Mail Order Mishap: Christian Romance (Kansas Brides Book 1) (6 page)

The ceremony was held in the park. Fortunately, it was a sunny and warm day. Amber wore a light orchid dress that brought out the red highlights in her auburn hair.

Clint’s cousin, Ivan, was short and had red hair, unlike Clint, who was over six feet tall with blond hair. When Clint and Ivan walked together, Clint could almost rest his elbows on Ivan’s head.

Amber stood between Edna and Charles and repeated her vows. Clint’s cousin gave a rather short service, and to Amber’s disappointment, he never once mentioned God. She was also surprised that Garrett hadn’t come to the wedding.

Edna had helped Amber pack her things and move them into Charles’s house. While the house was neat and clean, it was small, and not at all what Amber was used to, but she had known things would be different in the west, so she tried to make the best of it. The worst part was that Clint seemed to be with them constantly since he'd returned, and she and Charles didn't have any more private chats.

Charles explained to Amber as they rode home from the ceremony that the honeymoon trip would have to be postponed for a while, as construction was beginning on the hotel, and he needed to be there to supervise. Amber should have been disappointed, but she'd had so many disappointments that day, one more couldn’t possibly matter, and she simply nodded in acknowledgment.

They walked into the house and Charles followed her into the bedroom.

“This will be your room—for now, that is,” he added quickly. “I’ll sleep on the sofa until we feel ready for the next step.”

Another disappointment‒or was it? Amber wasn’t sure. She had hoped to at least consummate their marriage, but at the same time, the single kiss they'd shared didn’t exactly ready her for a more intimate relationship. She wondered how long it would be if he'd made no further advances in that direction. Since the quick kiss in the park, he’d not expressed an inkling of intimacy, possibly because they were never alone. Maybe now that they were married he’d become more affectionate, and Clint wouldn’t be around as much.

“That’s fine, Charles,” she said, looking around the room. It was a good-sized bedroom, but with little furniture in it. Against one wall stood the large, four-poster, and on the adjacent wall, a large armoire, and across from it, a padded chair. The small closet where she'd hung her clothes earlier, was in the wall across from the bed. Since Charles’s clothes were also in the closet, she was only able to hang a few dresses there. The rest she folded neatly and placed in two of the armoire drawers that Charles had assigned to her. Her trunk had been placed on the floor in the closet, still half full of clothing.

She wished for had a dressing table‒how would she ever dress her hair without one?

“I’ll go get our dinner,” Charles said.

After he'd left, she walked into the large sitting room adjacent to the bedroom. From there she went to the kitchen, and started to set the table for them. Should she set two or three places? Would Garrett make an appearance for dinner? She decided to set for two. If Garrett showed up she’d set another place then.

Garrett’s bedroom opened into the kitchen. The door was open, so she knew he wasn’t at home.

After she had set the table, she wandered out into the backyard from the kitchen. There were two entrances to the house. The front door led to the sitting room, and the back door to the kitchen. Just outside the back door and to the right was a covered bridge that led to the hotel. Straight ahead was a small yard, an outhouse, and a well pump.

Instead of turning right and going to the hotel, she walked straight and entered the grassy area with a bench, and a few trellises with wilted plants hanging from them. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the yard. She’d plant flowers, redo the trellises, and paint the dingy bench. The yard was small, but fenced for privacy. Amber thought she might enjoy sitting under the large maple tree and reading.

She turned when she heard Charles walking over the bridge carrying a large pot with him.

“You’re in luck,” he called. “It’s chicken and dumplings, Irma’s best dish. Everyone loves it.”

They ate in near silence. Charles had been right; the dinner was delicious.

“Will you be accompanying me to church on Sunday?” Amber asked.

“Me? Oh, I never go,” he said, clearing the plates from the table and setting them in the sink.

“Why not?”

“It’s just not my thing,” he said. “But you go right ahead. I’m sure Edna would be happy to accompany you, or even Garrett, as he goes every week.”

