“That’s enough gossip, I think.” Mrs. Porter shot her husband a warning glance, and then turned back to look at Lilly. “I’ll point out some of the more prominent places in town as we drive through.”
As Mrs. Porter prattled on about parks and stores and one of the “mining millionaire” mansions they passed, Lilly snuck glances at the couple sitting at the front of the wagon. She had enjoyed watching the light-hearted banter between them, and though Mrs. Porter tried to keep up the walls of propriety in front of Lilly, there was no hiding the great affection she had for her husband…or his, for her.
Will I ever have that? Mrs. Porter may have started out as a mail order bride, but she fell in love with Mr. Porter instead, and was in love with him before they married. Lilly would be marrying a total stranger…would that lead to love? Or regret? Or just a long life merely existing alongside one another?
“Lilly?” Mrs. Porter’s voice broke her reverie.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I guess I got distracted.”
“You’re probably tired. I don’t blame you. We’re almost there.”
They were driving through the streets of downtown, with the horses’ hooves kicking up dust.
“My goodness,” Lilly breathed, “I remember Mr. Morgan’s letters mentioning that Helena had electricity and telephone lines, but I must say that it’s far more modern than I anticipated!”
She had expected log cabin storefronts, or something similar. Instead, most of the buildings were made of brick, and two to four stories tall. Electric and telephone wires lined the main street, and though it was clearly a much smaller and less-congested city area than she was used to, having grown up in a suburb of Boston, it bustled with more business and activity than she had imagined.
After a few more minutes, Mr. Porter alongside a building that had a sign over it that matched the green and gold motif painted on the side of the wagon.
“I think I’m just going to leave Sunny and Tansy here for a few minutes, so I can walk you and Miss Watkins across the street to the hotel. I don’t want you to have to carry Grace all that way.”
“I’d be happy to carry her,” Lilly offered.
“Oh no, dear, you have your bag, and you’ll want to lift your dress a bit to keep it out of the dust. Honestly, when are they going to pave the streets here? Even brick or cobblestones would be an improvement. Why have paved sidewalks, and leave the streets just dirt?”
“I keep hearing rumors that it’s going to happen,” said Mr. Porter, “but nothing gets done.”
Mrs. Porter huffed. “You’d think this was a one-horse town! But never mind me…Clay, why don’t you just take Grace into the shop and let Herman watch Grace while you put the horse and wagon up. Is that alright? Do you think Herman is too busy?”
“Nah.” Mr. Porter climbed out of the wagon and held his arms out to take Grace. “Jack should be here by now to help out. If he’s not, I’ll wait to take care of Sunny and the wagon until you get back. You won’t be long, will you?” His eyes drifted down to his wife’s burgeoning stomach.
“Really, you’d think I was made of glass. No, I don’t plan to be gone more than twenty or thirty minutes, but even if I’m gone an hour, I won’t fall to pieces. I know very well when I need to sit and rest, and when I don’t.” She took her husband’s hand when he offered it, and stepped down awkwardly from the wagon.
Mr. Porter circled around, but Lilly hopped down from the rear of the wagon before he could get there, and clutched her bag tightly. “I’ve got it. Thank you.” She managed a thin-lipped smile.
Mr. and Mrs. Porter exchanged looks again.
“Well…” Mrs. Porter hesitated “…shall we?” She hooked her arm through Lilly’s and guided her across the street and down the block.
Chapter 5
Jake slipped into the butcher shop, cringing at the surprise on Herman Kirschner’s face. Are they here? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Will Mrs. Porter be furious? Oh no, what if I’ve ruined everything?
“Jake, what are you doing here, son? You’re not supposed to meet your girl until tomorrow. You know Madeline, she’s a stickler for the rules. They could be pulling up in front of the hotel any minute!”
“I know. I just…I couldn’t…” he stalked away from Herman, glancing at the hotel across the street, then walked back, and flailed his arms outward. “I just can’t take it anymore! I figured I was safe coming here. Mrs. Porter said they’d probably take her straight to the hotel.”
