Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3)

by Carré White

  Stunned by the question, Nicolas shot to his feet. “I have to talk to … to … Mr. Kelly. I see him with his lovely wife, Lola. Excuse me for a moment. I shall return.” He strode off towards a table in the center of the room occupied by a stylishly dressed couple.

  I chewed on a nail while watching them.

  “He’s an interesting character,” commented Doris. “I’ve been trying to figure him out for years now.”

  It was impossible to hope that I would ever marry someone as fine as Pastor Kinsley. “He’s a happy bachelor. They do exist, I suppose.”

  “Yes, but no. All men need wives, especially out here; otherwise they run wild. There’s far too much gambling and vice as it is. I was shocked when I first came here. I’ve gotten used to it, but the lawlessness is still rather disturbing. If these cowboys had strong women waiting for them at home, they wouldn’t feel the need to rabble-rouse in the streets until dawn.”

  Not knowing anything about this topic, I continued to stare after Pastor Kinsley, as he laughed heartily talking to the couple a few tables over. “You don’t have to find a husband for me. I’ll manage … somehow.”

  “I’ve every intention of seeing you set up well, my dear. I feel responsible for the situation you now find yourself in. Earnest Hobart should’ve done the right thing and married you. You should be with him at this very moment, enjoying your first blissful night as a married couple.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at that, because it sounded ridiculous. I had thought I felt affection for Earnest through our shared letters, but upon meeting him, I realized we had little in common, and there had been no connection, not even a thread of interest. I had lied about my condition, which was entirely my fault. I could not blame Mr. Hobart for not wanting to marry me.

  Staring in Nicolas’s direction, our eyes met. I grinned broadly at the things Mrs. Hershey had said. In that moment, I felt the strangest, most peculiar attachment to Pastor Kinsley. He hadn’t turned away yet, although his smile had fallen. His expression was now earnest, even severe. Mr. Hershey’s sudden arrival broke the spell, because his rather large form blocked the view completely.

  “Where was I?” he asked, sitting. “No more talk about arranging marriages. I want to pass a pleasant evening.”

  “Yes, my dear.” Mrs. Hershey winked at me. “I’ll just make that list in my head. I’ll have it all arranged by morning.”

  I giggled at that.

  * * *

  Having eaten like a queen the day before, I slept like a baby that night, not waking until I heard the sounds of someone talking outside the door. Turning over in bed, I glanced at the wall, noting the wallpaper consisted of tiny pink and white roses. I had left the curtains parted, otherwise the room felt like a tomb.

  “I don’t mind in the least that you found a tenant, Pastor Kinsley. I’m not upset.”

  “I had wanted to introduce you yesterday, but I ran out of time.”

  “Do you think she’s awake now?”

  “We can find out.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Not owning a nightgown, I slept in my chemise and drawers, which were hardly presentable. Grabbing a blanket from the bed, I quickly wrapped it around my person, hurrying for the door.

  I opened it a smidgeon. “Yes?” Hair fell into my face, and I brushed it aside, as I struggled with the blanket. A woman smiled at me, while Nicolas, who looked handsome and well-groomed, stared.

  “I’m Mrs. Wexler. My husband owns the building and the store. How do you do?”

  “I’m just fine.” I opened the door further. “I’m really not up to receiving company, but I’m awfully grateful you gave me a place to stay.” Being as pregnant as I was, the swell of my bosom could hardly be contained within the chemise, the flesh wanting to burst free. It was an effort to hold the blanket up.

  “Doctor Baker said you could see him this morning,” said Nicolas. “He’s in his office until ten. I’d be happy to take you.”

  “I’ll just get dressed.”

  “It was good meeting you, my dear. I look forward to speaking to you more when we have time.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wexler. This is a really nice room.”

  She smiled vaguely. “Yes, it’s … functional.”

  “Your water closet is glorious. I’ve never seen running water like that, not indoors anyway.”

  “It’s our one extravagance. We pride ourselves on being modern. I enjoy all the comforts of home, even if I’m not in Boston.”

  “Never been to Boston.” I clutched at the blanket, which persisted on slipping from my grasp, noting where Nicolas’s attention had drifted. “I’d love to travel someday and see a big city, although I do suppose Houston qualifies.”

  She smiled politely. “Yes, it does. I’ve never been to Texas, so we’re even. It was good meeting you.” She glanced at Nicolas. “You’ve chosen well, Pastor Kinsley. She’s a lovely little thing.”

  “I … didn’t really choose her. She’s a woman in need of help.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’ll be out in a moment.” I closed the door, hurrying to dress, while I heard talking in the hallway.

  “How will she pay for the accommodation?”

  “I’ll provide the funds.”

  “She may be with child, but I’m sure she’s capable of doing something to earn her keep.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perhaps, you could hire her to clean the church? You were complaining about how dusty the pews were.”

  “That’s because the freight wagons stir up dirt from the roads.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. You’ve taken a particular interest in Mrs. Wellington’s welfare.”

  “I would do the same for anyone in need of help.”

  While dressing, I kept an ear out for the conversation, hanging onto each and every word. I struggled with the buttons on the dress.

