Johanna: Bride of Michigan (American Mail-Order Bride 26)

by Clara Kincaid

  “Is there a problem with your duck?”

  “No. I’ve just never had duck before.”

  “Give it a try. I’m sure you’ll love it, even though it’s a little on the greasy side.”

  Johanna forked off a piece and had to stop herself from picking it up and shoving it into her mouth. It wasn’t like she didn’t do that in the comforts of her own room back in Lawrence, but she was considered the lady of the house and was expected to act like it. She murmured in satisfaction as the rich flavor burst onto her taste buds. “This is wonderful,” she finally exclaimed.

  “Ingrid is an exceptional cook. I’m lucky to have her.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  They finished the remainder of their meal in relative silence, declining the chocolate cake since they were both quite full. Paul pulled out her chair and they adjourned into one of the rooms Johanna hadn’t seen as of yet, the library. She loved the smell of leather binders, and two of the four walls were bookshelves filled with books. There was also a desk in the room, where Paul sat down. She joined him by sitting in a nearby chair that was a little too hard for her liking.

  “How did it go at the mill today?”

  He sighed. “I had to fire William, my bookkeeper.”

  “Oh, my. Whatever for?”

  “He’s been pilfering money. I knew something wasn’t right when I looked through the books. William must have thought me a fool. He should have known I’m a hands-on mill owner. I don’t simply sit back and collect my monies.” He lifted a wooden box and pulled out a cigar, smelling it for a moment. “I promise I’ll take you for a tour of the mill tomorrow, like I promised.”

  “Thank you. I’m so looking forward to that, but I am sorry about the bookkeeper.”

  Paul twisted the end of his cigar off. “So, what was really going on tonight at dinner? Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “It’s not that, but I suppose I had better tell you. It might help you understand why I was so upset, although I hadn’t meant to sound like I had. Everything I’ve seen today proves how good you treat your staff.”

  “In many ways, they’re members of my family.”

  “My sister Janna wasn’t nice to her staff. She even treated me like I was one of them.”

  “How so?”

  “After the factory burned down, Janna offered me a room at her house until I left as a mail-order bride. She’s a widow, but her husband left her quite the sum of money, so she lived quite comfortably. She had little staff, though, as most quit after she treated them poorly, everyone but the cook Edna. She even expected me to dress like I was the maid and serve her guests, and live in the servants’ quarters.”

  Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Has she always been like that to you?”

  “We fought as children, but that’s what you do when you’re young. No, Janna went out of her way to belittle me. She’s the oldest but I was Papa’s favorite before he left us, leaving our mother to work as a seamstress and scullery maid. She died before her time,” Johanna paused and sniffled.

  “What of your father?”

  “I harbor ill feelings toward him for leaving us. If he hadn’t, my mother might still be alive.”

  “I understand, but I imagine you must be curious as to his whereabouts.”

  “I’d rather not talk about this. I only hope that I can trust you’ll remain married to me. I’d hate to be left out in the cold with children in tow.”

  “I promise you I’ll never do that. I wanted a wife, and now I have one. I hope in time, you’ll consider sleeping with me.” He winked. “I’d love to have a child or two.”

  “Two children in this big house?”

  “I’d rather not burden you by expecting you to bear me a houseful of children. That can be hard on a woman.”

  “Thank you. Now, are you planning to smoke that cigar?”

  “Yes, but I had planned to do that outside. I’m not certain you’d be able to stomach the smell.”

  “I’ll head up to the sewing room, if you don’t mind. You can meet me up there after you’re finished, if you’d like.”

  Paul eased himself up to his full height. “I will.”

  Johanna hurried out of the library. All that talk of her joining him in his bed had her rattled. Her heart swelled every time he glanced her way and she struggled not to put her foot in her mouth, although she certainly didn’t have a problem voicing her opinion, if she had one. Was it possible she loved him already?

  She hurried up the steps and into the sewing room. She quickly straightened it so when Paul did join her, it wouldn’t look in total disarray. Why, she was actually looking forward to him coming up there.

