Amelia, An Autumn Bride (Brides for All Seasons Book 7)

by Hildie McQueen

  The women looked to each other and then Sarah turned to him. “How are you feeling, Gerard?”

  “Better, thank you. Doc says I’ll be out and about in a couple weeks.”

  “Actually, he said a month,” Amelia corrected him. She collected her shawl from beside the door and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “Have a good evening.” Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I will try to stop by tomorrow afternoon.”

  After the women left, he winced while walking to the nearest chair. It was hard to keep up a strong front when around Amelia. His midsection ached from standing straight. A man didn’t want to appear weak in front of the woman he was interested in courting after all.

  Sarah tapped Amelia’s upper arm. “You cannot continue to visit Gerard unescorted. If your aunt or Robert find out, they will have plenty to say on the matter.

  “I know,” Amelia replied. “I feel responsible in a way for his injuries. If it wasn’t for me insisting on going out to see the families, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  “You told me it was his fault you both stayed longer and ended up in the storm,” Sarah reminded her. “Besides, didn't you say he had to fix someone’s fence?”

  “True.” Amelia bit her bottom lip. “There is something else.”

  Sarah stopped in her tracks and tugged Amelia’s arm. “What? Tell me.”

  “He wants to pursue a courtship. I don’t want anything of the sort.”

  “It is silly of you to insist on remaining a single spinster. You are so young, Amelia, and so very pretty. I don’t think you’re intended to be alone.”

  The words rang true, but she refused to admit it. “I am not alone. I have you, Robert and my aunt and uncle. That is more than enough.”

  “It is not and you know it. What about children? A husband to share your life with?”

  “Spoken like a woman in love,” Amelia chided. “I have lost the closest people in my life. What if I did accept Gerard’s courtship? If he died, I would be left with a broken heart once again.”

  Something in her told her this time her heart would be shattered beyond repair of any kind. The realization struck her, and she closed her eyes and let out a breath. “Can we speak of something else please?”

  “For now.” Sarah threaded her arm around Amelia’s. “We will discuss it further at another time. I have so many questions, dear.”

  Amelia giggled. “You are much too inquisitive. There is nothing much to tell. We are comfortable around one another. We speak at length on many topics.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Of course.” Her cheeks warmed.

  The bell over the door jingled and Charlene looked up from the herb bundles she was tying. Camilla Fields walked in, her nose twitching at the different spices and herbs in glass jars.

  “I think I’m going to sneeze,” the woman announced. “It never fails, walking in here tickles my nose.” She covered the bottom of her face with a handkerchief and sneezed loudly.

  “Bless you.” Charlene waited to see if she’d sneeze again, but the woman only sniffed. “We can go outside. Tell me what you need and I can bring it out.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Camilla Fields went to the jars. “I’d like chamomile please. If you have anything that will help me sleep, that would be lovely.”

  The shop had been busy this day. Her son was gone to deliver items to the mercantile and to a woman who was too ill to leave her home. Currently, Charlene was glad for the respite of only one customer.

  “How is Randall?” Mrs. Fields asked, looking about the shop. “He’s usually here with you.”

  She wanted to say something polite or light, but words escaped. “He’s in the back...he doesn’t feel well.”

  “I hope it’s nothing too serious. Several people in town seem to be feeling a bit under the weather.”

  Charlene nodded. “That’s it. Just a bit under the weather. He’ll be fine in a few days I’m sure.”

  The woman purchased a few more things, especially after Charlene showed her the new lavender oils she suggested would help her sleep.

  Camilla leaned forward as if not to be overheard. It was silly since there wasn’t anyone in the shop but them. “Did you hear? Gerard Cullen was injured. He may have broken a rib or two,” she said in a whisper.

  “Yes, I did. I sent some herbs for tea to help with pain.” Charlene felt bad for the man who had always been kind to her family. “I would like to send some fresh mint tea. Would you mind taking something for him?”

