Mail Order Motherhood (Brides of Beckham Book 8) (6 page)

She did the children’s first, because they went to bed before the adults, and then she went downstairs to fix Albert’s bed.  She was spreading his quilt over his sheet when he came into the room.  She flushed, feeling like she was intruding when she was in his bedroom.  He stood watching her for a moment, obviously not pleased to find her there, before turning from the room.

She followed him out, sitting at the table with him.  “I’m sorry to be in your space that way, but your bedding needed to be washed.”  She wondered how to get him to look at her when she talked to him.  Why did he dislike her so much?

He gave a brief nod but didn’t respond any other way.  He hated seeing her in the room he’d shared with his wife.  Why did if feel like such a betrayal?

She sighed.  “Why didn’t you just send off for a maid and a cook instead of a wife?  You don’t have any desire for a wife.”

He shrugged.  “Wouldn’t have been proper for one thing.  And I’d have had to pay a maid.  Wife works for free.”  He knew his words sounded cold, but they were true.  He really didn’t have the money to pay a woman to do the things a wife would do for free.  He wasn’t poor, but he wasn’t rich either. 

She shook her head sadly.  “I’d have taken on the job of a free maid if it meant my children would have food, clothes, and a roof over their heads.”

He shrugged again, not willing to pursue the topic. 

“Will I ever be more to you than the woman who cooks and cleans and cares for your children?” she asked, her voice obviously annoyed.  She was glad the children were in bed instead of hearing this conversation. 

He sighed.  “I don’t really know.  I like you fine.  That’s not it at all.  I just…I lost my wife eight months ago.  I’m not ready to let someone take her place yet.”  He couldn’t believe he was telling a beautiful woman he wouldn’t take her to his bed, even though she was his wife.  Was he even a man any longer?

“I see.”  She felt the tears prick her eyes as she rose from the table.  She wasn’t sure why it mattered to her that he didn’t want to be married to her, but it did.  “I’ll get you that list tomorrow.”

“Clara?” he called.

She turned, surprised to hear her name on his lips.  It was the first time he’d said it.  “Yes?”

“You’re doing a fine job with my children.  I appreciate the meals and all the hard work.  We’re going to be fine.  I just need time.”  He hated hurting her, and he knew he had.  Just because he wasn’t over his first wife, didn’t mean he had to treat his second wife poorly.

She nodded, turning back around to climb the stairs up to the bed she shared with Natalie.  She hoped he was right and they would be fine.  She didn’t want to feel lost for the rest of her life.

Chapter Four

Clara kept working hard for her family.  She finished the canning with the supplies he brought from town and helped him with curing the meat from the steer he’d butchered.  They both knew it would need to be used as quickly as they could, but he said he’d do another as soon as the snows started.  Once they would remain frozen they’d stay better longer.  She was simply happy to know they’d have food through the long winter.  The main thing that had concerned her about moving so far from the city was the winters.

The fall cleaning was done, and the first snows blew through.  She started the children on schoolwork and patiently taught Gertie to read.  Robert listened in as much as he could, and he learned his letters and the sounds he made, although she didn’t push him to learn.  Natalie was self-sufficient in her schoolwork, and usually finished within a few hours each day. 

They were falling into a good schedule, and Clara was pleased.  Every day she’d sew on their clothes while they did their schoolwork, and every evening after they went to bed, she’d work on gifts she was making for them for Christmas.  She decided to make sweaters for both girls and scarves and stocking caps to wear under their cowboy hats for all three of her men.  Robert would love being included with the other two.

She and Albert would talk quietly while they worked, getting to know one another.  He talked about what it was like to grow up in Texas, and how much he’d loved his Sally.  She’d talk about growing up in Massachusetts and about Nathan.  They talked about when the babies were little and how much they loved them.  One thing they never mentioned was their future together.  Clara found the omission sad.

As the nights got longer and the days got shorter, they found themselves having more and more time together in the evenings.  There was really no work that could be done on the ranch after dark, so they’d come in earlier at night.  One night, while they were sitting around the table with the supper dishes put away, Gertie asked Albert to play his guitar.

Clara looked at him in surprise.  “You play guitar?  I’ve never even noticed one.”

He shrugged.  “I keep it under the bed and out of sight.  I haven’t played in a year.”

Clara did some quick math.  He hadn’t played since his wife had fallen ill then.  “Please, play something for us,” she asked.

He shook his head.  “I don’t know that I can.”  He had loved playing for Sally, but now that she was gone, he just didn’t feel like playing any longer.  How could he?

