His Substitute Wife

by Dorothy Clark

  “Yes.”

  The tension left her. He watched her shoulders relax, her nervous stirring of her tea stop. He took another biscuit onto his plate and drizzled honey on it. “And what was the moral of the story?” Her head jerked up.

  “The moral?”

  “Yes. People usually have a reason for telling a personal story. What was Mrs. Ferndale’s reason?”

  She stared at him a moment, then looked down, started swirling her spoon through her tea again. “She said the story of our...marriage made her think of her grandparents’ because it all started with a letter. She said her grandfather always said what if his sister had never shown her friend his letter—that God works in mysterious ways.”

  Her words hung in the air. He watched her stirring her tea, a tightness growing in his chest. Was that why Audrey had read his letter to Linda? Was it God’s will?

  Chapter Twelve

  “God moves in a mysterious way... His wonders to perform...” The hymn bubbled inside her, poured from her throat in a soft, lyrical celebration of God’s grace. Audrey swiped the rag over the last of the shelves in the kitchen, leaving a faint scent of the lemon juice she’d mixed with linseed oil. “He plants his footsteps in the sea... And rides upon the storm...”

  “Whoa!”

  A horse snorted outside. They were here! And just in time. She hung the dusting rag over the top of the tin of linseed oil on the floor of the pantry cupboard and hurried through the small entrance hall to the front door.

  “Are you ready for this furniture?” Blake squinted down at her from the front seat of Mitchel Todd’s wagon, his blue shirt bright in the sunshine.

  Her heart jolted at the sight of him. “I am.” She moved across the porch to the top of the steps and gave her long apron a vigorous shake. “The parsonage is all clean and ready. There isn’t a speck of sawdust to be found inside this house!” Blake’s smile set her stomach quivering. She shielded her eyes from the brightness and gave the loaded wagon a sweeping glance. “Did the dressers come in on the train?”

  “Two of them. There’s a delay on the small one.” He wrapped the reins over the hitching rail, picked up one of the crates stacked on the seat and hefted it to his shoulder. “I have to hurry and get all of this unloaded—Mitch needs his wagon back. Garret is coming to help.”

  “And I’m here.” Pastor Karl came hurrying from the church. “Forgive my shirtsleeves, Mrs. Latherop, but I can’t chance damaging my suit coat.” He hurried to the wagon, picked up a crate and followed Blake to the porch. “Where do you want me to put this?”

  “Here on the porch. I thought you men could take all the crates apart out here to keep the house clean. I’ll carry the dishes and such in.”

  “A good idea.” Blake set his crate down and went back to the wagon. “Garret and I loaded the furniture by rooms, according to your list. The bedroom furniture is at the back. So, Pastor Karl, while you work on these crates, I’ll start putting the beds together.” He grabbed hold of a headboard and carried it up the porch steps. “There’s a hammer and pry you can use on the floor in front of the seat, Pastor.”

  “Thanks, I’ll get them.”

  “Looks like I’m just in time.” Garret marched up to the wagon, stuck the footboard under one arm and tucked the bundle of rails under the other. He clomped up the steps, paused on the porch and looked down at her. “Blake bribed me to do this. He said you’d give me a piece of the apple pie you made for supper.”

  “Don’t believe him, Audrey. He’s a blackguard! That pie is mine!” Blake’s growled words were accompanied by what sounded like the thud of the headboard hitting against the bedroom floor.

  Garret grinned and shrugged. “I thought he was far enough inside he wouldn’t hear me. It was worth a try.” He shot a teasing look over his shoulder. “You don’t think the Lord will hold that little lie against me, do you, Pastor?”

  “I’m quite certain the Lord understands the extreme temptation that burdens a man when he smells a fresh-baked apple pie, and will extend you forgiveness, Garret.” The pastor jammed the claws of the hammer between the boards of a crate and yanked. The board splintered and fell away. The pastor looked up and grinned. “When you have exhibited the appropriate amount of remorse, of course.”

  “I’ll do that. After I eat a piece of that pie.”

  She gave a phony gasp and clasped her hand to her heart. “Well, if it will become that great a matter, you shall each have a half of the pie, and I will bake Blake another!”

  “You can’t do that, Audrey.” Garret spoke in a somber tone. “The pastor can’t eat that pie—it would be ill-gotten gains. You will have to give the whole of it to me.”

  “I’ll thank you to let me see to my own conscience, Garret.” The pastor laughed and jammed the claws under the board again. “I must taste the pie for the sake of fair judgment.”

  Garret laughed and edged through the door into the house.

  Another board cracked. “Ah, that’s got it! Here are the dishes, Mrs. Latherop.”

  She lifted out plates and bowls and cups and saucers from the crate and carried them to the kitchen.

  Grunts and thumps accompanied the footsteps in and out of the other rooms. The pound of a hammer and the splinter of wood sounded outside. Sunlight streamed through the window, gleamed on the red-and-white-patterned dishes as she washed and dried them, the words of the hymn humming through her mind.

  “Deep in unfathomable mines of never-failing skill, he treasures up his bright designs and works his sovereign will.” She sang softly, stood the platter on its edge behind the stack of plates and admired the way they looked against the whitewashed wall. “You fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds you so much dread... Are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head.”

