A Bride of Convenience

by Jody Hedlund

  Once Violet finished, Zoe tickled and kissed the infant with such love that Abe concluded Zoe would make a good mother and should have many more children. The thought was unsettling. Although he’d believed he’d have children of his own one day, he certainly didn’t want to have any now while he was in British Columbia. Especially not after Bishop Hills had expressed concerns about marriage and children distracting from his work.

  Abe had guaranteed the bishop that his new family wouldn’t interfere with his duties, and now he needed to prove that. All the more reason to keep his relationship with Zoe platonic. In fact, with two years left in the colonies, the slower they moved physically, the better.

  The baby soon fell asleep, and not long after, Zoe began yawning. While he wanted to go on talking with her and enjoying the camaraderie, he finally stood and made an excuse for leaving the cabin to give her privacy to attend to her personal needs.

  He went next door and visited with Little Joe, his neighbor, fielding questions about his marriage and black eye before returning to the cabin. At the sight of the darkened window, he let himself in as soundlessly as possible and was thankful to find Zoe in bed with Violet and that he didn’t need to have an embarrassing conversation about their sleeping arrangements.

  Using his only extra blanket, he lowered himself to the floor in front of the stove. Though the planks were cold and a draft crept under the door and across the floor, all he could think about was Zoe, the image of her face as she’d teased him about his books, and how much he’d enjoyed her company tonight.

  For the first time since he’d gotten the letter from Lizzy, the pain in his heart didn’t throb quite so hard.

  fifteen

  With daylight finally peeking in the cabin’s window, Zoe draped the coverlet over Abe and then stepped back to watch him sleep. He’d sprawled out as best he could in the tight confines next to the stove. No doubt he’d wake up cold and stiff. The cabin floor was no place to sleep.

  All the same, she had to admit she’d been relieved when he hadn’t joined her in the bed last night. After sleeping with him in his cabin in Victoria, she’d been sure he’d climb in beside her, and she’d positioned Violet as a barrier.

  As it turned out, the barrier had been as needless as her anxiety. For some reason, he’d decided not to share the comfort and warmth of the bed. Had his first night sleeping beside her been so terrible that he’d rather endure the discomforts of the floor than face her?

  By the light of day, his expression was peaceful in slumber, his hair messy, the shadows on his face dark with unshaven stubble, which made him all the more ruggedly handsome. Not for the first time, guilt prodded her to wake him and invite him onto the bed, especially now that she and Violet were awake.

  Neither Violet’s crying nor baby noises had roused him in the night or even now, which Zoe supposed was a good thing. She didn’t want him growing irritated at Violet like the women at the Marine Barracks and regretting his marriage to her even more than he already did.

  With a final hesitant look at his sleeping form, she decided against disturbing him even though she’d already finished dressing and grooming herself. She tiptoed instead to the bookshelf that took up the last of the wall space next to the table. Abe had placed a stack of books on the top shelf, but not before she’d glimpsed a portrait there.

  Shifting the pile carefully, she located the gilded oval frame about the size of her hand, large enough to have special meaning and hold someone dear to Abe. She glanced at Abe again before lifting the frame and crossing to the window. She pushed aside the flimsy material and held the picture up into the daylight.

  A young woman stared out of the frame. Poised on the edge of a chair, she was stiff and unsmiling. And yet she had an elegance and gentleness to her bearing. Her stylish clothing, the brooch at her neck, the dainty earrings, and the pearl circlet in her hair spoke of wealth and refinement.

  Was this Lizzy? The woman Abe loved? The one he’d hoped to marry but who had rejected him?

  Zoe felt a prick in her chest. Surely she wasn’t envious of this woman, not now that Lizzy was married to someone else and Abe was securely hers.

