His Convenient Wife

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Instead of Rose, he got stuck with me,” she muttered.

  She traced the parchment in her hands again. She wasn’t Rose, nor could she ever be like her sister. Brushing back a tear, she stood up and put the letter away. She couldn’t read it. Not now. Not when she felt so inferior to her.

  Maybe tomorrow. Maybe then she’d feel better.

  With a heavy sigh, she went back to bed and closed her eyes, willing this marriage to be a horrible dream and that she’d wake up in her old bedroom, thankful for a second chance to do things right.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning after Stan was done with the animals, he put the small basket of fresh eggs on the worktable then took a skillet down from the hook on the wall. Though his bedroom wasn’t right next to Harriett’s, he heard her crying last night. This, in turn, made it hard for him to sleep as well, and he ended up taking his blanket and pillow to the parlor and sleeping on the couch.

  Even so, the echoes of her crying still made his gut tighten. He was the reason she was miserable. First, he married her, knowing full well she was giving up the possibility of being with a man who deserved her. Then, he pretty much handed Maggie to her and let her take over everything. At the time, he figured that since Harriett was a woman, she knew what to do with the girl. But looking back on it, he realized she needed his help. Despite all of this, however, his biggest offense was refusing to let her and Maggie eat at a separate time from him. It was the only thing she asked of him, and he had said no.

  Not too long ago, she had cared about him. Now, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated him. All he’d ever done was take from her. He never took the time to appreciate her. The last thing he wanted to do was remember every time he had pushed her aside in favor of her sister. But all night he’d gone through each attempt she’d made to talk to him. The picnic had been the last one. And instead of being considerate enough to give her his undivided attention, he’d suggested they invite Rose to eat with them.

  What he needed to do was talk to his mother and find out what he could do to rectify the past. Surely, there was something he could do to make things right. Whatever the answer was, he didn’t know. Hopefully, since his mother was a woman, she’d be able to give him some ideas.

  This morning, he would make breakfast, thereby giving Harriett a reprieve from having to come up with something Maggie might possibly eat. He gathered some cheese, milk, and butter. Setting them on the worktable, he decided to get canned peaches from the pantry.

  Harriett had done a good job of filling the shelves. He never used it much when it was just him and Maggie. The girl never ate that much, and he stuck with a couple main meals. But Harriett had bought an impressive supply of food and gadgets to aid her in cooking. He didn’t know what half the stuff was for, but there was no doubt she was skilled when it came to the kitchen. He’d heard her mother was one of the best cooks in Nebraska, and he guessed Harriett acquired her talent from her because he couldn’t recall a time when he’d eaten so well.

  Except for the food she’d given him at the picnic. But he’d spent so much time wondering what he could have said or done to get Rose to bid on him that he’d given little thought to what Harriett had made.

  Pushing aside the stab of guilt in his gut, he spent the next half hour making omelets. Once he put them on their respective plates, he carried his blanket and pillow up the stairs and put them on his bed.

  He stepped into the hallway and hesitated outside Harriett’s closed door. He didn’t think she would still be asleep, but she’d been up for a long time and she’d been upset. Should he wake her up and let her know breakfast was ready? Or maybe she was already awake and getting dressed.

  After a quick debate, he knocked on her door. “Harriett, are you awake?”

  No answer.

  He glanced at Maggie’s door. She’d also done a lot of crying the previous evening. Perhaps she was just as tired as Harriett. Just what he needed: two crying females. He hoped both would be in better moods today.

  “Harriett?” he called out, louder this time.

  But again, no answer.

  She was still here, wasn’t she? The thought hadn’t occurred to him that she might be so upset, she’d go back to live with her family. Holding his breath, he turned the knob and opened her door a crack, afraid he’d find her bed empty. But she was still there, curled up on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

  He released his breath. Good. He hadn’t thought of how awful he’d feel if she left. After all she’d been through, he wouldn’t have blamed her for leaving, but it was very reassuring that she hadn’t.

  He opened his mouth to wake her then got an idea. There was one week when his mother had been sick, and his father would bring her meals to her. Granted, this wasn’t the exact same situation, but his mother had been touched by his father’s kindness. Maybe this would be a good way of making amends with her.

  He hurried back to the kitchen and gathered her plate with a cup of coffee. Though he didn’t have a tray, he did have a board, so he put them on there and carried it up the stairs. When he reached her room, he set the board on the dresser and went over to her.

  “Harriett?”

  Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open them.

  He leaned forward and got ready to touch her shoulder but stopped. She was beautiful. Which was silly, of course, because he’d always known she was attractive, but he hadn’t ever taken the time to look at her, to see her as she really was. And having gotten to know her better, she was actually a very lovely woman.

  She opened her eyes and gasped. Gripping her blanket to her chin, she backed away from him until she almost fell off the other side of the bed.

  He almost reached out to prevent her from falling but stopped himself. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her more than he already had. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.” Gesturing to the dresser, he added, “I brought you breakfast.” He went over to grab the board and showed her the omelet, peaches, and cup of coffee. “I’ll feed Maggie downstairs.”