  She lifted her long apron to wipe her warm face and turned toward the door. “His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour—Oh!”

  She collided with a hard, solid body, bounced back. Strong hands caught hold of her arms and steadied her, held her. She looked up, met Blake’s gaze and forgot about breathing.

  His eyes darkened. “The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.” His deep voice finished the verse as his gaze held hers. Heat crawled into her cheeks.

  “What’d she say, Blake?”

  She jumped at Garret’s shout.

  Blake’s hands tightened, then released their grasp on her. He stepped back, cleared his throat. “Are you ready for us to bring in the table?”

  “Yes. That would be...helpful...”

  He nodded and strode toward the porch.

  She covered her burning cheeks with her hands and sagged against the wall, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. The thunk of a hammer and the splintering of wood sent her scurrying back to the task at hand. There wasn’t any time to waste. Mrs. Karl and the children would be here tomorrow.

  * * *

  “I’m ready.”

  Blake’s heart jolted. Audrey was wearing the red dress she’d had on the day he took her to the waterfall. Memories crashed against his will to deny them. He turned his attention to the covered basket she held and curved his mouth in a teasing smile. “Looks as if there’s enough food in there to feed a family.”

  Her answering smile settled in his heart. “I hope so.” She looked down, caught at her lower lip with her teeth. “I made a shepherd’s pie, cabbage salad and a molasses cake. Oh, and snickerdoodle cookies for the children. Do you think that’s enough?”

  “Enough? I think it’s a feast.” He reached into the crate and folded back the brown paper protecting the tissue-paper flowers he’d ordered for the store to avoid those hazel eyes that played havoc with his self-control. “My first meal here was a can of sardines and two stale slices of bread.”

  “I wish—”

&nb
sp; “Yes?”

  She shook her head, looked away, but there was a tinge of pink across her cheekbones. He studied her a moment wondering what she’d been about to say, then stepped from behind the counter and reached for the basket.

  “Oh, my! Those flowers are beautiful, Blake! Mrs. Ferndale will buy the lot of them when she sees them.”

  Not the ones I meant for you.

  She glanced up at him. “Would it be all right if we included one of them for Mrs. Karl? I know you’ve only just unwrapped them, but—well, it seems a nice gesture.”

  “A very nice gesture. Pick the one you want.” He set the basket on the counter and lifted the lid.

  “A yellow rose.” She lifted one of the buttery flowers out of the crate, laid it on top of the dishes in the basket and smiled. “It will remind her of summer sunshine during winter.”

  “Do you think we should include a few pieces of candy for the children?”

  “What a wonderful idea!”

  The gold flecks in her eyes sparkled up at him, and her mouth curved into a happy smile. His heart lurched. He stepped behind the counter and packaged the candy. “Let’s go.” He grabbed the basket and headed for the door, more aware of her walking beside him than he wanted to be.

  “I’ll get the sign.”

  He waited, offered her his arm. It felt natural now walking with her.

  “I can’t believe how quickly Mr. Todd and his men built the parsonage.”

  “It’s not that large. We’ll—the town—will add on to it as soon as the church can support it.” And we won’t be here to be part of it.

  “It’s big enough for the family to be together. That’s what matters.”

  Her soft voice broke. He glanced down at her, but she’d lowered her head, and he couldn’t see her eyes.

  Sun bathed the surrounding mountains in light, causing deep shadows in the crevices and caves. A slight breeze stirred the grasses, carried the sounds of hammer blows and the rasp of saws across the valley. Her long skirts whispered against the rutted path and his boots struck the hard packed dirt. Anger rose in him, growing with their every step. How ironic for them to be welcoming Pastor Karl’s family to a community they would soon leave.

  * * *

  Blake was upset over something. He hadn’t said anything at supper, but she could feel it. Audrey dried the cup, added it to the stacked dishes and carried them to the dresser to put away. The dishes were high-quality china and made a lovely display on the open shelves, but she wished the pattern were any color but blue and white. She was so tired of blue!

  She sighed, turned her thoughts back to Blake. Perhaps there was something wrong at the store, though she’d found nothing amiss while working there earlier. Or perhaps it was Linda. It was always Linda.

  She pushed a curl back off her forehead and looked out the window toward the train station. Linda must be settled in San Francisco by now. Was she happy with her husband? Would she ever see her again? Perhaps there would be a letter from her waiting when she returned home. Her chest tightened. Tears welled, blurred the view out of the window. It was getting harder and harder to think of leaving Whisper Creek. It had become home. And to never see Blake again—

  She whirled from the window, hurried to the sink and scrubbed at the pan she had left soaking while she dried the dishes. She should make plans. She couldn’t bear the thought of simply sitting in an empty house all day with no one to—to—A tear fell on her bared wrist. She blinked hard, took a deep breath and held it to gain control.

  The faint sound of a bell, the closing of a door and muted footsteps rose from downstairs. “Blake... Blake, are you up there?”

  Pastor Karl! What was he doing here? Had something gone wrong with his family’s arrival? She pulled the pan from the soapy water, rinsed and dried it, then wiped any trace of tears from her cheeks.