  Stop it, you little fool. You can’t rush to his bed quite yet. You need his heart first.

  * * *

  Paul lit his cigar and stared over to the barn where the groomsmen were tipping a bottle and laughing. He walked over there to get his mind off his wife. She had acted quite strange at dinner, but he understood where it was coming from. Who could be unkind to someone like Johanna? She had the face of an angel and was kind and thoughtful. She took her position as his wife seriously and took an interest in the staff; she’d be their champion if anyone ever treated them unkindly. It wasn’t something Paul would ever do, though. He had meager beginnings himself and it took time to get used to having a staff, but he wanted a mansion and had it built by the best artisans of the time. Staff wasn’t just something he wanted—it was a necessity.

  Pete and Riley put their drinks down at his approach. “Do you need anything, Mr. Worthington?” Riley asked.

  “Yes.” He took a puff of the cigar. “Keep doing what you were.” Riley tipped the bottle, making a face. When the bottle was handed to Paul, he took a drink of the whiskey that burned a path to his gut. “Where did you get this stuff?”

  “Down at Roger’s Tavern.”

  “That whiskey isn’t fit for man or beast. I’ll fetch you a better bottle.” Paul walked back inside and returned with a bottle of his finest whiskey. He handed it over to Riley who took a drink, a deep dimple forming on his cheek.

  “This is too good for the likes of us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Pete said. “And hand over the bottle. I’d like a drink, too.”

  “Mr. Worthington gave it to me.”

  “No need to fight. There’s more than enough for the three of us. You finished up with the horses, right?” Paul asked.

  “‘Course we did. I’d never even think about drinking on duty,” Riley proclaimed.

  Paul took one more drink before leaving the bottle with Riley and Pete. The whiskey went straight to his head and he’d promised to meet Johanna in the sewing room. He’d have to be on his best behavior. Paul wasn’t sure what would happen if Johanna was too close to him right then. He wanted to taste her lips to find out if she was as sweet as she looked. The brief kiss they had on their wedding day was not nearly enough.

  Paul went up the stairs and into the sewing room on the third floor. Johanna was perched on the hard wooden bench in front of the sewing machine. She worked the pedal up and down that moved the needle, so quickly he was actually impressed. She had pieces of fabric stacked neatly on a table and didn’t seem to even notice he was there. It gave him all the time he needed to stare over to her fragile neck, and without thinking, he walked forward and planted a kiss on the back of it.

  Johanna squealed and turned, slapping him full across the face. “I’m so sorry. You gave me such a fright.”

  In a haze, he was drunk at the sight of his wife, smiling on remembering the sting of the blow, which he most certainly deserved. The room was too small by far as the scent of roses wafted over to him. Her angelic face, her milky white skin … it was too much for any man to take.

  Paul rubbed his cheek and, referencing her last comment, he said, “I see. Well, I think I deserve at least a kiss for that.”

  * * *

  Had she heard him right? Was he suggesting she kiss him for slapping him? �
�I didn’t do that on purpose, I assure you. It was a reflex.”

  His brow furrowed. “Oh? Have you had to perfect that particular skill?”

  Johanna didn’t know what he wanted her to say. “Not exactly. Most of the men I’ve encountered in my life kept it to lingering glances.”

  “I didn’t know that was a crime, but keep it in mind that I’ll most certainly do that. You’re my wife, after all.”

  She clenched her hands into fists. “What do you mean by that?”

  He sighed. “Looks are all I have for the moment.”

  Johanna felt foolish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, or slap you.”

  He nodded, inching closer. “And about the kiss?”

  Her heart rapped against her chest, her breath caught in her throat. He must have taken her lack of response as the go ahead, as he circled her waist, pulling her against his hard body. She gazed up at him as he lowered his head and took her lips with his. She put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself before she landed face-first on the floor. His breath was heady of whiskey and the fragrance of cigars drifted into her nostrils, but she didn’t mind. Not at that moment. Her head swirled and she was lost in the moment, doing her best to return his kiss without thought, but reality came back to her and she pushed against him, jerking her lips from his. “Please, stop.”

