue around the back, with chairs and tables strategically placed along its railing. A wide set of steps led down to a stone path, which led to a pool of water with chairs all around it. Another stone path led away from the pool and to a small building with huge windows along two adjoining walls. The windows were all open, allowing the lacy drapes to blow out into the breeze. Miriam realized Geraldine was leading her to the small building.

“Kade, that is how most of us address my son, insisted that the house was no place for an artist. He needed fresh air and natural light, so we had this small shack built just for him. It is really quite adorable once you get used to it. It has a small kitchen and a complete bath, and at his insistence, we even added a room for him to sleep and another smaller room for him to store all his supplies. I never imagined he would move into it, however, and I sincerely hope now that you are here, you can convince him he has no business living in these small quarters when he…when you both…could be back in the house.”

Miriam listened as she took in the small house. In her perspective, it was not small at all. It was different from the homes the Amish lived in, as it was definitely more elaborate, but it was as big as some of the bigger homes she had seen in the Amish community. She wondered that someone, anyone, would consider this house to be small, but then she looked over her shoulder at the much more imposing structure whose shadow it sat in.

As Geraldine approached the open door to the house, she called out, “Kade, my darling! I am coming in! I do hope you are decent.” She winked scandalously at Miriam who stammered at the thought that anyone could be indecently attired so late in the day. Reluctantly, she followed her new mother-in-law into the house.

As she stepped in, her jaw fell open. Opposite the wide windows were two walls covered from floor to ceiling with sketches and paintings of incredible landscapes. Nearest her, she saw pencil sketches of great mountain vistas that were later turned into much larger, more elaborate, and incredibly realistic oil paintings. She gaped as she looked around the room and saw dozens of incomplete paintings in addition to the ones completed and hanging.

She raised her eyes as she noted the disarray among the artistry. Beyond the very clear care of the works themselves, she took in the clothes scattered around, the dishes, old food, half-full glasses, discarded brushes, empty paint containers, and general untidiness of the interior. She glanced into the room that was clearly the bedroom and caught a glimpse of a bare chest moving out of her line of sight, but the room too was in complete disorder. She stood back out of the line of sight of the room and turned her attention to the painting closest to her.

As she noted the detail in the art, she listened as Geraldine moved items around, complaining about the disorder in the room, muttering about not understanding why he would not want a maid to help out, why he would want to live in that squalor when he could live in the house where everything would be neat and tidy. Her muttered musings were interrupted by a deep baritone voice, and Miriam turned to gaze upon her new husband.

He walked out of the bedroom buttoning an untucked shirt. His curly blond hair was damp and sticking to his forehead. His face, not recently shaved, had a couple days of growth, but even so, Miriam could see strong facial features, and a strong mouth with good teeth. The wrinkles around his eyes belied a man who laughed or smiled a lot. What surprised Miriam, though she was not sure why, because she had no way to compare Kade to any other artists, was how tall and broad he was in the shoulder. He was very well built, something Miriam did know something about, because she and Ruth had both admired the stronger men of the community, finding beauty in their builds. But Miriam had envisioned an artist to be more diminutive, maybe smaller in stature, certainly not this tall, handsome man standing in front of her and apparently unaware of her yet.

“We have had this discussion, Mother,” Kade chided Geraldine. “I cannot have someone messing with my things. I have a system. More importantly, when I am inspired, I cannot be interrupted by one of your foolish maids.”

Geraldine turned to her son. “Ah! There you are, my dear! Yes...Yes...So you get interrupted. It seems to me you could use some good diversions.” She glanced at Miriam. “Maybe now that your lovely young bride is finally here, she can do you some good, despite all our doubts.”

Alarmed, Kinkade glanced to his side and saw Miriam standing near the wall, slightly turned to his paintings on the wall. In an instant, Kade took in her petite stature, her olive skin, blue eyes, thick brown hair, which she wore loose despite modern fashion that dictated it be curled into tight ringlets and piled high. He took in the awkward way she stood shifting from one foot to the other, and the way she nervously played with the bodice of her dress. As he looked more closely at her, he also noted she was not merely olive skinned, she had a deep tan; she had spent a great deal of time out of doors. He thought for a moment. What was it old Mister Worthing had said about her? She was an Amish girl? Kade did not know much of the Amish, just that they were a more secluded group of people. While her attire spoke of a more fashion-forward young woman, her demeanor said differently.

He turned to her and their eyes met.

“I apologize. I have the worst manners. Hello, Miriam. I am Kinkade...”

“But everyone calls you Kade.” Miriam smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and returned her smiling with his own charming one.

“Welcome to our home,” he said as he gestured grandly to the room behind him.

Geraldine took in the two young people. She saw the obvious spark pass between the two, and despite her doubts, she found herself smiling as she left the small house unnoticed by the pair.

Miriam, still captivated by Kade’s smile, and the feel of her hand in his, which sent tremors through her, commented, "You painted all of these incredible views?”

Kade, still holding her hand, tore his gaze from her face and focused on the painting she was looking directly at. “Yes, I am the painter, but I am not an incredible painter. Not yet.”

Miriam looked at Kade questioning, "Really? These are really amazing.”