Reluctant Brides Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

“That’s right.” His lips curved upward. “When she laughed, her eyes almost disappeared behind her cheeks.” He drew in a slow breath and let it out. “I still miss her terribly. Maybe I always will.”

  “I miss her, too.” She blinked back tears.

  He rubbed his fingertips across his chin. “Until Saundra arrived, I didn’t realize how gloomy I’d become. She’s been through a lot of pain, too, but she’s so pleasant, so easy to be around that a person would never guess she’s had a rough past.”

  Angie pulled at her lower lip with her teeth. Hearing him talk about Saundra sent a strange uneasiness through her. She tried to shake it off.

  Lifting his left ankle to his right knee, he leaned back, his arm across the back of the sofa. “I want things to be different around here. Next week I’m going to the smokehouse and pick out the biggest smoked ham for our Christmas dinner.” He grinned. “I’m going to take the second biggest ham to town and trade it for some dress goods for Judy. She hasn’t had a new dress since I can remember.”

  He looked at Angie, his dark eyebrows slanted to a peak above his nose. “How would we have survived without you, Angie?” He shook his head. “Poor Judy. I can’t imagine what that child went through losing her mother like that, and me so tied up in my own grief I didn’t even notice.”

  They talked late into the night, reliving sweet memories, discussing the future. Finally, reluctantly, Angie stood to say good night. Lane stood, too, and walked with her to the stairs. She took the first step up and turned back to speak with him.

  Standing at almost his height, gazing into his eyes, her sentence died unsaid. With lips curved into an easy, natural smile, he had a soft expression she hadn’t seen for so long. His strong jaw with a hint of evening stubble, the deep smile crinkles around his eyes.

  How long they stood there, she had no idea. Finally she came to herself, and her cheeks burned. Muttering “Good night,” she lifted her skirt and scuttled up the stairs to the shelter of her room.

  When Angie closed the door, Judy turned over and sighed deep under the covers. Lighting a candle on the dresser, Angie pulled at the fastenings on her dress and slipped a flannel nightgown over her head, working quickly in the cold. She shoved her arms into a quilted wrapper and tugged at the hairpins holding her topknot in place, sitting in a chair to brush and plait her hair.

  Her hands moved deftly while her mind dashed hither and yon like a frightened antelope. After awhile she settled down, and the image of Barry’s uncertain face came to her. Guilt washed over her in waves. She had treated Barry badly tonight. He deserved more than she could give him.

  Pulling off her engagement ring, holding it toward the candle flame, she thought deep and hard about her plotting and conniving. The time had come to be honest about one important fact. She could never wed Barry when she loved another man.

  Chapter 13

  Anxious to get the difficult task over with, Angie waited for an opportunity to speak to Barry alone the next day. At ten o’clock she spotted him going into the barn. Reaching for her coat, she told Saundra, “I’m going out for a minute. Would you mind taking the bread out of the oven for me? It should be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “Of course, dear.” Saundra jabbed a darning needle into her ball of wool and laid a mended stocking across the back of a chair. “Three finished and two left to do.”

  Tip met Angie just outside the door, his feathery tail high, his nose close to her heels. She scurried across the ranch yard, but when she reached the barn door, she slowed down and drew in a breath.

  The structure’s interior seemed dim after the brilliance of the winter sun. Angie paused inside, listening to the shuffling sound of rats skittering through the hayloft, smelling dust, manure, and hay. She paused by the horses’ boxes to pat Sheba and speak to her. A rattle of metal led her to Barry in the feed room.

  He looked up, surprise reflected on his face.

  “Barry, we need to talk,” she said, standing against the rough doorjamb, her mouth dry.

  He held a handmade tin can scoop with a folded scrap of metal for a handle. Dropping it into a sack of grain, he said, “You’re right. I’ve known for a couple of weeks that you’ve got some kind of problem with me. I’d like to know what it is.”

  Angie pulled in her lower lip. Where should she begin? Barry kept his distance, watching her face and waiting.

  Finally she dove in. “Barry, sometimes people make decisions before they really think them through.”

  “I reckon they do at that,” he drawled.

