A Bride For Finn (The Proxy Brides Book 5)

by Linda Ellen

  There were a few evenings when they had just strolled along the boardwalk arm in arm, nodding to everyone they passed and relishing the pure joy of having found one another. One evening, a glittering riverboat had docked boasting gambling, music, and dancing, and they had enjoyed a delightful, fun-filled night with many of the town’s people who had boarded for a summer dance. Charise had been the belle of the ball in a gorgeous red dress she’d borrowed from Dottie, and Finn had been able to impress his new wife once again—this time with his dancing prowess as they had waltzed the night away—although he had regretted it the next morning when his newly healed leg had throbbed and complained from overexertion. Oh well, it had been more than worth it.

  The following evening, Finn had sent an ever-helpful Toby to bring back a meal from the Blue Bird—fried chicken, mashed potatoes and greens, along with two servings of delicious peach cobbler—and he had set the table with his ma’s best dishes, finishing it off with candles and flowers in the center. When Charise had come home from visiting Rachael, she had been splendidly pleased at the surprise and they had enjoyed a candlelit dinner together, alone. Oh, she had looked so lovely with those chocolate brown eyes of hers sparkling in the candle’s glow. They had giggled and laughed, feeding one another bite after bite...sharing kiss after kiss after kiss...

  That thought made him remember each night at day’s end, when they would say goodnight at the door of their bedroom, kissing so passionately that Finn had to force himself to release his bride so that he could retire alone to the parlor to attempt another night’s sleep on the settee. He was sure no other husband had ever volunteered to drive himself insane in such a way. Charise didn’t know how many cold baths Finn had taken downstairs during the long nights, in an effort to survive the self-imposed fast. He shook his head at the thought. But, he had been determined to stay the course and keep his word that his bride would have a courtship to tell their children and grandchildren about, so help him!

  Charise had spent her days making plans for the celebration after the nuptials with her new friends Rachael, Dottie, and even Elvira, and had worked to make sure her dress and veil were in top shape. She even helped Dottie make a new dress to wear when she stood up with Charise as matron of honor for their solemnization.

  Finally, their second wedding day arrived and in keeping with the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride the morning of the wedding, Dottie and Dave had insisted Charise come and spend the night in the spare bedroom of their house next door to the jail. Thusly, Finn hadn’t seen his wife in over twelve hours.

  Twelve hours too long.

  To say he was anxious and looking forward to the finality of their union would be the understatement of the century.

  Sam’s voice brought him back to the present as his brother gave a nod, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders and rocking back on his heels a bit. “You’ve got you one heck of a woman, Finny boy. I hope you know that. And you better treat her right or you’ll answer to me.”

  Finn shot his brother a glare, but seeing the teasing glint in his eyes, he answered without malice. “You bet your life I know it. And I intend to spoil her and love her and cherish her for the rest of our lives, don’t you worry.”

  Looking out at the people filling the pews of the church to help them celebrate their big day—so many people that were his friends and he’d known almost all his life—Finn saw several couples he knew to be happily married. He sent his brother a sideways glance.

  “You know—turns out this mail-order-bride thing works pretty well. Take it from me, having a wife is much better than batching it. You ought to think about sending for one. That is...unless you’ve got your eye one someone here in town. Elvira, perhaps?” he added with a rude snort.

  Sam turned appalled eyes his way, but before he could answer, the pianist—Elvira by coincidence—began to play the wedding march and everyone in the church stood to welcome the bride.

  Dottie stepped back and regarded her handiwork. She and Rachael had been working on corralling Charise’s long, sleek hair into a tight braided bun, with delicate, curling tendrils hanging down on either side. It had been slow going.

  “I told you my hair is like silk and has a mind of its own,” Charise commented as she turned this way and that, admiring the lovely chignon. “Believe me, by halfway through the party, it will slither its way out of most of its braid. It’s so frustrating!”

