by Jody Hedlund
Reinhold reached to assist Sophie to the ground, but she couldn’t let go of the wagon bench.
“Everything will be all right, Soph,” he said gently. “I promise.”
She met his gaze. Even in the darkness, his eyes reflected his steadfastness and beckoned her to trust him. She nodded.
His hands encircled her waist, and he lifted her off. As her feet touched the ground, he wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her into the shelter of his side.
“Sophie’s just fine,” he said to Euphemia and the others.
But in spite of the security of Reinhold’s arm, Euphemia barreled forward, wrapped her arms around Sophie, and drew her into the soft cushion of her body.
“Och, lass. My sweet little Sophie, lass.” She rocked back and forth, her warmth and love surrounding Sophie and bringing sharp tears to her eyes.
She waited for Euphemia to say something about how much worry and trouble she’d caused. But Euphemia hugged her a moment longer, before pressing a kiss to Sophie’s forehead.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, finally releasing Sophie.
Uncertainty gripped Sophie again. As if sensing her insecurities, Reinhold slipped his arm around her, drawing her back to his side. She leaned into the strength and protection of his hold. She let Reinhold explain where he’d found her and what had happened, including Mr. Ramsey’s treatment of the children.
“I always said that dunderheid is as sly as a weasel in the cornfield,” Barclay boomed. He’d thrown his coat on over his nightclothes. His head was bare and his feet stocking-clad. Clearly he’d been in bed, attempting to sleep. A quick glance at the younger boys and their attire told her they’d been slumbering too.
The morning milking came early, and her antics were costing everyone precious hours of sleep.
Barclay rubbed his hands together for warmth, not seeming to mind the late hour. “He’s the one the sheriff ought to lock behind bars until he rots like a stinking potato.”
“We all know how Sheriff Paddy feels about the orphans,” Reinhold said more solemnly than Sophie had yet heard him. “If David Ramsey decides to make a case against Sophie breaking into his house, the sheriff will take his side and do his best to prosecute her.”
Sophie shuddered, not sure whether out of fear or from the night air that had steadily grown colder.
“I won’t let him lay a hand on the wee lass,” Barclay said.
“And I won’t either,” Reinhold said, pulling Sophie closer. “Which is why I’m planning to marry Sophie just as soon as the reverend can perform the ceremony.”
At his announcement, everyone erupted, and for several seconds they all talked at once, making Sophie cringe at their slew of questions.
“Sophie and I have already made up our minds,” Reinhold stated calmly but loudly enough to be heard above the commotion. “It’s the best way for me to keep Sophie safe and for us to gain custody of Olivia and Nicholas.”
The voices died away. Sophie could feel Euphemia’s eyes upon her, searching for answers. But Sophie avoided looking at her, too afraid of what she’d see there. What must the dear woman think of her now? That she’d somehow seduced Reinhold?
“Och, now,” Euphemia said. “We best be going to bed all of us. The morn will be here in the twitch of a cat’s tail, and we’ll be needing our sleep since we have a wedding to plan.”
Sophie’s gaze darted to Euphemia, who was smiling at her kindly. “Wedding to plan?”
“You’re the only daughter I have. You can’t deny me the chance to plan a wedding, now, can you?”
Daughter? Did Euphemia consider her a daughter? Tears stung Sophie’s eyes once again.
When Reinhold took his leave a few minutes later, she allowed Euphemia to lead her upstairs to her bedroom and didn’t refuse when the woman helped her into her nightdress, covered her bruised shoulder with ointment, and then brushed her hair. All the while Euphemia made plans for the wedding ceremony and the food.
“You can wear my wedding dress,” Euphemia said as she plaited Sophie’s hair. “We’ll have to take it in here and there, of course, but it’ll do nicely.”
“I couldn’t,” Sophie said, feeling guiltier with every new suggestion Euphemia so enthusiastically made.
“Dinnae say no, lass. I won’t be swayed.”
