“You’ve certainly talked more this afternoon than I’ve ever heard.” She steered him away from an uneven crack in the sidewalk.
“If I can change for you, then don’t give up on Jeffrey wising up one day, and I won’t, either. I meant what I said to your brother-in-law about helping your nephew. If you make me want to change to make you happy, maybe he’ll want to do the same.”
“You’re talking more for my sake?”
“I’m trying, though I evidently need lots of practice to keep from clamming up when it gets hard. Last night I let you walk away believing I don’t want to change, because the talking I did yesterday had exhausted me. And well, I’m not used to saying what’s in my head. It’s hard to talk about … feelings.”
They both nodded at another couple passing them on the sidewalk.
But what did Neil feel for her exactly? Was it wise to push him to voice his emotions on a public street when he’d already talked more today than he likely had in a month? His praising her in front of Margaret and Don was enough to know he esteemed her greatly—and it seemed that being hoodwinked by her nephew hadn’t changed his opinion of her, since he still caressed her arm.
Had she actually married a man who would love her despite her faults when her own family had never done so?
Maybe words weren’t necessary. His attempt to produce them for her benefit was enough to prove he cared. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed her hand back thrice.
A few steps later, he shook her hand a little. “One day, I hope you’ll squeeze my hand back four times.”
“Why’s that?”
He stumbled a bit, but she held his arm tight. He frowned at his falter, likely unhappy that it had happened right in front of a man coming up the street, but he pressed on. “When I was little, my mother realized I had trouble expressing myself, so she’d squeeze my hand three times to tell me she loved me, and I would squeeze back four to tell her I loved her, too. I could tell her how I felt without having to push the tangled words off my tongue.”
His hand still held hers tightly. He’d just squeezed it three times, hadn’t he? “Are you saying you love me?”
“Yes.” He squeezed her hand three times again.
“Wait, you’ve squeezed my hand like this before. At my sister’s just now, and I remember you deliberately trying to crush my hand to death at the wedding.”
He laughed. “Nerves made my grip harder than I intended, I suppose.”
Her throat clogged up. “But how could you have loved me then? You hardly knew me.”
“Though I hadn’t talked to you much, I knew you were the finest lady in town, and I intended to love you because the Bible told me to.” He stepped closer to her as they moved to the side to let a couple pass them. “You still are the finest lady I know, but I don’t need the Bible anymore to make me choose to love you. I just do.”
Despite her blush flaring back up again, she cleared her throat to push out the words that’d be easier to keep inside. He couldn’t see her flush anyway. “I wish you hadn’t sent Mr. Ferguson ahead.”
“Why’s that?”
God might be allowing Neil to go blind, but He was just now opening her eyes to the gift of love He’d planned for her all along. It’d been a long wait, but now that she had this man’s affections, she’d do whatever it took to return them tenfold. “What you just said deserves a couple more kisses along with the ones I already owe you, but I can’t give them to you until we get home.”
“If I talk the whole way there, how many will I get?” He took her hand and kissed the back of it after another couple passed them.
“We’ll have to see, but there’s a chance I could be persuaded to give you as many as you’d like.”
He squeezed her hand three times.
And she squeezed back four.
Much to her introverted self’s delight, Melissa Jagears hardly needs to leave her home to be a homeschool teacher, day-care provider, church financial secretary, and historical romance novelist. She doesn’t have to leave her home to be a housekeeper either, but she’s doubtful she meets the minimum qualifications to claim to be one in her official bio. Find her online at www.melissajagears.com, Facebook, Pinterest, and Goodreads, the Inspirational Historical Fiction Index website, or write her at PO Box 191, Dearing, KS 67340. To be certain to hear of Melissa’s new releases, giveaways, bargains, and exclusive subscriber content, please subscribe to her email newsletter located on her webpage.
BONNETS AND BEES
Maureen Lang
Dedication
For my local writing allies, particularly Jane Steen, who talked me off the ledge when I thought I’d lost six thousand words.