  Rachael laughed and gave Charise’s back an affectionate pat. “Well, I’m sure it will hold at least during the exchanging of the vows. Your veil will help keep it in place. It’s magnificent, by the way,” she added as she and Dottie admired the lovely creation Charise had made by hand—Brussels type lace that depicted flowers, scrolls, and leaves. The ladies now affixed it atop her chignon with a Juliet cap and plenty of hairpins. Charise murmured her thanks for the compliment.

  “The dress you made for Dottie is wonderful,” Rachael complimented. “And your dress, Charise, is just beautiful. You are a superb seamstress. Have you thought of opening your own shop here in town?”

  Charise met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. “No, but...that’s an idea. Perhaps in the unused space behind Finn’s shop area...” she mused, picturing just such a set up and wondering what Finn would think of it.

  “Heaven knows the ladies of Brownville could certainly use another place to purchase clothing besides the cheaply manufactured garments Sebastian Hodge sells in his store.” Then placing her hand over her mouth, the reverend’s wife looked up to heaven and murmured, “Oh, Lord, forgive me. I meant no disrespect to Mr. Hodge. He’s a fine man. He just...well, Lord, You know the man simply does not have good taste in women’s fashion!”

  Dottie and Charise both chuckled, however, because Rachael’s description was accurate—about the clothing at the mercantile as well as Charise’s wedding dress, which was a pure white silk sleeveless gown with a six-foot train and sheer voile overlay for the sleeves and across the bodice. A light green and ivory Victorian lady cameo necklace hung over the rounded neckline.

  “Charise, your cameo is simply divine. I’ve never seen one with ivory on green like this,” Dottie complimented as she picked up the pendent and examined the exquisite workmanship.

  “Thank you,” Charise murmured with a soft smile, gently taking it from Dottie’s fingers and caressing the carved sculpture with her thumb. “It’s the only piece of my mother’s jewelry I was allowed to keep when everything was sold to pay my father’s debts...Mama’s favorite color was green and she had many dresses and blouses in various shades. Papa had given her this cameo on her last birthday before the war...”

  The ladies both turned sympathetic eyes to the bride, but she merely shrugged with another smile. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago...another life, really. Believe me, I’m much happier now than I’ve been since I was a small child.”

  Rachael took a big breath and glanced around the room, clasping her hands together. “Well, I think that does it. Do you have your old, new, borrowed and blue?”

  The melancholy moment passed and Charise smiled at her two ladies in waiting. “Almost. For the borrowed, my friend Beth Ann sent me her best bracelet and earbobs, see?” she said as she reached for the objects she had laid on Dottie’s vanity table earlier. The ladies ooo’d and ahhh’d as she slipped the pearls and gold jewelry on.

  Rachael then reached for her own grandmother’s lace hanky she had leant to her younger friend earlier and slipped it into Charise’s hand. “This takes care of the old...”

  “For the new, I purchased new undergarments at the mercantile,” Charise reminded the ladies. “The only thing I’m missing is the blue,” she added with a small lift of one shoulder.

  As if on cue, there was a quiet knock at the door and Dottie crossed over to open it. On the threshold stood a blushing Toby, only his eyes and the unruly mop of carrot red hair visible above an overly large bunch of flowers in his hands.

  “M...Miz Maynard?” he stammered, shifting h
is gaze to see Charise as she rose from the vanity table stool. “Finn sent me out this mornin’ to find you as many blue flowers as I could and said to bring ‘em to you lickety split, so’s you could have your blue...I’m not sure what that means. But I found you these—I hope they’re all right...sorry it took me so long to get ‘em to you...”

  Charise’s eyes moistened at that. She had only mentioned in passing that she hadn’t found something blue to carry for the tradition, and Finn had taken care of it. What a thoughtful husband he is! She crossed the room to give the lad a kiss on the cheek as Dottie reached out and took the bunch from him, saying, “Thank you, Toby. They’re amazingly lovely—and you got them here right on time, young man.”

  All three ladies delighted in the magnificently vivid spiderworts, prairie asters, and blue flax he had found as they sent him on his way with their sincere appreciation. Rachael and Dottie chuckled together and teased Charise about the young man’s overzealous admiration toward her as they arranged them into a bouquet, tied with a bit of lace.