  She studied the daguerreotype. Lizzy was rather plain, not at all the beauty Zoe would have expected for a handsome man like Abe. If Lizzy wasn’t pretty, then what about her had attracted Abe? Maybe she had all the qualities that made for a good minister’s wife, all the qualities Zoe lacked. She certainly wouldn’t have made her husband sleep on the cold floor her first night in their home. Most likely she would have welcomed him into the marriage bed with open arms.

  At a rustling and groaning behind her, Zoe let the window covering fall into place and hastily returned the picture to the bookshelf, sliding the stack of books in front of the frame once more. She guessed Abe hadn’t hid the picture from her purposefully. He probably hadn’t given a second thought to where he was piling his clutter.

  Nevertheless, she didn’t want Lizzy’s picture sitting out. Did she dare attempt to stow it somewhere where neither of them would stumble across it?

  Moaning again, Abe sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. As the cover fell away, she was relieved to discover he was fully dressed, unlike the other morning. In fact, from all appearances, he’d slept in his clothing from yesterday, including his coat.

  Her relief was rapidly replaced with guilt. She was selfish. There was no other word to describe her. “This is your home,” she blurted, “and if anyone should be sleeping on the floor, it should be me.”

  He sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders as though working out the aches. “No, Zoe. This is our home now—”

  “I can’t be sleeping on the bed while you’re on the floor.”

  “I want you to have the bed.” His voice turned softer with obvious embarrassment. “And Violet should sleep with you, at least until we’re able to get a cradle for her.”

  “It’s not fair to you—”

  “I have to add fuel to the stove at night. Besides, I’m a sound sleeper.” But even as he stretched his legs, he grimaced.

  “It’s not right for me to come in here and make life more difficult for you.”

  “Really, Zoe, it’s no trouble.”

  She wanted to tell him there was enough room for both of them in the bed. But she couldn’t make herself say the words. Instead, she silently vowed to show him that he hadn’t made a mistake in marrying her and prove to him that he could be happy with her after all.

  Allard’s General Store was crammed full of every item a person could ever need in a dozen lifetimes. Zoe could only wander among the overflowing shelves and stare in wonder. Household items, ready-made clothing and shoes, penny candy, canned food, canvas for tents, lantern oil, and items Zoe couldn’t name.

  While she browsed with Violet, Abe talked with Mr. Allard, the store owner, a shaggy-looking fellow with long hair and an even longer beard. The conversation was nearly identical to the one Abe had with every other person they’d met on the walk to the store. After sizing Zoe up, each man had slapped Abe on the back, teased him, or offered ribald comments that made Abe’s ears turn red. ’Course, they’d also wanted to hear all about his bruised face.

  Abe had taken the time to speak with every person and had politely introduced her as “Mrs. Merivale.” The walk to the store had taken so long, Zoe wasn’t sure they’d ever reach it. At least she’d had plenty of time to take in the town of Yale by daylight. It was nestled against the foothills of the Cascade Mountains to the east and the Coast Mountains to the west. The view of the high rising peaks all around, with snow covering the jagged rocky areas above the tree line, was breathtaking. Winding through the valley, the Fraser River was broad with tree-covered sandbars in the middle. The water rushed a thick brown from all the rain and runoff.

  The town itself was nothing fancy. And the streets were soggy with mud, just as they had been last night. Many of the houses and businesses had been built atop risers to avoid the mud. Thankfully, plank sidewalks lined th
e sides of the streets so that they could escape being splattered by the horses and wagons rumbling past.

  She wasn’t surprised by the lack of women about town. She supposed that was why the bride ships had come to the colonies in the first place. As she and Abe passed by a native woman attired in a plain English gown, Zoe had held Violet a little closer, not wanting the woman to notice the babe or question Zoe’s right to have her. But she needn’t have worried, because the young woman kept her head and gaze down, not making eye contact with anyone.

  Upon reaching the general store, Abe had ushered Zoe inside and had told her she could buy whatever she wanted or needed. But what kinds of items did he expect her to pick out? She’d never had a chance to shop in Victoria’s stores and had only ever visited the slum shop in her Manchester neighborhood back in England.