“I think I’ll go with Edna, since I know she’d love the company.”

“Good. I’ll send her a message.”

“How will you send her a message, if I might ask?”

“I’ll have Tiny or Dutch run it over. That’s a perk of having employees.”

“Oh, would they also run messages for me if I asked them?”

“Of course they would, you’re my wife. I’ll introduce you to them tomorrow.” He took the bucket off the counter. “I’m going for water. You can make yourself comfortable in the sitting room while I do the dishes, and put some supper away for Garrett.”

“Does he always come home late and eat it cold?” she asked.

“Sometimes.” Charles disappeared out the back door and went to the well near the bridge.

She watched as he pumped water, then she turned and went into the sitting room. She’d brought her sewing basket, and decided it was about time she’d done some sewing. This was nothing like she imagined her wedding night would be.

She shrugged and threaded her needle.

Listening to Charles washing the dishes made her feel guilty. She was the wife and that should be her job, even though she’d never put her hands in dishwater in her life. She got up and walked into the kitchen.

“Would you like me to do that, Charles?”

“No, of course not. I love housework. Don’t give it another thought,” he said.

She looked around. “Well, you certainly are good at it. This house is spotless.”

Charles turned and smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”

She turned to go back to the sitting room.

“I’ll bring tea in as soon as I’m done with the dishes,” he said.

She nodded. This wasn’t so bad. She’d feared having to do housework out in the west, and it was her one big reservation about coming here. That, and meeting Charles.

Charles was handsome, and so far, the perfect husband, with his cleaning and all, but she wished he were affectionate, so far he’d shown her none at all. She supposed the men in the west were different, and might need a bit more incentive, or at least, a few hints.

She’d try to do her best, confident that it was the things that took time that ended up being the best in the long run.

Charles brought in a tray of tea, and they sipped it before a roaring fire. It wasn’t a cold night, but the fireplace was far enough away that it didn’t get too warm. It made the setting quite romantic.

Amber visually measured the distance between them on the sofa, and moved a little closer to him.

“This is nice, Charles. I like this room, and the fire seems so romantic.”

Charles jumped up. “It does?” He pulled his timepiece out from his vest. “Oh, my! It’s after ten. We should probably turn in.”

“Oh,” Amber said with disappointment. “I’ll get off your bed, then.” She got up from the sofa.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about first,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“When will you transfer your dowry to my bank account?”

She turned toward her room. “As soon as the marriage has been consummated.”

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” she said.

“Goodnight, Amber,” he said.

She went into her room and closed the door softly. Maybe tomorrow he’d make a move toward romance, she thought, sadly. She undressed, hung her clothes over the chair, and slipped on a nightgown. She crawled into bed and realized the bed was extremely comfortable. She snuggled in and was almost asleep when she heard a knocking on the door.

At first she thought the knock had been on her bedroom door. Could Charles have changed his mind? Was he coming to consummate their marriage? The next time she heard it she realized it had been a knock on the kitchen door, instead. She continued to listen and heard male voices.

Was it Garrett? If it was, why would Garrett knock? Perhaps it was because it was their wedding night, and he had no wish to interrupt anything personal.

However, now that she thought about it, it sounded more like Clint, but was tired and couldn’t be sure, because suddenly the voices had hushed.

Why would Clint be visiting at this hour? It must have been Garrett coming home.

Sometime during those thoughts, she fell fast asleep.

In the morning, she looked at the bright sunshine coming through her window and realized she’d slept longer than usual. She got up, dressed, and opened her door to find Charles in the kitchen cooking ham and eggs. Clint sat at the table looking very much at home, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Good morning,” Charles said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” she replied to both men. “It’s nice to see you again, Clint.”

“I sometimes stop by for coffee before heading to the hotel,” he said.

“How did you sleep?” Charles asked from the stove.

“Very well, thank you” she answered.

