She walked into the sitting room and went to the window that looked out on the street. Where would she go? She needed to have a destination in mind. And a plan of what she would do when she got there. Wherever there was. She turned from the window and glanced at the globe sitting beside her father’s favorite chair, but she didn’t want to travel. She wanted a home. She wrapped her arms about herself and searched her memory, thought of the towns where the train had stopped. They were all growing quickly and had a different “feel” to them than Whisper Creek. Was it possible to find another place like Whisper Creek? Dare she go even farther west?
Tears stung her eyes. She was only lying to herself. What she was contemplating was an effort in futility. There was no place that would become a home for her. A home was a place that is shared with someone you love.
The knock at the door was so unexpected, so loud in the silence that she jumped. She whirled about, blinked her vision clear and hurried for the front door. It was probably Lily Chaseon, sent by her mother to borrow enough sugar for her tea in the morning. She did that with—She opened the door, stared. Her billowing dressing gown fluttered into folds around her.
“Blake!” She gasped his name, pressed her hand to her chest to stop the wild beating of her heart. “What are you doing here?” She caught her breath, leaned forward to look out on the stoop. “Where is Linda?”
“May I come in?”
A chill slithered down her spine. She grabbed the doorknob, leaned on it for support. “Has something happened? Is Linda ill? Or...”
“Linda is fine. May I come in? Or do you wish to conduct this conversation on your stoop where your neighbors can hear?”
His voice. His eyes... “Yes, of course...come in.” She backed up, pulled the door wide. Don’t cry! Don’t you dare cry! “May I take your coat and hat?” She held out her hand, saw it trembling and lowered it to her side again.
“I’ll just put them here.”
He shrugged out of his coat, folded it over a chair and put his hat on top of it. There was a valise at his feet. Her heart started its wild beating again. She lost her breath.
“It’s been a long journey. Have you any coffee?”
“None made, but—yes, of course, I have coffee.” She took a breath, tried to order her thoughts and make sense of his sudden appearance. “I’ll make some right away.” She gestured to her right. “The sitting room is there. But, of course, you know that.”
She bit down on her lower lip to stop the inane words and hurried from the entrance to the kitchen. He followed. She did her best to look nonchalant and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Was there something you wanted?”
“The coffee. I figure it’s all right for a man to be in the kitchen while his wife makes him coffee.”
The coffeepot fell from her fumbling fingers, clanged against the stove. She grabbed for it, but he was faster. Their hands collided. She jerked hers back.
He picked up the coffeepot and turned to the sink cupboard, pumped in water. “Here you are.” He handed it to her, then leaned back against the worktable in the center of the room.
She added ground coffee, her hand shaking so hard she spilled it on the table. But she couldn’t stop her trembling. Nor could she hide it. The metal post and basket rattled against the metal pot when she fitted them together, clanked when she set it on the stove. Please give me strength, Lord. She opened the draft for a hot burn, turned back and brushed the spilled coffee into her cupped hand and threw it in the scrap bucket. “I take it from what you said you have not had our...marriage annulled yet. Is there a problem?”
“You might say that.” His eyes fastened on hers. She lost track of her thoughts. “We need to discuss a few things before we can go forward.”
She looked down to smooth her palms against her skirt and froze. She was in her dressing gown! Her hair! Heat burned across her cheeks. She closed her eyes, tried to take a breath. “Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go upstairs and put on some proper attire. I’ll be right—”
“What you have on is fine, Audrey. A dressing gown is proper attire for a wife with her husband.”
That was the second time he’d referred to her as his wife. She gathered what inner strength she could muster and looked up at him. He wasn’t teasing. His eyes were dark, smoldering. It was a look she’d never seen before. She lifted her chin. “The letter I left you was not sufficient?”
“That’s right, it wasn’t.”
She swallowed hard, forced herself to concentrate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to include.”
“Not surprising.” His gaze burned down into hers. “Forget the coffee. Let’s go into the sitting room and we’ll talk about it.”
Her heart almost stopped when he reached beyond her and closed down the drafts. “Very well.” She whirled about and moved into the hall, holding a decorous pace, though she wished she could run upstairs and get dressed and do her hair. Whatever that was in Blake’s eyes was making her nervous. She felt...vulnerable. And the sitting room suddenly felt very small.
She moved to stand behind her father’s chair beside the fireplace, as if the memory of him could somehow protect her. She drew a breath, pressed her hand against her quivering stomach. What foolishness! This was Blake. Her...her husband. No. Her pretend husband. Blessed Lord, please help me to—Paper crackled. She turned, looked at Blake.
He pulled a letter from his pocket, ran his fingers along the fold and looked her way. “You started by writing, ‘Dear Blake. By now, you know I am gone from Whisper Creek, and from your life.’”