“And you thought you’d sneak in here get yourself a gander at your bride as they passed by, eh?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Laughter erupted from the old man until he was nearly doubled over. “Oh, my boy,” he said, wiping away a tear from the corner of one eye, “you are a sight, aren’t you? A big ol’ man like Jake Morgan fretting over a girl, like a timid schoolboy. Reminds me of myself, back in the day. Couldn’t put two words together whenever my Katherine was around.” He shook his head. “No, they’re not here yet, and ya better skedaddle before Madeline finds you and turns your beguiling bride over to a man who does what he’s told! She don’t brook no flouting of her rules—that’s what she says, only probably more proper-like.” He laughed again.
“I’m not trying to break the rules. Well…maybe bend them a little. I don’t intend to talk to Miss Watkins. I just need to see her. I need to know that she came. That she got off the train.”
“That she didn’t stand you up?”
“Yeah,” Jake’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, walking over and sagging into one of the two chairs that flanked the small table in the far corner.
“You worry too much, boy,” Herman laughed. “She’ll show up, you two will get along fine, and you’ll be married in two days and have a pretty girl to cook your meals and warm your bed.”
“If only it was that easy. How do I know she’ll like me? Or Montana? How do I know she won’t marry me, then hop a train and run home to her mama, back in Massachusetts?” Jake pounded the table in frustration.
“Don’t buy yourself any trouble. Wait and see how things go before you start worrying.” Herman shuffled over and sat opposite Jake. “Look, it’s not surprising you’re getting cold feet. After what Sadie put you through…well, any man might swear off women for good. But most women ain’t like that, and you know it. My Katherine was near to a saint, and Madeline—well, I couldn’t ask for a sweeter daughter, if I had one of my own. She gets mighty particular on some things, but she’s got fire and spunk, and she takes good care of her family, and treats me almost as good as my own Katherine did. So you trust Madeline—that she’s found you a good girl—you hear?”
Jake nodded, but his heart still pounded with anxiety.
“Looks like you don’t have to worry about her showing up or not, anymore.”
His pounding heart took off at a gallop as Jake looked up, just catching a glimpse of the rear end of Porter’s wagon as it cruised past the corner of the window, turning down into the alley alongside the butcher shop.
“Here? She’s here?” He swallowed over the huge lump in his throat. “They weren’t supposed to be bringing her here!” He cast about, looking for a place to hide, but the only place was behind the counters, and that was the first place Mrs. Porter would head with her daughter. “What do I do? I’m not supposed to be here! What do I do?”
Herman slapped his knee, laughing hard at Jake’s panic.
Jake frowned in exasperation. “It’s not funny! What if Mrs. Porter decides to wed Lilly off to some other bachelor because I broke the rules?” He threw his arms up in frustrated misery, lowering his voice in case they were all about to walk in.
“Calm down boy! It’s simple. We hear them come in the back, you sneak out the front door and skedaddle. They come in the front, you sneak out the back.”
“Oh! Good idea.” His brain was befuddled, and he wasn’t thinking right. He crouched down, halfway between the front door to the shop and the door that led to the back of the shop,
ready to spring into action at the first sound.
Behind him, Herman giggled—not unlike a schoolgirl. He was enjoying Jake’s plight.
At first, the voices seemed to come from near the back, and Jake edged closer to the front door. Then they were on the move, and seemed to be heading toward the street. He shuffled back a few paces, until he was right in front of the door that led to the back area. He saw Mrs. Porter’s hat, and he ducked down, about to slip into the back room.
“I think you’re safe.” Herman stood up, craning his neck. “Looks like they’re just walking her across the street to the hotel. Must have decided to park the wagon behind the shop, first.”
Jake breathed a sigh of relief, then scurried over to the window, almost on his hands and knees. He popped up just in time to see Mrs. Porter crossing the street with a young lady of slim build, wearing a light green dress and a straw bonnet.
