The Substitute Bride (15 page)

Whether Ted would agree or not, the Stevenses’ arrival today was the answer to her prayers.

In the west, the sun had dropped to the horizon, the sky awash with soft pink and peach. As if God had dipped a long rag mop into paint and streaked it across the heavens. The quiet, the stillness of the farm enveloped her, filling her with peace. For a moment, she felt happy. At home.

Then from the barn, she heard a cow low and the soft bleat of the sheep, a reminder of all the work left undone.

The sweet scent of hay mingling with the pungent odor of manure drifted through the door. She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Ted was bent over some kind of metal contraption, tinkering with it then pushing a lever.

Nothing happened. He tried it again. Again nothing happened. He paced in front of the machine, muttering in disgust, and then gave it a good kick.

Alone in the barn, or so he no doubt thought, Ted had relaxed the tight rein he kept on his emotions. In his hunched shoulders, she saw tension, even hostility.

“That thing causing you trouble?” Elizabeth said.

Ted whirled to her, then he tried a smile that fell flat. “Yeah.”

“Looks like you’re having a hard day.”

A sigh whistled out of him. “Farming’s hard work,” he said then went back to the machine. “It doesn’t help that this planter’s clogged.”

She watched him fiddle with that lever, his frustration mounting with every passing second. “Hard work wouldn’t deter you. It’s something else.” She laid a hand on his back. Beneath her palm, his muscles bunched. She blinked, startled by sudden insight. “You hate all this.”

“If you mean this planter, well, I think I do right now.” But he didn’t turn around when he said it.

“No, Ted, that’s not what I mean.” She stepped back. “Why can’t you be honest about what you feel? About this life, this farm?”

He stepped away from the planter and leaned against a rough-hewn support post, his gaze roaming the barn. “Maybe I don’t have time to feel. I do the work, pray for rain, sun and warm nights. I don’t examine my feelings about the job.”

His relaxed posture and matter-of-fact tone didn’t conceal the rigid lines around his mouth, his lack of eye contact, as if…

As if he had something to hide.

Why would he deny emotions—anger, joy, sorrow, all the feelings she struggled with daily? “You hate relying on something you can’t control.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be married to you.”

Though a smile turned up her lips, she refused to credit his comment with a reply.

“The Bible teaches God is in control, not man.”

Had Ted used the Bible to avoid her questions? Hadn’t she read that believers were to share one another’s burdens? That should definitely be true of husbands and wives.

Elizabeth looked around her at the sturdy barn, the cows munching in their stalls and sheep curled up in their pen for the night. “What is it about farming that you don’t like, then?”

He shifted under her steady gaze. “Reckon you’re determined to make me open a vein and bleed my innermost thoughts.” He removed his straw ranch hat, swiped his sleeve over his forehead. “I hate breaking my back planting the crop and then a hailstorm, too much or like now, too little rain, undoes it all.” He slapped his hat on his thigh. “Not because of the need for control, but for the risk farming is for my family.”

“So why do you stay?”

His eyes lost their focus. “I’ve had a thought…nothing I’m ready to talk about now.”

“Well, if I could, I’d leave.”

He took a step closer. “Would you? Really?” he said, his voice soft, his eyes compelling as he searched her face.

Had her declaration hurt his male pride? If so, why? He didn’t love her. He wanted to coexist amicably, to give Anna and Henry a mother, a good home. Exactly as she wanted to do for her brother. Yet the lump in her throat said she’d miss Ted if she left. Not that she could. The ring on her finger tethered her to a world she didn’t fit.

How had he managed to put the focus on her? “Why do you stay?” she persisted, ignoring his question.

“I’m a man who sticks with things. I stick with this farm. And I stick with this town.”

“Well, that’s just silly. You should like what you do.”

“I’m a father, Elizabeth. Fathers don’t run off to pursue whatever whim or urge they get.”

She looked away, at the hay cascading over the haymow, at the rafters where owls roosted. At anything but Ted. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “they do.”

Ted cupped her jaw with his hand. “Good fathers don’t. I’m sorry if you had a childhood filled with uncertainty.”

She jerked away from his touch. “I didn’t. It was…fine. Everything was fine.”

But it hadn’t been. She was playing the game she’d been taught, the one her mother always played. Put on a brave face, pretend everything was all right and eventually Papa would come back home and make it so. For a while.

Oh, why had she asked the question? Why couldn’t she have come in here and said goodbye and been done with it?

He frowned. “When will you be back?”

