Mistaken Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Pride warred with a growing sense of pity. This woman, the one he’d mourned with equal parts guilt and sadness, had met a man. By the looks of her now Will already knew how the story ended. Nevertheless, he said, “Go on.”

  As though the floodgates had been opened Birdie’s story tumbled out of her mouth. “Cyrus was so handsome. He said he loved me. He made promises.” She wiped her eyes with a quick swipe of her wrist. “I believed him.”

  No matter what lies the man had told her, Will had a hard time feeling sorry for Birdie. She’d made her choice, before ever having met him. “So you ran off with Cyrus once the ship docked.”

  “He said he would marry me.” Will saw the humiliation in her gaze, and the pain. The same look Fanny had in her eyes the day her lover had sent her packing.

  “I’d planned to tell you once we docked,” she claimed. “I figured you’d understand.”

  Thinking about the man he’d been back then, just over three weeks ago, before Bridget had come into his life, Will wasn’t sure he would have understood. But he wouldn’t have tried to change Birdie’s mind either, not after Fanny.

  “I had it all figured out. I knew exactly what I would say. But then that girl fell from the forecastle and…” She sighed. “I knew her, you know.”

  How would he know that?

  “She had the bed next to mine,” she explained. “She was a timid girl named Bethany, or Brittany or something like that. I’m ashamed to say I never learned her name. I was too caught up with…Cyrus.”

  Was Birdie as contrite as she sounded? With so much at stake, Will reserved judgment. “I’m still unclear how you managed to switch identities with the girl.”

  She clasped her hands together. “When the authorities came asking if anyone knew her, I told them she was Bridget Collins. I gave them my luggage and said it was hers. They didn’t question me any further. So with that simple exchange, the girl became me. And I became her.”

  Will shoved a hand through his hair. Her story made a sad sort of sense, except for one very important detail. Why had Birdie been in a bunk in the first place?

  “Miss Collins, I sent you enough money to purchase a stateroom.”

  “Yes, well, I…” She broke eye contact and brushed her palms down her skirt. “That is, my family needed the money more than I needed a stateroom.”

  Frustration filled him. Will would have sent her more money had she asked. But that wasn’t the important point here. “What happened with…Cyrus?”

  Her face went dead-white. “He found a better prospect.”

  Of course he had. His kind always did.

  “All those promises meant nothing to him.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffed. “I meant nothing to him.”

  “And so you came back to me.”

  “I have nowhere else to go.” She ran to him and clutched his sleeve, her hands curling into fists. “I have no money, no job. If…if you don’t take me back…I…I don’t know what I’ll do.” She gulped in huge gasps of air and tears welled in her eyes. “I… Please, Mr. Black. Have mercy. Don’t turn me away.”

  Will had seen that same desperate look in another woman’s gaze. Fanny had been similarly distraught, her threat almost identical in nature, uttered mere hours before she’d thrown herself off a cliff.

  His gut wrenched as memories came flooding back. The agony on Fanny’s face. Him reaching her moments too late.

  How could he toss Birdie out of his home, knowing the possible consequences of doing so? He’d made a promise to her. And as hard as it was to think about what he would lose if he followed through, he was responsible for this woman. He was the reason she was in this country. He couldn’t turn his back on her.

  But what she’d done, switching identities with a stranger and then running off with another man when she’d promised to marry Will, those were grievous acts. Had Birdie’s actions been driven by a temporary error in judgment, a youthful indiscretion? Or were they signs of her true character?

  Only time would tell.

  Fingers still clutching his sleeve, Birdie choked out a strangled sob. “I made a mistake. Please, Mr. Black, give me a chance to fix this terrible wrong.”

  How could he refuse her request when he’d made his share of mistakes? As the Bible said, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. No matter what she’d done, or why, he would not send her away and risk another tragic ending.

  “All right, Birdie.” He spoke without inflection. “You may have a second chance.”

  Even as he said the words he wondered how he could ever marry Birdie, especially with her character still in question. She could just as easily run off again. How could Will put his children through that pain a second time, the pain of wondering where their mother was, wondering if they were loved as completely as they deserved?

  And more important, what sort of lessons would a woman like Birdie teach them? Nothing but sadness. His children deserved to know happiness and joy. Olivia and Caleb—and maybe even Will, himself—deserved a woman like Bridget in their lives.

  Wincing at the repercussions of his actions, Will shoved a hand through his hair. This current disaster was of his making. Out of desperation he’d trusted in his own power to solve his problems instead of waiting on the Lord.

  Now he had a woman in his home he didn’t completely trust.

  Unaware of his internal battle, Birdie let go of his sleeve. “So I am to stay here, in this home, with you and your family?”

  “Yes.” For now.

  “Thank you.” She collapsed to the ground with a sob, as if all the fight had left her. Sitting there, staring up at him with those large round eyes she looked very, very young. And extremely pitiful.

