A Bride of Convenience

by Jody Hedlund

  Behind him the men began to boo and hiss.

  “Give her a real kiss!” someone shouted.

  “Do it like you mean it!” said another fellow.

  Abe could feel his ears burning even as Zoe’s smile widened and her eyes filled with mirth. A swell of emotion for her rose up within him, so unexplainable, so strong, so unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

  This time he couldn’t hold back. With a swift pull, he brought her body against his and in the same motion seized her mouth with all the passion he’d been holding back. As her lips joined his with an equal fervor, his body only tightened with more need rather than less. Instead of the kiss being a release, it stirred him so that he wanted to dive deeper and never surface.

  The cheers and whistles of his friends penetrated the haze of his desire. He gave himself over to the pleasure of kissing her a moment longer before breaking away. Rather than looking at her and being tempted to kiss her again, he spun and faced the men, giving them a bow and no doubt grinning like an idiot.

  Amid laughter and more calls, he caught Zoe’s hand. “Come with me to Wanda’s? Be there with me?”

  “Aye.” She nibbled her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing his attention back to a place it didn’t need to go.

  He reached for the basket of food and made himself lead her away.

  twenty-seven

  One kiss.

  Zoe glided her fingers over the mahogany bedstead and tried not to imagine she was running her fingers through Abe’s hair, even though that’s what she wanted to do. With his head bowed as he prayed with Wanda, his messy waves fell over his forehead, beckoning Zoe to comb them back.

  She closed her eyes to ward off the urge. But the darkness brought back the swirl of longing their kiss had awakened.

  One kiss. That’s all it had taken to break down the walls she’d tried to build over the past weeks since Bishop Hills’s visit. Just one kiss from Abe had undone everything . . . along with his declaration: “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

  The sincerity of his tone, the earnestness of his expression, the starkness of his desire. Surely those were all signs he wanted her to remain with him and be his wife. Surely those were all signs she ought to stop her plans to leave and put aside her notion to separate from him once they reached Williamsville.

  His prayer for Wanda continued with the same tenderness he’d shown to Zoe the day Jane had died. Abe was at his best in these moments, praying, encouraging, and sharing the gospel.

  And from the instant they’d walked into Wanda’s room, Zoe had realized that this time Wanda wasn’t seeking Abe out for pleasure. Rather, she was gravely ill and needed Abe to help her make peace with her Creator.

  The heavy tapestries in the windows were pulled closed, shrouding the enormous bedroom and holding captive the heavy scent of the herbal remedies Mr. Ping had concocted. In the luxurious four-poster, Wanda was only a pale shell of her previous self. Her eyes were sunken, her skin shriveled, and her body wasted. Her decline and the change of her appearance in such a short time made Zoe ashamed she’d questioned Abe’s motivation in coming.

  “O-ee?” came a little voice from the doorway.

  Zoe spun away from the bed to find Lyle standing with a tattered blanket in one hand and a toy bunny in the other. “Hi there, Little Man.”

  “Ba-bee?” He stepped into the room tentatively, his eyes wide, as though he didn’t know what to make of the sight of his mother in bed.

  Zoe had slipped out of the cradleboard after arriving and had propped it against the wall with Violet still inside napping contentedly. “Baby Violet’s sleeping. Come. I’ll show her to you.”

  Lyle accepted Zoe’s outstretched hand and allowed her to guide him to the babe. Zoe gently brushed Violet’s hair. Lyle followed her example, almost reverently stroking the babe’s head.

  As usual, Lyle was unkempt, stains dotting his smart little outfit, jam crusting his mouth and cheeks, and a sour odor indicating his need for a change of undergarments. If Wanda was incapacitated, who was watching the child? Mr. Ping?

  With Violet sleeping and Abe praying, Zoe convinced Lyle to lead the way to his bedroom. The boy had no trouble taking her up a winding staircase to the third floor and about halfway down the hallway to a large nursery decorated lavishly with brightly papered walls, cheerful curtains, and a thick rug that was perfect for keeping an infant from having to sit or crawl on the cold floor.