  Paul stepped back, swiping his hair back with a palm. “What’s the matter? You were enjoying the kiss, weren’t you?”

  “N-No. I-I wasn’t. How dare you come in here smelling of whiskey and trying to disarm me like that.”

  “Fine, but you enjoyed that kiss. Don’t try and say you didn’t.”

  He whirled and left her standing there, wanting him to come back, but it wasn’t the right time. She sank back onto the bench, her face wetting from the tears that dropped. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want the kiss to go on, but she wanted a lifetime of them, not just a fleeting moment. She knew with certainty that she loved him, but would he ever feel the same for her?

  Johanna sewed for the better part of the night until there was a knock on the door. She sleepily turned to find Sara standing in the doorway. “Are you okay, Miss? It’s very late.”

  She stood, rubbing the sore spots from her neck as she met Sara at the door. “I’m sorry. I lost all track of time.”

  Sara tried to glance over her shoulder, curious. “What are you making?”

  “It’s a secret. Promise me you won’t come up here and sneak a peek?”

  “I promise, but I can be counted on to keep a secret.”

  “Can you assist me in my room?”

  “Come along now. I was worried when you were upstairs so long. I almost thought you were in your husband’s room.” She giggled.

  Johanna shook her head sadly. She didn’t want to share how she really felt about Paul. What if Sara told someone? No, she wanted Paul to come to her in his own time and hopefully profess his love for her.

  Sara worked the buttons of Johanna's dress and it was gently pulled off. “You can leave after you loosen my corset,” Johanna said. “I can do the rest myself.”

  Sara hung up her dress and pulled the strings of Johanna’s corset then left the room quietly. Johanna wiggled out of the corset and took her shoes off. She pulled up her chemise just enough to glance at her reddened scar, wishing it didn’t look as monstrous as she thought. No, she was wrong on that account. It was hideous. When she and Paul finally slept in the same bed, she’d demand the lights be off, if that was at all possible.

  Johanna tugged off her chemise and pulled out her nightgown, putting it on. Blowing the oil lamp out, she climbed into bed, hoping Paul would still take her to the mill in the morning. She snuggled against her pillow. She had overreacted to what he said, but he was so right. She did enjoy the kiss!

  Chapter Nine

  Johanna grumbled when Sara woke her up early the next morning. “I’m sorry, Miss, but your husband told me to tell you if you wanted to head to the mill with him today, you’ll have to hurry. Mornings are the best time for a tour.”

  She reluctantly rolled out of bed and Sara was standing in such a way that she saw Johanna’s scar. Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

  Johanna sighed noisily. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one with a hideous scar, not you. Promise me you won’t tell my husband. He’ll boot me out, for sure.”

  “I hardly think Mr. Worthington would do that. However did you get that scar? It doesn’t look all that old.”

  “How would you know?”

  “It’s quite red, for one. Older scars are more white in color.”

  “Part of the machine I was working on came loose, and even though I jumped out of the way, a piece of metal sliced my leg open. It was a dreadful injury, and I had a horrible infection since the factory owner didn’t get me the proper medical treatment. If it hadn’t been for some of the other women at the factory who had healing hands, I’d have lost my leg or died.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m glad you didn’t die, but I wouldn’t worry about that scar. When you’re in your husband’s bed, he won’t even be looking at that.” She laughed.

  Johanna joined her in laughter. “I’m glad you saw it, since it’s been hard concealing it from you. Can I trust you to not breathe a word about this to anyone?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Worthington. Part of being a lady’s maid is keeping your secrets private.”

  “Also, I demand that when we’re alone, you are to address me as Johanna. You’re my lady’s maid and confidant, I hope.”

  Her mouth and eyes widened. “I can’t! It’s just not done.”