  When finished, they placed it in Charise’s hands and then fussed with the gown and train.

  “Well...I guess I’m as ready as I can be,” Charise announced and the ladies agreed. They ushered her out of the room and helped hold up the bottom of her dress as she climbed into the carriage Finn had rented for the day, with Dottie’s husband, the sheriff—his star badge polished to a gleaming sheen—as the volunteer driver. Rachael joked that she hoped there were no hold ups or robberies while he was otherwise occupied.

  Once they reached the church, Sebastian Hodge was waiting outside to walk her down the aisle. Over the weeks since her arrival, she had talked with the shopkeeper nearly every day and they had developed a fond relationship. So it was no surprise that he had readily agreed when Charise had asked him to walk her down the aisle for her and Finn’s second wedding ceremony.

  Now, the moment had come and they could hear music playing within. Her heart rate sped up and her scalp behind the tightly braided bun began to tingle.

  “I don’t know why I’m nervous—I’m only remarrying my husband,” Charise joked. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop quivering.

  “It’s just wedding-day jitters. They’ll pass once you get down the aisle and Finn takes your hand in his,” Rachael assured her. Then the older woman leaned to give Charise an affectionate kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Just relax and take everything in. Make memories today. Bask in the love glowing in your groom’s eyes.” Then, she disappeared through the double doors on the sheriff’s arm and took their places near the front.

  Dottie and Charise exchanged grins and a quick hug as one of the ladies of the church opened the double swinging doors and propped them back. Then Dottie started down the aisle. Charise sent a trembling smile up at her escort and he smilingly winked and kindly gave her hand on his arm a reassuring squeeze as he moved them forward.

  When Charise looked toward the front, just as Dottie arrived and stepped to the side, her eyes encountered those of her husband. Even from the back of the church, she could discern the sparkles in those beloved sapphire irises and those now familiar husband-induced tingles raced throughout her body.

  The rest of the room seemed to fade away as she glided down the aisle to him...her darling Finn.

  Charise knew she would cherish every memory of their vow-exchange for the rest of her life...Finn taking her hand in his and drawing her to stand beside him with their sides touching at the altar...Reverend McKnight’s tranquil voice as he delivered a short message on the blessings of living in holy matrimony with God in the midst of a devoted relationship...the warmth of Finn’s body at her side as he occasionally squeezed her hand.

  And then, they turned toward one another to repeat their vows. This solemnization was different in every way from the first one; there was truly no comparison. Charise couldn’t have taken her eyes from her husband’s if she’d wanted to—and she didn’t—as he earnestly promised to love, cherish, and keep himself only unto her as long as they both shall live. As he repeated the phrases, Charise’s breath caught when tears of raw emotion gathered in his eyes. Hers immediately responded and it was all she could do to choke down her own emotions and speak forth her promises to love, honor, obey, and keep him in sickness and health. Rachael’s grandmother’s hanky was put to use.

  Handkerchiefs were also discreetly used throughout the sanctuary as the guests witnessed the depth of adoration between the couple. Perhaps to provide a bit of relief from the seriousness of the moment, the reverend chose to joke that Charise had already shown she would tend to Finn’s injuries, as she had met him when he had been at his worst. The gathered witnesses chuckled, as did the bride and groom.

  Then Finn was slipping an ornate wedding band onto her hand and the reverend was pronouncing them husband and wife.

  “Finn...you may now kiss your bride—and we all know you’ve had a quite bit of rehearsal at that,” Reverend McKnight quipped, as indeed, everyone in town had seen the couple kissing at least once. Finn, never one to back down from a tossed gauntlet, scooped his wife into his arms, dipped her so low she gave a tiny squeal but held on, and gave her a wedding kiss the whole town was sure to remember. The entire church erupted in hoots, hollers and laughter.

  When he finished, everyone had no doubt Charise had been well and thoroughly kissed.

  Laughing and knowing her face must be the hue of a ripe tomato, she knew she had never been so blissfully embarrassed in all her life.

