A Bride of Convenience

by Jody Hedlund

  “Aye. That I can.”

  “Good.” She turned back into the house, leaving the door open, hoping he’d soon trail after her. As she approached the stove and removed the lid, she heard his slight footsteps at the stoop. She reached for one of the tin bowls she’d found among Abe’s odd assortment of cooking ware and began to ladle soup into it.

  When his footsteps moved inside the cabin, she nodded toward the table. “Go ahead. Have a seat.”

  In addition to starting on the curtains, she’d spent time organizing and cleaning so that the place was beginning to look and feel like home. The table and chairs were finally cleared and Abe’s books now neatly shelved—except for the stack that she’d left in front of Lizzy’s picture.

  “What’s your name?” she asked as she heard the chair scrape against the floor.

  “Will.”

  “I’m Zoe.”

  “And your baby?”

  She glanced at Violet napping in the middle of the bed, surrounded on all sides by pillows and blankets to keep her from rolling off. “Her name’s Violet.”

  “That’s sure pretty.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” As she placed the soup and biscuit in front of Will, she waited for him to ask more questions about Violet as most of the others had. Thankfully, Abe’s answer about Herman Cox’s death seemed to satisfy everyone. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was bound to tell her she had no right to the babe and to hand her over.

  Will stuffed the biscuit into his mouth. As fast as he chewed and swallowed, he couldn’t have had time to taste it. “You’re sure pretty too,” he said with his mouth still half-full.

  “Thank you—”

  “Never expected Pastor Abe to get himself a wife. Never figured him for the type.”

  “What type?”

  “The marryin’ type.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Cuz he don’t watch the Hurdy Gurdy girls like the other men.”

  Hurdy Gurdy girls? Zoe could only imagine what that was.

  “And he never stares at Wanda the way everyone else does. Never even seen him look at her.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “But I can see why he took a fancy to you, since you’re such a good cook and all.”

  Zoe smothered a smile. “Aye, I’m sure it’s my cooking.”

  Will slurped through his bowl of soup, telling Zoe everything she wanted to know—and then some—about Wanda Washington. Apparently the woman had come from San Francisco to Yale several years ago, working in the saloons as a madam. Since she was so pretty and popular, she’d earned numerous offers of marriage and had held out until the richest man in town had proposed. He’d died only a few months later in a steamboat accident, leaving her a fortune. Eventually, she’d married another rich man, Mr. Washington, who’d lived a mite longer, long enough for her to have a baby boy. Then he’d been shot and killed in a saloon brawl, leaving Wanda Washington even richer than before. Apparently she was a multimillionaire with more money than some of the richest gold miners.

  “Wanda’s got the biggest house in town,” Will said, finally slowing down with his second helping of soup and biscuit. “I ain’t never been inside, but heard it’s got dozens of rooms.”

  “And now she’s looking for a new husband?”

  “Acourse she’s lookin’. Wanda’s always lookin’.”

  Zoe frowned, but before she could pry further, Violet woke up crying. Will hopped up onto the bed and entertained Violet by playing peekaboo while Zoe got her bottle ready. Then he watched as she fed the infant, seeming in no hurry to leave, telling Zoe all about himself—how he’d been born in California, how his pa had brought him along when he’d come to Yale to mine gold, how his pa had gotten sick and died two winters ago, and how he’d been living above the livery ever since and working in the stables for Mr. Barton.

  From how independent Will was, she suspected he’d done more taking care of his pa than the other way around. In some ways the boy reminded her of Zeke, of how her brother had to grow up so quickly after their father had resorted to drinking and lost his mill job after being late too many times. Zeke had borne the weight of supporting their family, even after Zoe had taken over their mum’s position in the cardroom.

  If only Zeke hadn’t had to bear such a heavy weight. Maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten involved in the wrong crowd and in so much trouble. . . .

  When Abe ducked inside as Violet finished her meal, Will offered to hold the babe so Zoe could serve Abe dinner. She settled the two on the bed and dished up a bowl of soup and a biscuit for Abe. She was surprised when he insisted that she sit down and eat with him, waiting to start until she’d taken the chair across from him. Even then he offered up a short prayer before digging into his meal with gusto.