  Sighing, Will lifted her in his arms and set her in one of the leather, wing-backed chairs.

  Her stomach growled.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  She brought a shaky hand to her throat. “I don’t remember.”

  “Right.” He found a blanket folded neatly on the settee and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ll have my mother bring in some food.”

  He headed for the door.

  “Will…will you be coming back?” she asked in a panicked voice.

  “Eventually. I have something I must do first.” He didn’t expand. The fact that he was about to break the heart of the woman he loved wasn’t any of this girl’s concern, no matter what role she eventually played in his life. Or in this home.

  As if understanding finally dawned, Birdie’s eyes widened. “That woman in the hallway with you earlier, who is she?”

  “My children’s nanny.” Again, he didn’t expand.

  “You won’t need her anymore, now that I’m here.”

  Sorrow slammed in his chest. “I know.”

  He left the room without uttering another word.

  * * *

  Bridget heard Will’s approach before she actually saw him enter the kitchen. His dark hair stood in disarray around his handsome face, as if he’d been running his fingers through it over and over again.

  His gaze found hers. Oh, the grief she saw in those clear blue eyes. Her heart lurched with unspeakable pain for him. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and tell him everything would work out. That God was in control.

  She didn’t have that right. He wasn’t hers anymore. He’d never been hers. And that was the saddest part of all.

  He reached out to her, casually, as if it was the most natural thing to do. Her heart took an extra hard thump but she didn’t go to him.

  Lowering his hand, he looked around the room. “Where’s my mother?”

  “She took the children and the dog for a walk.”

  Bridget moved closer to him
, unable to help herself, and touched her fingertips to his face. She would never forget this man. “Is that girl in your study, is she…your intended?”

  He leaned into her open palm. “She is, indeed, Bridget Collins.”

  “And you’re going to honor your promise to her.”

  Sorrow drained out of him and slammed into her. “I can’t send her away.”

  Of course he couldn’t, Bridget thought. Nevertheless, her insides turned cold and she dropped her hand to her side.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She wanted to tell him he had nothing to apologize for. After all, he wouldn’t be the man she loved if he sent Birdie away. But she couldn’t make the words come.

  “I’ll take you home now.”

  Even through the thick haze of her regret she couldn’t let him do that. “I think it will be best if I have Ben escort me.”

  “Please, I have things I need to say to you.”

  Her common sense fought a hard battle with her desire to spend a few more moments in his company. “No, Will, it wouldn’t be wise.”

  The haunted way he looked at her reminded her of the man she’d first met on the docks in Boston. He’d come so far, her handsome, serious-minded Will had learned to laugh. And even whistle for no good reason.

  She wanted to weep in frustration at all they’d lost in a single afternoon. “We both know how the conversation will go. You’ll tell me you care about me but—”

  “I can’t walk away from Birdie right now.” His mouth became a grim slash.

  Hearing him speak the words aloud was like a solid punch to her heart. “I know that,” she said very softly. “You would never break your word.”

  And she loved him all the more for it.

  Will rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What you don’t know is why I can’t walk away.”

  “But I do.” She pulled his hand away from his face. “It’s because you are a man of integrity.”

  “There’s more to it than that, another reason why I can’t throw her out of my home. My wife, Fanny, she hated life in Faith Glen, hated being married to me and despised being a mother.” He swallowed. “After the twins were weaned, she found solace in another man’s arms.”

  Bridget could see how hard this was for him. She laid a hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort. “You don’t have to tell me this.”

  “Yes, Bridget, I do.” He covered her hand with his, squeezed, then moved away to lean against the doorjamb. “The short version is that when the man decided he’d had enough and tossed her aside, something in Fanny snapped. She ended her misery by jumping off a cliff. I was there, but I’d arrived too late to save her.”

  “Oh, Will.” The horror he must have felt, the helplessness, the guilt.

  “Now do you understand? Fanny chose death over life. She didn’t want me or the children.” His eyes went dark and turbulent. “Maybe if I’d tried harder to make her happy, she would still be alive.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I let her down in the worst possible way. She’s dead because of me.”

  “No, Will, your wife made her own choices. She could have turned to the Lord for comfort, or she could have sought godly counsel. She could have done any number of things. Instead she turned to another man who was not her husband to ease her unhappiness. And when that didn’t work she chose to jump off that cliff.”

  “If I had only been there sooner…”

  “Your presence might have made a difference, or it might not. Listen to me, Will, you have to forgive yourself.”

  Head down, he didn’t answer her for a very long time. Then he looked up and glanced directly into her eyes. What she saw in his gaze made her heart twist. “Thank you, Bridget.”

  Although he didn’t say the words, she knew, in that moment, she knew he was on the road toward forgiveness, for Fanny, and maybe even for himself.

  “I won’t make the same mistakes with Birdie.” The weary resignation in his voice told its own story. “She’s suffered a similar rejection as Fanny.”

