by Jody Hedlund
“Thank you, John.”
John turned to her with his warm smile. “May God bless you too, Mrs. Merivale.”
Mrs. Merivale. She was Mrs. Merivale. How strange.
“You have for yourself a very fine husband in Abraham,” John continued. “No woman could ask for a better man.”
“Apparently Lizzy could,” Pastor Abe murmured.
John’s smile faltered. “Ah well. ’Tis her loss entirely and Mrs. Merivale’s gain.”
The cathedral bell began to ring the top of the hour. Dexter Dawson was due at any moment. What would he say—or do—when he discovered she’d married someone else in his stead? Though she’d only encountered Dexter on a couple of occasions, she suspected he was the type of man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted and wouldn’t take kindly to her rejection.
“I best be going,” she said. “I don’t want to be away from Violet for too long.”
“Certainly,” Pastor Abe replied. “I shall walk with you to the Marine Barracks.”
And then what? She didn’t voice her question aloud. Though she was bold, she wasn’t quite so brazen.
The men spoke a few words of good-bye before Pastor Abe led the way toward the same side door that John had entered through. As they exited, she didn’t see Dexter anywhere, but she hastened her stride anyway and kept her head down.
“You’re in quite the hurry to return to Violet.” Pastor Abe easily kept pace with her.
“Aye. The women were nice enough to watch over her. But she gets fussy easily and can try the patience of a saint.”
Ahead, a raucous group turned onto the street, their laughter ringing out. The heavy darkness of the evening shrouded them, and the light from the sporadic streetlamps didn’t illuminate anything well enough for Zoe to identify them. But just in case Dexter Dawson was among them, she veered off the plank sidewalk into the muddy street and crossed to the other side.
Pastor Abe followed, and she was thankful when he didn’t attempt any more conversation. When they reached the front gate of the government complex, she stopped and hesitated.
He shifted and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I shall go in with you and help you collect your belongings.”
“I don’t have much.” What would the other women say when they learned she was married? She hadn’t told anyone except for Mrs. Moresby of her plans.
“You’ll have Violet and her things.”
“She doesn’t have much either.” But with all the donations Mrs. Moresby had collected, Violet had a fair share more than Zoe did.
“Nevertheless, Miss Hart, I’d like to help.”
She wasn’t Miss Hart anymore. Everything in her life had changed in an instant when she’d spoken her wedding vows—including her name.
As if realizing the same, he shifted again and looked everywhere but at her.
“You can call me Zoe,” she offered softly.
“Very well . . . Zoe.” As he spoke, his gaze collided with hers. Bright light from the front windows of the government building cast a glow, turning his eyes a warm, innocent blue. He didn’t hold her gaze long before dropping it shyly. “You can address me as Abe.”
“Not Abraham?” she teased.
“If you prefer.”
“I like either one.”
“Then you can choose.” He toed a stone in the path until he knocked it loose.
Was he hesitant about having her lodge with him tonight? Where did he live while he was in Victoria? Maybe he didn’t have space for her and Violet. Perhaps they could avoid the whole awkward wedding night scenario if she stayed at the Marine Barracks until he was ready to leave Victoria and return to the mountains.
“I realize the wedding came up at the last minute and that you might not be prepared for me and Violet to stay with you. We can remain at the Marine Barracks awhile longer if you want.”
His arms were stiff with his hands still bunched in his pockets. “I have a place I stay whenever I’m in Victoria—one of the cabins on the bishop’s property. He makes them available to the traveling preachers whenever we’re in town.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “There’s plenty of room.”
She waited for him to glance up and reassure her. But he remained silent, his focus on the rock he was pushing around.
“Violet might keep you awake—”
“I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Zoe.”
She liked the way he said her name, delicately and earnestly. And when he lifted his gaze again, she liked the kindness in his eyes.
“You’re my wife now. I plan to take care of you and Violet.”
His words sent warmth spiraling through her. How long had it been since anyone had taken care of her? Certainly not since Zeke had left. Maybe even before that.
“Thank you, Abe.”
He nodded, his lips rising with the beginning of a smile, almost as if he were pleased at her use of his given name. “Shall we go collect Violet?”
“Aye.”
He opened the gate and ushered her through. As they followed the path around the main government building to a center courtyard, her steps were much slower now. She couldn’t keep from noticing that once again he matched her pace, and she was all too aware of him beside her, especially his strong, towering height, the thickness of his arms, and the broadness of his chest.
“Did you have the chance to speak with Herman before he died?” she asked, needing to focus on something besides him.
“No. Unfortunately. I wasn’t able to locate him in time.”
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to.”
He stopped, his head dropping in a posture of defeat. “I should have done more.”
His self-censure took her by surprise. She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “Don’t you be saying that. You did everything you could—more than anyone else. The truth was, Herman didn’t want you to find him, and there was nothing to be done about it.”
“I could have visited him more, and maybe I would have learned of Rose’s death and his grief sooner.” Abe’s dejection again surprised Zoe. She hadn’t realized pastors got discouraged or had regrets.