  Without a sign of Mr. Ping, Zoe helped Lyle change into clean garments, expecting some resistance from the precocious child, and was surprised when he cooperated completely. He even allowed her to wash his face and comb his hair.

  “There.” She sat back on her heels. “You look mighty handsome, Little Man.”

  He stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid his head against her shoulder.

  That was all the invitation she needed to draw the boy into her arms. He melted into her further, as if he’d been waiting for someone—anyone—to hold him and give him some assurance he would be okay, even though everything in his world was changing.

  She only had to think back to how lost she’d felt when her mum had died to know how scary and lonely the boy must be. At least she’d been old enough to understand. Lyle likely had no idea what was wrong with his mother.

  For long minutes, Zoe sat on the rug and simply held the boy, rocking him and pressing kisses to his head.

  Finally, she sat up. “Time to check on Baby Violet.” She started to set Lyle on his feet, but he clung to her, wrapping his arms around her neck as though he had no intention of letting go. Zoe didn’t attempt to pry him loose, deciding he must need the holding and loving a moment longer. Instead, she hefted him up and carried him through the mansion, back down to the second-floor master bedroom.

  As she stepped into the room, she saw Abe had moved a safe distance from the bed, his expression guarded, even though Wanda was clearly too weak to do any enticing. Nevertheless, the wrinkles in Abe’s forehead smoothed out at the sight of Zoe.

  “Lil’ Man,” Wanda croaked. “Where’s Miss Bea?”

  Lyle kept his head on Zoe’s shoulder and sucked his thumb noisily, clearly not caring or knowing where Miss Bea was.

  “Miss Bea takes good care of him,” Wanda said.

  Zoe stroked Lyle’s hair even as his arms tightened around her neck. She had no idea who Miss Bea was, but clearly the woman wasn’t doing enough for the boy. Even so, Zoe decided this was neither the time nor place to argue with Wanda.

  “She’s old,” Wanda said as if reading Zoe’s unspoken censure, “and doesn’t always have the energy to keep up with Lil’ Man.”

  “Little boys are certainly rambunctious.” Zoe pressed another kiss against his head, wishing somehow she could spare the boy all the uncertainty and fear he was experiencing.

  She could feel Wanda’s scrutiny and prayed the woman wouldn’t be upset at her for giving the boy a few more moments of love.

  “You’re not what I expected.”

  Zoe glanced up to meet Wanda’s glassy gaze. Was Wanda talking about her?

  “But you’re exactly what Abe needs,” Wanda continued breathlessly.

  Zoe stepped closer. “Please, Wanda. Save your strength.”

  “You’ll keep him from being too stuffy, that’s for sure.”

  Zoe exchanged a glance with Abe. His expression was grim, confirming what she’d already guessed, that Wanda didn’t have many days left.

  The woman closed her eyes, and her features constricted, revealing the pain that racked her body. She seemed to be holding her breath until the painful spell subsided, then she expelled a long, heavy sigh. “You really do love Violet, don’t you?”

  “Aye. I do.” Zoe avoided Abe’s gaze and the caution sure to be there. She didn’t want to think about losing Violet. Not today. Not at this moment.

  “You’re good with infants.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Again Wanda was silent so that Lyle’s noisy
thumb-sucking filled the air. Poor boy. Poor, poor boy.

  “Zoe?” Wanda held out a trembling hand.

  Zoe guessed Wanda wanted her to draw closer, but she was wary of doing so. At Abe’s nod of encouragement, she crossed to the bed and took Wanda’s hand. It continued to shake within Zoe’s.

  “Zoe,” she said more faintly. “Will you take Lil’ Man as your own when I’m gone?”

  “’Course I will—”

  “Wanda,” Abe said hurriedly, the protest all too evident in his tone. “We want to help, but that’s a big step.”

  “We can make it work.” Zoe tucked Lyle’s head into the crook of her neck.

  “Do you have family somewhere who could take the boy?” Abe asked. “Or perhaps Mr. Washington’s relatives?”

  Wanda released a hoarse laugh. “None of them want anything to do with me or my child. As far as they’re concerned, I’m dead already and have been for years.”