Sophie perched on the edge of her bed with a colorful knitted blanket wrapped around her for extra warmth against the nip of the room. Even with the warm blanket, chills slid up Sophie’s spine. After all the trouble she’d caused, Euphemia deserved to know the truth about her arrangement with Reinhold.
“Reinhold doesn’t love me and is only marrying me because I begged him to.” The confession tumbled out, the words falling over one another in quick succession. “He’s too kind to say no.”
“Och, dinnae think that, lass. Reinhold is verra good at saying no to the things he dosen’t want. Believe me, I’ve heard him say no often enough. If he dinnae want to have you, he wouldn’t have agreed to marry you.”
“We’re only forming a partnership,” Sophie persisted. “He’s helping me and I’m helping him.”
The lantern on the bedside table bathed the bedroom. When she’d packed her bag earlier, she never expected to come back. Even though she was grateful for the opportunity to spend another night at the Duffs’ home in this cheerful room with its soft bed and warm blankets, her chest pinched with urgency every time she thought of Olivia huddled in the attic, cold and alone and frightened.
“My marriage with Barclay started as a partnership.” Euphemia’s hands in her hair stilled.
“It did?” The statement caught Sophie off guard. Euphemia doted on her husband, always making sure his plate was heaped with food and his coffee cup filled to the brim. As often as Barclay stole kisses from Euphemia, it was obvious he loved his wife.
“When Barclay’s mother died, he needed a woman to take over the upkeep of his home while he managed the dairy farm. Told me he was too busy to worry about keeping a wife happy, that he dinnae want the extra complications that came with love.”
“So if he married you to be his housekeeper, then why did you marry him?”
“I needed a father for my bairn.”
“For Stuart?”
“Not many men would have done what Barclay did for me.”
“Seems to me that lots of widows get remarried to have fathers for their children.”
She was silent for a moment. “I wasn’t a widow.”
Sophie sat motionless and tried to digest Euphemia’s confession.
“When I came to America, I was a young lass and naïve, believing the first man who told me he loved me. I thought I could secure a good life for myself in my own plans and doin’ things my own way. I was a milkmaid, and he was the owner’s oldest son. I assumed he’d marry me and then I’d never have another worry.”
Euphemia resumed her gentle ministration in Sophie’s hair. “But instead of marrying me, he got me fired and kicked off the farm. Thankfully, he took pity on me and supplied me with enough money so I could pay for a place to live until the wee babe was born.”
Euphemia was such a strong woman of faith that Sophie couldn’t imagine her being anything else. It was almost as if she were speaking of another person entirely.
“I eventually found work as a milkmaid again,” Euphemia said. “But I had to lie and tell people that my bairn’s father had died and I was a widow. That’s what I told Barclay too.”
“Then he doesn’t know the truth?”
“He learned soon enough.” Euphemia chuckled, her whole body shaking with the movement. “We were getting along real well. I even thought he might like me. Until I ran into Stu’s father in town one day. Barclay was with me, saw the way that I reacted, saw the resemblance of my bairn to his father, and knew the truth.”
“Oh.”
“Och is right. Barclay despised me after that.”
“But he still asked you to marry him when his mother died?”
/> “He said it was because then he’d have no temptation to fall in love, that he’d be able to focus on his work better.” Euphemia finished plaiting Sophie’s hair, tied it off with a ribbon, and lowered herself to the bed beside Sophie. “I figured if Barclay could see the truth about Stu’s father, that eventually other people would too. So when Barclay offered to marry me, we both had every intention of keeping it a partnership.”
“What happened?” Sophie asked, fascinated by Euphemia’s story.
Euphemia laughed again, this time more soundly. “Och, lass. Surely you know enough about the ways of a man and woman to see what happened. I have four more sons to prove that we had much more than a partnership.”
Sophie’s cheeks heated at Euphemia’s implication. “I can see that you love each other now. But how did you get to that point? When did it all change?”
“The changes were slow and happened over time.”