Chapter 1
Turnbridge Acres, Wisconsin
June, 1871
Paul Turnbridge stared at the bee at the corner of his window. A familiar honeybee, no doubt sidetracked from his sojourn to or from the flowers Paul had ordered planted around his large farmhouse to attract little fellows just like this one.
“Yes, of course …” He spoke the words in response to something his younger brother had just said, newly arrived from Milwaukee some three hours to the east. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d just agreed to, but knowing John it was likely a harmless request. His brother had a way of droning on that wasn’t in the least bit as fascinating as the drone of a healthy bee.
“You—you will? You’ll do it, then?”
Paul stepped around his brother, gently trapping the bee that was too focused on the glass to realize it had only to swoop lower to be free. Scooping the flyer inside an errant sheet of paper—a drawing of the original westward migration of the honeybee—he guided the little creature below the window’s frame until it found what it had been seeking. Freedom. It then buzzed away.
Finally he turned to John, whose visit should have intrigued him if only because it was so rare. John never came asking for favors, and yet apparently he’d done just that.
“I’m sorry, little brother, but I was distracted by the bee. You see? There are several out on that honeysuckle bush. I can always count on that to draw the bees straight to me. Now, what did you say you needed?”
John was not quite a younger replica of Paul himself. His skin was fairer, although Paul had to concede his days following bees in his pursuit of study had undoubtedly darkened his skin. Bees, after all, primarily flew when the sun was high in the sky. But John had the same thick dark hair, the same blue eyes, the same nose that was straight and well defined.
“You and these bees!” John’s voice had a familiar ring, learned from their mother. She’d never understood Paul’s love of study, either. It had been clear since Paul’s childhood that both of them thought him as dull as a doorknob.
“Yes, me and these bees.” Paul stepped back around his brother, returning the drawing to its pile on the corner of his large desk that was filled with books, maps, and other drawings he loved to examine. “You’d admire them, too, John, if you let yourself get to know them. They’re hardworking, industrious, a bit more social than I am—”
“A hibernating bear is more social than you are, brother mine. And that’s why you’re perfect for what I’ve just asked you to do.”
“Why don’t you get around to details, then? I have work to do.”
“The arrangement will be in name only. Legal, of course, but completely impersonal. She’s depending on that and would be prepared to compensate you in some monetary way, but I plan to assure her you won’t make any demands at all. That’s the agreement: no demands either way.”
“She? Who?”
John drew his lips tight. “Virginia Haversack. The woman I’d like you to marry.”
Now it was Paul’s turn to gape at his brother. “What? Marry? A woman?”
“Yes, that’s typically how it’s done. I pity a woman who would actually have to live with you, so you may consider this my contribution to any other woman you might have chosen on your own—if such a miracle had ever happened. Are y
ou listening? You don’t listen to anything but the buzz of a bee.”
“Well, once you know how individual such buzzing can actually be … Now wait just a moment. You’re saying you want me to marry someone? Have you come here in jest, then? You cannot be serious.”
“I’m completely serious, and yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do. Virginia is very dear to Sarah, and frankly, the only way out of the dilemma she faces is to find herself a husband. In name only is enough to satisfy the ridiculous demands of the will her father restricted her to.”
“Slow down, John! So this … this Virginia is a friend of Sarah’s?”
John nodded. “A very good friend. She owns the hat shop in the building next to my office, and lives just above. Sarah has worn her bonnets for years, and the two are like sisters.”
“What are the details of this dilemma?”
“It’s this blasted will her father left behind. For years now, even before her father died, Virginia has successfully run the hat shop her father built. In fact, she devoted herself to her father and to that shop and ignored any chance at marriage herself. Something her father continually scolded her for. He even tried to arrange for any number of suitable young men—”
“Yes, yes, so she’s a spinster, and one her own father couldn’t rid himself of. Get on with it. Now her father is dead and she’s running the shop her own way. Where is the trouble?”