  “Oh, bother.” Johanna waved her arms grandly and announced, “I proclaim that you shall henceforth call me Johanna when we’re alone.” She giggled.

  “Fine, Johanna, but you had better hurry. I know you’ll love the outing to the mill today.”

  Johanna slipped on a clean chemise and corset. Sara held up a beige dress with a tapered jacket and bell skirt. “This should fit,” she suggested.

  “Where did you get this dress from, Sara?”

  “Oh, it was lying around.”

  Johanna’s hands slipped to her hips. “Really?” she asked in doubt.

  “I took one of your dresses over to Anna so she could determine your size. She’s a friend of mine. She’s married to a lumberjack and works as a seamstress out of her home. Luckily, her sister was your size,” Sara admitted.

  “I’d hate to take the dress from her sister.”

  “She doesn’t need it. Sadly, she drowned in the river last year.”

  “Oh, how terrible.” Johanna gasped. “And she kept her dresses all this time?”

  “Just this one, since she was making it at the time of her death. Anna had planned to surprise her sister, but never had the chance.”

  “Thank Anna for me. It’s lovely.”

  Sara helped Johanna don the dress and fasten the small buttons in the back. “Thank you, Sara.”

  “Don’t forget to wear boots today. I’d hate for you to lose your footing at the mill. It can be downright dangerous.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise,” Johanna said as she put on her boots, buttoning them up. “I had better hurry downstairs. I’d hate to be left behind.”

  Johanna flew out the door and nearly fell as she skipped down the stairs. Halfway down, Paul stood there, looking up at her disapprovingly. Only then did she slow her pace.

  “Good morning, Paul. I’m so excited about visiting the mill today.”

  “I can see, but next time, take more care on the stairs. I’d hate for you to take a nasty fall.”

  “Do I have time for breakfast?”

  He handed her an apple. “I hope this is enough. I have them waiting until we show up to begin for the day. I’d hate to lose half a day by not arriving on time.”

  Johanna wanted to apologize for the previous night, but he apparently was unscathed from the slap he received. She only wished she hadn’t
acted like she had, as she most certainly enjoyed the kiss.

  She took the apple from him. “This will be fine.”

  “Not to worry, I planned a nice picnic for lunch.”

  The kitchen maid came forward and handed off the picnic basket to Paul, and he led the way to the door. He helped her aboard the buggy and then with a slap of the reins, the horses trotted off and up the cobblestone street.

  They passed row after row of businesses, and the smell of moisture and wood clung to the air as they neared the river. A large structure loomed in the distance, and the river was packed with logs.

  “Is that the mill?” Johanna asked excitedly.

  “Yes.” He then pointed out the cabins behind the mill. “That’s where the men live with their families.”

  “The men who work the mill, or the lumberjacks?”

  “Both, but the lumberjacks are currently off for a few weeks. They’ve been working all summer with the railroad in place now. We’ll be going out to a lumberjack camp tomorrow.”

  Johanna smiled. “Really, a real lumberjack camp. I’m so excited to see that. Is anyone there at this time of year?”

  “No. The repairs should be finished by now. I like to keep the buildings maintained. It’s quite cold in the winter.”

  Johanna was impressed at how much he cared for his workers, even though he had to fire the bookkeeper only the day before. Men were milling around as the buggy came to a halt, and a man gave Johanna assistance off the buggy. Paul jumped down and the same man hopped up and drove it off, presumably to a nearby corral that Johanna saw on their way in.

  She stared up at the mill that was a few stories tall. A water wheel was spinning, and Johanna was amazed at how powerful it looked. “What does that do?” she asked.

  “It’s creating all the power we need to run the mill.”

  “That water wheel helps run the mill?” she asked in surprise. “I had wondered how you did it.”

  Johanna carefully went up the stairs with Paul close behind her, the planks of the floor clattering as they made their way. It was an open area with a roof overhead. The mill was right on the river that was packed with logs. A man stood nearby with a hook and was pulling logs in, staring at the ends and pushing them back out.