  How…horrible for them all.

  Bridget took one long breath and accepted the truth at last. The man she loved was promised to another woman. “I need to say goodbye to the children.”

  Nodding, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a leather wallet with a grim twist of his lips. When he tried to hand her a wad of bills, she simply stared at him, appalled.

  He might as well have slapped her. “I don’t want your money.”

  “These are the wages I owe you, for services rendered as the children’s nanny.” His voice was so businesslike, so distant.

  Humiliation sliced through the fabric of her control. For one black moment Bridget was tempted to tell him what he could do with his wages in a very unladylike manner. “It’s too much.”

  “Consider it my thank-you, for…everything.”

  “Your words are enough.”

  His jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his neck. “Bridget, you and your sister need the money for repairs to your house.”

  “We’ll make do.”

  He tried to stuff the money into her hand. She reared back, hands splayed in the air. “Stop it, Will.”

  He cast her a quick, pained look. “Then let me offer you a job at the mill. I’m still responsible for you.”

  Therein lay the problem. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for her. She wanted him to love her. “Will, I am not alone in this world, nor am I destitute. I have a home now, and a garden that will supply food, eventually. I also have family.” Just not your family.

  “Bridget, please, allow me this honor. Let me help you.”

  “I won’t take money from you.” She threw her shoulders back. “I won’t.”

  A thousand unspoken words passed between them. Then he shook his head sadly. “You might understand how to give of yourself, but you have no idea how to receive.”

  “It’s better to give than receive,” she shot back, hurt by the censure she heard in his voice. “You said so yourself.”

  “Yes. But how can you truly understand God’s grace if you can’t accept earthly help from someone who cares about you, someone who has no ulterior motive?” He crumpled the money in his hand. “How can you understand the depth of the Lord’s sacrifice if you never admit to your own need for help?”

  He had a point. A valid one, but she couldn’t accept his charity, no matter what argument he used. “Goodbye, Will.”

  Eyes fixed on the doorway, Bridget walked past him. At the last possible moment she reached out and touched his arm gently with her fingertips.

  Surprisingly she managed to hold her emotions in check when she found the children playing in the front yard. She stayed in control as she told them goodbye and promised to see them at church the next morning. For fear of breaking, she avoided Esther’s gaze altogether.

  The older woman didn’t press the issue.

  With Ben filling her in on the missing portions of Birdie’s story, Bridget remained stoic and brave throughout the ride back to her home. She even managed to hold it together during Nora’s rapid-fire questioning over why she’d left with Will earlier in the day, putting off her sister by saying that she was tired, but would tell her everything after resting.

  It wasn’t until she was in her room, with the door firmly shut behind her that she finally gave in to her grief. Alone at last, Bridget folded her arms around her middle and wept. She wept for all that could never be, for the family that had almost been hers but now belonged to Bridget Collins.

  Oh, Lord, she whispered into the darkened room, how will I ever survive without Will and the children in my life?

  * * *

  Bridget woke to find No
ra sitting on her bed, her warm gaze staring down at her with unveiled concern.

  “Nora?” She rubbed her eyes, then noticed the sky was still a cold, gloomy gray. “What time is it?”

  “Early,” she said. “Not yet six in the morning.”

  “Oh.” She rolled onto her side and cradled her head with her hands. “Why are you here?”

  “I heard you crying.”

  Those four simple words brought back all the misery of the day before. Breathing in slowly, carefully, she squeezed her eyes shut and told Nora the worst of it. “Bridget Collins is alive.”

  “What?”

  Bridget struggled to sit up, but the effort was too great and she collapsed back on her pillow.

  “I don’t know all the particulars, but she apparently switched identities with that dead girl we thought was her.”

  “Why would she do something like that?”

  “So she could run off with another man.” Bridget spoke each word with deliberate slowness so as not to start crying again. “Now the other man doesn’t want her and she’s back to claim her position as Will’s bride.”

  Nora processed the tale in silence. Then her face scrunched into a frown. “What an awful, selfish girl.”

  Bridget wasn’t so sure. “Oh, Nora, I wish I could dislike her, too. But the girl I met yesterday was so utterly defeated. I just can’t find it in me to hate her. And besides, it’s her right to claim what was promised to her.”

  At that, Nora had a few choice things to say, but Bridget couldn’t make out the words through the blood rushing in her ears. Her throat closed on a miserable sob.

  Muddled thoughts coursed through her mind. She couldn’t face Will and the children at church today, not if Birdie was sitting between them. She’d never experienced jealousy before. Now it ate at her.

  She wanted to cry out in agony but then she heard Nora turn her anger onto Will. “How dare he hurt you like this?”

  “No, Nora, you don’t understand. Will made a promise to the girl long before he met me. He has to follow through. He’s a man of his word. That’s one of the things I love about him. And yet…”