  “You made me breakfast?”

  Catching the shock in her voice, he chuckled. “I’m not as good at cooking as you, but omelets are one of the things I can do well. At least, it’s edible.” He nodded to her lap. “Can I set this there?”

  She looked down at her lap. “Oh, yes. Let me get ready for it.”

  She lowered the blanket, exposing her nightshirt. His gaze went to her chest without meaning to, but once he caught sight of the way the cloth outlined the curve of her breasts, he couldn’t help but look. Her shirtwaists and dresses never revealed so much. Too soon, she brought the blanket under her armpits, effectively blocking him from staring at her.

  Clearing his throat, he put the board on her lap. “I’ll take Maggie to my family for the day. I won’t be back until this evening.”

  “You don’t have to stay away that long.”

  “I know, but I want to make this a day where you can rest.” He hesitated to say more but decided he might as well. “I want things to be different between us. I know I haven’t treated you the way you deserve. I can’t change the past, but I can do something about the future. All I ask is that you be willing to let me make things right.”

  Without waiting for her to reply, because he feared she would say it was too late, he left the room and shut the door. Then he went to get Maggie ready for the day.

  ***

  Stan arrived at his parents’ house and glanced down at Maggie who was sitting in the saddle in front of him. “You will behave while we’re here,” he told her, using a firmness in his tone he hadn’t used before, except for the previous evening after Harriett left the kitchen in tears.

  It was time he took his role as a father seriously and stopped catering to Maggie’s every whim. Doing so had only made Harriett’s job more difficult. But he was going to change all that, just like he was going to change other things between them.

>   “Stan, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice called out from behind him.

  He turned the horse and saw Emily, his sister who was eleven years his senior, carrying an empty laundry basket. His gaze went to the clothesline, and he saw his mother hanging one of his pa’s clean shirts.

  “I thought I’d bring Maggie over for a visit. Are Luke and Lizzy here, too?” he asked, inquiring after their other siblings.

  “No, it’s just me and my children.” Emily held her arms to Maggie. “Jump into my arms.”

  The girl looked up at Stan. Surprised Maggie felt the need to ask his permission, Stan nodded his consent. She stood up in the saddle then jumped toward Emily, who caught her.

  “My, you’re getting big,” Emily told the girl, ruffling her hair.

  “No mess, Aunt Em,” Maggie protested, smoothing her wavy hair out the best she could.

  “Oh come on,” Emily replied with a chuckle. “You needn’t worry about getting messy. It can be fun. Now, do you want to see Grandma?”

  “Yes.”

  Stan waited for Maggie to add that she wanted cookies or some kind of treat, but she didn’t. Instead, she waited until Emily set her feet on the ground then ran over to his ma.

  He shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I took the wrong girl out here.”

  “Harriett must be doing her a lot of good,” Emily commented as he got down from his horse.

  “Harriett’s been working hard to get her to behave.”

  He was sure Harriett’s influence had something to do with it, but there was no denying that something else changed yesterday evening. And it wasn’t just with Maggie. He suspected something changed for him as well, though he couldn’t pin down exactly what.

  “So,” he began as he led the horse to the barn, “when did you get out here?”

  “Just a half hour ago,” Emily said, falling into step beside him. “Ma was doing laundry, so I pitched in to help. It’s the perfect day for it. Sunny with a warm breeze. The clothes will dry in no time.”

  Stan hoped Harriett wouldn’t take this day to do laundry, even if it was a nice one. He hoped she’d do no work at all. Maybe she could visit her family, perhaps Rose, and enjoy herself. That was what she needed most. It was why he left the buggy behind.

  “Then the horse told me I should fly over the house.”

  He blinked and looked at his sister. “What?”

  She shot him a wry grin and held onto the reins while he started to remove the saddle. “I didn’t think you were listening to me.”

  “I’m sorry. My mind’s been elsewhere this morning.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  He shrugged, not sure he wanted his big sister helping him with his love life, or a lack thereof. “A lot’s been happening.”

  “Yes, I gathered as much. I didn’t even know you fancied Harriett Larson. I thought you wanted her sister.”

  His face warmed, but he refused to make eye contact with her. “I did, but that was long ago.”

  “Long ago? Isaac said you proposed to her last year.”

  He gritted his teeth. It was just his luck that Isaac happened to be Harriett and Rose’s oldest brother and Emily’s husband. Everything that happened to the Larsons went through the gossip mill of his family.

  “It doesn’t matter because she said no.” He pulled the saddle off the horse and set it in the corner of the barn. When he returned to her, he added, “She wouldn’t have been happy with me anyway. It’s best she married Kent Ashton.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.” He took the reins from her.

  “You don’t wish she’d said yes to you?”

  “No.” Not anymore. But he didn’t really feel like going into it with her. “Things worked out for the best.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to hear you regretted marrying Harriett.”