“I’ll return with Robby by the end of the week.”

“I’ll miss you.” He raised a hand toward her then let it drop to his side. “This afternoon…making biscuits…I had the most fun I’ve had in my entire life.”

His admission rocked her back on her heels, but she wouldn’t let him know how much his words meant. “I liked telling you what to do.”

“Never a doubt in my mind about that.” He tweaked her under the chin.

She headed to the door.

“Elizabeth.”

She circled back.

“I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For filling a bit of the emptiness this house had.”

His words squeezed against her lungs. “I’m glad,” she said, her admission a whisper.

He took a step toward her, but Elizabeth strode to the house, eager to get away from Ted and the feelings he brought alive in her heart.

T
ed dropped Anna and Jason at school, and then drove to the parsonage. Holding Henry in the crook of his arm, he knocked at the door, every muscle as tightly strung as a new fiddle. Perhaps talking to Jacob would set him back on his even-keel course.

Lydia ushered them inside, snatching his son from his arms before they made it to the living room. “Jacob’s in his study. Go on in.” She ran a fingertip down Henry’s neck and he giggled. “I’ll watch this precious little boy.”

Sitting across from Jacob’s desk, Ted told his pastor he’d experienced another verification of God’s Call. Three different people had told Ted he sounded like a preacher. “But I’m certain I’ve misinterpreted God.” To prove his assertion, he shared every ugly part of his past. When he finished, he said, “No church is going to accept an ex-gambler for a pastor, Jacob, especially this one. Not when my father swindled our church out of the remodeling fund.”

Jacob’s brow wrinkled. “Though the debt wasn’t yours, you made restitution for that swindle.” He rose and walked to the window, pointing in the direction of the saloon on down the
street. “I believe you’re the right pastor for Joe Lessman. He might actually listen to you.”

If only Ted could believe that. Whether he believed it or not, The Call got stronger every day. And so did his resistance. For reasons God must surely approve. He had to protect his family. “I’ve made too many mistakes.”

“The Bible’s packed with stories of men who failed, yet God used those men in a mighty way.”

A few of those men paraded through Ted’s mind. Moses killed a man before God spoke from a burning bush and commanded him to save his people from Pharaoh. To hide his sin with Bathsheba, David arranged for Uriah to die in battle, yet David was God’s man. Saul persecuted the early Christians, but God gave him a new name and the task of taking the Good News to the Gentiles.

Ted didn’t doubt God had used these men and countless others to do His will. Could Jacob be right? Could men like Joe be the reason God wanted him, of all people, to pastor a church?

Jacob perched on the corner of his desk. “I have a story I want to tell you, Ted. About a young man who didn’t believe in God. This man made a point of using God’s Holy Name in vain. This man snorted in derision at others’ attempts to tell him about the love of God. This man committed every sin in the book and then some. I’ll spare you the details.

“And he was miserable.” Jacob’s voice cracked. “One night he met God. Not in some miraculous way, but in the deeds and love of a godly woman.” He smiled. “I was that young man, Ted. That woman is Lydia.” His brow crinkled. “I’m no squeaky-clean pastor. And yet, God forgave me. For every sin I committed. For every foul word out of my mouth. For every time I jeered His name. After receiving that pardon, I wanted to devote my life to serving and leading others to Him.”

Tears filled his eyes. “Amazingly I’ve had the privilege of sharing with others the joy I’ve found in the Lord. Not to judge them, but to love them, as Jesus did the sinners in the gospels. As Lydia did in my life. As I know you will here one day.”

Ted was speechless, barely able to take in that this scholarly pastor had lived such a life.

Jacob took a deep breath. “I haven’t shared that story often. Conversion isn’t about me. But upon occasion someone needs to hear that nothing he’s done puts him on a list of untouchables, of spiritual lepers. Because of God’s perfect love, we all have hope.”

Ted stared into Jacob’s eyes and saw the humility, saw the awareness of missed years, missed opportunities. But he also saw a man who valued the gift God had freely given him—forgiveness.

“Ted, Lydia’s parents are getting old. They need us. And Lydia’s home church needs a pastor.” He smiled. “I’d be amazed except I’ve seen God provide time and time again. We’ll miss the good folks here, but we’ve decided to move back home.” He studied Ted. “God is calling you to fill the pulpit here. Not because you’re righteous. No one is.” He smiled. “Though I can name a few who believe they are. But because you’ve experienced the incredible pardon of Jesus, and you want to lead others to that precious freedom.”