  “I’m here, Pastor!”

  She listened to Blake’s footsteps hurrying from his office as he pounded down the stairs.

  “Do you need something?”

  The pastor’s reply was lost in the gurgle of the dishwater she poured down the drain. She rinsed the dishpan and dry sink, took off her apron and rubbed cream into her hands. Please don’t let anything have gone wrong for Pastor Karl or his wife and children, Lord. He’s been so eager to have them with him again after so many months alone. She crossed to the window, looked toward the new parsonage.

  “Audrey...”

  She turned, looked at Blake standing in the doorway and hurried toward him. “What’s wrong?”

  He raised the telegram in his hand. “Asa asked Pastor Karl to give me this.” He pulled in a breath, swallowed hard. “It’s from my father’s attorney. My father is ill and not expected to live. He advises that I come immediately.”

  “Oh, Blake, I’m so sorry...” Tears filled her eyes. She reached for his hand holding the telegram, wishing she could go into his arms and take some of his hurt for her own. “Is there anything I can do to help you prepare for your journey home?”

  “No. I’ll pack my valise tonight and take the first train east in the morning.” He gave his head a shake, ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace. “I don’t know how long I will be gone. How can I close the store? Mitch has to have building supplies. And—”

  “I can tend the store.”

  He halted, shook his head. “No, Audrey. Helping me is one thing. Taking on the entire task is something else again. I can’t ask you to do all of that work.”

  “You didn’t. I offered. With you gone, I will have time on my hands.” She lifted her chin, ready to do battle. This was too important for her to lose the argument.

  “Are you going all redhead on me?”

  “If I must.”

  His gaze locked on hers, and her knees went weak. She grabbed for a chair. “The town needs the store open, Blake. You have no choice.”

  For a moment that felt like forever he stared at her. She was about to collapse onto the chair when he raked his fingers through his hair, blew out a breath and dipped his head. Her heart thudded an accompaniment to his footsteps as he strode from the room.

  * * *

  The train whistle sounded up the valley, echoed off of the mountains. The lamp from the engine beamed out of the dim early morning light and gleamed on the rails that would carry him away.

  “All aboard!”

  “You didn’t have to get up this early to see me off, Audrey.”

  Blake’s words were gruff, brusque. She swallowed the tears clogging her throat and raised her chin. “You’re forgetting we are newly married. Of course I would want to be with you every moment until you leave.”

  “I suppose.”

  He sounded downright surly—not that she blamed him. He was worried about his father’s failing health, and, no doubt, worried about his store. She stopped at the edge of the platform, put her hand on his arm. “I’ll do my best with the store, Blake. Please don’t worry about it. I know all of the prices now. And if I have any doubts about anything I will make a note of it, and you can straighten it out when you return.” The tears closed her throat again. She stepped back.

  He shifted his valise into his left hand, muttered, “Asa is watching,” and swept her tight against him. He lowered his head and claimed her lips.

  Her knees gave out. He released her, jumped off the platform and strode to the train. She sagged, caught hold of the railing.

  “I’ll send word of what happens with my father and when I’ll return.” Blake growled the words over his shoulder and swung aboard.

  She clung to the platform railing and tried to breathe.

  * * *

  Blake scowled at the mountains outside the soot-grimed window, wished there were room in the passenger car for him to pace. What a fool he was! He shouldn’t have done it.
He never should have kissed Audrey. He’d been fighting the urge to do so ever since he’d taken her to see the waterfall; he should have held out those few minutes longer. But the worry in her eyes, the tears she’d tried to hide as she said goodbye had snapped his resistance. Asa had been the excuse. But what had been the reason? He’d loved Linda, and the residue of that love lingered. So why this driving need to kiss Audrey? Was it the anger at Linda’s betrayal?

  He shoved his valise to the end of the seat, stood and strode to the door at the front of the car, grabbing hold of the backs of seats to steady himself against the swaying. The door opened at his tug and he stepped out onto the small platform, grabbed a post against the rocking and let the wind rush over him.

  He shouldn’t have let her come to the station to say goodbye. He’d known the moment they started up the road to the station he would kiss her. Had fought it to the last moment. But the thought of leaving her alone in Whisper Creek with all of those young single men Mitch hired from the railroad workers brought forth an emotion he hadn’t known was in him. It had started when she chose Mitchel Todd over him to escort her to the Ferndales’. Not that he thought Audrey fickle. She was no flirt like Linda. But still, she was beautiful and innocent and when she looked at you with those eyes—

  He let out a growl and clenched the iron railing that enclosed the small platform. He’d wanted to “brand” her. That was what that kiss was about. He’d wanted to mark her as his own, so every man in Whisper Creek would stay their distance from her. Their marriage was a pretense, but she had made his house into a home. She was everything a man could want in a wife—skilled in cooking and housekeeping for certain, but also talented and inventive. The way she had fixed the bedding on his cot so it would stay in place was ingenious. And she was funny and smart and stubborn and frustrating and caring...and...and he was afraid of losing her. How selfish he was! His heart was too wounded to invite anyone in, but he still wanted her fidelity.