Mary's Mail Order Husband

by Lily Wilspur

  She held her hands behind her neck in an awkward attempt to close her collar without seeing it. Mrs. Mallory approached her from behind and surveyed the bride in the mirror.

  “You look lovely,” she breathed.

  “I would look lovely if I could get this blasted collar buttoned,” Mary snarled. “I can’t figure out why dress-makers don’t make dresses with more sensible closures. What would I do if I didn’t have you here to help me? It drives me around the bend.”

  “Now, just calm down. I’ll do it for you.” Mrs. Mallory took hold of the two sides of the collar. Mary dropped her arms to her sides with a sigh of relief. “You only get married once in your life. You can stand to have someone help you get dressed.”

  “This will be my second time,” Mary reminded her.

  “Oh, I know that!” Mrs. Mallory shot back. “But you know what I mean. It’s a special day, and you can be forgiven for not dressing yourself, just this once. And to think those lords and ladies in their castles had someone to help them button their buttons and tie their laces and buckle their buckles every time they changed their clothes! It doesn’t bear thinkin’ about!”

  “Well, I don’t like it at all, not even once in a while,” Mary grumbled. “I don’t like being helpless.”

  “You’re hardly helpless,” Mrs. Mallory assured her. “You had to ask me to put Mr. Webster up, didn’t you? And you had to ask me to stand witness at your wedding, didn’t you, after your father died?”

  “That was different,” Mary insisted.

  “It’s no different,” Mrs. Mallory returned. “You can’t do everything yourself all the time. You have to ask for help sometimes. It’s part of being human. It’s part of living with other people. Sometimes you need to call on your neighbors to help you. There’s no shame in that.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Mary admitted. “And I thank you for putting Mr. Webster up at your house these last few days, and for standing witness for us. It was very good of you to accommodate us on such short notice.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Miss,” Mrs. Mallory replied. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s just part of being neighbors with someone.”

  “You didn’t have to do it,” Mary pointed out.

  “Hasn’t Mr. Webster paid me rent?” Mrs. Mallory retorted. “And then some! I should be thanking you instead. And anyways, your father took good care of me when Freddy died. He made sure I had firewood delivered once a week, and he even paid my grocery bill a few times.”

  “That’s because you did his laundry for him,” Mary reminded her. “You can’t fool me, Mrs. Mallory. I know the whole story.”

  “Then you know why no thanks are needed between friends.” She finished fastening the collar. “There, that’s done. Now, let me look at you. You look absolutely angelic. I will be sorry when you and Mr. Webster move out of town. We’ve been neighbors all these years.”

  “I guess we won’t see each other anywhere near as often as we usually do,” Mary replied. “I’ll be sorry about that. But I won’t be sorry to get out of Fort Collins, especially when I think about the place I’m moving to. Here. Could you help me put on my veil? Thank you.”

  Mrs. Mallory took the veil, held it up in front of her, and smoothed it down.

  “You should see it, Mrs. Mallory,” Mary breathed. “You should see the view of the mountains and valleys and creeks around it. And the site Jack has picked out to build the house is the most spectacular place I’ve ever seen. It’s everything I dreamed it would be.”

  “You’re a lucky girl,” Mrs. Mallory mumbled. “You’re lucky to be marrying a rich man like Mr. Webster, who can afford to build you a new, big house on a hill. “

  “I’m sorry,” Mary replied. “I shouldn’t boast about it. I didn’t mean to throw misfortune in your face.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you for goin’ on about it,” Mrs. Mallory told her. “I’m sure I would be runnin’ on at the mouth, too, if it was me. I don’t think I could keep my mouth shut for two seconds.”

  Mary blushed. To hide her embarrassment, she sank down in front of Mrs. Mallory with her back to the older woman. Mrs. Mallory fixed the veil to her head and spread it out over her shoulders.

  Mary stood up and examined her reflection in the glass. “That’s fine.”

  “What do ya mean—fine?” Mrs. Mallory scoffed. “You look magnificent. Fine! Huh!”

  . “I’m glad you think so.” Mary smoothed down her dress again. “This thing makes me look like a house-frau. I should have gone for something fancier.”

  “You didn’t know you were marrying a gentleman like Mr. Webster when you planned this wedding,” Mrs. Mallory reminded her. “You didn’t know what you were getting.”

  “Still,” Mary replied. “I wish now I’d gone to a little more trouble to make it special. As you say, it’s not every day a person gets married.” She swished the skirts of her dress right and left, scrutinizing herself. “And blue, too. I wish I was wearing a white satin gown like I had when I married Albert. Then again, I wish I was marrying Jack for the first time.” Her words sounded strange to her and she flapped her hands. “Oh, you know what I mean!”

  “I do know what you mean,” Mrs. Mallory replied. “Now let’s get your veil on and get downstairs. The gig will be waiting outside to take you to the church.”

  Chapter 13

  Mrs. Mallory arranged the skirts of Mary’s dress on the floor, but Mary didn’t notice. She saw only Jack waiting for her at the front of the church. The pews stood empty on either side and the minister stood at the pulpit.

  Down the aisle, their eyes met, and the rest of the world vanished in every direction. Nothing existed but the two of them, seeing each other as if for the first time, yet knowing each other almost better than they knew themselves. Thank Heaven she was marrying him! Thank Heaven she’d found a safe deposit box to protect her heart and soul.