Was that what she was hoping for with Reinhold? That perhaps he’d eventually see their marriage as more than a mere partnership, that perhaps he’d even come to love her over time?
“So you see, my wee lass.” Euphemia patted Sophie’s hand on her lap. “When we’re finally willing to let go of the messes we’ve made, the good Lord can step in and salvage the scraps.”
Sophie studied Euphemia’s chafed hand, the strong fingers that worked so hard every day. Could she be like Euphemia? Was there a chance that God could make something of the messes she’d made?
“Mind you,” Euphemia continued, “not everything in my life is put back together perfectly, and poor Stu is proof of that. But the good Lord has pieced my life back together much better than I could have.”
She squeezed Sophie’s hand and then hefted herself up from the bed. “Time for some shut-eye, lass.” She kissed the top of Sophie’s head again and started across the room. When she reached the door, she stopped. “And dinnae worry about your Reinhold. I saw the way he was looking at you at the barn dance, and he’ll be wanting more than a partnership before long.”
Chapter 15
A line of sweat trickled down Reinhold’s back between his shoulder blades, but he resisted the urge to itch it through his best shirt and coat. Even with the parlor windows wide open, the air in the room pressed against him, heating and constricting him.
Next to him, Barclay and the reverend talked amiably, trading news about neighbors, discussing the cooler temperatures, and wagering when they’d experience the first killing frost. Around the room, other guests mingled, some standing and others already seated and awaiting the start of the wedding ceremony.
Reinhold shifted and stared out the side window that overlooked the pond. Now with the beginning of October upon them, the water reflected the oranges and reds of the changing leaves. In the distance, the cornstalks had also dried and turned a burnt gold color.
The sight of the corn only reminded Reinhold of all the work he’d neglected over the past week. First he’d ridden into town to make the marriage arrangements, as well as place the telegram to Reverend Poole. Of course, once Reinhold had sent the telegram, word had gotten around town regarding the nature of his business and his complaint to Reverend Poole regarding the Ramseys’ treatment of the orphans in their care.
After David Ramsey learned of the telegram, he’d made a visit to the sheriff and filed a report against Sophie, accusing her of breaking into his house. When Fergus had come running out to the farm to tell Reinhold the sheriff was planning to arrest Sophie, Reinhold quickly saddled his horse and rode to town again, this time to stop the sheriff.
No amount of threatening had deterred Sheriff Paddy, not until Reinhold had divulged that Sophie was related to both Thornton Quincy and Andrew Brady through her sisters. That had finally silenced the sheriff. Everyone knew that the Quincys’ power and money could buy them just about anything they wanted. And the sheriff had already been rebuked once by Andrew Brady’s father, a wealthy lawyer with many connections.
Reinhold had explained his plan to marry Sophie by the week’s end and promised to make an honest, law-abiding woman out of her. With Reinhold’s threats and reassurances, the sheriff agreed to wait to bring any charges against Sophie.
Reinhold prayed that everything would be just fine—that Reverend Poole would get their telegram and respond, that Sophie could be reunited with Olivia and Nicholas, and that she wouldn’t try anything else that might get herself into trouble.
All week, Reinhold had also scrambled to find another way to save Olivia and Nicholas without having to marry Sophie. He’d mentally visited every family who lived in Mayfield, and even some he knew lived beyond the town. Yet he hadn’t been able to single out anyone else who might be willing and able to care for both together. Some families might be willing to take one or the other of the children, but since Sophie was determined to keep them together, he’d run out of options. He had no other choice but to marry her.
He turned to face the roomful of guests Euphemia had invited to the wedding—neighbors and friends from church. They would all witness the vows that would seal his fate. From this day forward, he’d have a wife.
Panic pressed against his chest. What was he doing here?
His sights went to the door. He could leave now, escape before it was too late. He wasn’t fit to be any woman’s husband, especially not Sophie’s.
Unless he later gave Sophie an annulment . . .