  She refilled Abe’s soup three times, cleaning out the pot. His compliments over the meal warmed her every bit as much as the flow of conversation and the kindness he extended toward Will. Abe never once questioned the boy’s presence in the house, accepting him there as if he belonged.

  Abe pushed his empty bowl away and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching his long legs under the table so that they almost bumped hers. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so fine a meal. Thank you, Zoe.”

  She reclined in her chair, satisfaction filling her more than the food. With darkness having fallen, the cabin glowed with lantern light and the stove’s warmth.

  “Sure is a good thing you got married, Pastor Abe,” Will remarked from where he sat cross-legged with Violet snuggled on his lap.

  “I cannot argue with you, Will.” Abe settled his gaze upon Zoe and smiled with such contentment her breath snagged.

  This. This was what it was like to have a family and a home. She had only a few memories of her own family together this way, when they’d been much younger, before Mum had delivered a stillborn babe and Father had turned to drinking to drown his sorrows.

  She’d never imagined she’d have this all so soon after arriving at the colonies. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of having and more.

  “I’m glad you chose Zoe and not Wanda,” Will continued. “Zoe’s sure a lot prettier. And nicer.”

  “I agree.” Abe’s gaze shifted to her cheek, to her ear, and then to her hair. His expression was as open and readable as always—filled with stark appreciation.

  Even so, a prick of envy plagued Zoe as it had on the steamship. “Wanda’s a fine-looking woman too. I’m sure any man would be happy to have her.”

  Abe’s attention dropped to the table, and he rearranged himself in his chair.

  More prickles lifted the fine hair on Zoe’s neck. Maybe Abe wasn’t as immune to Wanda’s charms as Will claimed. What if he’d had a relationship with her in the past? Maybe he’d visited her when she’d been a madam?

  She wanted to press him further, but at a knock at the door, Abe shot out of his chair. After opening the door and speaking with a man for several moments in low tones, Abe returned inside, grabbed his coat from where he’d tossed it over the end of the bed, and began to shrug into it.

  “There was an accident today up in the canyon,” he said gravely. “Several Royal Engineers were hurt in a collapse inside a tunnel they’re blasting, and they think one of the injured might not last the night.”

  “What can I do?” Zoe paused in her cleanup of their dinner. She wanted to be of help to Abe in his ministry but felt suddenly ignorant of her duties. What did a minister’s wife do in such situations? Surely she did something?

  “There’s nothing you can do right now.” Abe stuffed his Bible and Book of Common Prayer into a sack, along with a few clothing items. She picked up his hat from the bed, and when he’d finished packing his bag, she handed it to him. “I don’t know when I’ll be back—maybe tomorrow or the day after. If you need anything, though, don’t hesitate to ask Mr. Allard.”

  “I can help Zoe too.” Will settled Violet on th
e bed amid the pillows and blankets.

  “Thank you, Will.” Abe situated his hat on his head. “I’d appreciate it if you’d swing by once in a while to check on Zoe and Violet.”

  “That’ll be no trouble at all.”

  After Abe was gone and Will had left, Zoe hugged her arms to her chest and shivered against a chill that had crept into the cabin with the coming of night. The wind rattled the windowpane and the cedar roof shakes and whined down the stovepipe. With Violet asleep, the small cabin suddenly felt too dark and lonely.

  Even though she hadn’t been in Abe’s home for very long, one thing was becoming clear—she may have married Abe, but he was in some ways already married to his work and the people he served. He loved them deeply and was committed to them—perhaps even above her.

  That was to be expected, wasn’t it? She certainly couldn’t ask him to care more about her than his work, not when he hadn’t asked for or wanted their marriage. And she certainly couldn’t get upset at him for going away so soon after arriving in Yale.