Ted shook his head. “It’s too big a risk. I’d have to tell Elizabeth and this town about my past. I could lose my wife.”
If I haven’t already.
“Once people know about my past, they won’t allow me to fill the pulpit. I can’t blame them.”

“God doesn’t call a man to a task without giving him what he needs to accomplish it and that includes an open door. You’re never on your own when you’re obedient.”

In his humanness, Ted couldn’t see how his past and God’s Call could mesh without bringing harm to those he loved.

“Don’t you see? I can’t let Anna and Henry suffer the ostracism I faced as a child.”

“Secrets have a way of coming out, Ted.”

As easily as a hot knife slid through butter, Jacob’s words sliced through Ted’s arrogant assumption that he had the authority to protect his family.

“God’s in control, Ted. We aren’t. He’s opened the door. Will you walk through it?”

Elizabeth pushed through the crowd of travelers moving pell-mell across the platform and spotted Robby, riding her father’s shoulders and waving wildly to get her attention. Papa’s big welcoming smile eased her concern that he’d still be angry at her defiance. By the time she reached them, he’d swung Robby to his feet.

“Hello, princess,” he said, wrapping her in a hug then releasing his hold.

Dropping her satchel at her feet, she tugged her brother close, smothering his upturned face with kisses. “You’ve grown a foot!”

Robby giggled and puffed out his chest. “Papa says I’m his little man.”

“Yes, you are.” She turned back to her father, noting for the first time that his suit hung on his large frame; lines grooved his once-smooth face. “You’ve lost weight, Papa.”

“About time,” he said. “You look wonderful.”

She smiled her thanks. “I’ve gained a few muscles working on the farm.” She ruffled her brother’s hair. “Oh, Robby, you’re going to love all the animals, one shaggy black-and-white dog in particular.”

Robby leaped up and down like a tightly coiled spring. “Really, Lizzie? A dog for me?”

“Tippy belongs to Ted, but—”

Papa’s brow knitted. “Who’s Ted?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, I can’t wait to see Martha.”

“She asked that I hurry you home.” Papa picked up her bag and they moved toward the street where he hailed a hack. Once they’d settled inside, Robby plied her with questions about the farm the entire way.

The hack stopped in front of the imposing portico. Ted’s two-bedroom farmhouse would surely fit into the third-floor ballroom. She dug in her purse, but Papa paid the driver. Where had he gotten the money?

They hadn’t reached the front door before it opened. Martha stood waiting, a smile as wide as her open arms and a dusting of silver softening her fiery red hair. Trim, tall, with an iron will and a no-nonsense demeanor, Martha let her hazel eyes skim over her, sizing her up in one swift glance.

Elizabeth slipped into the comfort of those arms and gave the nanny a fierce hug. “I’ve missed you.” A few weeks in Ted’s household had given Elizabeth new appreciation for all Martha handled.

“This house isn’t the same with you gone,” Martha declared, leading her inside. “I want to hear all about what’s happened since you left.”

As they walked through the main hall, their footsteps echoing in the all but empty house, Elizabeth’s heart dipped. Even more of the furnishings were gone.

In the kitchen, they enjoyed a simple, delicious meal while Elizabeth regaled her family with stories of her life on the farm. Catastrophes that had hurt her now brought laughter.

After dinner that night, Martha packed Robby’s clothes, books and favorite possessions. Elizabeth kissed her brother goodnight, then left Martha and Papa to tuck him in one last time.

In her room, she glanced out the window onto the lawn where she’d made her escape a few weeks ago. Though it felt like a lifetime. She filled a trunk with books, shoes and clothing.

She’d donate the ball gowns and frivolous things that would be out of place in New Harmony.

On her way downstairs, Elizabeth noticed a light on in her father’s study. She rapped on the door then let herself in.

Papa and a stranger had their heads together. From the expression on her father’s face, the conversation had taken an unpleasant turn.

“This must be your daughter, Manning.”

Her father paled. “Yes.”

The stranger strode to her. “Your father and I go way back. I’m Victor Hammer. Most people call me Vic.”

That scar, those eyes, her father’s demeanor put Elizabeth on alert. Who was this man?

“I understand you’ve recently married.”

“Yes.”

“Seymour said you live on a farm. Big change, I’d imagine.” When she merely nodded, he turned to her father. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your daughter. I’ll show myself out.”

Papa walked him to the door. “I’ll find a solution.”

The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m counting on it,” he said, then left.

