Janet Dean - The Substitute Bride

Ted had forgotten that part. He lowered his head as she turned her face. Their noses collided.

“No need…” she said softly.

Well, he had no intention of letting her believe he couldn’t manage a simple kiss. He cupped her jaw, tilted up her face. Her eyelids fluttered closed, revealing long, dark lashes. He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. She tasted of tea and sugar, all sweetness with a bit of bite.

Her eyes opened. Startled, bright blue, a man could get lost in those eyes. He had an impulse to pull her to him and kiss her more thoroughly. But kissing her like that would most likely stand Lydia’s hair on end. And scare his bride. After all, she hadn’t married for love. And neither had he.

Like a racehorse crossing the finish line, Jacob blew out a gust of air. “I’ve got to admit, this has been the most unusual wedding I’ve ever performed.”

“And for the handsomest couple,” Lydia said, beaming. “We hope you’ll be very happy.”

The wary look in Elizabeth’s gaze no doubt mirrored his, but they murmured their thanks.

Jacob ushered them to a desk, dipped the pen into the inkwell and handed it to Ted. “Now all you have to do to make this legal is sign the license,” Jacob said, examining their faces as if expecting one of them to refuse.

Ted signed and passed the pen to Elizabeth.

She wrote her name with a wobbly hand, then glanced at Lydia. “Could I bother you for a couple more cookies?”

“Why, of course.” Lydia giggled. “You have quite the appetite.”

A few minutes later, Ted ushered his new wife, clutching a fistful of cookies, into the sunshine. A cardinal chirped a greeting from the top branch of the ancient maple sheltering the lawn. His horses twitched their tails, chasing away flies. The sun still hung in the heavens.

Around him, nothing had changed. Yet in less than an hour, everything had.

A troubling truth struck Ted. He knew more about his livestock than about the woman he’d just married. But then she must feel the same disquiet about him.

One thing was obvious. Unlike Sally Rutgers, Elizabeth Manning had courage. Courage based on desperation, not on the desire for a family. What had driven his wife to switch places with his mail-order bride?

What was she hiding?

What other lies had she told?

Outside the parsonage, her new husband turned to Elizabeth, the chill in his steely gray-blue eyes raising goose bumps on her arms. “I’ve got to ask. Where are the clothes I bought?”

Elizabeth looked away. “With Sally.”

His mouth thinned. “When you said someone stole your trunk, you lied.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”

Suspicion clouded his eyes. “If you’re lying about anything else, I want to know it. Now.”

Elizabeth dropped her gaze. She did have one more lie, a three-and-a-half-foot, blue-eyed whopper.

But if she told Ted about Robby, about the real reason she’d run from Chicago and into this marriage of convenience, he’d march her into the preacher’s and demand an annulment. What would become of her brother then?

“I’m sorry I lied. But Sally’s clothes wouldn’t fit me.”

His gaze traveled over her, bringing a flush to her cheeks, and a rosy hue beneath his tan. “Reckon not.”

He helped her onto the wagon seat, then scrambled up beside her, released the brake and pulled back on the reins. “We’ll stop at the mercantile to pick up what you need.”

As they rode down the street, Elizabeth’s focus settled on the rumps of the horses. How long before she could bring Robby here?

How long before Ted lost patience with her inability to handle a household? Or care for his children? Her stomach lurched. What would happen then?

Well, she wouldn’t fail. Couldn’t fail. Too much depended on it.

She scrambled for a change of subject, a way to smooth the rough waters between them. “Pastor Sumner performed a lovely service.”

Ted gave a curt nod.

Wonderful. A husband of no words. Well, she knew how to fill the gap. “He didn’t seem like one of those hellfire-and-brimstone preachers.”

“Jacob can rise to the occasion if it’s warranted.”

Elizabeth cringed. Would she be the topic of his next sermon on deceit? She tamped down the thought. Perhaps she had a way to get him to open up. “Were you born here?”

“No.”

Talking to Ted was like pulling teeth with a fraying thread. “Then where?”

“St. Louis.”

“What made you leave?”

“No reason. Just looking for something, I guess.”

Elizabeth couldn’t imagine what he’d been looking for that had stopped him here.

One street comprised New Harmony’s downtown. A blacksmith stood at a forge in front of his shop, hammering a redhot horseshoe while a young woman prepared the steed’s hoof. A few doors down, a man wearing bib overalls entered the bank.

Two women stood talking outside Sorenson Mercantile, the younger bouncing a baby on her hip. Signs tacked to the fading exterior advertised a post office and seed store in the back. Make one stop and you’d be done for the day.

The door to a café stood open to catch the afternoon breeze. A barber’s red-and-white-striped pole caught her eye among the other nondescript buildings. Not much of a town compared to Chicago, compared to most anywhere.

Still, New Harmony provided more chance to socialize than being tethered to a farm. That might be Robby’s dream and she’d done all this to give it to him, but she dreaded life in the country. How would she survive for the next ten, twenty, goodness, forty years? Still, her situation could be worse. She could be wearing Reginald Parks’s ring.

Once she handled Ted’s household reasonably well, she’d have the courage to tell him about Robby. At the prospect of reuniting with her brother, her mood lifted, putting a smile on her face. Robby was the warmest, sweetest little boy. He never judged. Never manipulated. Never let her down.

In the meantime, maybe a neighbor would befriend her. Or were these people as shallow and unfeeling as her so-called friends in Chicago, once word got out about the Manning reversals?

Ted said he’d be kind to her, take care of her and give her all he possessed. But if she didn’t fulfill her end of the bargain to his satisfaction, would he forget all his fine words? Were Ted’s promises as meaningless as Papa’s?

She fingered the gold band encircling her finger. Like most young girls, she’d dreamed of her wedding day, marrying a man she adored, a man who cherished her in return. But her parents’ marriage had taught her that real life didn’t measure up to fantasy.

The wheels caught in a rut in the street, jostling the wagon. Clinging to the seat, Elizabeth glanced at her husband, the flesh-and-blood man sitting next to her. Firm jaw, solid neck, wide shoulders. Ted had called their union a business arrangement, a binding contract. No matter what she told herself, Ted Logan didn’t look like a line on anyone’s ledger.

At Sorenson’s Mercantile, he pulled back on the reins, set the brake, then jumped down and tied up at the hitching post. His long strides brought him to her side. He lifted her to the street, his hands strong yet gentle. If only she could trust Robby’s future to this man.

Up ahead a plumpish woman made a beeline toward them, the ribbons on her bonnet flapping in the breeze. “Hello, Ted. Who’s this?”

“Afternoon, Mrs. Van Wyld. This is Elizabeth, my wife.”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “Well, imagine that? I hadn’t heard about your marriage.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Call me Johanna.”

Obviously this woman kept up with the news. Still, her warm greeting brought a smile to Elizabeth’s face. “We just came from the ceremony.”