  Maybe she’d had a glimpse of what having a home and a family again could be like. But that’s all it was—a glimpse. Not a reality. She had to remember she was only and always just a bride of convenience.

  seventeen

  At the sight of Wanda Washington exiting the general store with her little boy, Lyle, in tow, Zoe paused at the intersection of Main Street and the path that led up to the cabin. Clinging to a man’s arm, Wanda was laughing about something, her pretty painted lips alluring and the tilt of her head inviting. Wearing an opulent green gown and low-cut bodice, she had no trouble attracting the attention of the man at her side, and that of every man she passed by.

  For just an instant, Zoe wondered what it would be like to attract Abe’s attention that way. Maybe if she were alluring, Abe would want to stay at home more. Since the night of the Royal Engineer accident up in the canyon two weeks ago, he’d been gone most of the time, showing up at odd times and only staying for a short while. She was beginning to wonder if they were even married.

  But just as quickly as the thoughts came, she tossed them aside.

  Abe was busy doing God’s work, and she couldn’t interfere with that. Hadn’t she learned her lesson from when she’d interfered with Zeke and his work? Look at the trouble she’d caused him. She’d do well to remember to stay out of Abe’s business and attend to her own responsibilities, including getting Violet home for a feeding.

  Violet released another disgruntled cry. Having fashioned a sling for the baby, Zoe peeked beneath the linen and repositioned Violet’s thumb to help tide her over until they were back at the cabin and had a bottle.

  “I’m sorry, wee one. We’re almost home.”

  A glance overhead showed cloudy skies that were beginning to darken with the onset of night. She’d stayed too long in Shantytown that afternoon, and now Violet was protesting. When one of the Hurdy Gurdy girls had come to the cabin several days ago asking for the reverend to come and pray over one of her friends who was ill and near to dying, Zoe had gone in his stead.

  As she’d entered the street lined with dilapidated shacks along the riverfront, the poverty and filth had taken her straight back to Manchester, reminding her of everything she’d left behind and how much her life had changed in a few short months. The biggest difference was that most of the residents of Shantytown were Chinese and natives and mostly women and children.

  That first time she’d visited Shantytown, Zoe had prayed with the young woman, Mila. The second day and every day thereafter, she’d taken soup and biscuits along, to nourish not only Mila but also the three other women who lived in the tiny, cold shack. When Zoe had left a short while ago, Mila had been sitting up with color back in her thin face. Zoe could only pray the woman was through the worst of her illness, but she’d seen enough sickness and death in her life to know nothing was ever certain.

  At another grunt from Violet, Zoe picked up her pace, trudging up the hill, the empty cedar-bark basket making her trek home easier. It also helped that a drop in temperature had frozen the ground so that she wasn’t having to slog through mud anymore. Even so, her back and legs ached from the climb.

  She tried to distract herself by praying for Zeke, that he’d return to the Lord, a prayer she’d uttered every day since he’d run away. She couldn’t bear the thought that he’d rejected everything good and true he’d learned since childhood. The possibility that he’d die without making peace with Christ always made her prayers more desperate.

  While she was anxious to travel to Williamsville and find out for herself if Jeremiah Hart was indeed Zeke, Abe had indicated that the roads and trails leading to the mountain town wouldn’t be passable until late spring. The recent accidents on the road only confirmed the danger and that she’d have to wait to find out more about Zeke for a few more months—if she could force herself to wait that long.

  “Mrs. Merivale,” someone called, interrupting her heavenward pleas.

  She raised her head to find that their middle-aged neighbor, Little Joe, was rushing out his cabin door toward her. “Let me help you with your basket.”

  “You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said with a smile. “The basket’s empty.”

  The slip of a man with his wire glasses and dusty apron approached her anyway and lifted the basket from her arm.

  A carpenter turned miner, Little Joe spent the winter months creating custom-ordered furniture in his tiny cabin, the pounding, sawing, and chiseling sounding at all hours of the day and night. Not that Zoe minded the noise. In fact, with Abe gone, the woodworking noises were a comforting reminder she wasn’t alone.