“I’m guessing his wife’s death wasn’t the first time Herman drowned his problems with drinking.”
“No. But I could have prayed for him more fervently.”
She lifted a hand to Abe’s cheek and forced his head up. The pain in his eyes radiated into Zoe so that her chest expanded with compassion for this generous man who clearly cared about the people he met. “You couldn’t help him, not when he didn’t want it. But you’ve been given the opportunity to help his daughter.”
He studied her face, the light from windows of the Marine Barracks illuminating the grassy yard where they stood. “You’re right. I can’t squander the chance to do for Violet what I couldn’t do for her father.”
She smiled her approval of his decision.
His return smile was easy and genuine—and very fine looking. She was suddenly conscious of the slight scruff on his cheek beneath her hand as well as the strength in his jaw along with the fact that he was her husband and she’d be living with him from now on.
Her heartbeat gave a strange lurch. She wasn’t actually looking forward to living with him, was she? She dropped her hand and took a step back. “I guess we should get on inside.”
As they moved up the stairs and he held open the door, she didn’t allow herself to look at him again. Instead, she mentally chastised herself to remember she didn’t want to care too deeply about a husband. Her heart ached too much already, and she didn’t want to allow herself to love again only to lose.
No, she was a bride of convenience. And she planned to remain that way.
nine
Zoe stood in the open doorway of the dark cabin and waited as Abe rummaged inside. Violet rested contentedly in her arms, having fallen asleep almost t
he moment Zoe gathered her up after returning to the Marine Barracks.
Apparently Violet had cried inconsolably the entire time Zoe had been away. With Mrs. Moresby having gone home, the other bride-ship women had been near to crying with frustration themselves when Zoe had reclaimed the babe. None of them had been disappointed to hear Violet was leaving. And while they’d been surprised to learn of Zoe’s marriage, especially to a reverend, they’d hugged her and wished her well, obviously relieved she was taking the babe away.
All the more reason Zoe knew she’d done the right thing in getting married.
At a thud within the cottage followed by Abe’s grunt, Zoe squinted at his outline. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just bumped my head.”
Zoe glanced at the mansion across the yard. Even in the dark, she counted six chimneys and three elegant turrets. A tall iron fence surrounded the property, as did holly trees. A winding garden path led from the main house to the cabins and a number of other outbuildings, including a two-story barn.
When she’d voiced her astonishment that Bishop Hills lived in such a large place, Abe had explained that one of Victoria’s prominent families owned the home. They had returned to England and during their absence had given the bishop leave of their house.
Several windows on the ground level were lit, and she caught a glimpse of a woman. Bishop Hills’s wife or a maidservant?
The other two cabins nearby were dark like Abe’s. And so far, no one had come out to greet them or question why Abe had a woman and babe with him. She didn’t want to cause a scandal. And she certainly didn’t want anyone to assume she was a loose woman. But she guessed the rumors would fly until everyone learned they were married.
The scratch of a match was followed by the hiss of a flame, and an instant later, a lantern in the middle of the table glowed with amber light and brought the room to life. Abe hurried over to the double bed and yanked the coverlet up. Then he scooped up a shirt, socks, and even underdrawers from the floor. He wadded the garments and dumped them into an open wardrobe before shoving the door closed.
Though the cabin was only one room, it was bigger than she’d imagined.
“Sorry for the mess.” He crossed and picked up a mug and plate from the pedestal table next to a wingback chair, both positioned near a cast-iron hob, which took up the final corner.
A round table with two chairs stood near a medium-sized window that overlooked the garden and main house. She guessed by daylight the view was pretty, especially when the flowers and trees were in bloom.
“It’s a nice place.” She stepped farther into the cabin and closed the door behind her. Abe had deposited her bag along with Violet’s necessities in a haphazard heap near the table. She had pitifully few things and would be able to unpack everything in no time.
Abe swiped at the tabletop, brushing crumbs onto the floor. “I didn’t realize I’d have visitors or I would have taken the time to clean up.”
“Perhaps you need to be hiring a maid,” she teased.
“I have considered it.” He stepped over to the stove door, opened it, and stirred the coals. “Since I’m here so irregularly, I’ve opted instead to make use of the bishop’s offer of a maidservant from time to time. Perhaps I ought to utilize her more oft.”
“Perhaps,” she teased again.
“Then I shall make mention of it to Bishop Hills and ask if he can spare one of his maidservants for the duration of our time in Victoria.”
Was he jesting back? From the seriousness of his expression as he added another shovelful of coal into the oven, she guessed he had every intention of following through. Did he think she was incompetent? That she couldn’t take care of his home?
“Don’t you be worrying. I can manage just fine with cooking and cleaning.”
Crouched in front of the stove, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “You’ll be busy taking care of Violet.”
Was he already having second thoughts about marrying her? “With my mum working at the mill, I’ve been cooking and cleaning my whole life.”