  “Yes, but not all women in need are so fresh and pretty. I do have a rather keen sense about these things.”

  “Whatever you think you’re sensing, it’s merely a figment of your imagination. Is there one woman in town who doesn't want to marry me off?”

  “I never said a thing about marriage.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re implying.”

  “Of course not. I’m just pointing out the fact that you’re not indifferent in the least. You paid rather rapt attention to that blanket as well. Something has caught your eye.”

  “That’s enough, Myra. That’s quite impertinent of you.”

  Laughter resounded. “You are hot-blooded after all. I was beginning to wonder about you.”

  Tying the sash of the bonnet beneath my chin, I hurried to slip the boots on.

  “There is far too much gossip in this town. You ladies need to employ yourselves in a more productive manner.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You sit around and gossip about me. You and Mrs. Hershey.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is. All you ladies seem to think I’m in need of a wife. I can assure you, I’ve done rather well on my own for twenty-five years. I see no reason why that won’t continue … perhaps indefinitely.”

  “There’s where you’re wrong.” She sounded stern now, as I leaned against the door, waiting to hear what she would say next. “If the way you look at her is any indication, you won’t be a bachelor for long.”

  “I disagree, and don’t spread that sort of gossip. I won’t stand for it.”

  I opened the door, smiling tenuously, as tension hung in the air. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 7

  Pastor Kinsley was in a foul mood, his expression grim, while tiny lines appeared on his forehead. He escorted me to Doctor Baker’s office, which was near the grocers, but his gait was such I had to run to keep up with him. I was out of breath by the time we reached the door.

  Nicolas turned to me, scowling. “I’ll introduce you, and then I must be on my way.” I prefer
red him better when he was happier, finding this change in personality perplexing. Upon seeing my confusion, his frown lessened. We stood on the boardwalk before the door, while several people strolled by, eyeing us. “Are you ready?”

  “I’ve never seen a doctor before. I’m almost never ill. What’s he going to do to me?”

  “I don’t know.” He grasped the doorknob. “You’ll be fine. He won’t hurt you, if that’s your worry.”

  “All right.” Entering the building, we stood inside a small office. A woman sat behind a desk, while a mother waited with her child. “You should go. I can manage.”

  He seemed hesitant, his gaze straying to the woman behind the desk. “Is the doctor in?”

  “Yes, with a patient. Have a seat. What’s the name?”

  “Mrs. Wellington.”

  “I’ll put her down.” Her tone was flat.

  Nicolas glanced at me. “I guess we wait.”

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “I will, until you’re seen.” He guided me to an empty chair. “This hopefully won’t be long.” Sitting next to me, he crossed one leg over the other.

  I admired him, gazing upon his pleasing features, noting how lovely he smelled. Whatever cologne he used teased me mercilessly, the woodsy aroma lingering faintly. I had never known a man to smell so nice. My husband always stank of sweat and other odors; even his feet stank. Pastor Kinsley folded his hands in his lap, and I admired the cleanliness of his fingernails.

  He sensed my appraisal, uttering, “Stop staring.”

  Embarrassed, I lowered my head. “Sorry.”

  The door swung open, revealing a tall, graying man. “Who’s next?” He glanced at the woman behind the desk.

  “Mrs. Miller and her son.”

  “Come this way,” he said. They departed a moment later, disappearing behind the door.

  Leaning against the chair, I rubbed my belly, feeling the baby kick. This seemed to have Nicolas’s attention. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “No. I ate enough food yesterday to see me through tomorrow. I’m just fine.”

  For some reason, this statement bothered him, his expression hardening. “You should eat every day, Celia.”

  “I’ll try.” I glanced at him, noting he frowned again. “I’m still full from last night, honest.” I chewed on a nail, contemplating how I would procure food today.

  He snatched the hand from my mouth. “You have to eat. You’re gnawing your fingernails away.”

  “I always chew on my nails, especially when I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?”

  “I’m scared of what the doctor will do to me.”

  “He won’t hurt you. He’s going to make sure you’re healthy enough to have the baby.”

  “The baby’s coming out either way.”

  He finally smiled, shaking his head. “That’s true, but there are other things he does. Although, I haven’t a clue what they are.”

  “I’m glad you’re not angry anymore.”

  “What?”

  “You were mad at me.”

  “I was not.”

  “Yes, you were. Your conversation with Mrs. Wexler upset you. I heard every word. You were talking before my door, after all.”

  He removed his hat, running fingers through golden hair. “The women here are as annoying as flies at harvest. It’s the curse of being in a small town.”

  Now that his humor had been restored, although it was infused with cynicism, I relaxed, sighing. “There are gossipmongers everywhere.”

  “Especially here.”

  “They just want to know what you’ll do. It’s entertaining watching people. There’s more drama in real life than in books.”

  “That’s true.”

  “My ma used to have women over for coffee, and all they’d do was gossip. I heard an earful about all sorts of people I never met.”

  He glanced at me. “I hear more than I need to as well, especially being the pastor.”

  “Goodness, I didn’t think of that. You must hear it all then.”

  He frowned. “Enough.”

