Angel Moore - Husband By Arrangement

“I’ll be quick.” She watched him button his jacket. “But you’re going to have to let me help. Tomorrow morning I’ll follow you around and learn the chores.”

He lifted the door latch. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it gets here.” He was out the door before she could respond.

The first part of the ride to town was silent. It wouldn’t do to arrive and face all the people they knew without having said a dozen words to each other.

“If you want to drop me off at my father’s house, I can pack this morning while you work.” She held her best reticule in her lap. The navy velvet fabric and black-trimmed bag felt fancy compared to her mood. She’d worn her Sunday best for the wedding. The reticule had completed her outfit, and she hadn’t thought to pack another one in her valise.

“Do you have a trunk?” Scott kept his eyes on the road.

“My mother’s. It should hold everything. I don’t have much. My clothes and sewing.” She bit her bottom lip. She wouldn’t tell him about the items she’d hidden in the bottom of the trunk for years. Things she thought a bride would need when she married. A fancy frame for a wedding photograph. A lace runner for the dresser she’d hoped to have in the room she’d share with the husband she’d dreamed of as a girl.

Eugene had turned that dream into a nightmare. The fancy things she’d collected had lost the joy she’d known when she’d bought them.

She would still bring them, but there was nothing in that trunk to turn this marriage into a happy event. No trinket or keepsake could polish the tarnish off her circumstances. Today she was married, but her problems were far from over.

Scott’s reply dragged her back to the moment at hand. “Good. I’ll leave you to it then. When you finish, come to my office. We’ll have lunch at the hotel before we go to the mercantile and purchase the things you’ll need for the house. Or, if you’d rather, you can give me a list. I’ll drop it off, and Mrs. Busby can gather everything up for you.”

“That’s probably for the best. It would save us time.” She twisted her gloved hands together. “We don’t have to go to lunch. I can make something at Papa’s or after we get home.”

He glanced at her. “What kind of husband would the folks of Gran Colina think me if I didn’t treat you to a nice meal after our wedding? We didn’t have time yesterday, but today they’ll be expecting me to treat you.”

“So you are thinking about how people are going to react to us.”

“I am. And so should you be. You’re going to have to talk to Charlotte. She’s not the kind to let you up and get married without giving her all the details.”

Rena gasped. “Oh no. I hadn’t thought of that. Giddiness and giggles will be on her mind.” She shook her head. “I won’t be able to do that.”

“I suggest you tell her that a married lady doesn’t discuss the things of marriage with anyone other than her husband. She’s mature enough to accept that.”

“She’s going to have questions. Lots of questions about when we started courting and why we didn’t tell anyone.”

“Hmm. It seems you’re going to have to be the most convincing. Men aren’t likely to ask me that sort of thing.” He squinted against the morning sun. “Tell her I’m not the kind to talk about such things. That I’m real private about matters of the heart.” He frowned.

Rena imagined there was more truth to his suggestion than he’d be willing to admit. After Louise’s marriage to Thomas Freeman, he hadn’t courted anyone that she knew of. Surely Louise’s betrayal had wounded him. “Thank you. That’s just the type of answer to keep her from pressing me.”

Scott slowed the wagon to cross the railroad tracks and headed through the center of town. The stationmaster lifted a hand as they drove by. “Morning, Sheriff. Mrs. Braden. Must say I’m a bit surprised to see the two of you back in town so soon after your wedding.”

Rena sensed Scott stiffen on the seat beside her. He nodded and answered, “Good morning.”

“Oh my. I think we’re going to be the object of more attention than I realized.” She straightened her back and held on to the rail on the side of the seat.

“Yes. Not much more interesting has happened in town in recent weeks.”

In the center of town, he steered the wagon to the right. One more left turn would find them at her father’s house. The home where she’d grown up with her father and mother.

How she wished her mother had been here to advise her. Her death had left Rena and Papa with memories of a wonderful woman and no one to guide Rena through her years of becoming a young lady. If her mother had lived, she felt certain she wouldn’t be in this situation. Momma would have known she was sneaking around with Eugene. Just like she’d known when Rena had broken the sugar bowl that had been in their family for two generations.

Momma had known so many things without being told. Could Rena ever hope to be that kind of mother? Doubt filled her again.

Scott stopped in front of the yellow clapboard house. He bounded to the ground and came to help her down. It was so uncomfortable. Living in town had meant she could walk almost everywhere she went. Climbing in and out of a wagon with a man’s assistance was something she’d have to get used to. Knowing the man was her husband caused a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Do you want to come inside and speak to Papa?” She turned to walk through the front gate of the low picket fence that separated the small yard from the dirt street.

“I’ll come in long enough for you to make your list.”

They entered the house and found her father in his study. The large desk he sat behind was one of Rena’s favorite pieces of furniture. She loved how Papa looked behind it. As a girl, she’d always thought him the most important man in town.

Knowing what he’d done yesterday to protect her reputation and the town’s future proved she was right.

“Good morning, Scott.” Papa rose to shake hands with Scott. He turned to Rena. “Hello, Rena.” The way he lowered his tone when he greeted her told of his ongoing sadness.

The sting of her heart was fresh. Never had he been cool or reserved with her. How she hated the pain she’d brought to him. The fracture of their relationship was her fault. And she found it unbearable. He’d been so pleased when she’d started attending services with him again. How she hated the disappointment he must feel at realizing how desperate her need for God was.

“I’ve come to get my things.”

Papa nodded but didn’t speak.

Scott had his hat in his hand. “Oscar, I’d like to speak to you about a matter of town business if you have a few minutes.”

“Certainly.” Papa returned to his chair.

Rena looked at the two of them. Scott lowered his tall frame into a wooden chair opposite her father. They settled in for a conversation as they had done many times over the last couple of years. The likelihood of her being the topic of today’s business was undeniable. “I’m going into the kitchen to make that list, Scott.”

“Fine. I’ll be here when you’ve finished.” He didn’t even turn to look at her. As she closed the door, he said, “I think there are some things we can do that will help—” The heavy door kept her from hearing anything else he said.

At the table in the kitchen, she made a list of all she could imagine she’d need for a week of cooking and cleaning. It took longer than she imagined. She racked her brain for things she remembered Scott commenting on that she’d cooked in the past. Those items went on the top of the list.

She was almost done when she heard the door to the study open.