Mail-Order Marriage Promise

by Regina Scott

  He thought of everything. Her eyes felt hot. Oh, why did she keep crying around him? “You are far too kind to us,” she murmured, unable to look at his face or her son’s.

  “I hope that’s happiness again,” he’d said, his voice hinting of a smile.

  Dottie had nodded, laughing through her tears.

  She supposed she should have realized that Harry and John would bump into each other at some point. It wasn’t as if she was trying to hide her friendship from either man. They’d known each other far longer than she’d known either. But the inevitable meeting did not go well.

  John was bringing in the milk one evening just as Harry came into the kitchen. Brian, who had been cuddled in the warmth from the stove, hissed and darted away at the sight of the logger.

  “Fixed that stuck window,” Harry told Dottie with an eye to John as if to accuse him of not trying hard enough to fix it himself. “You need other help, Dottie, you just let me know.”

  He’d taken to using her first name, and she hadn’t protested. As frequently as he visited, it had seemed only a courtesy.

  “Thank you, Harry,” she said, seeing him to the door.

  From his chair, Peter burbled a farewell. Funny how he always seemed more pleased to see Harry leave than arrive.

  John stepped aside to let Harry and Dottie pass, but his face was still, his eyes shadowed. Had she hurt him by befriending Harry? No, not her unselfish Mr. Wallin.

  Harry turned on the back stoop. “I may not be here tomorrow afternoon, Dottie. Weather’s supposed to be fine, so I’m going to start work on my cabin.”

  Beth had said the man had filed a claim in the area. Dottie knew that keeping the claim required Harry to prove it up, building a residence and clearing the land within five years.

  “Good for you,” she told him. “You might talk with John. I understand he knows something about designing.”

  Harry snorted. “Well, he may know something about drawing and such, but I know more about building.” He flexed his arms as if to show off the already evident muscles under his flannel shirt.

  “And fixing things,” Dottie acknowledged with a smile. “I’m sure your house will be lovely.”

  “Lovely,” he scoffed. “My house will suit my needs. Front room large enough to welcome friends, hearth big enough to roast a deer and plenty of bedrooms for a wife and children.”

  “Sounds like you know exactly what you want,” Dottie told him.

  “I do.” He reared up on the step and planted a kiss on her cheek. Before she could protest, he sauntered off toward the forest.

  Dottie turned to find John watching her.

  “Sounds like you know exactly what you want as well,” he said.

  Dottie came in and shut the door behind her. Peter banged on the high chair with the wooden spoon she’d given him. She went over and touched his silky hair. “I do. A safe home for Peter and me.”

  “You have that here,” John said, going to pour the milk into the container. Brian ventured out from under the sideboard and went to circle the can, head up as if hoping some of the milk would spill in his direction.

  “Because you are the kindest man I know,” Dottie assured him. “But I can’t keep living in your house forever, John. Surely you’ll want to move home at some point.”

  “At some point,” he acknowledged, setting down the pail. Brian immediately put both paws on the rim and began licking at the residue.

  John turned, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. May I escort you and Peter to church?”

  Such a little request, yet it filled her heart. “Of course. And I hope we can join your family for dinner again.”

  “Of course.” He shifted on his feet as if trying to prolong the moment. “Well, I suppose I should be going.”

  She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she darted to the stove. “You could stay for dinner. I’m frying the trout you brought earlier.”

  He grinned. “Sounds lovely.” Immediately his grin faded. “That is, I’m sure it will be very good. Great even.” He dropped his gaze to where Brian was now winding around his ankles.

  Dottie dropped her hand. “What’s wrong, John?”

  “Nothing,” he assured her. “I’ll just go wash up. Anything you need while I’m waiting?”

  She couldn’t think of anything, but that didn’t stop him from helping. After he’d washed his hands, he chopped the potatoes she’d planned to fry with the trout, set the table and brought in more wood for the box. By the time she’d laid out the food, he’d also filled the box in the parlor and swept the front porch and the back stoop.

  Dottie regarded him as he waited for her to take her seat. “I truly appreciate everything you and Harry do, John. But have I given you the impression I’m utterly helpless?”

  His brows shot up. “By no means.”

  “Good.” She took her seat next to Peter, and John sank onto the chair opposite her. “Would you say the blessing, then?”

  After last Sunday’s meal, she knew his family didn’t resort to memorized prayers but spoke from their hearts. She thought he would thank God for the food and the farm. As usual, he surprised her.

  “Dear Lord,” he prayed, head bowed and hands clasped. “Thank You for bringing Dottie and Peter to Wallin Landing. Their talents and characters bless everyone who comes near them. Give them strength and wisdom to see Your path. Open it wide before them. Thank You for the good food You’ve blessed us with as well. May it build our bodies as Your word builds our hearts. Amen.”

  “How are you so perfect?” Dottie asked.

