Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (33 page)

She had retreated from the cabin a few minutes ago to have some time alone to consider the offer and make her decision. She could have told him yes then and there. In fact, how could she refuse when it meant so much to her survival and Hannah’s also?

But the word
yes
had caught in her throat.

Since leaving the Hearne plantation, Elise had thought little of her former marriage, placing it in a far corner of her mind so it could not torment her along with everything else. She had been successful in that effort because, though it had been only a year since they had been parted, it seemed far enough in the past to feel as though that ill-fated union had never existed. She certainly no longer had an emotional attachment to Kendell. What he had done to her was enough to thoroughly erase any residual feelings of affection she might have clung to. But it could never obliterate the fact that there had been a marriage, even if annulment was supposed to render the marriage as nonexistent. If nothing else, Hannah was proof it had indeed existed.

In the last year Elise had never even considered the possibility of another marriage. As a slave, she’d had no choice in the matter. As a prostitute, she’d doubted any respectable man would want her.

Now a respectable man did want her, and of all men, it was Rev. Benjamin Sinclair! That was mind-boggling enough, but that he was also willing to overlook her former life . . . well, it was unimaginable. He’d been able to see how she had been forced into that despicable life and thus could not find it in himself to hold it against her. This was the new Benjamin Sinclair, a man who had come to understand that circumstances could both rule and destroy lives. Of course, it helped her cause that there were few women on the frontier. Yes, his need was nearly as desperate at hers.

But what of her former marriage? Might that be the limit over which Benjamin could not cross? Men were peculiar. He could excuse her prostitution because she had been coerced into it, but to have willingly given herself in marriage . . . he might see that as a different matter entirely. Many men, especially those of highly religious conviction, considered divorce or even annulment illegal and remarriage unacceptable. Something told her that not long ago, Benjamin must surely have been one of this ilk.

Had he changed? Dare she take that risk? Should she tell him of her marriage?

She knew how a lie had destroyed her previous marriage. Could she deceive again? But could she risk losing this opportunity? The thought of returning to Maurice Thomson—as she knew would happen if she was set adrift once more—brought a gnawing sickness to her stomach. She would sooner be killed and watch her child be killed before returning to Maurry.

Surely if the truth ever did come out, Benjamin would understand and forgive her because of her plight. It would be better for him if he didn’t know, just in case . . . if later . . . well, who could say what might happen in the future. But should the truth ever come to light, it would be best for his sake, his reputation, if he could plead complete innocence. Of course, it would be entirely different if this were a union of love. She would never do such a thing to a man she loved or who loved her. But they were both in accord that this marriage would only serve practical purposes. No love, no physical joining, no emotional bonds. Thus no one could possibly be hurt. Convincing herself of this, Elise knew she would say yes. She could do nothing else. It was the only way she and Hannah could stay safe. Hannah would surely die if cast out into the world again. Even God would understand. He would be the last to throw a helpless woman and child to the wilds.

Then a new thought came to her, bolstering her decision. Wasn’t it possible that Benjamin already assumed she’d been married before, because of Hannah? The question of Hannah’s origin had never arisen. He might think the child merely to be an unfortunate result of Elise’s occupation. But no, she was certain she had told him she had been with Thomson for only a year. A quick calculation would indicate Hannah had been born before this.

Of course! He did realize she had been married. There was no reason to say anything. Either way, whether he knew or not, she believed she would be fully exonerated. She breathed in another draught of air, and it smelled even fresher. All would be well.

As she headed back to the cabin, her heart pounding furiously but her feet moving relentlessly, she forced from the fringes of her mind thoughts of what had happened the last time she kept a secret from a man she would marry.

Benjamin was sitting in the rocking chair feeding Oliver when Elise returned to the cabin. He looked up and, seeing her face, knew what her answer would be. He was both relieved and frightened. Part of him had thought her good sense would put an end to this foolishness.

A marriage of convenience indeed!