  “Lately I’ve come to realize that—my feelings for you are what a sister feels for a brother, not—” Oh, why couldn’t she just spit it out? Having him standing there staring at her didn’t help any.

  She twisted off his ring and stretched out her hand. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  Watching her, his expression calculating, he didn’t reach for the ring. “You’re jealous of Saundra, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “That isn’t it. Believe me.” She stepped forward and touched his arm with her outstretched hand. “Here. I wish you all the best.”

  His lips tightened. “What will I tell Pa and Ma?” he demanded, a hint of desperation in his voice. “They’re counting on us getting married and living in the new house.” He closed his fingers around the signet ring and slipped it into his pocket.

  “Tell them the truth.” Turning away, she paused at the door, her heart heavy. “I wish we could still be friends. You’ve been my best friend since I can remember.”

  “Maybe someday, Angie,” he said, his voice flat, his shoulders slumped. “But not right now.”

  Trudging to the house, she felt awful for hurting Barry by impulsively accepting his proposal. She’d been uncomfortable with the engagement from the start.

  That afternoon the house felt warm and rich with the smell of freshly baked fruitcake. Saundra carefully wrapped each of her creations with a cloth soaked in fruit syrup, then packed them away in a tin to ripen until Christmas. While Saundra worked at the table, Angie stood by the stove, frying doughnuts. The doughnuts were to distract the men from the fruitcake, else little would be left for the holiday.

  At supper Barry bent low over his plate, his face sullen. Angie couldn’t bear to look at him, and Saundra kept trying to cheer him up. “How about a game of chess after supper?” Saundra asked. “We haven’t played for more than a week.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve had a hard day. I want to go to bed early.”

  She looked at Lane with a teasing smile. “Would you like to play? Or are you too scared?”

  His lips formed a half smile. “Who said I was scared?”

  “Well, you didn’t finish the last time we played.”

  He chuckled. “I guess that cuts it. You’re on.”

  Angie took her sewing to her room that night. All that was left to complete the dress was sewing the bodice to the finished skirt.

  At ten past eight Angie tied the last knot on her thread and snipped it off. Finally the dress was ready to try on. She should have been excited but felt only a quiet sadness as the fabric slipped over her head.

  Folds fell around her feet in a deep green cascade that looked almost black by candlelight and felt cuddly soft, like a warm blanket. She ran her hands over the close-fitting bodice and fluffed out the skirt.

  With a gentle knock Saundra appeared in Angie’s bedroom doorway with Judy beside her. They looked at the dress, excited. “It’s finished!” Saundra cried, happily moving around Angie and fastening the back for her.

  “You’re beautiful, Angie,” Judy said, her eyes glowing.

  “That style is almost like the dress I wore for my first Harvard party,” Saundra said. “That one had white lace edging the collar and the cuffs.”

  “I’m going to make some wool braid to trim it,” Angie said, adjusting the cuffs. “This skirt ought to have six petticoats at least.”

  Judy bounced
on the edge of the bed. “I want one with eight petticoats.”

  “‘Patience is a virtue,”’ Saundra told her, smiling.

  “I know that one by heart,” the girl interrupted, wearily.

  “I’ve been learning a few things on that subject myself,” Angie admitted.

  “You look sad tonight,” Saundra said. “Did you and Barry quarrel?”

  Angie sighed. “I broke our engagement this afternoon.”

  Saundra’s face grew concerned. “So you did quarrel.” She clasped Angie’s hands. “Things will be all right tomorrow. He’ll apologize.”

  Angie shook her head. Wispy tendrils swept her forehead. “I don’t think so, Saundra. We agreed that we weren’t meant for each other.”

  Judy leapt from the bed and almost bowled Angie over. “Does that mean you can stay with me, Angie? You can really stay?”

  The child’s intense relief brought tears to Angie’s eyes. She put her arms around her and squeezed hard. For Judy’s sake, she’d stay on as Lane’s housekeeper for another ten years just so she could mother this dear child.

  For the first time since her talk with Barry, her heart felt lighter. She rested a cheek against Judy’s braided hair and breathed a thankful prayer.

