The Widower's Wife (2 page)

Once the telegram was on its way, Jillian began to worry, particularly after checking two stores without any success in finding a handkerchief to match the one she had described to Mr. McCullough. As the time neared for her connecting train to depart, she ignored her hunger pains and dashed quickly into one last shop, praying she would find what she was looking for. She was greatly relieved to find a wide selection of colored handkerchiefs, including a yellow embroidered one. Thanking the shop owner emphatically, she made her purchase without delay and hurried back to the station, barely making it in time to catch her connecting train.

Jillian’s worry increased as the platform and the station emptied out fast. Most people gathered their luggage and exited quickly, choosing more intimate places to continue their conversations. She wished she could move farther away from the tracks. It was slightly embarrassing to just stand there like she had been forgotten. She tried to drag her trunk a few feet, but when it fell back to the ground with a big “thunk,” all she managed to do was bring attention to herself. Maybe if she tried to push it? She shook her head.
Oh
, she thought, exasperated.
Where is he
?

Sighing in frustration, Jillian slumped down in anguish on her trunk. A fear grew inside her that maybe Mr. McCullough had changed his mind. Surely he should have been here by now. It had been almost twenty minutes since she had stepped off the train. Would he be so cruel as to leave her standing in a strange train station with nobody she knew for hundreds of miles around?
No
, she thought, recalling his letters once more.
I’m convinced he wouldn’t just leave me here
. Even if he had changed his mind, Jillian had learned some things about Dalton McCullough’s character through the letters he had written. He was honorable and would do right by her. If she hadn’t truly thought so, then she would have been foolish to even be here in the first place. Something must have happened to cause his delay.

Still, Jillian thought it wise to find out when the next train going back to Providence, Massachusetts, would be coming through. Standing up and clutching her valise, which held her small purse tucked inside, she was at once thankful for her mother’s foresight.

As Jillian packed to leave, her mother slipped quietly into her room and handed her the small purse with an ample sum of money in it. Jillian shook her head. “Mother, I will be fine. I can do this on my own.” Her mother took both sides of her face in her warm hands.

“You are as stubborn and as strong willed as your father. I feared it would get you into trouble one day, and I am afraid that day has come.” Her mother attempted a smile for Jillian’s sake. “But I have a stubborn streak as well, and I refuse to send my only daughter off without at least a few dollars of her own. A woman needs to have a little something tucked away for good times as well as troubled ones. Trust me, you will not regret it.”

“But Mother, this is more than a few dollars!” She tried to hand it back, but her mother would have none of it. Instead, she gathered Jillian up in a tender embrace before quickly fleeing the room in tears.

Jillian sighed. She knew that her impulsiveness would cost her family dearly, her mother most of all. They were close, and she cherished the heartfelt talks they had shared on their daily walks. She understood that she was also robbing her mother of the dream of seeing her only daughter wed. All the planning and the parties with flowers and frills would never be.

Jillian turned and walked toward the ticket counter. It wasn’t far, and she figured her trunk would be safe. A thief would have to be an idiot to think he could get away with it very quickly, as heavy as it was.

Before she reached the counter, a man came running into the station. He was breathtakingly handsome, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the perfect shape of his face. In fact, she couldn’t help but take in the whole sight of him. He was quite tall, and though he wore a suit coat, she could see that he had large muscles beneath. His coat fit snugly around his arms and his chest. Even her brother Marcus, who prided himself on his build and strength, would be impressed.

Jillian quickly looked down as she felt her conscience send a blush of shame to her face. She would soon be a married woman. Could she be so disloyal already? She had no business staring and gawking at another man. Despite her shame, she felt her gaze being uncontrollably drawn back to this ruggedly attractive stranger.

He seemed to be looking for someone. A companion perhaps, coming in on the train? She had watched most of the passengers as they had exited the station. There were no other young women besides herself, and certainly no one she would consider to be an equal partner to this man. She couldn’t help but wonder who he had come to see.

By the way he was dressed, she presumed it must be someone important to him. When he didn’t appear to recognize anyone, she saw a worried look cross his face. As he started to turn back her way, Jillian quickly turned herself from him so he didn’t notice her staring. She took the last few steps to the ticket counter.

“May I help you, miss?” the man behind the counter asked. He was quite a peculiar-looking young man with his hair parted in the middle and curled up on the sides. Thick, round glasses made him look older than he was, and an overgrown, unkempt mustache made it difficult to read his expression. When Jillian didn’t answer right away, he cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh, yes,” she quickly recovered. In her haste to reach the counter and avoid being caught staring, she had almost forgotten her reason for being there. However, the rude manner in which the clerk had cleared his throat had reminded her of her intentions. “I wanted to inquire about the cost of a ticket to Providence, Massachusetts, and when the next train would be through.”

“Let me see,” he replied, as he began looking though a list of train schedules while adding the numbers. “Your ticket will be twenty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents, and the next train will come through in three days. That would be Saturday, miss.”

“Three days?” Jillian’s heart began to beat faster. What would she do? Where would she stay? The clerk cleared his throat. Despite her good manners and upbringing, Jillian couldn’t help but return a little of the clerk’s bad behavior and flashed him a rude look of her own. He seemed to be taken aback, but when he again spoke, she noted his manner of voice seemed only slightly more polite.

“Excuse me, miss? Did you wish to purchase a ticket?” Jillian shook her head and worried he must think her strange.