“The man’s distant cousin will take ownership unless she weds. Her marriage is specifically stipulated in the will, or this cousin has the right to come in and own the whole kit and caboodle. Sweep it right out from under her, even though she’s the one who made the business what it is today. She makes a splendid bonnet, and women like Sarah all flock to her. I suppose her father meant well enough, not wanting her to be alone for the rest of her life, but confound it, I think it was awfully unfair.”
Paul barely listened once he understood the nature of the problem. So a woman needed a husband in order to inherit. A woman who must at least be a capable sort, having been successful in a business she took over from her father. A woman Sarah, whom Paul thought was too good for John anyway, liked.
And what need had Paul for a wife, other than one in name only? None whatsoever.
“Fine.” He turned back to his desk. Once a decision was made, there was little point mulling it any further. “Why don’t you arrange for the documents to be signed and the ceremony performed by proxy somewhere convenient to this woman, and have done with it. Send me the papers when they’re ready.” He eyed his brother and added somberly, “Just so long as the terms you presented are honored. No demands either way.”
After receiving not only a nod from John but a raised palm as if swearing to an oath, Paul reached behind his desk for the bellpull. “I’ll have Mrs. Higgins bring lunch, then you can be on your way.”
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Virginia Haversack tied off the royal-blue thread then snapped the needle away, holding the finished bonnet at arm’s length to assess her latest creation. Fanchon style, it would stay in place with a pin rather than ribbon. Petite and feminine, it offered the perfect blend of blue and emerald green—a bonnet even a peacock might think improved its attire.
She smiled at the silly thought, sending up a silent prayer of thanks for peacocks everywhere. God was such a magnificent designer, throwing all of the most complementary colors together to please the human eye. She never had to look further for inspiration than the nature God provided, even here in Milwaukee. Although she’d never seen a real peacock, she’d seen plenty of drawings that lent her enough inspiration to keep her in hats for the rest of her life.
No sooner was the bonnet set aside, however, than a sigh escaped her lips. It was so easy to forget her troubles when she worked, which was likely why she’d finished a half-dozen bonnets in just a few days. Worry sent her searching for release, and that she could find only in creating one lovely hat after another.
It was a good thing she had so many clients waiting for her work.
Shaking away the sudden pins and needles in her fingers, she stood from her worktable. It was well past the time to go upstairs to the apartment she called home. She’d closed the shop two hours ago. Besides, she could always work upstairs.
Standing, she found herself hungry and realized she hadn’t eaten since noon. She really mustn’t forget to eat again. The words rang in her ears, an echo of her father’s voice chiding her for being too thin. Her heart twisted at the thought of him. It had been only a month since his death; a month of far more free time since she no longer needed to see to his every need in his sickbed, but also a month of worrying about the ramifications of his will. The relief that he no longer suffered, and from the work that went with trying to ease that suffering, was only partly tainting the pure grief that came of missing him. She must see about finding a husband.
Turning down the gas lamp, she eyed the showcases of her millinery shop. In the dimming afternoon light shining through the windows displaying her wares, the contents made her sigh again. How she loved running this place, hearing the delighted gasps from her clients, knowing women came from all over Milwaukee just to ask her to design a hat for them. For tall women and short, young or old, for thin faces or round, for fancy occasions or simply for an afternoon walk in the park … Virginia could imagine a hat for every face and form, and one for every event. This place needed her, just as she needed it—to fill her days and dreams.
A tap at the door stopped her from going to the stairs at the back of the shop. An insistent knock, accompanied by a muffled voice calling her name. This was no ordinary customer, late for a pickup. Nearing the door, she recognized Sarah’s voice immediately.
“I’m so glad I caught you before you went upstairs! I know you can’t hear a thing up there. Oh, Virginia! He’ll do it! Paul will actually do it! John just got home, and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell you.”