And he had thought his brother was a hairbrained fool! This went leaps beyond any of Haden’s schemes.

Yet he still could not completely forget the dire circumstances that forced this decision upon them. If he were in closer fellowship with God right now, he’d be able to come up with a score of spiritual reasons against this marriage.

Or could he?

When one really considered the matter, there was nothing unspiritual or even unscriptural about the arrangement. Certainly nothing in the Word of God promoted the idea of romantic love as part of the marriage commitment. As far as the element that would be missing in the proposed union . . . well, becoming “one flesh” was scriptural, but he couldn’t think of a law that indicated this was
necessary
.

In fact, he was certain he could find far more biblical precedents for this event than otherwise. It was a matter of honor, respect, protection, and caring. There could be no scriptural law against these. And Benjamin knew that once he made the commitment to marriage, he would treat it with no less reverence than he had the day he had married Rebekah.

But this assurance did not completely salve the gnawing fear that he would carry into this marriage the same flaws that had destroyed his first marriage. He did not love Elise, but he did not want to ever be responsible for doing to her what he had done to Rebekah.

“Benjamin,” Elise said softly.

“You have come to a decision?” It was hardly the place to discuss such matters, surrounded as they were by four children. Micah, at least, was absent as usual. On the other hand, Benjamin thought there was probably no better place, since it was this very situation that had fomented the arrangement in the first place. Nevertheless, he added, “Shall we step outside?” When she nodded, he rose, laid Oliver in the cradle, and followed Elise outside.

She stopped at the edge of the yard. In the moment before Benjamin joined her, he paused and studied her solitary figure. He wondered again how he could have so harshly judged her before. As she stood there now, the moonlight falling about her slim shoulders like a veil, her beautiful face in profile, solemn yet very alive, he thought perhaps he could find his faith again. He saw her now not as a fallen woman but rather as a profound answer to a prayer he’d not even had the faith to utter.

Trembling inside like a boy about to speak his heart for the first time to a schoolgirl, Benjamin came up beside Elise.

“Benjamin, before I can make a decision, there are two things that trouble me.” She spoke seriously, and he braced himself for the logic he had both desired and dreaded. Taking a breath she continued. “My Negro blood—”

“That is not a problem to me,” he cut in quickly, surprising himself at how ready he was to shore up any gaps in this outlandish plan.

“But why?”

“I suppose because of the . . . uh . . . nature of this union, I have never given it a thought. Beyond that, well, I am a man to judge others upon many grounds, but race has never been one of them. I see you as who you are, and that is all that matters to me.” She was staring rather incredulously at him, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. He had to prompt her by adding, “What is your other problem?” He watched her delicate throat constrict as she swallowed.

She replied, “There are some who would consider it just as heinous for you to marry a woman such as I, a fallen dove as it were, as it would for you to live in sin with me. What I am saying is that it could still ruin your reputation.”

“I don’t care about anyone who would hold such a thing against you. I have been there, and I will not go there again myself or abide anyone who does.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Besides, it is unlikely anyone except John Hunter will ever know.

Even he said that after he saw you he would not have recognized you from the girl he saw in the store. Without the face paint and fancy clothes . . .” He paused and almost unconsciously his eyes studied her again. She had changed quite dramatically. Not only was the paint gone, but the hard, bitter aspect he had noted before had disappeared, leaving a softness, even an innocence that did indeed make her seem another woman entirely. “Elise, you have changed,” he breathed, his own throat constricting a bit.

“What if . . . ?”

“We will deal with that if and when it should ever happen.”

They both fell silent. It seemed all major barriers had been breached.

This marriage—foolish, unorthodox, but exceedingly practical— would indeed happen, though proper, formal consent had not yet been given.

As if reading his mind, she turned and said to him, “Then, Benjamin. . . Yes, I would like to accept your proposal.” She seemed to be restraining a smile, perhaps deeming it inappropriate under the circumstances, but her eyes glittered like light glancing off jet.