  So engrossed was she in his gaze that she didn’t even remember Mrs. Mallory behind her until the older woman spoke to her. “You see? What did I tell you? He can’t take his eyes off you. Just imagine if the church was full of people? They’d have nothing else to talk about for the rest of the year.”

  Mrs. Mallory flitted around Mary, adjusting her dress and her veil. She came around in front of Mary and the two women looked at each other through the veil. The veil rendered everything dreamy and distant. Mary watched everything happening around her as if it were a hundred yards away. Even Mrs. Mallory’s face, just inches away on the other side of the veil, looked foreign and other-worldly.

  And Jack, up there by the altar—was she really going to marry him? Even though she knew so much about him from the time they spent together since the fire, he looked like a stranger. He looked like the mail-order husband she thought she was getting. He didn’t look like plain old Jack now.

  He looked like a gentleman born and bred in his black suit with the bow tie. He looked like a business tycoon with more money than Prince Rupert who’d blown into town and set the whole area on fire with his plans to buy a mountain kingdom outside Fort Collins. He looked stately and imposing, and almighty superior to little old Mary Allen, the widow.

  Through the veil, Mrs. Mallory’s voice called Mary back from the clouds. “Now, are you absolutely certain you don’t want me to walk you down the aisle?”

  “I’m certain,” Mary replied.

  “I don’t like you walking down alone,” Mrs. Mallory protested. “It ain’t right. A bride ought to be escorted by someone, even if it is a neighbor lady.”

  “I appreciate you offering to escort me,” Mary replied. “But I’ll go alone. It may not be the regular thing to do, but if Dad isn’t going to walk me down, then no one is. I’ve made up my mind about that.”

  “I just don’t want you fainting or anything like that,” Mrs. Mallory pointed out. “You hear about brides doing all kinds of crazy things. And you want someone to hold your hand, don’t you? I remember when I was a bride, not so very
long ago, I just couldn’t let go of my Daddy’s hand. I was that terrified, he had to pry my fingers off his arm when we got to the altar. I was petrified!”

  Mary interrupted her, or she might have rattled on all afternoon. “That’s okay, Mrs. Mallory. I won’t faint or get lost, and I don’t need to hold anyone’s hand. I’ll be fine.” She turned back toward the altar. “Dad’s holding my hand.”

  Mrs. Mallory sniffed back tears. “Your father would be so proud of you, if he could see you here today. I just know he would be. You were his pride and joy, while he was alive. I just know you’re going to keep making him proud.”

  Tears welled up in Mary’s eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Mallory. Thank you for everything you’ve done for Jack and I. Thank you for taking him in the night of the fire and giving him such a comfortable home this last week. And thank you for all you’ve done to help me prepare for this wedding. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” Mrs. Mallory replied. “I can understand you not wanting anyone to take your dad’s place by your side today. That’s one thing. But a bride needs someone to help her get ready. It just isn’t right for her to do everything alone.”

  “You’ve been like an aunt to me, these last few days,” Mary told her. “And all the help you’ve given me in getting ready to move out to the new place—I don’t know how I’ve managed without you all these years.” She tried to laugh, but only started crying instead.

  Mrs. Mallory hovered beyond her veil, sniffing her nose and babbling. Mary had to cut this conversation off. She had to get herself composed and start walking down the aisle. Jack was waiting for her. She couldn’t keep him waiting any longer.

  She squeezed Mrs. Mallory’s hand one more time and turned away. Mrs. Mallory took the hint and hurried up the aisle to the front pew, where she took her place as witness. She wiped her eyes on the cuff of her sleeve and smiled through her tears at Jack and the minister. Then she turned around and gazed at Mary.

  Mary stood suspended at the back of the church. Even though she gave herself the command to walk down the aisle, her legs didn’t move. A tight cable of magnetic energy connected her with Jack. Through the fog of her veil, she saw him clearly.

  She could only start moving down the aisle by anchoring herself to this cable and pulling herself, hand over hand, toward him. If only he would keep his eyes locked on hers, she would make it there. If he broke eye contact with her for even a fraction of a second, the cable would dissolve and she would be lost.

  But he didn’t. He never took his eyes off her. She crept forward, one foot following the other, closer and closer. Mrs. Mallory and the minister and everything else in the world spun away into the ether, leaving her alone with Jack.

  She sensed her father watching over her, helping her and lending her his own strength for the endeavor. She had known all along that he would accompany her to the altar, if only she left his place clear at her side. Not for all the world would she give that place up to anyone else. He’d earned it.

  She held the cable as tightly as she could and dragged herself to the altar by main force, until Jack reached out and caught her hand. He pulled her the last steps toward him, and she was safe at last by his side, never to leave it again.

  The End

  Copyright

  © 2014 by Lily Wilspur

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Don’t miss out!

  Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Lily Wilspur publishes a new book. There’s no charge and no obligation.

  https://books2read.com/r/B-A-RBEF-DZWP

  Connecting independent readers to independent writers.

  Also by Lily Wilspur

  Montana Mail Order Brides

  Mail Order Bride - On the Run

  Mail Order Bride - The Master

  Mary’s Mail Order Husband

  Luke’s Mail Order Bride

  Montana Mail Order Bride

  Standalone

  Mail Order Bride - Ellen’s Conflict