“Aw, darn it! I missed her. All this trouble, and I didn’t even get to see her face!” He watched the two women step up onto the walkway, walk a few doors down, and disappear into the hotel.
Though he’d glimpsed Miss Watkins in profile before she turned into the hotel, it was so far across the street that he couldn’t see much, other than that she had a fine, straight nose and fair skin. He’d seen the photograph she’d sent, but he was eager to see her in person. He sighed. “I wonder where Porter went to?”
“Right here.”
Jake jumped, turning to see Clay Porter behind him, holding his little girl. He must have come in from the back. Jake had been so engrossed in trying to catch a glimpse of Lilly Watkins that he hadn’t heard anything else.
“What are you doing here, Morgan?”
“I…uh…I just….”
“Oh, what do you think he’s doing here, Clay? He wanted a peek at his bride-to-be!” Herman laughed some more.
Jake shot Herman a look. He couldn’t wait to find Herman squirming in some similar bind. He planned to have a hearty guffaw, himself, when that happened.
“Morgan, do you have any idea how lucky you are they didn’t stop in here first? I may run this shop, and I may wear the pants in the family, but I’m smart enough not to mess with how my wife keeps the house or runs her matchmaking business. And there’s a reason for that. Her look of disapproval could burn holes in your head, and you end up feeling like a heel.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Herman chimed in.
“Now, get out of here, before Madeline sees you!”
“Alright, alright.” Jake walked toward the door.
“Not that way! Out back.”
Jake glanced through the front window, toward the hotel. “Oh! Right.” He hurried into the back room, where a large butcher block dominated the room, with counters running along the wall, and one wall lined with shelves loaded down with supplies. He saw the back door to his left. He could hear the men snickering as he opened the back door.
“Oh boy, I remember the day before my wedding. I could barely put together a sentence.”
“Yep. Funniest thing I ever saw, watching a big, burly man like him ducking down, trying not to be seen, with his broad shoulders sticking up in the window, clear as day.”
The two men chuckled as Jake crept out the back door, shutting it quietly behind him.
I’m glad I could provide them with some entertainment, he thought with irritation. All that embarrassment, and he didn’t even get a real look at Miss Watkins. But she seemed to walk gracefully. Not like Mrs. Porter exactly—he knew Mrs. Porter came from a wealthy family, so that was to be expected, he supposed. But she appeared far more graceful and delicate than most women he knew. And her dress was pretty.
Sighing, he resigned himself to having to wait a day to meet his bride. He walked the back way out of the alley and took a circuitous route back to his place, hoping the long walk would calm his anxiety. Instead, endless questions cycled through his mind.
Will she like me? Will I like her? Will she make a good wife? Will she think I’m a good husband? Will she like Montana? Is my apartment nice enough for her? Did I clean it well enough? Will we have anything in common? Will we get along? Is she as pretty as her photograph? Will she be attracted to me? Will we be happy together?
And though he wouldn’t let it come to the forefront of his mind, there was always one question that he was afraid to acknowledge. The one that scared him the most, deep inside…will she leave me?
***
“Well, it looks like you’re all settled in.” Madeline patted Lilly on the hand. “I’ll leave you to unpack and relax. Try to get some rest, if you can. I’m sure you’re worried about tomorrow, but don’t be. I’ve done this a good dozen times already, and the meeting always goes better than you think it will, even if you’re both nervous as can be.”
“I hope you’re right.” Lilly’s stomach twisted. “I’m so panicky, I have butterflies.”
“You’ll be fine. Just remember, you can always say no. It’s your life, and you owe him nothing. You must make sure you’re making the right decision for you.”
“Has anyone ever changed their mind?” Lilly wondered if any bride had been spurned at the altar.
“No. Not yet. So far everyone has been happy with their matches. I’m very careful about how I match the couples, and I’m very forthright about the whole process, so everyone knows what to expect.”
“I can’t imagine a man would be happy if his fiancée changed her mind.”