“How do you like your eggs?” Charles asked.

“I think I’ll just have toast and jam if that’s all right,” she said.

“Coming right up,” Charles said. “The jam’s on the table.”

She smiled at Clint. “You men can enjoy the big breakfast. I don’t care to eat much in the morning, but I make up for it later in the day.”

Charles slid two fried eggs onto Clint’s plate, and then he set a plate of ham down on the table along with a plate of buttered toast. He put two eggs on his own plate, and then each man helped himself to a slab of ham.

As Amber smeared jam onto her toast, she looked at Garrett’s bedroom door and noticed that it was still open. That meant he’d either gone out early or had not come home at all last night. If that were the case, then it must have been Clint who visited last night.

Her eyes roamed over to the cupboard where Charles had put Garrett’s supper in a covered pan last night. It was still there, untouched, which was odd.

“Will Garrett be joining us for breakfast?” she asked.

Both men stopped chewing for several seconds before Charles replied, “He didn’t come home last night. He does that sometimes. I’m sure he thought we should be alone on our wedding night.”

More the fool he, Amber thought. Something didn’t feel right about this situation, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

After the two men had eaten, Clint went to the hotel, and Charles washed up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. He then proceeded to clean the whole house, whistling all the while.

“Aren’t you needed at the hotel?” she asked.

“They know I come in later. Clint handles things in my absence.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “May I do some gardening in the backyard? I’d love doing it.”

“What a good idea. I'm no good with plants. Everything I plant dies,” he said. “If you need to buy anything, walk down to the general store, and have them put it on my tab.”

“Anything? Can I buy new rose bushes for the trellises?”

“Anything you desire,” he said with a smile. “Have at it.”

Chapter 7

Garrett had been invited to Charles and Amber’s wedding but he’d refused, wanting no part of the deception. He did, however, question why a strange minister had performed the ceremony at the park and not Reverend Flannery at the church. He passed it off as being because Charles never attended church.

Now he was avoiding going home. He couldn’t bear to face the disappointment he’d surely see in the woman’s eyes. He never thought Charles would go through with his plan and actually marry her, but as bad as he felt for the woman, there was nothing he could do. As Charles had recently reminded him, it was none of his business.

Should he go home? He had to return home sooner or later because he had no clothes with him except what he had on his back. It was a Friday, so he didn’t need to go to work in the morning, and he could stay out all night. Maybe one of his saloon woman friends would offer him a bed?

Oddly, the thought didn’t excite him. Ever since Charles brought that poor woman home, he’d lost his appetite for carousing. Maybe because what his brother was doing to that woman made him realize that his behavior with the saloon women was no better than what Charles was doing.

Then he started to think about God and the Bible. He'd pretty much followed God’s Word throughout his life, with the one exception of the saloon women, which was his one weakness. He often prayed for forgiveness and for help resisting them. Perhaps Charles had done him a favor by marrying that woman because now he saw how easy it was for a man to mistreat a woman.

He finally decided to go to the farmhouse and bunk with the other cowboys. It wouldn’t hurt him for one night.

All Garrett could see when he closed his eyes to go to sleep that night was that sweet face of that woman‒whose name he’d forgotten‒and who would be Mrs. Charles Turner by now.

In the morning, he took his time in the makeshift shower—a wooden booth with a bucket suspended on rope—the cowboys had set up. When he got in, he pulled the rope—just a little‒to wet his body, lathered himself with the soap, then yanked the rope again so the he could rinse off with rest of the cold water. It was pleasant in the nice weather, but in the winter it was a chilling way to wash.

He strolled around town for a while, stopping at the livery to chat with Cole Johnson, who’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember. Cole’s father, Howard, had owned the livery during their childhood; he'd recently retired and given it to Cole. Garrett usually stopped in to see Cole at least once a week, or they met for lunch or dinner.