  “Of course not. As a matter of fact, Amelia is taking dinner to him tonight. I will ask her to take whatever you send.”

  After Mrs. Fields left, Charlene went to the back of the shop. She took a fortifying breath before pushing the door open that blocked the back living space from customers.

  Her husband, Randall, sat facing a window. For three days now, he’d refused to speak to her, to eat or even acknowledge her presence. According to Randall, he’d always been a sickly man. Usually of a dour mood and lack of interest in most things, she often wondered why he’d placed an ad for a wife. If anything, he did it for selfish reasons.

  She was there as a caregiver, someone to take over his apothecary business and help support him as his health declined. Often distant to both her and their son, it was hard to be pleasant to him at times. Charlene was tied to both her husband and the apothecary, never able to leave him alone. It made for a lonely existence.

  Thankfully, her customers provided distraction and company, as she rarely was able to attend social events.

  Charlene looked to the untouched tray of food that was now cold and unappetizing. “You have to eat, Randall. I don’t know what to do for you. If you would just please talk to me.” She lowered down to the floor in front of him.

  Finally, he turned to her, his flat gaze skimming over her face. “Get out.”

  The words pierced through her, but Charlene refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing.

  “I can send Randy to Mrs. Wilkes to get some of her fried chicken you love so much.” Charlene forced gaiety into her voice. “I bet that would surely bring back your appetite.”

  This time, Randall gave her an incredulous look. “Why don’t you cook? I don’t want to spend money on another woman’s food. Why are you so useless?”

  “Why do you have to be so unkind?” Charlene gritted the words out, doing her best not to yell. “Fine. If you refuse to eat, then so be it.”

  The widening of his eyes was followed by a sneer. “I will eat when I damned well please. Go see about the store. We can’t survive with you dawdling back here.”

  Although tears sprung to her eyes, she turned and walked away before he could see them and went back to the front of the store.

  The bell over the door jingled and she turned away to wipe her eyes before looking to see who had walked in.

  A tall man darkened the space, his wide-shouldered frame making the area shrink. Hat in hand, his hazel eyes met hers. “Good day, Mrs. Parker.”

  Everett Weston and his family owned a huge ranch about half a day’s ride from town. He and his brothers often came to town to purchase supplies and such for the large family.

  The three Weston brothers were all handsome and well-built. Charlene had grown fond of their mother and sister and looked forward to their visits.

  “How are you? Is your mother in town with you today?”

  He shook his head. “No, Ma’am. She’s not feeling well. Asked me to pick up these.” He placed a list on the counter and went to the window. “I’ll be back in a couple hours if that is all right?”

  “Perfectly fine.” Charlene smiled, knowing it did not reach her eyes. “I’ll have it ready.”

  Once again, he looked to her. “Is everything well with you, Mrs. Parker?”

  “Oh yes. Of course,” she replied much too quickly. “How are you today?”

  The lowering of his eyebrows was followed by a nod. “Well, thank you.”

&nbs
p; He walked out the shop and out to the sidewalk and dug another paper from his pocket and studied it. Then he scratched the back of his head and turned back to look at her through the window.

  Everett stuck his head back in through the door. “Mrs. Parker, what is calico?”

  Her lips twitched. “Fabric. You can find it at the mercantile.”

  “Thank you.” He looked back at his list. “Would you have peppercorns or is that at the mercantile, too?”

  Charlene felt bad for him so she rounded the counter and held out her hand for the list. Upon hearing Randall clearing his throat, she walked out to the sidewalk to avoid any kind of embarrassment if he screamed out for her.

  Everything on the list Everett would find at the mercantile with the exception of laudanum, which he’d have to get from the town doctor.

  She informed him and when the rancher walked away, she stood on the sidewalk peering from one side of the street to the other. It wasn’t a busy day. There was a group of four women gathered in front of the mercantile. Two men were unloading a wagon near the stables and a wagon with a family ambled by. The wife waved cheerfully at her.