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Writing those words had cost her a piece of her heart. She breathed hard, blinked.
“You were going to simply walk away.” He tapped the letter against his other palm, held it up and gave it a little shake in her direction. “This was to have been your goodbye to me. You walked out of the house with your valise and didn’t expect to see me again—wouldn’t have if I hadn’t followed you into the woods.”
His voice was soft, conversational. It was his words that ripped her heart apart. “I explained...”
“That’s right, you did. How did you phrase it...” He unfolded the letter, looked down and read, “‘How happy you must be to have Linda for your own once again. I am glad for you both, and wish you every happiness.’” His head raised, his gaze locked on hers. “What were you doing, Audrey? Protecting your sister and me again?”
“No! I just—I...care about you...both, and I want—” she clenched her hands, dug her fingernails into her palms to control the tears blurring her vision “—I want you to be happy. And—and I was being polite.”
“Truly? I would think good manners would dictate that you allow a person to choose for his or her self what will make them happy.”
“That’s not fair!” She raised her chin. “Writing those words cost me—” She sucked in a breath, pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, holding in the pain slashing through her.
“Cost you what, Audrey?”
Lord, please! Please help me. Make him stop! She lifted her chin another notch. “A lot of thought! I wanted to say the right thing. Obviously, I was mistaken in my choice of words.” She glanced toward the darkness outside, wished she dared go to the lamp stand beside him and turn up the wick in the oil lamp to give more light, instead of this soft glow. “It’s getting late, Blake. What is the purpose of this visit?”
“My purpose?” His gaze captured hers again. “I told you my purpose—to discuss your letter and talk about what was not sufficient.”
She couldn’t take any more. She had to get him to leave before she broke down. “That’s not necessary. If you need me to sign—”
“Take this part...” Her letter crackled in his hand. His deep voice read her words, setting her awash in hurtful memories. “‘I am uncertain as to what must happe
n now as far as the store is concerned. Please know that I wish you every good fortune in that endeavor. I enjoyed working in the store. And our time together as “pretend man and wife” was pleasant.’ Pretend man and wife?” He lifted his head and looked at her. “Our marriage was real, Audrey.”
If only! She gripped the back of her father’s chair, choked out words. “You know what I meant.”
“Yes, this last part makes it very clear.” He looked away, and she was able to breathe again. “‘And now to the purpose of this letter. I am writing to tell you that I will not, in any way, oppose an annulment of our in-name-only marriage. You may take whatever action you deem necessary to dissolve those matrimonial bonds. Goodbye, Blake. I wish you and Linda a long and happy life together.’” He lowered the letter and gazed at her, his eyes dark, inscrutable in the low light. “What did you think you were doing, Audrey?”
Tears gushed. She blinked and wiped them away. “You know as well as I do what I was doing. I was setting you free to marry Linda.”
“Don’t you think that should be my choice?” He stepped close, his gaze burning down into hers. “Don’t you think it should have been my choice all along? That I should have been told the truth?” That little muscle along his jawbone twitched; flames flickered in the depths of his eyes.
She backed up, trembling, her heart pounding.
“I know you wrote those letters for Linda, Audrey. I knew as soon as I read this letter. I recognized the handwriting.” He closed the distance between them. “I am not some toy ball you and your sister can toss back and forth between you as suits your fancy. I am a man with a mind, a will and emotions, and I will choose who I will marry. Is that understood?”
Was he saying—Her knees gave way. She caught hold of the front of his shirt, nodded.
“Good. Because I’ve waited as long as I’m going to, to do this...”
His arms slid around her and pulled her against him. His heart thudded beneath her hand. He lowered his head and she went on tiptoes, closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. His lips covered hers, and time stopped; the world fell away. There was only Blake.
He lifted his head, cleared his throat. “I love you, Mrs. Latherop. Will you come home and be my wife in truth, and in love, forever?”
His wife. Mrs. Blake Latherop, in truth. She gazed up at him, let the love she’d kept hidden shine out of her eyes and nodded. “Forever.”
“Then we’ll need this.” He grasped her hand, slipped his other hand into his suit pocket and pulled out an emerald-studded gold band he slipped on her finger.
“And we’ll not need this!” He ripped her letter in half and threw it to the floor, bent and lifted her into his arms. She slipped her arms around his neck, touched the crisp hair at his nape with her fingertips, shy in the newness of their expressions of love. “I love you, Blake.”
He caught his breath, claimed her lips and seared them in a kiss of love and promise. She trembled, sighed and rested her face against the soft skin of his neck as he carried her to the stairs.
Epilogue
The train swayed around the mountain wall, blasted its whistle, then chugged through the growth of tall pines and entered the long, broad valley, dark and shadowed under a moonlit sky.