After he left the livery, he stopped at the general store, and decided he should at least buy a wedding gift for his brother and his new wife. A painting caught his eye, a landscape of snow-topped mountains with an icy lake in the forefront, and he bought it.

He ambled slowly to the hotel and around to the back, with his purchase under his arm. How he hated going into the house, but he had to, eventually. After he'd changed his clothes, he would continue to look for a nice apartment.

Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he should knock or just walk in. He’d never knocked before, but now with a woman living there, he wasn’t sure. He played it safe by knocking and then walking in slowly.

He looked around the kitchen, but he didn’t see her, so he went into his room and closed the door.  He changed into clean clothes, and threw his soiled clothes into the cloth bag in the corner of his room. When it was full, the hotel laundress/cook, Irma, would wash them. He sighed. He had it made, living there. His free meals were always fantastic, his room was always spotless, and his laundry was magically done for him‒how would he ever manage without it all?

Picking up the gift, he walked to the sitting room, where he found Charles’s wife sitting on the sofa, sewing. How sad that she’d been left alone on the day after her wedding.

She looked up as he walked in.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “I wondered what happened to you.” Her welcoming smile made him feel more comfortable. If only he could remember her name.

“Congratulations,” he said. “I’ve a little something for you and Charles.” He held out the parcel that the clerk had wrapped in brown paper.

She stood and took the painting. “Thank you. I should probably wait until Charles comes home to open it.”

He nodded. “It’s a painting. I thought you could hang it somewhere.” Garrett felt like such an idiot for saying that. Of course, they’d hang it somewhere. “I mean, in the sitting room, perhaps?”

“I love art, so I’m sure I’ll love it. That was very thoughtful of you,” she said.

He gave her a slight smile. He felt sympathy for her. The least he could do was to be kind to her. She seemed so friendly and sweet. He’d like to kick his brother in the seat of his pants.

“I’ll leave you to your sewing. I have to look for a new place to live. I heard there might be an apartment for rent over the barbershop,” he said.

“There’s no hurry, Garrett. I feel awful that you have to uproot yourself on my account. I see no reason for you to have to leave, at least not right away.”

Her words gave him a strange pang in his chest. How could he stand by and watch his brother make a fool of someone as agreeable as she seemed to be? She was pretty, friendly, and charitable. He wanted so much to accept her offer and stay, but it would kill him to know what he knew and not being able to tell her. He should have warned her before the wedding, but he thought it best to keep his nose out of it.

While he stood there thinking about how to proceed and what to say, she gave him a wide and welcoming smile.

“That’s—that’s very kind of you, but I think newly married people need privacy,” he said.

“Some do, I suppose.” Her smile had faded and her lips tightened when she said that, and he knew why.

Not knowing how to respond to that, he turned, and began to leave the room. He turned suddenly and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“I don’t think so, but thank you for asking. It seems Charles does just about everything around here,” she said.

He nodded and continued to the back door.

After dinner, Amber showed Charles the parcel that Garrett had left for them.

“He said it was a wedding gift. I thought I’d wait for you to open it,” she said.

““All right, go ahead and open it,” he said. His voice made it clear he was disinterested.

She unwrapped the painting and gasped at the beauty of it. Charles took a quick look and said, “Very nice.”

The second night of Amber’s marriage went pretty much the same as the first. They turned in around ten at Charles’s suggestion. He bedded down on the sofa again, and she in the bedroom. Once again, she heard knocking on the kitchen door and male voices. This time, she knew it was Clint since she was now familiar with Garrett’s voice.

Why did he come around each evening? Was his visit work-related? Another concern nagged at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to even consider the notion. She concentrated on falling asleep, but before she did, she heard Garrett come in and close his door without speaking to Charles or Clint—if Clint was still there.

In the morning, she dressed for church in a light, white dress with daisies printed on it. It looked to be a warm day and the dress was very cool. She found a small mirror on the lid of her jewelry box and used it to fix her hair into a bun the best she could, though she did miss Dotty, her personal maid back home. No matter how careful she was, hair always managed to escape her bun and curl up beside her ears.