Waiting until the outside door opened then closed. Elizabeth released a gust of air. “Who is that man, Papa?”

“No one of importance.”

Elizabeth knew her father. He’d avoided her questions about that man. Why? As if an icy finger slid down her spine, Elizabeth shivered.

Papa motioned to chairs near the fire. “Sit. Tell me more about this husband of yours and his children.” He grinned. “Guess this means I’m a grandpa.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but you are.” The streaks of silver in his hair only made her father appear more distinguished. “You don’t look like one.”

He smiled. “With two ready-made children and your brother, you’re going to have your hands full.”

A log tumbled forward, shooting sparks up the chimney. Elizabeth jumped. “I’ll admit Anna’s a handful.” No point in disclosing how much. “Taking care of Henry’s a full-time job, but Ted’s good to me. It’ll work out.” Amazingly, she believed what she’d said. “Robby won’t be any trouble.”

“A small farm can’t provide much money.” He frowned. “Can your husband give you what you’ve been accustomed to?”

Elizabeth looked around the barren study, stopping at the spot where Papa’s desk and chair once sat. Bookcases crammed with leather-bound books now stood empty. What an irony that Papa was concerned Ted couldn’t provide for her when his gambling had almost put them in the poorhouse.

But possessions didn’t bring happiness. Another lesson she’d learned.

“Don’t fret about me, Papa.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m living a rich life. I have all I need and more.”

Her father jerked toward the sound of a clearing throat.

Vic stood in the open doorway, his eyes bright like a hawk. “Sorry for the interruption. I forgot my hat.” He motioned to the wide window ledge. “Ah, there it is.”

Papa ushered Vic out, then returned, his composure shaken though he tried to hide the fact under a wide smile. “So tell me more about the farm.”

“It’s the perfect place for Robby,” she said. “He’ll love playing with Ted’s dog.”

A flash of pain crossed Papa’s face, probably guilt over the puppy he’d given then taken away. “Take Robby and leave tomorrow on the first train. I’ll see to the arrangements.”

“I’d planned to leave after lunch.” Alarm traveled her spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing new. I’m about to lose the house. I want Robby
settled with you as soon as possible.” Out of his pocket, he pulled a slip of paper and a pen. “Write down your address in Iowa so I can reach you.”

Elizabeth did as he asked, then handed it to him. “What will happen to you? Where will you go?”

“I got a job. Imagine that?”

She smiled. “Doing what?”

“A sales opportunity. I’ll be fine, as long as I know my children are safe.”

Her stomach turned over, a queasy reminder of Vic. “Safe? What do you mean?”

Papa smoothed the lines on his forehead. “You know, taken care of. Content.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you happy, princess?”

“I’m fine. All that matters is Robby.”

Papa had changed. How much she didn’t know, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject of his gambling.

“I’m sorry I insisted you marry Reginald. I only wanted what I thought was best for you.”

“I’ll never understand how you could’ve promised me to Reginald in exchange for the payment of your debts.”

He studied his hands. “I did what I had to do to take care of my family.”

“I don’t agree with what you did, but I forgive you.”

“I can’t tell you what that means to me.” He met her gaze. “I’m sorry about losing the house. It should’ve been yours and Robby’s.”

“The house doesn’t matter. Robby and you and Martha, that’s what matters.”

Papa’s charming smile firmly in place, he rose and tugged her to him. “I hope your husband knows what a treasure he married.”

No need to tell her father that she and Ted didn’t have a real
marriage. “Treasure or booby prize.” She forced up the corners of her mouth. “I’m not much of a farm wife.”

He chuckled. “I have trouble picturing that, as well. Is Ted a patient man?”

“Remarkably.”

Suddenly tired, Elizabeth stifled a yawn. “I’m going up to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Her father wrapped her in a hug and kissed her cheek. “I love you. Sweet dreams, princess.”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

That night Elizabeth dreamed of her and Ted climbing an endless hill. She wanted to rest, but he towed her along, insisting they’d make it. An odd dream, but perhaps they would.

The next morning, Elizabeth went down to breakfast. Martha gave her a big hug. “You just missed your father. He left for work.”

Elizabeth hurried to the window. Papa stood outside talking to a man. The same man she’d met in his study. Vic. Perhaps Martha could give her some insight into the man. “Who’s that talking to Papa?”

Martha glanced out, then shrugged. As Elizabeth watched the men go their separate ways, the nanny bustled around the kitchen, making small talk, but Martha’s frenzied behavior only increased Elizabeth’s uneasiness.