  Zoe understood the pain of broken family relationships all too well. “He’s a precious child, and we’ll do what we can.”

  Wanda eased back into her pillows.

  “Zoe,” Abe replied, his tone low, “you know we can’t just take on another child.”

  “If it’s the right thing, then why can’t we?”

  Abe stared at Lyle, his forehead furrowing. “Why don’t we think and pray about this before making the decision?”

  “I don’t have much time, Pastor Abe,” Wanda croaked, “and you know it.”

  Abe nodded solemnly. “I know. And hopefully we can figure out something for Lyle.”

  “Please, Pastor Abe.” Wanda’s voice was growing weaker. “I haven’t been a good mother to Lil’ Man. Giving him to you and Zoe might be the only decent thing I ever do for him.”

  “That’s not true,” Abe protested.

  Wanda closed her eyes, exhaustion settling over her gaunt features. “Please let me do this.”

  “Can you give us some time to pray about it?”

  She nodded but didn’t open her eyes again.

  A few minutes later, after finding Miss Bea and handing Lyle over to the older woman, Zoe followed Abe from the mansion. With Violet in the cradleboard upon her back again, Zoe’s shoulders ached from the heavy load, and she honestly wasn’t sure how she’d be able to care for Lyle too. But her heart swelled with the longing to keep the boy and give him the love he so desperately needed.

  Her feet dragged as she left the enormous three-story house behind with its sprawling grassy yard. It was as opulent inside as it was on the outside. And certainly no place for a boy to live alone once Wanda was gone.

  “He needs us, Abe.” She broke the strained silence between them.

  “Zoe,” he said sadly, resignedly. “We’re already needing to find a home for Violet. We’d eventually have to find one for Lyle too.”

  “We can keep them both.”

  Abe stopped and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You heard what the bishop said. We can’t give Violet the kind of life she deserves in England. And Lyle will suffer there too once people learn about Wanda’s nature and background.”

  “We’ll give the children lots of love to make up for anything they might face.”

  “Perhaps. But what if it’s not enough?”

  “Then let’s stay here where they won’t have to face so much prejudice.”

  “I haven’t shared the nature of my financial situation with you, Zoe. But I see that I can no longer hold it back.”

  Zoe hadn’t ever really considered Abe’s money other than the fact that he seemed to have an endless supply, which allowed her to purchase anything she needed at Allard’s General Store.

  “I’m not receiving an income for my missionary work here in the colonies.” His words came out in a rush. “None of us missionaries are.”

  “You’re not? Then how can we afford everything?”

  He took a deep breath as if to fortify himself. “I’m drawing from my personal savings, the money I earned from the vicar position I held before I came here, as well as a small inheritance I received from my mother’s father.”

  “It must not be too small if you can support yourself on it all this time.”

  “It is significant enough that I can live comfortably.” He paused and cleared his throat. “But I cannot rely upon it forever, especially with a growing family to support. I must return to England and resume my work there as a vicar and possibly one day as a bishop.”

  She tried to make sense of what he was leaving unsaid. “The church won’t pay you to be a minister here?”

  “Maybe someday when the colony is larger and the financial contributions are more significant. But at present, that isn’t the case.”

  Disappointment sifted over her.

  “I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said as if reading the regret in her face. “You came here wanting to make this your new home, and so I’ll understand if you don’t want to go back to England.”

  She couldn’t formulate a response.

  “Everything happened between us too quickly. And I wasn’t thinking about the long-term consequences.”

  Her heart sank even more. “Consequences because you have a mill girl for a wife? That I’m a stain on your reputation? That maybe you won’t be able to become a bishop now because of me?” Bishop Hills’s accusations came rushing out, as did the hurt she’d tried to ignore.

  Her rising voice drew the attention of a group of men passing by with several packhorses so heavily loaded with mounds of supplies that their hooves sank deeply into the mud, making their progress slow.

  She inhaled and tried to calm herself. Thankfully, Wanda’s mansion was set on the edge of town, away from the majority of the activity, away from the prying eyes and listening ears. Even so, she held her tongue as the miners headed out of town on the canyon road.