  “I believe I’ll turn in,” Saundra said when Judy turned Angie loose. She sounded a little sad.

  Angie disentangled herself from Judy and turned her back so the girl could unfasten her buttons. “Good night, Saundra. Thank you for your help.”

  At the door the other woman hesitated and then turned back. “I’ll get up to start breakfast in the morning, so don’t hurry down.” With a gentle smile she closed the door.

  Judy laid her head against Angie’s shoulder. “You know something?” the girl asked.

  “What?”

  “Papa’s going to be glad you’re staying, too.”

  Under a mound of wool blankets and quilts, Angie lay awake that evening with Judy snuggled close beside her. She felt the girl’s soft rhythmic breathing and sensed something inside her had relaxed. Angie had done the right thing. It felt so good to know that she had. Her eyes drifted closed, and she slept.

  Deep in the night Angie’s eyes flew open, every nerve tense, on the edge of panic. What had happened? Something had awakened her, and she couldn’t tell what it was. Darkness filled the room like thick syrup. Though her eyes strained to see, it was her ears that went on full alert. She felt that horrible numbness that comes with fear.

  Something terrible and frightening had happened just now. Was it a nightmare that had brought her fully awake?

  She didn’t move. Waiting.

  Then she heard it. The distinct creak of the loose board on the fourth step from the bottom. Lane must have gotten up to fetch a drink from the kitchen. That must be it.

  But her nerves wouldn’t settle down. Moving slow and easy so she wouldn’t awaken Judy, Angie slipped from the covers, trying not to shiver as she pulled on her thick black robe and found her shoes on the freezing wood floor.

  She had to know who was moving around in the house. Something was wrong. Or was it? Maybe Saundra had trouble sleeping and went downstairs for some milk.

  Grabbing a candle and matches, she dropped them into her deep pocket. You’re losing your mind, Angie, she told herself. There’s nothing wrong. You had a nightmare. Admit it.

  But the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave.

  She eased open the door of her room and tried to peer outside. The hall was as dark as her room. She closed the door behind her, holding the latch so it wouldn’t click. Padding four steps straight ahead, her hand touched the wall, and she turned toward the stairs.

  Maybe I’m having a nightmare now, she thought. Maybe this is a crazy dream where I know I’m dreaming but I can’t wake myself up.

  When her hand touched the banister, she stopped to listen. A soft rustle came from the kitchen. Taking four quick steps down, she leaned over the banister, peering at the kitchen door to see someone’s light.

  Only blackness lay ahead. If Lane or Saundra had gone downstairs, they would have lit a candle. Angie pressed a fist to her mouth so the scream wouldn’t come out. She had to find out who was there.

  Avoiding the fourth step, she slid her right shoe along the wooden baseboard and followed with the other shoe, moving her weight smoothly until she reached the hall table. Despite her care, the edge of her robe caught the corner of a pewter plate in a stand near the edge. It crashed to the floor.

  The next instant the kitchen door flew open to let in a brief chilly gust then slammed shut. Hard shoes thumped across the porch and disappeared.

  Angie dashed to the door and held the curtain away from the window. Her mind formed a dozen questions simultaneously. Who was it? An Indian? They hadn’t had Indian trouble for more than five years. A tramp? Not likely this far from town. What had they wanted? There were no valuables in the house. No one would ever imagine there were. What could an intruder be looking for?

  Trembling, she turned away from the door. Suddenly she wanted to be back safe in her room. Feeling her way along, she hurried back upstairs and slid in next to Judy. She lay on her back, shaking, her teeth chattering from a fit of nerves.

  Everything in her wanted to believe that a stranger had violated their home, but she couldn’t make herself accept it. Tip hadn’t barked.

  The next morning Angie lingered under the covers fifteen minutes later than usual, enjoying the soft warmth, dreading the intense cold waiting outside her quilt. Had the previous night’s episode been a nightmare? It had seemed so real.

  The smell of coffee and bacon drew her out, and she hustled, shivering, into a gray dress. When she reached the kitchen, Lane, Barry, and Hans sat together drinking coffee. None of them looked as if they’d slept well.