She walked into the kitchen and found Charles and Clint eating. When she sat down, Charles jumped up and poured her some coffee.

“Would you like eggs today, or just toast again?” he asked solicitously.

“Just toast. I don’t mind making it,” she offered.

“No, that’s my job. I love doing it, don’t I Clint?”

Clint nodded, engrossed in his newspaper.

As Amber spread jam on her toast, she noticed Garrett’s bedroom door opening, and he came out dressed for church.

“Good morning, Garrett,” Charles and Clint said in unison.

“Good morning, Garrett,” Amber said.

He simply nodded.

“Breakfast?” Charles asked Garrett.

“Just coffee. I’ll take it with me,” he said.

Charles poured a cup and handed it to him, and he took it and left.

“Wonder what’s eating him?” Charles remarked.

“Oh, I think I have a good idea,” Clint said.

Amber took their comments in. Even though she had no idea what they meant, she filed the words away for future reference. Something was going on and she had to figure it all out. She was almost positive it hinged on Garrett’s having to leave the home he’d known for who knows how long, and she hadn’t the heart to do that to him. She’d have to tell him again, the next time she got the chance.

“Did you sent the message to Edna?” Amber asked Charles.

“Yes. I told her you’d call on her for church,” he said.

“Thank you. I’ll get my reticule and be on my way, then.”

Once again, Amber and Edna walked to church and sat in the third row. This time, Garrett sat down on the other side of the aisle so she couldn’t see him.

The sermon was a new series the minister was starting. Each week, the sermon would be based one of the Ten Commandments. Today his sermon was based on bearing false witness. The minister was an excellent speaker. Amber loved how he mixed real stories in with his scriptures.

“Bearing false witness,” he said, “is more than lying under oath in a courtroom. It takes in all forms of lying and deceit. It also means speaking falsely, deceiving‒even gossiping could be considered a false witness.”

She continued listening carefully to the sermon, wondering if she'd ever been guilty of false witness. She sometimes told a little white lie, which, according to the reverend, was a false witness.

Then the minister went on about accusing people falsely, and she knew she'd never been guilty of that. 

After church, Edna invited her to have lunch with her. Amber agreed since she knew Charles wouldn’t miss her.

Edna served small sandwiches, fruit, and tea.

“So, how's the newly married woman?” she asked Amber.

Amber felt like saying that she wouldn’t know, but thought better of it.

“Different. I shall have to get used to it. Charles won’t let me lift a finger around the house, and it seems Clinton Butler is at the house all the time. We have little privacy.”

“What about Garrett? Is he still there?”

“Yes, but he’s rarely home, and is no bother at all.”

“I don’t know Clinton very well. He’s only been in town for two or three years. I know he helps Charles at the hotel. I imagine they have a lot of business to discuss.” Edna refilled Amber’s teacup. “You’re very fortunate to not have to do domestic work.”

“What do you know about Garrett?” Amber asked.

“He’s quiet, took his mother’s death badly—more so than Charles did. I think he’s a more sensitive person. Charles is the outgoing one, and Garrett the quiet one,” she said. “I do like them both, though.”

“As do I,” Amber said and she meant it. She didn’t understand Charles, but she’d come to like Garrett, despite her first opinion of him. He was polite and respectful in his own way, she supposed. There was something in his eyes, something sad, and she wondered what it was. She didn’t recall seeing it when they’d first met, but she'd certainly noticed it after her marriage. Could the sadness be connected to his thinking he had to find another place to live?

As Amber scurried back across the street to the hotel, she was aware that walking alone was not smart, but sometimes she had no choice, so she hurried. She made it back to the house, but before going inside, decided to sit on the bench and plan her garden.

She mentally grew the plants and situated the trellises. She decided to paint the bench white to match the trellises.