  Pausing in front of a shelf full of bolts of material in all colors and patterns, she fingered a particularly pretty light blue calico with white polka dots. Could she attempt to make new curtains in place of what was there? She’d learned to sew at school, but only practical things like clothing. Certainly, curtains for her home wouldn’t require much more skill.

  With mounting anticipation, she trailed her hand over the thread, a pincushion, and a packet of needles. Could she make a new coverlet for the bed? Or maybe use scraps of material to braid a rug?

  “I’ve already asked Mr. Allard to add another blanket to my tab.” Abe approached, his large frame dwarfing her in the narrow aisle. “Are you finding what you want?”

  “Yes.” She yanked her hand away from the material and shifted Violet to a more comfortable position in her arms. “I mean no. I don’t know what you want.”

  “I want you to pick out what you want. As you’ve already seen, my home is woefully inadequate, other than a few essentials.”

  She didn’t want to admit that her family had only ever had the essentials too, that his home was already better than any she’d had. Clearly he assumed she’d want more. And clearly he wanted more too, perhaps hoped she’d create the kind of home he was accustomed to in England, the kind of home Lizzy would have made for him.

  What exactly would that entail?

  He reached for the bolt of material she’d been touching. “If you need new clothing, perhaps we can find a tailor—”

  “Do you think I need new clothing?” Was he embarrassed by her garments? The few skirts and shirts she owned were plain and well worn, except for the items Mrs. Moresby had provided, which had been donated by Victoria’s wealthy women. Maybe a minister’s wife needed to wear nicer outfits. “If so, I can make my own. I know how.”

  “No. No need. I mean yes—you may if you want.” He dropped his hands from the material and stuffed them into his pockets. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but then closed it.

  She waited, suddenly painfully aware of their different backgrounds.

  “If you ask me,” Mr. Allard said, heading their way and waving at the shelf of sewing supplies, “I’d say Mrs. Merivale needs to have a variety of material for clothing as well as for making all the practicalities womenfolk like in the home—tablecloths, doilies, chair pillows, basket covers, afghans, quilts, and even samplers.”

  With each item Mr. Allard rattled off, Abe’s eyes grew wider. “I had no idea. But you’re entirely correct.”

  Zoe had no idea either. What were doilies and basket covers? And chair pillows? Why would anyone ever need a chair pillow?

  Mr. Allard’s smile was smooth and practiced. “If you’d like, I can assist Mrs. Merivale as she browses and make sure she gets everything she needs.”

  “Would you?” The relief on Abe’s face made Zoe want to smile.

  “Of course. I’ve been running general stores for most of my life and have a sixth sense about women’s needs.”

  Zoe suspected the store owner had a sixth sense for helping women spend their husbands’ hard-earned money. All the same, she couldn’t turn down his assistance.

  “Thank you, Mr. Allard.” Abe took a step back but in his haste bumped a shelf. A pile of ready-made clothing items wobbled. As they toppled, Abe moved with exceptional speed, grabbing the clothing that was falling and propping the rest up with his shoulder.

  “Please forgive me for my clumsiness.”

  “Not to worry, Reverend. Not to worry at all.”

  For a moment, Abe worked to steady the pile still left on the shelf. Then he held out the remaining pieces he’d kept from hitting the mud-caked floor. “I do apologize for making a mess.”

  Mr. Allard hesitated and then lifted his hand to cover a fit of sudden coughing.

  Only then did Zoe realize Abe was holding a lacy corset along with a silky pair of women’s underdrawers. It was her turn to cover her mouth to contain her laughter.

  Abe’s brows shot up, but as his gaze dropped to the items in his hands, he thrust the undergarments out farther, dangling them from the tips of his fingers as though they might explode at any second. “Lord have mercy.”

  “I’d be happy to set those aside for Mrs. Merivale,” Mr. Allard said, finishing his cough and grinning.

