by Kit Morgan
“We’d manage.”
Julian was pleasantly surprised. “I’ll think about it, then.”
Julian’s father smiled. “Good.”
Four
Julian did think about what his father had said – perhaps too much, as he found he couldn’t sleep that night. He rose the next morning with a headache, and his eyes felt as if they had sand in them. He never did do well without enough rest.
Still, the day was calling. He got up, ate breakfast, then went to fetch a few things from the mercantile for his mother. Things were quiet in town as far as “work” went – a good thing overall, though bad for his family’s business. But it had been a cold winter, and cold winters often led to work for Julian and his parents. Such was life as the town undertakers.
He entered the mercantile, hoping that Morgan was working. He could do with some advice right now. But when he crossed the threshold, it wasn’t the smiling face of Morgan that greeted him, but the shocked one of the pretty blonde he’d seen the day before – as she crashed right into him!
“Oh!” she cried. “I’m terribly sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Julian stepped back to put a proper distance between them. He stared blankly at her a moment before he remembered his manners. “I apologize as well. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
She looked at him and shook her head, her mouth half-open. She snapped it shut and swallowed hard. Still silent, she nodded.
Julian smiled at her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She swallowed again. “I’m sure. Forgive me for running into you.”
“You’re forgiven,” he chuckled. By Heaven, she was adorable! She wasn’t dressed in a maid’s uniform, and he wondered if she’d started her duties in the Vander household. He then noticed she was still staring at him. “Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, ah … no, I’m terribly sorry. How rude of me.” She stepped to the side so he could pass.
But he didn’t. He was as transfixed as she.
“Ahem …” Morgan cleared his throat to get their attention. “Miss Sampson, your packages are wrapped.”
Julian looked up and noticed the amused smirk on Morgan’s face. Well, he supposed he had been pretty obvious … he smirked back, then looked again at the angelic creature next to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. Julian Smythe, at your service.”
She smiled and blushed. “Hello. I’m Ellie Sampson. I’ve … just … come here.”
“Ah, so you’re new in town? How nice. Tell me, didn’t I see you yesterday?”
She gulped as her blush deepened. “I believe so, yes.”
“I thought so. You were with my friend Garrett’s mother, Mrs. Vander.” She nodded as she studied him. He knew he wasn’t hard on the eyes, and realized he enjoyed her healthy perusal of him. It was all he could do not to gawk at her!
“Miss Sampson?” called Morgan from behind the counter. “Is there anything else you need for me to fetch you?”
She let out her breath and looked as if she had to force herself from Julian’s gaze.
The action pleased him. So she liked what she saw … “Let her alone, Morgan – the lady is in no rush,” he said, never taking his eyes off her. “Or … are you?”
Her head snapped around to him. “I … well, I … was just running an errand for … Mrs. Brock ...”
“Mrs. Brock?” Julian asked. “I thought you … well, that is … my mother is best friends with Mrs. Vander, and she said that the Vanders had a new …”
She looked at the floor. “Maid?”
“Er, yes. A new maid,” he said, his voice softening. Even out west, there were societal conventions to follow. He could tell that even though she found him attractive, she was a servant and he a businessman. But conventions be hanged! She was a living, breathing woman, and she was right here! “I certainly hope you like our little town and stay on.”
She stared at him once more. “If I find it suits me ...”
“Is there something I can get for you, Julian?” Morgan asked as if bored.
Julian waved him off. “I think you’ll find it quite charming, and its residents delightful.”
She wrinkled her nose at that. “Well, the ones I’ve met so far have been quite … interesting.”
Morgan let out something between a choke and a groan.
Julian glanced at him, took in his wide grin, and felt a tiny prick of warning. Was something going on he didn’t know about? His eyes darted around the mercantile, but he, Morgan and Miss Sampson were the only ones in it that he could see. He gave his friend a suspicious glare, then looked at Miss Sampson again. “Can I help you with your purchases?”
“No, no … I mean …” She gulped again and her breathing picked up. Was she nervous? “I can manage on my own, but thank you.”
Julian watched as she hurried to the counter, gathered up her packages, then headed straight for the door. “Are you sure I can’t be of service?”
“I’m sure,” she mumbled behind the stack of packages in her arms.
Julian went to the door and opened it for her. “Good day then. Perhaps I’ll see you again sometime.”
She peered over the top of the stack in her arms. “Perhaps.” With that, she left.
He took a few steps after her to make sure she was okay, then looked at Morgan. “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat ...”
“Don’t just stand there, you idiot!” Morgan scolded. “Go after her!”
“She didn’t want any help.”
“She can’t see where she’s going!” Morgan replied in exasperation.
Julian took a deep breath. “Quite right. See you!” He hurried out the door. By the time he closed it behind him, he heard a succession of thuds coming from up the boardwalk. Sure enough, Miss Sampson had dropped her load – her packages lay scattered at her feet. “Let me help you!” he said as he hurried to where she stood.
She bent to them and began to gather the packages up. “I’ll be fine, really …”
“You will … if I help you,” he finished for her.