  When they were well out of earshot, Abe spoke again in a low tone. “Everything will be fine, Zoe. You’ll see.”

  “You mean everything will be fine as long as you do exactly what the bishop asks?” Again, she couldn’t keep the hurt from lacing her words.

  “The bishop and I have already had enough conflict, and I cannot afford any more.”

  “So you’re willing to compromise your convictions and grovel at his feet in order to become a bishop someday? If that’s how it’s done, then what kind of bishop will you be?”

  “It’s not just about me becoming a bishop.” Frustration radiated from Abe’s eyes, more so than she’d ever seen there before. “Bishop Hills has the power to take away my ministry completely. He could make sure I’m not allowed to serve anywhere ever again.”

  Zoe studied Abe’s handsome features. She’d never met a man as sincere, godly, or kind as Abe. She understood he had plans for the future and that he didn’t want to jeopardize his work in the church. But surely he shouldn’t have to live in fear of displeasing the bishop. Surely his first priority ought to be obeying God and living to please Him.

  “I’m just an ignorant mill girl and don’t know much.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued before he could respond. “But what if God’s the one who calls us? What if He’s the one who gives us our ministry?”

  She thought of the words Mrs. Moresby had spoken to her that afternoon in the Marine Barracks in Victoria when she’d encouraged Zoe to pay attention to what God was asking of her and to follow His leading one step at a time.

  “If God gives us our ministry,” she continued, “then no one else has the power to take it away. Not even the bishop.”

  Abe just shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not that simple.”

  “Maybe it can be.”

  Behind her, Violet released an unhappy grunt, one that told Zoe the infant was ready for a break from the cradleboard and likely in need of a bottle. Besides, Zoe sensed the conversation with Abe was over, that they’d both said all they could.

  “I need to take Violet home.”

  As she walked away, he didn’t try to stop he
r. With each step, her heart sank lower with the growing realization that while Abe might like her and might even enjoy kissing her, he’d always see her the same way he viewed Violet—as an obstacle. Of course, he’d deny it. But by giving in to the bishop’s demands, he was agreeing with the bishop’s position.

  “Mrs. Merivale!” At a call from the open door of the general store, Zoe forced a smile for Mr. Allard as he waited for her to draw nigh. She made small talk with him for a few moments before he gave her a parcel from Mrs. Moresby. At the light weight and softness of the bundle, Zoe guessed the dear woman had sent her more yarn.

  “And I have here a packet for the reverend.” Mr. Allard handed her a bundle of letters tied together with brown twine. “Now that he’s married, I sure didn’t expect him to get any more mail from that gal back in Yorkshire.”

  Gal in Yorkshire? As in Lizzy?

  Zoe followed Mr. Allard’s gaze to the top letter, to the lovely, gently flowing penmanship and the name Elizabeth Northrop.

  “’Course, it’s just a friendly letter, is all.” Zoe tucked the packet into her pocket.

  “’Course,” Mr. Allard replied. “I suspect it’s perfectly natural for some men to carry on correspondences with former sweethearts after marriage. Perfectly natural.”

  The concern in Mr. Allard’s eyes was anything but perfectly natural, and Zoe’s pulse sped erratically.

  As she started up the hillside path toward home, the letters burned ever hotter in her pocket until they were near to searing her skirt by the time she stepped inside the cabin, where she threw the packet onto the table.

  All the while she fed Violet and changed her napkin, the top letter seemed to stare at her and mock her. Why was Lizzy writing to Abe? Mr. Allard was right to be concerned. And maybe Zoe needed to be concerned too.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed with Violet in her lap, Zoe stood so suddenly that Violet squealed. “She’s trying to steal him away from me. That’s what.”

  Zoe set Violet on a blanket with several of the wooden blocks Will had carved for her, then stalked to the table, tugged the letter out from the twine, and tore it open. She had no intention of hiding the fact that she was opening Abe’s personal correspondence with Lizzy. He may as well know that she didn’t plan to sneak around. If he wanted to get letters from his former love interest, then he’d need to resign himself to Zoe reading every word.