“Don’t worry about that. My bachelors always know that a woman can change her mind at any time, right up to the ‘I do’, and they must provide a ticket home if the bride desires. Then I’ll either find them another bride, or refund my fee. I try to be as fair as possible to everyone, but the bride takes the biggest personal risk, so I make sure she’s provided for. And of course, the groom is free to change his mind, as well.”
That’s what I’m worried about. Lilly bit her lip, but said nothing.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Miss Watkins. Everything will work out for the best. I’ll be here at eleven tomorrow to bring you down for lunch in the restaurant. Mr. Morgan will be waiting for us.”
“I’ll be ready.” Lilly managed a small smile.
“Do try to get some rest, dear.”
“I will.”
Once Mrs. Porter had left, Lilly unpacked her things. It didn’t take long. She had two extra day dresses, plus her Sunday dress, which she planned on wearing to the wedding. She’d had one other dress—the nicest one she’d ever owned—but that one had been ruined, of course.
Flashes of the torn silk, her ruined stockings, and scuffed shoes filled her mind. The gasping…the crying…
Lilly shook her head, pushing such thoughts from her mind. She wouldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t.
But she did.
She had managed to bottle up those memories for months now, stuffing them down, thinking of other things. But as her impending nuptials approached, her worry brought them back in vivid detail.
She had successfully hidden that night’s events. Initially, at least. Her sister, had caught her just as she reached her own bedroom door. There was no hiding her tear-streaked face from Felicia.
Lilly wasn’t one given to tears very often, so Felicia followed Lilly into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly, and pressed her sister for details. She knew Lilly had been out with Theodore Bennett, and assumed he’d said something distressing, or perhaps broken it off. When Lilly refused further details, becoming even more distraught, Felicia threatened to tell their parents.
It was the only thing that ever could have pried the truth from Lilly’s lips.
Felicia was horrified, and sympathetic. She was a good sister. Though it was against her better judgment, Felicia had agreed to keep Lilly’s secret. And she did. Lilly cleaned up, quickly and quietly, and changed into her bedclothes, and Felicia went and told her parents that Lilly had already come home, and was up in bed. Her parents were surprised, wondering why Lilly would sneak in th
e back like that.
“You’ll have to ask her,” Felicia had said, and went upstairs before her mother could interrogate her further. She didn’t like lying, and wouldn’t have held up to much scrutiny.
“They must have had an argument,” Felicia had heard Mother say to Father.
Lilly had breathed a sigh of relief when Felicia relayed the conversation to her. Perhaps her mother wouldn’t pry if she thought it had been a mere quarrel. Maybe I’m in the clear, she thought. And she was.
Until Mother had found the ruined garments Lilly had hidden.
The clothing was too damaged to wash until it was mended, so Lilly began work on the pantaloons while Mother was out visiting the next day. She didn’t have a spare moment alone in the house for the rest of the week. She had managed to finish the pantaloons one evening after everyone was asleep, but hadn’t gotten farther than that, since they were the most damaged piece and took a good deal of work. Her mother was restless that night, getting up twice to go downstairs for something—chamomile tea, most likely. After that, Lilly put the mending away, too afraid of getting caught and having to answer questions, to do more.
When Sunday came, Lilly couldn’t imagine enduring a long service only one floor above the place of her own desecration, surrounded by a church full of people as well as the man who had committed the immoral act. Lilly tried to beg off going to church, claiming illness, but her shrewd mother saw through the charade. No one could play sick with Mrs. Watkins, whose father had been a doctor. She insisted Lilly get dressed. When she opened Lilly’s closet to grab a dress, Lilly tried to stop her, but it was too late. Mother held the ruined dress in her hands, her face a mask of shock and disapproval.
“Lillibeth Watkins, what on earth did you do to your new dress?”
She endeavored to find the right words, but they would not come.
“Lilly?” her mother demanded.
At last she found her tongue. “I’ll wear my other dress today and mend the new one before next Sunday. I promise.”
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