Their eyes met, and Julian was lost. They were as blue as the sky in late summer. In fact, she was like summer itself – bright, warm and seemingly infinite. There was a freshness and sadness about her, mingled together like the last days of summer just before they turned into autumn.
Without saying a word he tore his gaze away and began to pick up the packages for her. He even took what she held in her arms already. She didn’t argue, just continued to stare at him. Finally he stood. “Allow me to escort you … well, to wherever you’re going.” He managed to reach a hand to her as he balanced everything in his arms, and pulled her to her feet.
“That’s very kind of you, but I hate to be a bother.”
“Not at all. I have nowhere pressing I have to be at the moment.”
“But didn’t you have business at the mercantile?”
“Yes, but it can wait. And you need the help.”
Her eyes flicked to the mercantile doors, then back to him. She smiled warmly. “All right, if you insist. I’m heading back to Mrs. Brock’s house.”
“Fine, I know right where to go. I’d offer you my arm, but as you can see …”
Her smile broadened. “I understand. Are you sure you don’t want me to take some of those?”
“Quite sure. Shall we?”
She nodded, turned, and began to walk. “I’ve come to work for Mrs. Vander,” she volunteered. “But it seems Mrs. Brock needs my … services too. That’s why we’re going to her home.”
“You didn’t need to explain to me your business.”
“True, but wouldn’t you be wondering about it the entire way and dying of curiosity?”
He glanced at her. She had the tiniest of smiles on her lips, and it was all Julian could do to keep from licking his. “You’re a clever one.”
“I try.”
“Sassy too, if I might be so bold.”
She giggled. “It’s one of my mo
re irritating traits.”
“Then you should be able to handle Mrs. Brock quite well. Not to mention get along with Betsy.”
“Ah, yes, Betsy. She’s an interesting woman.”
“She’s smarter than she lets on. Watch out for her – though I mean that in a good way.”
She laughed again. “I think I’ve already figured that out.”
They walked a moment in silence. Julian had to keep her talking, learn more about her. “Where did you work before coming here?” Of course he already knew, but wanted to hear her tell him.
She hesitated, then said, “Oregon City.”
“How long were you there?”
Her smile faded, and he wondered if he should change the subject. But then, what would take her smile from her like that? “Six years.”
“That’s a good long while to be in one family’s employ. Why then did you leave?”
She breathed. “Ah … the … head of the house … died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I couldn’t afford to stay after that.”
“You mean the family couldn’t?”
She looked at him as they walked. “Something like that. So, here I am.”
Julian smiled. “As I said before, I’m sure you’ll like it here.”
She looked at him again, her eyes full of sadness. “I … hope I’m able to stay.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
She closed her eyes as if to ward of tears, opened them. “Things happen …”
Julian wanted to comment, but they had reached the Brocks’ gate. He looked at her, and gave her the warmest smile he could muster. “They don’t have to.”
Her eyes widened. She quickly opened the gate and hurried up the walk to the front door, opened it, then took the packages from him. “Good day, Mr. Smythe.” She dashed inside and shut the door in his face.
* * *
As soon as Ellie had set the packages down on the table in the foyer, she closed her eyes against the sudden pain in her heart. What was she thinking? How could she go through with this? Why did Julian Smythe have to be so blasted handsome?
She picked up the parcels again, went into the Brocks’ dining room and let them tumble out of her arms onto the table, then put her hands on the back of a chair and leaned on it for support. True, between the Vanders and the Brocks she’d secured employment, and would soon have enough money to return to Oregon City. But did she really want to? If she didn’t, though, how could she hope to stay in Independence?
“There you are, child! I thought you’d never get here!” Mahulda Brock entered the dining room. “Did you get everything?”
“Yes, ma’am – all that was on the list you gave me.”
“Good, let’s take it into the kitchen and get it put away, then I’ll show you your duties for the days you’re here for me.”
“Mrs. Brock,” Ellie began. “How is this going to work?”
“Weren’t we clear enough yesterday? You’ll work a few days at Mercy’s house, and a few days here. As we have the room, you’ll board here too. Mercy and Horace’s house is full, what with Garrett and Ammy living with them.”
Ellie sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course, I am. Did you… happen to see or speak to anyone in town?”
“You mean did I see Mr. Smythe?”
“Well, yes.”
“He helped me carry everything home.”
“Did he? Well, what a gentleman. His mother will be delighted to hear it.”
“Mrs. Brock, I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
“Why not? It’s the reason you came, isn’t it – to get married?”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts, young lady! Myself and the others are going through a lot of trouble to help you. We didn’t ask for this, someone’s idea of a joke brought you here, but now that you’ve arrived, you might as well make the most of it. You have to admit, Julian Smythe is a right good-looking young lad. I thought of him for my Eva at one point. But she had other ideas …”
Ellie sighed. “I hope you’re right, Mrs. Brock.”
“Of course I am. In fact, I’m beginning to understand why Mercy, Martha and Maude like doing this sort of thing.”
