Janet Dean - The Substitute Bride

Jacob stared at the bride as if she’d grown two heads, one for each name. Lydia wilted into a chair, her smile drooping.

“What are you talking about?” Ted shoved out through his clenched jaw, his tone gravelly.

“Have you ever been down on your luck, Ted Logan?”

The question caught him like a sharp blow to the stomach. He shifted on his feet. “Well, yes, of course.”

She ran a hand over her fancy dress. “Despite what you see, I’m destitute. So when the real Sally changed her—”

“What?” he bellowed.

“You’re making me nervous, glowering at me like that. It’s not my fault Sally got cold feet.”

His pastor laid a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Let’s stay calm. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Ted staggered back. “Who are you?”

“I told you. Elizabeth Ann Manning, your bride. That is—” she hesitated then forged ahead “—if you can ignore a small thing like an identity switch.”

“A small thing?” He pointed toward the door. “Use the other half of that ticket. Go back to where you came from.”

Wherever that might be.

Tears glistening in her eyes, she slumped against the sofa, her face pale and drawn. “I can’t.”

Lydia hurried to the impostor’s side and patted her hand. She shot Ted a look that said she blamed him for this mess.

Him!

“I should’ve told the truth right off, but I was afraid you’d send me back,” she said, her voice cracking, tearing at his conscience. “I’ll get a job and repay you for the ticket.”

Unable to resist a woman’s tears, Ted bit back his anger. Something terrible must’ve happened to compel this lovely, well-bred woman to marry a stranger. Still, she’d deceived him.

Not that he hadn’t made plenty of mistakes of his own. God probably didn’t approve of his judging someone, especially someone with no place to live, no money and, in this town, whether she knew it or not, little prospects of either.

Still, something about her claim didn’t ring true. If she was destitute, then it must’ve been a recent development.

“Our marriage is one of convenience,” she whispered. “Weren’t those your words?”

“Well, yes,” he ground out.

She gave a weak smile. “Sally’s not here. I am. How much more convenient can I be?”

Lydia released a nervous giggle. Looking perplexed, Jacob’s brow furrowed. Obviously nothing in those books of his had prepared him for this situation.

Scrambling for rational footing, something Ted took great pains to do, he struggled to examine his options. He’d spent most of his cash bringing his mail-order bride to Iowa. He couldn’t afford the time or money to begin another search.

Still, could she be hiding something else? “Are you running from the law?”

She lurched to her feet and planted fisted hands on her hips. “Most certainly not,” she said, her tone offended.

Unless she was a mighty good actress, he had nothing to fear there. Trying to gather his thoughts, he ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Will you be good to my children?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe in God?”

She hesitated. Her hands fell to her sides. A wounded expression stole across her face. “Yes, but God’s forgotten me.”

God forgot no one. Elizabeth’s forlorn face told him she didn’t know that yet.

Had God ordained this exchange of brides? Ted had prayed without ceasing for God to bring the wife and mother He wanted for him and his children. Had this woman been God’s answer all along?

Lord, is this Your will?

A potent sense of peace settled over him, odd considering the circumstances. “Well then, let’s get on with it.”

His pastor turned to Elizabeth. “You do realize the vows you are about to exchange are your promise before Almighty God.”

Elizabeth paled but whispered, “Yes.”

Though Jacob didn’t look entirely convinced, he changed the bride’s name on the document.

Lydia unpinned the flower on Elizabeth’s dress and handed it to his bride, her bridal bouquet, then reeled to the organ in the back corner of the room. Her voice rose above the strains of “Love’s Old Sweet Song” while Jacob motioned them to a makeshift altar. The song ended and Lydia slipped in beside Elizabeth.

“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to…”

Ted considered bolting out the door. But he couldn’t plant the crops with Anna trailing after him and Henry riding on his back like a papoose. He had priorities that demanded a wife, even if he hadn’t picked this one. He trusted with every particle of his being that God had.

“Ted, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Join hands with your bride,” Jacob said in a gentle tone.

Ted took Elizabeth’s ungloved hand, soft, small boned, cold, like his. Under that forceful exterior lived a woman as uncertain and unsettled as him.

“Elizabeth Ann Manning, do you take Theodore Francis Logan to be your wedded husband, to live together in holy marriage?”

She swallowed. Hard. “I do.”

Ted gave her credit for not getting weepy on him. He couldn’t handle a woman’s tears.

“Do you promise to love him, honor and obey him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

Elizabeth glanced at Ted, at the preacher, then back to him. “I’m…I’m not sure I can do the…obey part.”

A strangled sound came from Lydia. Jacob frowned into the book he held, as if searching for a clue on how to respond. Ted opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“But I promise to try,” Elizabeth added with a feeble smile.

Jacob yanked out a handkerchief and mopped his brow, then the top of his head. “Is that acceptable to you, Ted?”

He nodded, slowly. This woman had nerve, he’d give her that. She wasn’t one bit like Rose. Good thing they weren’t standing up in front of the congregation. If they were, after this, every man he passed would be guffawing.

Looking eager to get the knot tied, Jacob righted his glasses. “All right, Miss Manning, do you agree, then, to what I just said, except for adding the word try to the obey part?”

Elizabeth beamed. “I do.” Then she repeated the vows after the preacher, cementing her to him.

“Will you repeat after me, Ted?”

This marriage would be legal, binding like a business arrangement, but far more than that. As his pastor said, Ted would make his promises to this woman before Holy God, the foundation of his faith and his home.

Ted gave his “I do” promise, then Pastor Sumner recited the words, words Ted echoed in a voice hoarse with strain.

“I, Theodore Francis Logan, take thee, Elizabeth Ann Manning, to be my wife.” What was he letting himself in for? “To have and to hold—” Would she allow that? “—in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer—” She could count on the poorer part. “—and promise my love to you until death do us part.” He’d try to love her about as much as she tried to obey him.

He turned his gaze from the preacher to his bride. She licked her lips, no doubt a nervous response, sending his stomach into a crazy dive.

Next thing he knew, Jacob had Ted digging in his pocket for the ring, a slender gold band he’d ordered from the catalog. It had cost him over a dollar, but he’d ordered fourteen-karat so the metal wouldn’t discolor her skin.

“Slip it on her finger. And repeat after me.”

Ted did as he was told, repeating the words, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

He released her hand. Elizabeth looked at the ring as if a ball and chain hung from her finger.

“Inasmuch as you have pledged to the other your lifetime commitment, by the power vested in me by the State of Iowa, I now pronounce you man and wife in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.” Looking around as though he addressed a church full of witnesses, he warned, “Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” Smiling, Jacob rocked back on his heels. “You may kiss the bride.”