  “Well, if she has a need for the unmentionables . . .” Abe’s voice squeaked on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “That is, if she’d like them . . .”

  “Mrs. Merivale, would you like the pretty corset and drawers your husband has so kindly picked out for you?”

  “I didn’t pick them out.” The tips of Abe’s ears were turning red. “They fell, and I just happened upon them.”

  “Of course, Reverend. Of course.” Somehow Mr. Allard managed to wipe the grin from his face and don a serious expression. But he couldn’t hide the mirth in his eyes as he addressed Zoe again. “Mrs. Merivale, would you like the pretty corset and drawers that just happened to end up in your husband’s hands?”

  She couldn’t keep from teasing Abe further. “He’s so considerate. But I have other more urgent needs today.”

  Mr. Allard took the drawers from Abe and began folding them slowly and meticulously, making Abe dangle the corset a little longer. “Not to worry. The reverend can come back and browse through the undergarments anytime.”

  Zoe laughed, then cupped a hand over her mouth.

  Finally Abe smiled. Just as soon as Mr. Allard relieved him of the corset, he practically ran out of the aisle and retreated to the counter, where he didn’t budge the rest of the time they were in the store.

  sixteen

  Zoe stirred the bubbling soup, the waft of onions, carrots, cabbage, and beef making her stomach growl. With a rag cloth, she moved the pot to the warmer, scooped a scant amount onto the wooden spoon, then blew on the steaming broth before taking a taste.

  As she turned, a face outside pressed against the window, making her jump and yelp at the same moment. Seeing her reaction, the person backed away, but not before she recognized the young boy, one she’d noticed earlier when she’d gone to the well. He’d been hiding in the brush near the privy, as ragged and skinny as a street urchin. He’d stared at Zoe then with as much fascination as now, almost as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  “Wait!” She dashed to the door and threw it open. The daylight was fading fast, and darkness was bringing a chill that seemed colder than earlier.

  She’d taken the faded piece of calico down from the window after returning from the store earlier in the day. And she’d spent part of the afternoon cutting and hemming new curtains from the material Abe had purchased for her. Though she’d hoped to have them finished by nightfall, she’d run out of time between tending Violet and making dinner. She’d have to put the old fabric up in the window again for another night, especially since they’d had a steady parade of visitors throughout the day who thought nothing of privacy or coming inside without knocking.

  Abe hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, after they’d returned from the store, he’d left the door wide open, as if to let people know he was home and available. When the cold had become too much, Zoe sa
id so, and Abe had apologetically closed the door and kept it that way the rest of the afternoon. That apparently hadn’t stopped the entire town from swinging by to see the reverend, his black eye, and his new wife.

  When Abe had left to visit several of his homebound parishioners, more fellas poked their heads inside. But without Abe around to talk to, none of them had lingered.

  “Stop!” she called after the boy as he scampered away.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder but darted faster, like one of the hares she’d seen on their trudge back up the hill after shopping.

  She stepped onto the muddy stoop, debating whether to chase after him but knowing she couldn’t leave Violet alone. She did the only thing she knew to do—offer him food. “Would you like some soup?”

  His steps halted.

  “And biscuits.” She added to the temptation. “With butter.”

  Slowly, he turned to face her. His hair hung unkempt over a freckled face, and curious brown eyes regarded her through the strands. He wore trousers he’d long outgrown that showed the bare skin of his calves and the dilapidated condition of his boots.

  Though he was thin, almost scrawny, she guessed his age to be ten, maybe twelve. He carried himself with a sense of wary experience that told her he’d been making his own way for a while now. She’d seen many boys like him back in Manchester, orphans who’d been forced too young to survive on the streets.

  “Come on with you.” She beckoned him with the wooden spoon. “You can warm yourself and fill your belly.”

  “Can’t pay you none.” He remained frozen in place, clearly wanting to take her offer, but ready to bolt all the same.

  “The only payment I require is that you lick the bowl clean. Can you do that?”