  The door swung open, and a man appeared. He stopped by the desk to pay for the service. I had brought my handbag; the drawstring purse was attached to my wrist. I had enough to pay for the visit, but it was money I had wanted to save to buy food or other essentials. The woman and child appeared then, followed by the doctor.

  “You apply that poultice for three days, and come see me again. It should clear up, Mrs. Hardcastle.”

  “Thank you, Doc Baker. You have a good day.”

  “You as well.” He glanced at me. “Hello, young lady. What can I do you for?” He grinned behind metal spectacles.

  Nicolas had gotten to his feet, reaching for me. “Mrs. Wellington is new to town. She’s in need of medical help, sir.”

  “She looks just fine to me.” Good humor shone in his eyes.

  “Yes, she’s fine, but she’s never seen a doctor.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’d like to know when I can expect this baby, sir.”

  “From the looks of it, any day, but I’d be happy to examine you.” He gestured for the door. “Come right this way.”

  Nicolas remained standing. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

  He lifted his chin a fraction, a hint of stubbornness appearing. “No. I’ll wait.”

  It pleased me to no end, knowing he would still be here once the exam concluded. I followed the doctor to the next room, where a small bed stood against the wall. Bookcases on either side of the window brimmed with medical volumes.

  “I need you to undress, please. You may leave your underthings on.”

  “Undress?” Horrified, my hand went to my throat.

  “I need to measure your belly.” He smiled kindly. “I must perform an examination, Mrs. Wellington. It’s difficult to assess how far along you are, if I can’t measure you. I also have to listen to your heart.”

  That put me at ease somewhat. “All right.”

  “Here you are.” He handed me a cloth robe. “You may use this to cover yourself. I’ll be right back.”

  After he had left, I discarded the dress, leaving the chemise and drawers on, with stockings beneath. I sat on the bed wrapped in the robe and waited for the doctor to return. When he did, he quickly set about looking me over, listening to my heart through a stethoscope and using a tape measure around my abdomen. I lay on the bed waiting, while he jotted down the information inside a large, leather bound book.

  “All right.” He turned to me, while sitting on a stool. The glasses had slid to the end of his nose. “You’re as healthy as can be. The baby’s a good size, so I imagine he or she will be arriving soon enough. I give it two weeks at most. The baby’s dropped already.”

  “Goodness!” I sat up. “So soon.”

  “It seems so.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “You and your husband better get your ducks in a row then. You’re about to be parents.”

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  “What?”

  “He’s passed on.”

  “I’m dreadfully sorry to hear that.”

  “I came to town to marry, but Earnest didn’t want me.”

  “Earnest?”

  “Earnest Hobart. I was going to be his mail order bride. I didn’t tell him about being pregnant. I know it’s wrong to lie, but I needed a husband.” It astonished me that he would laugh, chuckling noisily.

  “Well, that’s quite a story. Let me guess, did Mrs. Hershey set that up? She’s been arranging marriages for a while now.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about finding a husband. As pretty as you are, you’ll be married soon enough.”

  “They don’t want a … I struggled to remember the word … an encumbered woman. Men like things simple.” Again, laughter filled the room.

  “Honey, when a man falls for a woman, it w
on’t matter if she’s carrying a litter of children. He’ll see past all that. It won’t matter in the least. He’d be happy to raise a child that wasn’t his and give you a few extra.” His eyes twinkled. “The last thing you need to do right now is worry about anything. It’s important to take it easy, until the baby is born. You need to keep your feet up as much as possible. Is that clear?”

  I found myself smiling, genuinely liking Doctor Baker. “Yes, sir.”

  “All right then.” He got to his feet. “Get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the waiting room.”

  “Thank you.” I felt enormous relief, knowing I was in good health, but I hadn’t anticipated the arrival of the baby so soon. That had been a shock. When I emerged, I found Doctor Baker waiting in the reception area. Nicolas’s worried expression rested on me. “I’m fine. It looks like Noah’s coming sooner than expected.”

  “Noah?” asked Nicolas. “Who’s Noah?”

  “My son.”

  “She’s gonna be just fine,” said Doctor Baker. “Don’t overdue it, and get plenty of rest. I’ll see you again in a week.”

  “I have to come back?”

  “Yes, my dear. Until the baby’s born, I need to see you every week.”

  “All right.” I opened the drawstring purse to pay for the visit, knowing this would deplete whatever money I had.

  “No,” said Nicolas. “I’ve got it.”

  “You can arrange payment with Charlotte.” The doctor glanced at the next patient. “Mrs. Lumley. Back so soon?”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve got several things to speak to you about, sir.” The old lady got to her feet, scowling, while gripping a cane.

  Doctor Baker placed his hands on his hips. “I’m just about out of salicylic acid, Mrs. Lumley. The next shipment’s not due to arrive until next week.”

  “It’s not my head’s that bothering me today, sir.”

  He seemed resigned. “Very well. Come on in, and tell me what ails you.”

  Pastor Kinsley escorted me from the doctor’s office, his hand on my back. “What did he say?”

  We strolled down the boardwalk. “I’m pregnant,” I giggled, not being able to help myself.

  “Of course you’re carrying a child, but are you well?”