“Who will do what?”
“Paul! John’s brother. You remember, I told you all about it yesterday after that man came to tell you your appeal to the judge to change the stipulations of the will won’t do you any good.”
She certainly hadn’t forgotten that final word yesterday; the anticipation of it had kept her awake for two weeks, ever since having the idea to contest the will. And Sarah had mentioned some sort of plan.… But Virginia hadn’t really paid much attention. Her worry had gotten in the way.
Virginia looked beyond Sarah to the waiting carriage. Sarah and her husband, whose office was next door, lived only a few blocks away. She’d taken the family coach, and a driver waited without even a glance their way from the curb.
“Can you come in and tell me about it, or is John expecting you back right away?”
Sarah, her blond curls bouncing beneath a pink and purple bonnet of Virginia’s making, stepped past Virginia into the shop, closing the door behind them. “I can’t stay too long, but certainly long enough to help you choose what to wear tomorrow.”
“Whatever for?”
“For your wedding, silly goose! What else?”
Sarah was a bit shorter than Virginia, somewhat stout yet not at all round. She was petite in every way, from a small sloped nose to tiny hands and feet. But just now she could have been a giant for the gaping way Virginia knew she was staring at her friend.
Because it all came back, the plan that Virginia had certainly heard but had never considered plausible. Sarah happened to be in the shop when the man delivering the bad news about the tightness of her father’s will had arrived. “All you need,” Sarah had said after the man left, taking Virginia’s breath with him, “is a husband in name only.”
Sarah had even suggested her bachelor brother-in-law, but Virginia had thought she’d only been talking to ease Virginia’s initial shock. Just making conversation to stir more ideas about how to deal with the confines of the will. She had six months in which to find a husband. Six months to do what came as no simple feat to her: attend parties wher
e her hats roamed freely and frequently, but places where she herself least wanted to go. In fact, other than the errand boy who regularly dropped off supplies or picked up her boxed hats for delivery, Virginia didn’t even know an unmarried man, let alone one who might be remotely interested in marrying her.
When Sarah had rushed out the day before, Virginia had no idea she’d actually taken steps to make good on her suggestion.
“Are you saying … your brother-in-law will actually … marry me?”
Curls bouncing again, Sarah nodded with excitement, her brown eyes so merry that laughter bubbled out from behind her matching smile. “All of your problems are solved! And in only one day!”
Though Virginia’s pulse sped at the thought of not having anything more to worry about, the idea of a marriage—a legal and binding one, if not a real one—was something she had to consider for far longer than a moment’s notice, particularly to a man she didn’t even know. Granted, he was John’s brother and that could only mean he came from good stock, but marriage? Even if she never lived with the man, might he assume certain … rights?
“Now wait just a moment, Sarah! I thought you were joking yesterday. I know you mean well, and I certainly do want this problem taken care of. But I have six months, after all.”
Sarah crossed her arms as a frown took the place of her smile. “Virginia. You know I love you, don’t you? That you’re like a sister to me?”
Virginia nodded.
“Then take this advice with all the love it’s given: You’re twenty-seven years old. Where in the world will you find a husband at your age, when you’ve never in your life given husband-hunting a thought?”
Virginia’s heart sank in a twirling motion, knowing Sarah was right. But was she so desperate already to take such drastic measures? Marry a complete stranger?
“But marriage … I don’t know, Sarah.”
“Well of course it’s marriage! That’s what this whole situation is about.” Sarah stepped closer, grabbing both of Virginia’s hands and squeezing them. “I know Paul Turnbridge, Virginia. And I know you. If ever a business arrangement could work between two people, it’s you two. He’s … Well, he’s a gentleman but lives a quiet life of study. He’s never shown any interest in marriage, which is why he’s available now. And you … Well, you’ve never shown any interest in marriage, either. See? You already have something in common. Honestly, my dear Virginia, I don’t think you have a choice.”
The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity Page 26