  “How would you like your eggs this morning, sir?” Saundra asked Lane at the breakfast table. Wearing a pale blue dress, she brandished a spatula and smiled sweetly. “Scrambled or over easy?”

  Lane set down his coffee cup. “Scrambled, but not too hard.”

  She arched an eyebrow, watching Barry.

  “I’ll take the same,” Barry added. He glanced at Angie standing in the doorway then turned toward Saundra.

  Angie knew he was trying to hide hurt feelings, and her heart ached. She wanted to blurt out her nighttime experience, but she didn’t. She would wait and talk to Lane later.

  “Scrambled for me too,” Hans said. He had his face bent down and seemed to be studying the ridge on his enamel plate, one thumb feeling its edge.

  Angie studied Hans’s face. Had Lane been right? Had she asked him to bring someone dangerous into their home? Last night she’d been almost certain that Hans was the offender, but now that she saw his sadly troubled eyes, she couldn’t believe he was a villain.

  Chapter 14

  I make the best eggs this side of the Rockies,” Saundra said, flashing a smile as she whisked eggs to a froth and poured them into a sizzling skillet.

  Barry grinned. “I had some of your eggs last Monday, and I have to agree.”

  Angie’s attention focused on Saundra. She seemed livelier. She had a laughing slant to her eyes. What had happened to Saundra since last night? Had she been the person in the kitchen?

  Angie rejected the idea the moment it came to her. Saundra wouldn’t be sneaking around in the dead of night. She had full access to the house already.

  Lane looked beyond Angie to his daughter in the hall. “Hurry up, slowpoke,” he called, teasing. “I’m your driver this morning, and I want to leave early. I’ve got business in town after I drop you off.”

  Feeling invisible and totally miserable, Angie pulled out a chair and sat. “I’ll take my eggs over light, please,” she told Saundra.

  “You’re next in line,” that day’s cook said, scraping eggs onto three plates and delivering them with a flourish. She opened the oven door and reached inside for a pan of golden biscuits.

  Sniffing appreciatively, Barry waited until the bisc
uit pan landed on the table, then forked one onto his plate. Hans followed suit.

  Judy dropped her school bag by the door and took a seat. “Three more days ’til Christmas vacation,” she said glumly.

  Lane grinned and touched her shoulder. “You’ll live through it. Before you know it, the break will be over, and you’ll be going back to school again.”

  She shot him a horrified glance. “You think that makes me feel better?”

  Chuckling, he sampled his eggs. “Saundra, can I fetch you anything from town?”

  “No, but I’d like to do some Christmas shopping sometime.”

  His face showed interest. “Why don’t you come along with me today?” He glanced at Barry. “You two can look after that piece of broken fence, can’t you?”

  “Sure, boss.” Reaching for a second biscuit, Barry split it and dipped his knife into the butter bowl.

  “I hate to leave you with the dishes,” Saundra told Angie.

  “You made breakfast,” Angie replied, making an effort to keep her voice light. “You can choose some fine green wool for my braid trim while you’re there.”

  “Of course.” Untying her apron, Saundra hustled out of the room. “I won’t keep you waiting, Lane.”

  “No hurry.”

  Angie stared at her plate. That wasn’t what he told Judy a few minutes ago.

  Ten minutes later she sat alone, listening to Tip’s bark and the fading sound of clopping hooves with rattling iron wheels on frozen earth.

  For the first time in her life, Angie-the-fixer felt completely helpless. After trudging through her morning chores, she set some white clothes to soak in a washtub of scalding water and climbed the stairs slowly. In her mind she saw Lane and Saundra laughing, close together on the buggy seat. She wanted to grind her teeth, to scream, to beat her fists against a wall.

  Worst of all, Angie knew she had no one to blame but herself. In Bible days Rebekah had lost her beloved son, Jacob, because of her conniving. Had Angie lost Lane as well?

  Lying on her bed, Angie wanted to pray. She felt ashamed to ask for God’s help, but what else could she do? Desperately unhappy, she buried her face in her pillow—begging for mercy and soaking the goose down with hot tears.