“We’re almost there.” Audrey leaned back against Blake, reveling in the strength of his arms around her. He bent down, kissed the soft skin in front of her ear.
“Almost home.”
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “That sounds wonderful.”
“That is wonderful. And so are you.” He pulled her tight with one arm and grabbed the roof post with his other hand as the train jolted over a rough spot on the rails. “I’ve been thinking about how blessed I am to have you...to have your love.”
“And I, yours.”
He kissed the top of her head, then rested his chin against her hair. “And I think Mrs. Ferndale’s grandfather was right—God does work in mysterious ways. If you hadn’t agreed to write those letters for Linda...” He turned her around in his arms, crushed her against him.
She lifted her face, slid her arms up around his neck and met the hunger of his kiss with her own. The world swayed. She didn’t know if it was his kiss or the train; she just held on.
The whistle blew twice. The train slowed. Her stomach tensed, fluttered at the sight of the Union Pacific station and the shadowed buildings at the end of the station road. The windows of the parsonage spilled golden light into the night. The store was dark, of course, but a thrill ran through her at the thought that soon the windows would be aglow with lamplight announcing to all that they were home. Home.
“Time to get our valises.”
She started to precede Blake into the passenger car, then turned back, stared. There were lights shining from the buildings on both sides of the store. “Blake, look at the lights. The apothecary must have come to town while we were in New York.”
“It appears that way. We’ll find out tomorrow.”
The train rolled to a stop. She watched Blake pick up the small valises they carried with them, shove the handles of both into his one hand and offer her his other to help her down the steps. She slipped her hand into his, lifted her hems and stepped down.
The silence of the night settled around them as they walked down the road to the store. The murmur of the waterfall whispered through the stillness. She looked at Blake...remembered and smiled.
“Ah, it came.” His hand squeezed hers. “Look up, Audrey.”
She gave him a puzzled glance and tipped her head back, stared at the sign that proclaimed Latherop’s General Store. “Oh, Blake, it’s beautiful!” Tears welled.
“It does look good up there.” His arm slipped around her. “We’ll have to come down together in the morning and see how it looks in the light.” He dropped a kiss on her temple and escorted her up the steps.
The store was dark, redolent with the scents of various soaps and spices and with a hint of dust. She would clean it tomorrow, before the first train came. She watched Blake light the oil lamp that hung by the steps in the storage room and thought of that first night...their wedding night. It was different now. It was real. Her stomach fluttered.
Blake stepped back, and she started up the stairs, paused and stared. The oil lamp sconce glowed with a soft golden light. She climbed the stairs, glanced toward the sitting room and stopped. The light from the hall fell on the arm of the settee just inside the door. A dark pine-green settee. She spun about. “Blake, something is wrong.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I ordered the new furniture the day after you said yes to my proposal. And I delayed our homecoming until it had time to arrive. Garret and Mitch and Pastor and Mrs. Karl took care of the rest.”
“But—” She swept her gaze over the pine-green-and rust-red-striped chairs. Tears stung her eyes. “Blake, it’s beautiful!”
He grinned, dropped the valise, took hold of her hand and led her to the kitchen. The lamplight fell on the dish dresser, glistened on a new set of white china with a green leaf border. She blinked her vision clear, turned and gasped. A new stove with shining white doors on the warming ovens held place on the end wall. The truth struck—no blue. He had done this just for her! A sob burst from her throat. She spun and threw herself into his arms, buried her face against his shirtfront.
“And now, Mrs. Latherop...” He bent and lifted her into his arms, carried her down the short hall and over the threshold into their bedroom. She caught a glimpse of a new dressing table and a coverlet of pale green before he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss that united their hearts forever.
* * * * *
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Dear Reader,
When, in answer to prayer, the Lord gave me the idea for this new series, I was very excited. The unique twists to the familiar mail-order-bride story that came to me intrigued and motivated me. And the comforting truth behind the premises for the stories inspired me.
I love the idea that God quietly and lovingly guides His children, even when we think we are the ones making all of the decisions. As William Cowper wrote: “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.” How calming and reassuring to know that we truly can rest in Him.
And there was another reason the idea for this series excited me—the research. I’ve always wanted to ride one of the old trains and experience the sway of the car, the clickety-clack of the wheels against the track and the faint smell of smoke as the steam engine chugs on its way West. I’m doing that now (in my imagination) as I write.
How about you, dear reader? Would you like to come along on my next journey to Whisper Creek? I understand there is a new resident. That the apothecary will soon be open for business. And there is that reversion clause in the contract...
Thank you, dear reader, for choosing to read His Substitute Wife. I hope you enjoyed Audrey and Blake’s story. I truly appreciate hearing from my readers. If you care to share your thoughts about this story, I may be reached at [email protected] or www.dorothyclarkbooks.com.
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