Renee Ryan - Mistaken Bride

Who? she wondered.

Without breaking stride, Bridget tossed a jaunty wave at the widow Mrs. Fitzwilliam, who had befriended the Murphy sisters on the journey. With her was her attendant Stillman and the three McCorkle brothers Mrs. Fitzwilliam had taken in as her wards. Good-hearted, gracious souls, getting to know them all had been a real blessing. Already running late, Bridget did not stop to speak to them.

Then again…

She’d already fallen behind. What would be the harm in saying one more goodbye to her new friend and those darling boys?

Just as she changed direction, a throng of passengers surged from behind, shoving her back on course at an even greater speed. She would have to catch up with Mrs. Fitzwilliam and the boys later.

Nearing her destination, Bridget wrenched free of the crowd and slid into another small, unoccupied spot along the ship’s railing. At the precise location she’d been told.

Nora was nowhere in sight.

More relieved than annoyed, Bridget took a deep, steadying breath. And promptly wrinkled her nose in chagrin.

Throughout the month-long journey across the Atlantic, she had created vivid pictures of America in her mind. She had not accounted for the smell.

She raised a gloved hand to her mouth. One moment passed. Two. On the third she drew in another tentative gulp of air. Her eyes immediately filled with water. The stench was truly, truly awful. A mixture of rotting fish, animal sweat, burnt tar and something else entirely—garbage, perhaps?

Another jostle from behind and Nora wiggled in beside her.

“There you are,” Nora said, familiar frustration in her tone. “You weren’t here earlier.”

Bridget ignored the gentle reprimand and smiled at her sister. She, too, wore her new dress, a gift from fellow passengers Ardeen Nolan and her aunt, Mrs. Kennedy. “Don’t fuss, Nora. I only just arrived.”

“Well, that explains it, then.”

With her dark chestnut hair parted in the middle and contained in a tight bun, Nora should look severe. Instead, she positively glowed. Perhaps it was the vivid blue of her new gown. Or the paisley shawl. Or perhaps Nora glowed for an entirely different reason.

They had arrived safely in America and had added a new member to their small family.

Smiling, Bridget lowered her gaze to the squirming infant clutched possessively in her sister’s arms. “I see no one has come forward to claim baby Grace.”

Nora’s pretty blue eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Not a single person.”

Bridget bit her lip to keep from stating the obvious—that Grace had likely been left behind for good. She’d suggested it before, but Nora refused to believe it. Sometimes Nora was the wisest person she knew, and sometimes surprisingly naive. Baby Grace had been abandoned days after her birth. Nora had found her shortly after the start of their journey, and had cared for her ever since.

“I suppose she’ll have to make do with us for the time being.” And Bridget wasn’t completely sorry for it, either. The baby had become a part of both their lives, Nora’s more than hers, even if only on a temporary basis. Grace wasn’t really theirs, no matter how much they wished it to be so, but for now, they were all she had.

Nora looked out in the distance, her eyes taking on a troubled look. “I’m sure there’s been a mistake.” She lowered her gaze to the child in her arms. “Who could abandon such a precious little girl?”

Who, indeed?

In Bridget’s estimation anyone who walked away from their own baby didn’t know the first thing about love. Every child deserved to be loved. Even the difficult ones.

Familiar stirrings of regret filled her. She had so wanted to turn all three Atwater girls into friends, as much as charges. She’d almost succeeded. With a little more time…

She was doing it again. Trying to change the unchangeable.

“We’ll have to report her situation to the American authorities as soon as possible,” Nora said only halfheartedly.

It was, of course, the right thing to do.

Though Grace’s mother had left her behind, there may well be other family with a claim.

“I suppose we must.” Bridget reached out and touched the baby’s flawless cheek. Large blue eyes stared back at her. “She’s really quite beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect.”

Bridget couldn’t argue with that bit of truth. All children were a gift straight from the Lord. One day Bridget wanted at least five tiny blessings for herself.

A space opened up along the gangplank and she started forward, then stopped and looked back at Nora. “Are we to meet Maeve here or on the docks below?”

“Below,” she said. “Flynn had a few last-minute details he needed to address before he could leave the ship. Maeve chose to stay behind with him.”

Of course she had. Bridget’s younger sister adored her new husband, as did they all. The ship’s doctor was now a part of their family. Best of all, Maeve’s shipboard romance had restored Bridget’s faith in the possibility of finding love again for herself.

Love. Romance. Marriage.

Were they still possible for her at the age of four and twenty? Had she missed her chance when Daniel had decided he didn’t want to marry her?

She ignored the pang in her heart and reminded herself anything was possible with God. Despite the thirteen years between their ages, Flynn Gallagher was a perfect match for Maeve. Their union was a blessing and a testimony to the power of love.

Finished feeling sorry for herself, Bridget tossed her shoulders back and stepped away from the railing. “Right, then. Here we go.”

Without looking back, she moved onto the gangplank. For once Nora allowed her to take the lead.

All the planning, prayer and gathering of meager funds had brought them to this glorious day. The moment Bridget’s feet touched the wooden dock, her legs wobbled beneath her and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Nora, we’re finally in America. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Breathtaking.” Nora made a face. “As long as you cover your nose.”

Bridget waved a dismissive hand. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her. Not even the awful smells. Besides, Boston wasn’t their final destination. Once they gathered their few belongings, Flynn would hire a carriage to take them to the small town of Faith Glen.

Faith Glen. The name had a nice Irish ring to it.

Heart slamming against her ribs, Bridget turned in a slow circle. She wavered a bit, not yet used to the feel of the docks beneath her. There were so many sights to take in, so much noise to filter through her mind. The shouts and laughter mingled together from every corner of the wharf.

A stiff breeze kicked up, tugging several tendrils free from their pins. Bridget shoved at her loose hair, which was quickly becoming an untidy mess. It seemed the wind always won the battle against her best efforts to tame her unruly curls.

She waved at her new friends, Ardeen and her aunt. They returned the gesture but didn’t approach, too intent on finding their luggage. The two had been so kind to Bridget and her sisters. Ardeen wasn’t particularly young, but was attractive and fashionable. Mrs. Kennedy was shorter and a little fuller figured. Both were single and appeared out of their depth amidst the chaos on the wharf. Bridget should help.

“Watch yourself,” came a shout from behind her.

With only seconds to spare Bridget dashed out of the way of a cart careening by. Undaunted by the near-miss, she cut a glance to the other end of the wharf but couldn’t find Ardeen and Mrs. Kennedy.

People of every age, size and station milled about. Caught up in the excitement, Bridget gravitated to a location out of the main thoroughfare. All she wanted to do was watch, listen and learn the many secrets of her new homeland.