  “No, I don’t regret it.” Regret was something he definitely didn’t experience. He only wished he could say the same for her. He led the horse to the stall then removed the bridle and reins. After directing the horse to the feeding trough between the stalls, he turned back to Emily. “Did Ma tell you anything about her first marriage?”

  Emily crossed her arms and shrugged. “Not much. She only said it was important to make sure I marry someone who sincerely cared for me. She said she didn’t want me to go through the same thing she did with Jim.”

  “Jim?”

  “That was her first husband’s name.”

  Funny how he never thought to ask what the man’s name was. He was Luke’s father, after all. “You think Luke knows about him?”

  “Probably more than us. I remember the day Luke was born. She came onto this property right after Jim died and went into labor. Luke was born that night.”

  “She wasn’t happy with Jim. Apparently, she loved him, but he didn’t love her.”

  She studied him for a moment then asked, “Is the same thing true with you and Harriett? I heard she’s been in love with you since she was thirteen or something.”

  “That long?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am.” He thought Harriett cared about him for maybe a year at the most. He had no idea her feelings stemmed that far back. Now, he felt even worse.

  “Do you love her?”

  He hadn’t expected such a bold question, though maybe he should have. Emily was never one to hold back. Unlike their mother, Lizzie, and even Harriett, she said whatever was on her mind. Their pa thought it was cute, and usually Stan didn’t mind, but today it made him uncomfortable.

  “Stan?” she pressed.

  “I don’t love Rose. I was in love with the idea of her, but it wouldn’t have worked. I can see that now.”

  “I didn’t ask about Rose. I asked about Harriett.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about Harriett. She’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  Irritated, he stepped around her and set the reins and bridle on a hook along the wall. “I don’t know. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “Because I’d like to think you’re going to be good to Isaac’s little sister, that’s why.”

  “I don’t want to do anything to hurt her.”

  Emily walked over to him. “I know you don’t want to hurt Harriett. I just hope you’re taking the time to look at her as she truly is instead of how she compares to Rose.”

  “I’ve never had trouble telling them apart.”

  She smiled. “Good.” A child screamed from outside, and she rolled her eyes. “I better tend to Amos. Just you wait until Harriett has a child. Then it’ll be Maggie and a little brother or sister. Things don’t get really interesting until there’s two who can fight with each other.”

  He grimaced. “You shouldn’t bring your children over. They’ll only give Maggie ideas she doesn’t need to be having.”

  Laughing, she patted his shoulder. “If you didn’t want more children, then you should have remained a bachelor.”

  He watched her as she left the barn. From the doorway, he saw her kneel in front of her son as he cried about something his older brother did to hurt him.

  Stan turned his attention back to the barn and straightened some things up, wondering where his pa was. He peered out the other doorway leading to the pasture but didn’t see him. His pa’s horse wasn’t in sight either. His pa either went to town or was out in the fields. Both were likely, and it was just as well, he supposed.

  He really came to talk to his ma anyway. He needed a woman’s advice on how to best handle things with Harriett. After a few more minutes of making sure everything was organized in the barn, he headed for the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Stan entered the house, his ma was cleaning up the kitchen after giving all of her grandchildren a snack. Since Esther and Lisa were fourteen and thirteen, they pitched in to help, but ten-year-old Jerry took seven-year-old Amos out to play. And Maggie stayed in the kitchen to
quietly play with a doll she often played with when she came over.

  “Are you sure you want to come into the kitchen?” his ma asked as he stepped into the room. “We might put you to work.”

  He grinned at her joke. “I can handle a little clean up,” he assured her. “I took the liberty of straightening things up in the barn.”

  “Jerry and Amos were playing in there right before you came,” she replied.

  “Boys are so messy,” Esther said as she wiped smeared blueberries off the table.

  “I forgot Amos doesn’t like blueberry muffins,” his ma replied. “I should have given him the plain one. But,” she turned her gaze to Stan, “you’ll be happy to know Maggie ate one.”

  “She did?” he asked, surprised Maggie even had an appetite after eating her omelet and a slice of a peach. Granted, she hadn’t eaten all of the slices he’d given her, but one was better than none. And as for an omelet, she usually only had a couple bites of it before claiming she was full, only to be hungry a half hour later. “She ate her breakfast this morning.”

  “So she’s doing better?”

  He nodded. “With any luck, she’ll keep it up.”

  He glanced over at Maggie, who was humming a tune as she played with the doll’s hair. Though the girl didn’t seem to be paying attention, he wondered if she really was.

  “I was really proud of her,” he added, thinking if she was listening, maybe it would encourage her to eat the next meal Harriett made for her.

  “As you should be,” his ma said. She put the last dish in the sink and gave him a good look. “Did you want to talk to me?”

  He scanned the room. Lisa put a broom and dustpan away while Esther put a rag in the sink. “Yes,” he slowly admitted. “But I’d rather talk alone.”

  “Esther, why don’t you take Maggie outside, and Lisa, help your mother with the wash,” she instructed.

  Stan’s nieces hastened to obey, and he thanked them as they left the room.

  “You want any muffins or coffee?” his ma offered once they were alone.