Ellie’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Thing?”
Mrs. Brock’s usual stern expression softened. “Matchmaking.” A tiny hint of a smile formed on the woman’s mouth with the word. Ellie began to wonder if she was nothing more than a form of entertainment for these women.
She watched Mrs. Brock gather up the packages, then remembered her manners – not to mention her job – and helped her. They carried them into the kitchen, unwrapped everything and got it put away. Mrs. Brock then spent the next hour showing Ellie exactly what she wanted her to do during the days she was in her employ. She would continue to use Eva’s room as her own for as long as she was there.
Ellie still hoped that wasn’t going to be for long. In the whirlwind twenty-four hours she’d been in Independence, the thing she found most astounding was that poor Mr. Brock didn’t even know he had a new maid! In fact, she hadn’t even seen the man yet. He did exist, didn’t he?
“Do you have any questions about what I’ve shown you?” asked Mrs. Brock when they were through.
“No, ma’am. But when are you going to tell Mr. Brock about me?”
“Oh don’t worry, he’ll find out at dinner. You can cook, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Oh thank goodness – I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask until now! Mr. Brock and I will do fine for breakfast and lunch on our own, but it would be wonderful if you could cook us dinner while we have you.”
Ellie nodded. “If that will be all, Mrs. Brock, I’d like to go to my room for a few moments.”
Of course, go right ahead. “There’s really nothing for you to do until dinnertime.”
Ellie turned and went upstairs to her room. As soon as the door was closed she went straight to the bed and sat. There was no question about it; she couldn’t stay. After all, it would only be a matter of time until they found out about Davey. Then what would they all do? Why she ever thought she could become a mail-order bride with a child was beyond even her comprehension at this point. Even if Julian Smythe began to pursue her, the moment he found out she had a son, he’d be long gone.
Ellie fell back onto the bed, rolled onto her stomach, closed her eyes and prayed for the Almighty to find her a way to make it on her own.
Five
Several days passed, and though Julian hadn’t seen the pretty Miss Sampson since he’d walked her to Mrs. Brock’s house, he still thought of her. He’d also been thinking about what his father said. Should he go to Portland or Oregon City in search of a wife? Or should he look elsewhere … such as right there in Independence?
The thought gave him pause. He finished work early and strolled to the café for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie to help him ponder the possibilities. What would his parents think if he wanted to court the Vanders’ maid? Would it matter to them? After all, it wasn’t like his family had any great social status. His father wasn’t the mayor, he was the undertaker – not quite the other end of the social spectrum, but certainly not the “upper crust” in most people’s eyes.
He reached the café and noticed Cecil Winters and Professor Hamilton exiting the bookshop. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Julian greeted them with a tip of his hat.
“Julian, my lad,” the Professor replied. “How are you this fine day?”
“Quite well. Just heading in for a bit of pie and coffee.”
“As are we!” Cecil said happily. “Mind if we join you?”
“Not at all.” Julian smiled and waited for them to reach him, then went inside. They found a table, sat, and within moments Clara was heading to the kitchen with their orders and to fetch their coffee. “So how’s the book business, Professor?” Julian asked.
“As robust as ever.”
“Yes
, he’s sold five whole books this week,” chuckled Cecil.
Julian laughed. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yes, considering the holiday is over,” the Professor said. “Though I’m glad I bought the building when I moved here and haven’t any rent to pay.”
“I’m glad you did too,” Julian said. “I can’t imagine Independence without you.”
“And I can’t imagine me without Independence,” the Professor commented with a smile.
The bell over the door rang, drawing their attention. Betsy entered, followed by Miss Sampson. Julian sat straighter in his chair.
Cecil took note of the action and smiled. “My, my, but that’s a might pretty little gal over there with Betsy.”
Julian looked at him and shrugged. “If you like blondes.”
“Do you?” the Professor asked.
Julian, as casually as possible, glanced at the women as they found a table and sat. Betsy gave Cecil a wide smile. “She’s all right.”
“All right, he says,” Cecil chuckled to the Professor. He returned Betsy’s smile, then turned to the other two men. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. I think I’ll go say hello.”
“You do that,” the Professor said with a knowing smile.
Cecil got up and strolled to the other table. Julian listened as introductions were made. “Mr. Winters seems sweet on Betsy.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, my boy,” the Professor said. “I’ve no doubt they’ll marry one day. That is, if Cecil ever gets up his nerve to ask.”
Julian looked at him. “Is he afraid to ask, or worried about the Vanders?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’re not going to take kindly to losing Betsy.”
“Who says they have to lose her? Marrying Cecil would only mean she wouldn’t live there anymore, not that she wouldn’t work there.”
“Then where would she live? They can’t very well move in with you.”
“It would make things a little crowded, I can’t argue with you there. But we could manage till they had enough money to get their own place.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Professor, there aren’t many places around here up for sale. There’s that little house on Chestnut Street, but I’m thinking Garrett might snatch that up.”