“Thank you.” He, too, practiced restraint but mostly because he wasn’t sure what to do now. It seemed wrong to stand there staring at her, but an embrace would not have worked either.

“When . . . shall it take place?” Her voice trembled a bit.

“As soon as possible, don’t you think?” Certainly before I find a reason to back out, he thought ruefully.

“That would be best. Will you tell the children?”

“Micah and Isabel will have to be told, though I fear they won’t much like the idea.” Flustered, he added, “Not because of you.”

“It might help if they know I won’t try to replace their mother.”

“You’ve already shown a sensitivity toward this. They accept you quite well. I don’t think anything will change much.”

“No . . . nothing will change . . . much.”

He didn’t know what to make of her hesitant tone. Nothing
would
change. She would be a housekeeper, he would be an employer of sorts. The marriage certificate would simply remove any question of morality in the arrangement. “We will tell them tonight.”

CHAPTER

40

T
HE PROBLEM OF WHO WOULD
perform the marriage ceremony was addressed by John Hunter in his infuriatingly practical manner.

“I heard from Albert Petty that a priest was in the area. A Father Murphy.”

At first Benjamin gaped at the suggestion, then he, too, became practical. “Will he marry a Protestant?”

“I’ve met Father Murphy, and he’s been known to bend the rules a bit.”

“Well, for once I can appreciate such an attribute.”

But as the day drew near, Benjamin was getting shakier and shakier. He became short-tempered with the children and clumsy with his daily tasks. He spilled milk, caught the hearth rug on fire, and finally nearly lopped off his foot with the ax while chopping wood. It was at that point that Elise interceded.

“Are you all right, Benjamin?”

He hadn’t realized she had come outside. When he saw her, his cheeks burned.

“Guess I’m all thumbs today,” he offered with a lopsided smile.

“Would it have anything to do with what is going to take place tomorrow?”

He gave a dry snort. “You mean aside from the fact that I am a Protestant minister about to be married to a prostitute by a Catholic priest?”

“Well, if it helps, I am an
ex
-prostitute," she answered just as dryly, then smiled.

Benjamin laughed, really laughed, until his lips hurt and his eyes watered. He hadn’t laughed like that since . . . well, maybe never. She joined in the mirth, even though she didn’t throw herself into it with as much exuberance as he demonstrated. He saw she hadn’t been offended by his words, that she understood he had not meant them in that way.

When the greater part of his amusement subsided, he said, “You are a remarkable woman, Elise. I have no qualms about that.”

“No, but I can see this is all quite a leap for you to take.”

“It is a leap I want to take, a leap I believe is right. It is only the vestiges of the man I was that threaten to throw me off-balance a bit.” Considering his statement, he added, “I suppose it is not who I was that worries me as much as that I am not yet certain of who I will become.”

“Benjamin, can I ask you something personal?”

“In a matter of hours you will become my wife. I should think you can ask what you wish.”

“Do you still believe in God?”

“Of course I do!” The certainty of his response and the immediacy of it rather surprised him. “My worry is that He no longer believes in me.”

“Do you think that could happen?” Her question sounded sincere, reminding Benjamin that the faith she professed was fairly new. Yet he felt peculiarly on level with her because so many new ideas and considerations, both spiritual and otherwise, were bombarding his senses.

“You don’t want to get into a discussion of eternal salvation and predestination now, do you?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

She wrinkled her brow, perplexed at terms she no doubt had never heard.

With more sincerity, he answered, “Theologically speaking, yes, I have always believed it could happen. But to others, not to me!” He gave a wry, self-depreciating smile. “I know better now. I know in a very personal way that my faith is not so very secure.”

“I know I am fairly ignorant in these matters, but I have a feeling inside me that says we would have to turn away from God before He would turn away from us.” She smiled shyly. “If you want to be close to God, He will be there for you.”