He frowned before closing the stove door and standing. He dropped the shovel into a coal bucket with a clank, brushed his hands together, and then balled his fists deep in his pockets with his usual stiff arms. Something in his stance and in his eyes told her he was thinking about another time and another place and perhaps even another woman.
Lizzy? The woman who’d jilted him?
Zoe shifted Violet in her arms to reposition the babe’s weight even as she fought against the feeling that Abe regretted marrying her. “I can do it all, Abe. I vow it.”
“Forgive me.” His brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t capable. I only thought to ease your burdens with the assistance—”
“Would Lizzy want a maid?”
“Of course.”
’Course. Zoe should have guessed Lizzy was a gentlewoman. Which meant Abraham Merivale was a gentleman, born into a well-to-do family, where he was accustomed to having servants pick up his clothing, wash his dishes, and tidy his bed. Apparently he was making do without the help here in the colonies. But no doubt, his preference was to have maids, not only for himself but for his wife.
She should have realized he, as a reverend, was in a class above hers. He had the air of someone well educated and had impeccable manners. Yet, except for today, he’d always worn the same casual attire as the working-class men. And he’d always been humble, without any of the snobbery of the upper class. Even so, she should have known better.
He may have overlooked her background tonight in a noble effort to give Violet a home. But how would he feel once he had time to fully comprehend what he’d done?
She shuddered and hugged Violet closer.
“I’m sorry for the chill.” He gathered the coverlet from the bed and started toward her. “You and Violet can wrap up in this until the cabin is heated.”
She didn’t protest as he draped the blanket about her shoulders or when he guided her to the chair next to the stove. When she was situated with Violet, he stood awkwardly, glancing around the room as if unsure what to do with himself.
Should she offer him the cushioned wingback chair? It was his house, after all. She could easily sit in one of the simple wooden chairs at the table. However, she couldn’t imagine he’d want to linger and talk for too long. The hour wasn’t late, but surely he was eager to take her to bed.
Maybe if she didn’t make eye contact. . . . She focused on Violet’s sleeping face, her sweetly puckered lips, her dark lashes, her exquisite olive skin.
“Would you like something to eat or drink?” Abe asked, clanking the lid of the pot on a back burner. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”
“I can make it.” She started to rise. It wasn’t right for a man of his station to wait upon a woman like her, not even in marriage.
“Please.” He motioned for her to remain in the chair and offered her a warm smile. “I shall do it, or you might threaten to make me hold the baby.”
“Very true.” She laughed, the tension easing from her body. “You must learn to hold her eventually.”
“Oh, must I?” His voice hinted at laughter.
“Aye, and I’ll bet you’ll even like it.”
“What will you wager?”
“Wager?” She gave a mock gasp. “You’re scandalous, Pastor. I didn’t think reverends were allowed to wager.”
“I can be quite scandalous when I choose to be.” He flashed a grin before turning back to the tea canister he was in the process of opening.
She wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to, but it didn’t matter. His grin warmed her faster than any tea could.
Maybe the evening wouldn’t be so unbearable and awkward after all. Maybe she’d even enjoy it.
“You married the mill girl simply to challenge my decision regarding the infant,” the bishop said from his chair beside the fireplace. His dressing gown was tied shut across his bulging waist but only just barely covered his
knees, revealing a stretch of hairy legs and red swollen ankles above the washbasin where he was soaking his feet.
“That’s not true at all, Your Grace.” Abe focused on the glowing embers upon the hearth and wished he’d waited until morning to pay a visit to the bishop with news of his marriage. “I told you I did it because of my letter from Lizzy—Elizabeth. After learning of her nuptials to another, I realized I was free to support Zoe and the baby and felt it my Christian duty to do so.”
“I ought to send you back to England in disgrace,” the bishop said, as he had at least half a dozen times since Abe had entered his study an hour ago.
Abe had no doubt the bishop would follow through on the threat if he gave his superior any further cause for concern. “My parishioners will see it as an act of goodwill. It can only serve to open more doors of ministry.”
The bishop leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, his lips pursed, his features taut with exasperation. “Now not only will you have the distraction of the infant, but also a wife.”
“I guarantee my marriage will not interfere with my ability to focus on my ministry.” Abe tried to quell his inner debate on the very same issue.
“I pray you are correct, but I fear you will be wrong.” The bishop opened his eyes, giving Abe a rare glimpse of his turmoil. “You know I have left my wife and family behind for the duration of my time in the colonies in order to concentrate entirely on the task at hand. And you also know only single ministers were chosen for this work for that exact reason.”
Abe nodded. Yes, he and John and the other ministers were all single. But they were also all at prime marriageable ages. What difference would it make if they married now or waited until returning to England?
Bishop Hills had supported the bride-ship endeavors, claiming that the mining towns would benefit from the influence of good Christian women and that families were the foundation of a stable society. If only Abe could convince the bishop that his new family could function in that role. Perhaps he’d simply have to prove it.
“You may have attempted to have your way,” the bishop said testily. “But I shall not be thwarted. I shall give you until spring to return that infant to its people—”