Clara didn’t ask again.  Instead, she had the children play together, not meeting his eyes.  While they were awake, she was working on a new dress for Gertie.   She stabbed the fabric a little harder than she needed to, pushing her needle through.  Some day he would consider her good enough to be married to.  She looked at Albert.  They’d been married a month and a half, and the only time he’d even kissed her was when he was forced to by the pastor.

Clara studied him as she worked.  He was carefully whittling a piece of wood, for what purpose she had no idea.  She wondered what it would be like to kiss him, for real, and not just because they were sealing their vows. 

She finished the hem on the dress and called to Gertie.  “Let’s go upstairs and try this on.  I want to make sure I don’t need to change it at all.”

Gertie was practically bouncing with excitement over the pretty dress. 

“Use my bedroom,” Albert called.

Clara bit back a retort that it was all his bedroom was good for.  She sighed to herself.  Why did it make her so angry that he wouldn’t treat her like a woman?  It wasn’t like she was in love with him!

No, she didn’t love him, but she was interested in learning if love was even an option between them.  She wanted to get to know the man better, and possibly have a real relationship with him.  She felt like he owed her that chance.  He should be courting her and treating her like she was someone he cared about, instead of ignoring her so much.

She helped Gertie into the dress and smiled when it fit so well.  She’d left plenty of room in the waist for it to be taken out so it would fit for longer and had left room at the hem for it to be taken down.  The dress should fit for at least a couple of years to come. 

Gertie insisted on wearing it into the big room so the family could see it on her.  Albert told her she was almost as beautiful as her mother, and Gertie sat on his lap and hugged him.

Clara had known there was great affection between father and daughter, but had never before seen the two of them display it with her sitting on his lap.  She’d never heard him mention her mother to her before either.  She felt as if she was completely left out of the situation, and it made her sad.

As she helped Gertie get out of the dress, she sighed.  She needed to have a talk with Albert.  They’d been married long enough that she should be able to tell him how she was feeling.  Shouldn’t she?

Once the children were tucked into bed that evening, Clara returned to the table and took out her crocheting.  The girls’ sweaters were coming along beautifully.  She took a deep breath and steeled herself before saying, “Is there something wrong with me?”

His head jerked up from whatever he was carving.  “What?”  He was married to a beautiful, capable woman who seemed able to do just about anything, and she thought something was wrong with her?

“I want to know if there is something so ugly about me that you find you can’t look at me or treat me like anything other than a maid.  I’ve been married to you for six weeks and the only time you’ve ever kissed me is when the pastor told you to.  The only time you’ve ever touched me is to help me get in and out of the wagon.  It’s not natural for us to be married and never touch or kiss.”  She didn’t look at him as she said the words, and instead she concentrated on the hook in her hand as it formed the small sweater.

He sighed.  “There’s nothing wrong with you.  I actually think you’re very attractive.”  He set the wood and knife in his hands onto the table and braced his hands on his knees.  He looked at her as he said the words, hoping she’d understand.  “I loved my wife more than I’ve ever loved anyone.  When she died, I felt like a part of me died too.”

Clara’s eyes met his, and she shook her head.  “You act like you think I don’t understand losing someone you love.  I loved my husband something fierce, but it doesn’t feel right to me to tie myself to you for life, and not at least explore whether or not we could have feelings for each other.  I could love you, even though I loved him.  Just like I love your children, even though I love mine.”  She looked down again.  “I just know what we’re doing isn’t right.  We made vows to each other, and we’re ignoring those vows.”

Albert shook his head.  “I’m not ignoring them.  I’m postponing them…for now.  I need a little more time.”

“How much?” she asked.  She wasn’t sure what was prompting her to push him this way, but she just didn’t feel right about the way things were between them. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at her.  “How much?”

“How much time do you need?  A week?  A month?  A year?  A decade?”  She met his eyes again, feeling stronger than she had in a long time.  “How much time do you need before you can stop thinking of me as someone you hired and start exploring the fact that you now have a wife?”

He let out a breath.  “I don’t know.  How long do you think I should need?”  His voice was more than a little irritated with her.  Why was she pushing him?  Usually the man was the aggressor, and he’d never dreamed he’d be married to a woman who would be demanding her rights.

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just need to know that there’s a possibility between us.  The way things are just doesn’t seem right.”

He sighed.  “No, they don’t to me either.  I just don’t feel like I have anything left to offer a woman.”  How could he?  He’d buried his heart in the grave with his wife.

Clara put down the sweater and her yarn and walked around the table, taking the seat beside his and pulling it close.  She put her hand on his arm.  “You have so much to offer.  I watch the way you are with the children and know there’s a loving caring man inside you.  You treat my children just like you treat your own.  The love is there.  Why can’t you just give me a chance?”  Even Clara couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.  Why she was practically begging the man for his love.  Did she have no shame?