The idea sprang up, burrowing through his befuddled mind. Sophie had brought up the possibility of having a business partnership, of not sharing a bed. If they didn’t consummate their marriage, then once things settled down, once Sophie had custody of the children and felt safe, then he’d be able to contact Elise and Marianne and let them know everything that had happened. They’d come and get Sophie, and take her and the children back to New York City with them, and Sophie would be free to start a new life without him. With an annulment they’d be able to part ways without any guilt or repercussions.
He drew a deep breath and pulled his attention away from the door. Yes, he could do this. He’d marry Sophie now because it was the only way he could keep her out of danger. But later, once the situation was under control and Sophie was willing to contact her sisters again, they’d dissolve the marriage.
“Ah, Reinhold, my lad,” Barclay said, clamping down on his shoulder and grinning like an oaf. “Ye are the lucky one today.”
Reinhold managed a smile in return, the pressure in his lungs loosening. With the plan to annul the marriage, he could rest easier. Everything would work out just fine.
“Could tell the first night ye laid eyes on that lass, ye were smitten.”
Reinhold wanted to refute Barclay’s boisterous declaration that carried throughout the room. But at the attention that shifted their way, he decided against the denial. It was better if everyone thought he and Sophie were marrying out of affection. Then Reverend Poole wouldn’t have any cause to question the marriage and refuse to place Olivia and Nicholas with them.
“With the way Lyle was skedaddling after her, no wonder ye moved fast.”
Reinhold avoided Lyle’s gaze. The young man leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression saying he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Several times over the past week, Reinhold had almost saddled Daisy and ridden over so he could talk to Lyle. He wouldn’t apologize for taking Sophie away from his friend. Sophie had never been Lyle’s to begin with. But he owed Lyle an apology for losing control and attacking him the night Sophie ran away.
A sudden hush fell over the room, and all heads turned in the direction of the door.
Reinhold shifted his attention, and his heartbeat stuttered at the sight of Sophie standing there. She wore a lovely blue gown that was full and round on the bottom but rose to sculpt her body and outline every womanly curve, exposing creamy flesh at the curved neckline. His gaze continued upward to her pretty face, made more beautiful by the cascading curls arranged on the top of her head, the rosy flush in her cheeks, and the
endless blue of her big eyes.
When she offered him a tentative smile, his chest constricted. She was exquisite in every way.
“Breathe, lad.” Barclay nudged Reinhold in his side. The whisper was loud enough that it elicited laughter from some of the guests.
Reinhold dragged in a breath and forced his mouth into a smile even as a surge of doubts crashed into him. What was he doing? He couldn’t marry Sophie. It was a terrible idea, and he needed to put a stop to it now before they proceeded.
But as she started across the room toward him, her eyes held his, so full of innocence and trust and beauty. If he let her go, she’d probably end up back in the city where some other man would swoop in and claim her. In fact, he was surprised she’d made it this long without someone attempting to have her. She was so beautiful that surely she’d drawn attention.
When she was only a few paces away, her steps slowed and her eyes questioned him, as though she could sense the war raging inside him.
He held out a hand, beckoning her.
Her smile widened, and she placed her hand into his. As her fingers made contact with his, the merest touch was enough to set his stomach to flight like a flock of geese heading south for the winter.
It was a reaction he needed to ignore. But as he stood with Sophie in front of the reverend, he decided that just for their wedding, for this moment, he wouldn’t fight himself. He’d keep her at arm’s length in the days to come, but not today. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to appreciate her and the beautiful woman she’d become for one day.
The words, the vows, the prayers were a blur. He spoke when he needed to and told himself that he didn’t need to feel guilty about making wedding promises because they’d both agreed they wouldn’t have a real marriage. Maybe he hadn’t spoken with Sophie about giving her an annulment, but once she was secure and had Olivia and Nicholas, she’d find the wisdom in his plan.
When the reverend ended with a prayer and benediction, she smiled up at Reinhold with a radiance that made him believe for just an instant that she truly was happy to marry him.