  As one of the rare women in town, she found that most men went out of their way to assist her, and Little Joe was especially helpful and talkative. Already in the short time she’d been in Yale, she’d learned about the family he’d left behind in Dorchester and that he was hoping to save enough to send for them. He’d told her she reminded him of one of his daughters, who was grown and married with a babe on the way.

  She’d started knitting him mittens as a way to thank him for his friendship.

  “Don’t know how you manage with the baby and the basket the way you do,” Little Joe said, falling into stride next to her.

  “Violet hardly weighs more than a button.” She used her free arm to jiggle the babe, who was once again fussing.

  “She seems to be filling out right nice enough.”

  “Aye. The goat’s milk and pap are helping. . . .” At the sight of the open door of the cabin ahead, her heart lurched. Was Abe home?

  Whenever Will visited, he closed the door behind him, conscious of allowing the cold air into the cabin. But Abe . . . well, he was as heedless of the door as he was of being tidy.

  At the distinct whistling of a hymn coming from inside, Zoe picked up her pace. Abe was home, and her body suddenly thrummed with the need to see him. For just a moment, she wondered at that need and then quickly rationalized that he was a friend, like Jane. They shared easy conversation and companionship, and being with him always made her ache for Jane seem a little less painful.

  A dozen paces away from the cabin, Little Joe handed her back her basket. With a glance to the open door, he frowned. “If I were Pastor Abe, I wouldn’t be neglecting my new bride so often.”

  She squeezed Little Joe’s arm. “I can’t complain. He’s giving me a very good home and everything I need.”

  It was the truth. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—complain. Especially after walking again through Shantytown and seeing the kind of life she’d escaped.

  As she approached the door, her steps lightened with the anticipation of seeing Abe, of sharing a smile, and of looking into his dazzling blue eyes. Maybe she’d throw caution aside and even hug him.

  Her blood pumped faster at the thought. Did she dare do something so bold? Of course she would.

  With a widening smile, she stepped inside only to stop short at the sight of not only Abe, but the kind-faced youn
g reverend who’d married them, John Roberts. Abe was at the stove with his back to the door, and John Roberts was sitting at the table.

  At the sight of her, John scooted back and stood.

  She couldn’t keep her smile from fading. Disappointment rose swiftly, although she wasn’t sure why. She shouldn’t expect Abe to be anxiously waiting to see her or longing to spend time with her after so many days apart. And maybe she shouldn’t be so excited either.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Merivale,” John said.

  At the mention of her name, Abe swiveled, a wooden spoon in hand. His whistling came to a halt, and he grinned. “There you are. I was about to serve John some of this delicious-smelling soup, but now that you’re here, I’m sure you’d like to do the honors.”

  She paused for just a moment, wishing for a comment—even a tiny one—about how much he’d missed her and was glad to see her again. But as soon as the thought came, she stuffed it away. She couldn’t allow herself to wish for what wasn’t meant to be. Instead, she needed to remember just how blessed she was to be here and be his wife.

  “’Course I’d like to do the honors.” She forced a smile. “You go on and sit down, and I’ll serve you both.”

  Abe’s face registered relief as he crossed to the table. “I told you Zoe would be happy to have your company tonight, John. Right, Zoe?”

  “Aye, indeed. Very happy.”

  John nodded his thanks, but at his raised brow, Zoe guessed she hadn’t convinced him of her happiness.

  Abe stood outside the cemetery gate and shook hands with the last of the Royal Engineers who’d attended the funeral service. Since the accident up in the canyon two weeks ago, he’d been ministering to those who’d been injured. One had died the first night. And now, another had finally succumbed to his injuries.

  While the tragedy had been heartbreaking, Abe had seen God at work through it all, moving the men to seek after Him.

  “Good sermon, Abraham.” John Roberts reached out to shake his hand. His friend and fellow cleric had arrived yesterday on a steamship, having traveled upriver from Hope, where he oversaw a small parish. Though Abe had just returned home himself, he’d invited John to stay for the dinner Zoe had prepared. They’d talked well into the evening before John had insisted on taking his leave, saying he didn’t want to impose any longer.