He looked at the hand on his arm, and then he looked up at her.  His tongue moved out to wet his lips.  He’d wanted to kiss her for weeks, but felt like it would be a betrayal to Sally.  Could he kiss her…and be a husband to her, without feeling guilty?  Would it be wrong to move on?  If it was just physical, and he didn’t let his emotions get involved, would that make it all right?

He scooted his chair a little closer to hers and cupped her chin in his hand.  “I know it seems strange to you, but I feel odd touching any woman but my wife this way.”

Clara’s eyes were a warm brown in the light of the lantern.  “Your former wife you mean.  I’m your wife now.”

He nodded, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.  He’d noticed her full lips before, and wondered how it would feel to kiss them for real.  Slowly he lowered his head toward hers, half afraid of what would happen when their lips actually touched. 

Clara watched as his mouth descended toward hers, her eyes finally closing as his lips brushed against her own.  She felt a shudder of surprise as he kissed her.  There was an electricity between them she hadn’t felt with Nathan.  She parted her lips for his kiss, and he immediately swept his tongue in to deepen the pressure.  His hand left her jaw and moved around to the back of her neck, holding her mouth in place for him.

Her hands crept up and moved to his shoulders, caressing them softly while her lips returned his kisses.  She’d missed being intimate with a man.  She’d missed kissing and being held.  Her husband’s death had shut down that part of her nature for a long while, but now?  Now she was ready for more, and she was married to this man. 

After a long moment, Albert pulled his head away staring down at her with surprise.  “I’m not sure we should have done that,” he said to her.

Clara shook her head.  “I’m sure we should have.  Albert, I know how you feel about your late wife.  I do.  But we’re not buried with our first spouses.  We’re here, and we need to go on for ourselves and for our children.”

He stared down into her eyes for a moment before sitting up straight and staring off over her shoulder.  “Let’s leave things as they are for another week or so.  I’ll try to be more…affectionate during that time.  I’ll touch you more.  Kiss you more.  We’ll see how we feel in a week, and if we both want to, maybe you can move your things down to my bedroom.”  He almost choked on the words, hating the idea of sharing the room he’d shared with Sally with any other woman, but knowing that she was right, and the way things were between them was unnatural.

She nodded slowly, standing up.  She was a lot more shaken by his kiss than she’d thought she’d be.  It wasn’t like she was a young virgin who had never been kissed.  She’d been married for nine years.  “That sounds fine.”  She stood and gathered up her crocheting and hid them away again.  “Good night, Albert.”

He was blocking the way to the stairs.  “I said I’d be more affectionate.”  He put his arms around her and tenderly kissed her good night.  “Good night, Clara.”  He walked to his bedroom and shut the door with a snap. 

Clara took the lantern and used it to guide her to her bed.  As she undressed in the darkness and put her nightgown on, she knew that things would never be the same between them again.  No matter what happened from here, they could never go back to the easy friendship they’d had the past few weeks.

She slipped into bed beside Natalie, and she knew she didn’t want that easy friendship back.  She needed to see how things would work out between them.  She needed to know that they could have a real marriage.

*****

Things did change between them after that night.  He kissed her good morning when he saw her each morning before the children rose.  After the children were in bed, the two of them would spend time together, sitting close.  Sometimes they would kiss, and sometimes they would just talk, but always they’d be touching somewhere, even if it was just their knees through the layers of clothing they both wore.

As they got closer to their self-imposed deadline of one week, Clara got more and more nervous.  Would he reject her, or would he invite her to share his bed?  She was nervous at the idea of sharing a bed with a man she’d known for such a short period, but she’d put herself in this situation, and she truly didn’t want out of it.

Albert thought of her during the day while he worked.  He found himself daydreaming about what it would be like to lay Clara bare on his bed, and press between her spread thighs.  He wanted her.  There was no doubt about that, and if he didn’t give her his heart, there was nothing wrong with having relations with her, was there?

On the day they’d given themselves as a deadline, he’d sent Clarence on to the house after milking with the promise that he’d be in shortly.  He’d gone to kneel at Sally’s grave, right there on the other side of the road from the barn.  He explained everything to her.  “I know it must seem to you as if I’m cheating on you, but I’m not.  I still love you.  I never would have remarried so soon if I hadn’t needed a wife so badly.  It was for the sake of the children.  Now, I find that the wife isn’t happy to stay upstairs, but after two months, who can blame her?  Please don’t hate me, Sally.  I don’t love her.  I could never love another woman the way I loved you.  I’ll just do my duty toward her, and that will have to be enough.”