  Charlene smiled and waved back. How she hoped to be able to visit some of these women and become closer. She’d considered inviting ladies over for tea, but was too afraid of how Randall would act.

  The four women, including Amelia, who’d been by the mercantile neared and then stopped upon seeing her. Olive Withers, the mayor’s wife, smiled broadly. “How are you, Charlene?”

  After she responded, Sarah Fields spoke. “Come with us. We’re starting the planning for the fall festival.”

  “Yes, come just for a bit,” Amelia said as the fourth woman, Eudora Wilkes nodded.

  Her heart pitched. “I wish I could. I have to fill an order and Randall is a bit under the weather.”

  Olive peered through the window. “Oh, I’m sure he can do without you for a few minutes.”

  Everett Weston wouldn’t be back for two hours. Fulfilling his order wouldn’t take but a few minutes. In that moment, Charlene decided she’d been docile for much too long.

  “You’re right. He can do without me for a few minutes. I will join you for an hour.”

  She dashed inside and grabbed her shawl.

  “I’ll be back in an hour, Randall,” Charlene called over her shoulder. Before he could reply, she hurried back out and joined the women.

  “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 10

  Gerard lifted his face up to the sun. It felt so good to be outside and away from the house. Somehow, he’d managed to stay home for almost a week. If it hadn’t been for Amelia’s visits, he would have gone mad.

  Although he couldn’t do much around the stables, he’d do what he could. Anything was better than being cloistered any longer. With one arm, he straightened up his tools and swept around his blacksmith shop.

  There were horses that needed shoeing, but he had plenty of spares, so the other men were able to shoe as he instructed.

  “What do you plan to do about this horse?” Michael Bradshaw, one of the workers asked. Bradshaw was younger than him. Although he had a quick temper, he was a solid worker. He guided the horse over so they could check its hooves. The animal bristled, its strong muscles bunching as it pawed the ground.

  The horse had been for sale for some time, but no one had offered to buy it as yet. For the most part, Gerard took care of it and, on occasion, rode the horse, but it was hard to manage the high-strung animal.

  Gerard shrugged. “Everyone knows he’ll never be quite tame. Needs room to roam. Not sure what he’s good for other than breeding.”

  “I’d like to buy him. I can pay you over time.” Bradshaw said, running a hand over the animal’s back. “I can kinda relate to him.”

  The comment brought a chuckle out of Gerard. “I can understand why.” He held out his hand. “You got a deal.”

  A broad grin on his face, the younger man looked to the horse. “Looks like you and me got to come to an understanding.” It was obvious that while the animal had been there, Bradshaw had bonded with it.

  They settled on a fair price and Bradshaw announced he’d be gone for the afternoon as he planned to ride his new purchase out to visit his parents.

  After a while, Gerard ran out of things to do. It was easier to breathe, but he couldn’t walk far as yet without it becoming too painful.

  The town’s church was just outside of town, up the hill and about a mile walk from the stables. Gerard went to the doorway of the shop and peered out in the direction he planned to go.

  On a slight hill, the distinct, whitewashed building stood next to a house where the preacher and his wife lived. Grave markers lined the decline of the opposite side of the hill.

  It didn’t seem too far to walk if he took his time. Gerard put his hat on and began walking. It would have been easier to ride, as it would take longer than usual given his injuries. However, with his injured ribs he could not mount a horse. With the help of the light wind, he’d manage.

  It had become his ritual to visit his departed wife’s grave on Fridays. It was a routine he’d set. He’d take one of the stabled horses for a gallop after work every day. Each day, he’d go in a different direction to allow the animals some time out of the corral or stall.

  On Fridays, he rode north and, on his return, he’d stop by the cemetery. It never failed to bring him memories of being married. Unfortunately, most were not good.