“No, no, I was just inquiring.” She turned to walk away, but her tutoring in good graces prompted her to add, “Thank you kindly for your time,” though not before she caught the look of irritation return to the man’s face.

As she headed back to her trunk, her annoyance at the ticket agent’s lack of good manners faded quickly, though it was immediately replaced by frustration when her feelings of nervousness and worry returned. She dropped her head slightly, rubbing her hand across her forehead as she walked. Her mind was spinning, and she couldn’t think straight. She needed to calm herself and make some decisions. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment to help her focus, though she continued walking. How long should she wait before leaving? Where would she go? What would she do with her trunk?

Just as she opened her eyes, she felt the wind being knocked out of her; she stumbled back, almost losing her balance. Mercifully, she was able to right herself again quickly before causing any damage to herself or anything else, saving herself from further embarrassment. She didn’t remember any pillars on the way back to platform, but what she had hit had surely been as hard as one. She looked up quickly. To her great horror, she realized she had not run into a pillar, but a man—the same good-looking stranger in the suit coat she had been admiring moments before. She wanted to turn away and escape her embarrassment, but she was compelled to face her shame. There, at his feet, lay her valise, which she had dropped when she had collided with him.

The man didn’t seem to be remotely jostled by their collision, but he turned just the same to see who his attacker had been. At first sight, he wore a look of irritation, but the look was quickly replaced by something akin to sympathy when he saw the look of sheer humiliation she felt on her face.

Before Jillian was able to apologize, another man came hurrying into the station lobby. Jillian and the stranger turned at the same time to observe the new arrival.

This new man appeared to be middle-aged, at least thirty-five or older. He was balding on the top of his head but had tried to hide it by growing the sides long and combing them over the space that was so obviously devoid of hair. His nose would have been a bit too large for his face had his face been normal sized, but too many sweets and not enough exercise had rounded his face out, thus helping to blend in his nose a bit. He wore a hideous plaid suit that wouldn’t close across his ample stomach. Jillian eyed him curiously as he checked his pocket watch before scanning the small crowd that was still milling around the station.

The thought suddenly occurred to Jillian that this new arrival must be Dalton McCullough. He had somehow been delayed, just as she had thought. True, he wasn’t much to look at, but she quickly hid the disappointed look that had crossed her face. Though he wasn’t quite what she had expected, she had to admit she hadn’t really known what to expect. The thought had once occurred to her that maybe she should suggest an exchange of photos. In the end, however, she had come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be fair to Mr. McCullough. She didn’t want to judge him by how he looked but by what was in his heart, and she wanted no less for herself. He had been clear enough as to his expectations. He was not looking for someone to love, only someone to mother his children. In exchange, he would provide a good, comfortable home and a place of security. She couldn’t imagine that it would matter too terribly if they did not find each other attractive.

The fact that he did not want a physical relationship was the reason his letter had interested her in the first place. Her sympathy for his plight in trying to raise three small children on his own had appealed to her heart. She had felt inexplicably drawn to his children and their need for a mother, but she was definitely not looking for a romantic relationship either.

For a moment, she observed this new man again and his lack of physical prowess. Mr. McCullough had told her of his living conditions and that he was a farmer. She had assumed farming required continuous hard physical work and discipline to be successful and had presumed he would be in better physical condition. This man didn’t look like he did much of anything.

Jillian quickly chastised herself again. She would not judge him. He would have a fair chance to let his actions prove his character. She thought back on the letters he had written her. His capacity for love was entirely evident when he wrote of his children as well as when he briefly told of the passing of his wife. His reverence and adoration for her was so translucent, it had touched her deeply. No wonder he had no desire for an intimate relationship. She could sense how utterly complete his heartbreak was at losing his wife. Dalton McCullough was a man capable of great feeling. If this was the man who wrote those letters, then surely he was beautiful inside, and that was what was most important to her. Besides, she had had her fill of handsome men who flattered and spoke of love, but who on the inside were as black as coal.

The new arrival turned his head to scan the station again, obviously not seeing who he was looking for. Jillian stood a little taller, trying to catch his attention. Then she realized he must be looking for her yellow handkerchief! She must have dropped it during her collision with the tall stranger. She turned back to the man on the platform who stood before her. He was staring at her. A hot blush rushed to her cheeks again. Then she saw a small corner of her handkerchief just barely sticking out from under her valise, where it had fallen inches from his feet.

Jillian took a step toward the man, still not able to find her voice to utter an apology. As she bent down to retrieve her belongings, he bent down at the same time and their heads collided. Jillian quickly stood up again and placed her hand to her head. The man grabbed his head as well, but in his other hand he held her bag.

Finally, because she was sorely compelled to, she mumbled an apology. She feared the man in the lobby wearing the plaid suit would leave before she could get to her handkerchief. The man standing before her didn’t move, though she was sure he had heard her. Jillian kept glancing back at the lobby, a worried look creasing her brow slightly as she did.

“Pardon me, sir,” she tried again, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I’m not usually so clumsy.” She kept glancing at her bag as she spoke, hoping he would hand it over before she was left stranded in this horrible station. She chanced another quick look over her shoulder. The man in the lobby was starting to look irritated. She did not want their relationship to start out with him angry at her. She turned her head back again to eye her valise.

The man before her finally seemed to understand her urgency and stepped forward to giver her the bag he held. As he did, to Jillian’s horror, his foot came to rest unknowingly on her handkerchief. Now, just a small corner of yellow embroidery poked out from under his right boot.