  Then, her husband turned and announced to the guests, “All right, now we are well and truly married! Everyone is invited to come celebrate with us over at my shop. And no, it’s not a tavern any longer, so don’t be expectin’ to get a beer with a chaser,” he added with a grin, eliciting another round of chuckles and guffaws, and a few teasing shouts of disappointment.

  At that point, it seemed everyone rushed forward to congratulate the happy couple and vie for hugs and kisses with the lovely bride—starting with Sam, the proxy.

  “Well, don’t you know that the Sharpes’ ordered that there fancy, highfalutin’ porcelain-lined cast iron bathtub all the way from Chicago? It took three months to get here. By the time it did, that there crate was so banged up, chipped up, and beat up, why we were all convinced that whatever was inside must surely be thrashed to a pulp. Fellas took bets on how much—or how little—of the porcelain was left in one piece! Why, that crate looked like it’d been through a war or somethin’! Old Bill Sharpe was almost afraid to pry the top off and look inside!” declared old Cyrus Ames as he regaled Charise and those nearby with the story of the traveling porcelain tub. “Yessiree, he was sure he’d done wasted his hard earned money, and he was cussin’ a blue streak about wantin’ his money back.”

  Finn snickered, watching his bride as she stood there in rapt attention, hanging onto every word the old man was saying—and the old coot was milking it for all he was worth.

  “And?” Charise prompted, causing a few around them to chuckle. Everyone in the room knew the story but his wife.

  “And,” Cyrus stuck his hands deep in his trouser pockets and gave an exaggerated nod. “When he finally got up the nerve, steelin’ himself for what he was about to see, and claw-hammered up the wooden topper, he saw that the crate was lined with material, like a flour sack, and inside it was full to the brim of what looked like real fine sawdust. He dug down in there and found the edge of the tub with his fingers and gave us all a glare, as we were ribbin’ him somethin’ awful. But he’d been determined he was gonna have the finest hotel and bathhouse in the whole of Nebraska. Well, a couple of us helped him tip it over, carefully, mind you, and when all the sawdust fell away—don’t you know that there was not one scratch, not one chip, not one mark anywhere on that whole bathtub? Except...” He paused for effect, and gave her a wide half-toothless grin before tittering humorously, then said, “Except for one pinky toe was broke off of one claw foot. Ain’t that the goll darndest thing you ever did hear?” he fini
shed with a loud guffaw.

  Everyone joined in the laughter and someone offered, “And it shore didn’t take old Sharpe long to recoup his money. Heck, everybody wanted to come and take a bath in the famous travelin’ porcelain tub!” That garnered another round of guffaws and laughs.

  Finally, the guests that had gathered for the retelling of the story jovially shook their heads and then began to wander away.

  Finn poured some refreshment for his wife and turned toward her as she giggled with one of the ladies.

  “Another glass of cider for my beautiful bride?” he asked as he held a glass out to her—one of the glasses that had been stored under the bar and repurposed for the event.

  Charise flashed him a bone-melting smile and took it from him with a breathless, “Thank you my handsome husband.” The soft, breezy tone of her voice coupled with the look in her eyes made him almost swoop her up in his arms and run off upstairs with her, but he held himself still. Easy there, Finn ol’ boy. Just a little while longer. Breathe. Breathe.

  Settling for a risqué wink that promised mysterious pleasures in the near future, he resolutely turned as he sipped his own drink, allowing his gaze to roam the long room and the friends who were having a glorious time helping to celebrate their nuptials.

  The downstairs had been transformed; they had spent days preparing, cleaning, scrubbing and arranging. The floor practically shined, his barber paraphernalia had all been compacted and pushed back to the front corner and covered with a flowered material, and all of the old tavern’s tables and chairs had been brought back out, cleaned and arranged, covered in white tablecloths, and decorated with pretty ceramic oil lamps and borrowed china. There was not a spittoon, ashtray, or deck of cards in sight. The bar looked superb, having been artfully decorated with wedding decorations like ribbons and flowers. One end of the counter had been reserved for gifts and Charise had exclaimed multiple times over how many had been stacked there as the guests arrived.