  He’d met Brenda when her family had traveled through Ranchester toward Montana. They’d camped on the outskirts of town and had decided to remain for a couple months while Brenda recuperated from an illness.

  At church, she began to seek him out and they’d spend hours talking about nothing in particular. Gerard genuinely liked the young woman and, being barely twenty, managed to get them into a rather compromising situation.

  When her father had asked him to take responsibility, without hesitation, Gerard agreed to marry her. Soon after, the family left to continue on to Montana, leaving a very upset Brenda behind.

  They were not in love by any stretch of the imagination. She’d often blamed him for being apart from her family and they’d fought constantly the first couple of years. When they weren’t arguing about petty things, Brenda was ill.

  The doctor never quite figured out what caused Brenda to be so sickly. Usually, she’d be abed for weeks, regaining her strength slowly. Then upon recovery, it would be almost as if she’d not been ill at all.

  As the years passed, whenever she became ill, it would last longer and longer. Finally, when she never seemed to recover it became clear she wouldn’t live long. That, however, didn’t stop her from blaming him constantly for everything.

  Gerard stopped arguing with Brenda and, instead, would remain silent while she berated and lashed out. Although he understood she was angry at the situation and not him, it was hard not to grow resentful.

  A moment of weakness brought Brenda to be with child. The pregnancy precipitated her death.

  Guilt assailed Gerard when, instead of grief, he felt relief upon her passing. He did, however, mourn the loss of his child.

  Gerard promised himself not to marry again. The idea of being tied to a woman for life, who could treat him like Brenda had, made any thought of marriage repellant.

  His mind went to Amelia. The more he thought about what he’d said to Amelia, the more worried Gerard became. It had been five years since Brenda’s death. He was in his thirties now and more equipped to make the right decision.

  It was crazy to worry. Amelia was nothing like Brenda.

  He missed Amelia when she wasn’t near. At the same time, he wanted to be away from her and the lack of control that seemed to enter the room whenever she was around him.

  Something caused a sound in the trees, shaking him from his musings. He stopped and looked to the left. There wasn’t anything moving that he could make out. Maybe an animal had scrambled away after hearing him walking by.


  Just a few yards and he’d be at the graveyard. Leaves were beginning to fall, cascading from tall branches to settle on the ground. Soon, the entire forest floor would be blanketed and the tree limbs would be bare.

  His side protested the climb and he stopped for a moment to allow the pain to subside.

  Upon opening the small gate to the graveyard, Gerard realized he’d not brought flowers. It was his custom to pick something along the way to place on Brenda’s headstone.

  The small marker remained as a stark reminder he’d once been married. Gerard studied the words on the stone. “Brenda Cullen, beloved wife”

  The words should have been more along the lines of “Daughter and Wife” instead.

  He looked to the church and bent his head. Visits to the grave were usually combined with praying for forgiveness. His thoughts were rarely good when it came to Brenda and he was less than reverent. Often, he’d wondered if it was best not to visit. Then he considered that it was his penance for acting without thought.

  On this day, Gerard wasn’t sure what he expected. Perhaps a sign of some sort telling him whether or not he should get remarried.

  “Lord. You and I aren’t always on the best of terms, so I understand if you don’t answer. Sure could use your help pointing me in the right direction.” Gerard winced when he attempted to take a deep breath and he studied the cross at the front of the chapel. “You have more important things to do than to listen to me. I think I can figure this situation out for myself. I don’t expect you to help me.”

  He replaced his hat and turned away.

  “Mr. Cullen.” A man’s voice sounded and Gerard turned toward the chapel to find the preacher making his way toward him. “I planned to come to see about you this week. I see you are doing much better.” The man’s face was flushed as he hurried over. “Should you be out here by yourself so soon?”

  No. He shouldn’t have walked so far. But it was done now. Once he got back to town, he would pay for a hot bath at the bathhouse and soak his aches away. “I’m fine as long as I take my time. I grew tired of sitting inside for so long.”