  Hand reaching for the trout, John paused. “I’m hardly perfect, Dottie.”

  “You are to me. I’ve never known anyone who consistently puts others’ needs before his own.”

  “Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do?” He dug into the fish and heaped a serving onto his plate.

  “I suppose so,” she admitted. Funny how she’d never seen it lived so well before coming to Wallin Landing.

  She wasn’t sure afterward what they talked about, but conversation flowed, Peter beamed, Brian circled the table waiting for something to fall and dinner ended on a congenial tone. However, as she rose from the table, forcing John to his feet as well, Peter’s face turned stormy, and he began to whimper.

  “What’s wrong, little man?” John asked, bending to lift Peter from the baby chair.

  Peter rested his head against John’s shoulder with a sigh.

  The sight pierced Dottie’s heart. That was what Peter deserved, a loving father who would guide and protect him. She knew Harry was trying to take that role, but he still paid Peter little attention when he was in their company. John always thought about Peter.

  Even now. He walked the baby around the room, Brian following as if just as concerned, while Dottie put the dishes in the sink and pumped water on them to soak. She thought surely Peter would fall asleep with the movement, but each time they passed, her son’s eyes were wide-open.

  “I know what he needs,” John murmured. “We’ll be in the parlor when you’re ready to take him.”

  She nodded, and he moved into the other room.

  She scraped the last of the trout into a bowl and set it on the floor for Brian. The cat scampered over without even a glance in her direction and set about devouring the fish.

  “So,” she said, turning to put the pan in to soak as well, “it seems you like John more than Harry. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are John’s cat, after all.”

  Brian twitched his tail, but he kept his head down.

  “And I suppose you think I’m being foolish not to pursue John,” she told the cat. “He’s everything I could want in a husband. But he doesn’t seem to want to get married. Any ideas why?”

  In answer, Brian
shifted around the bowl to put his back to her.

  “Ah, the silent type,” Dottie said with a shake of her head. Then she laughed. “And perhaps I ought to be silent as well. Now not only do I talk to Peter, but I talk to you!”

  The dishes dealt with for the moment, she started down the corridor. Immediately she heard John’s voice. Was he talking to Peter, too? She hurried to the parlor.

  John was sitting in one of the chairs near the hearth, Peter in one arm and a book open in the other hand. “‘Chivalry!—why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection—the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant. Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.’”

  Peter’s eyes were wide, his foot twitching, and he kept glancing between John’s face and the book, as if understanding that the words were coming from the little black lines on the page.

  Dottie went to sit on the other chair and picked up the mending she had from Nora. How peaceful to sit and listen to John’s warm voice. She could imagine herself safe, loved, happy.

  She could imagine John as her husband.

  She poked herself with the needle and laid down the work to rub at her finger. John said he didn’t want to marry. He was only being kind to treat her and Peter this way. She shouldn’t build up hopes for something that might never be.

  * * *

  John walked back from his house through the dark April night, drizzle making his cheeks wet. He had never felt jealous in his life, until today. Oh, at times he envied his brothers their strengths, but, in general, he’d been satisfied to be the peacemaker, the helper. Harry’s possessive attitude toward Dottie, however, was starting to get on his nerves.

  Harry had a tendency to show off. When it came to Dottie, he acted as if he alone had the strength to be a husband. From what John had seen of his brothers and their wives, husbands needed a great deal more than physical strength. But then again, he’d never been a husband, so what did he know?

  Given Harry’s antics, John wasn’t entirely surprised when the logger showed up Sunday morning as John was meeting Dottie and Peter. Harry insisted on walking with them to services. But his attentions didn’t end there. He grabbed branches along the path and snapped them off with his bare hands, leaped over a log and did a handstand on the porch of the main house, making Peter crow. The fellow was insufferable!

  John made sure to position Dottie at the end of the circle of chairs and took the seat next to hers. That didn’t stop Harry from pulling one of the chairs out of the circle and shoving it into place on the other side of Dottie. Drew, who was going to be commenting on the reading this week, eyed his crewman and pointed wordlessly to where Harry had removed the chair. Harry merely grinned at him as if he had no idea what Drew meant.

  “Harry, you’ve destroyed the symmetry,” James scolded. “I doubt Simon will bring himself to worship unless everything is even.”

  Simon glared at him.

  Dottie stood. “I’ll move my chair.”

  Immediately Harry leaped up to move it for her. John was only glad that Beth and Nora were on either side of the space, so Harry couldn’t plop himself beside Dottie.

  But then again, neither could John.

  As Simon stood to play, John drew in a breath. He needed to put this all from his mind. Now was the time for worship, for thanks, for supposition. Hadn’t Jesus said that if you had anything on your mind before worship, deal with it before worshipping?

  His family began singing the hymns, but John bowed his head instead.

  Lord, forgive me. All I want is for Dottie and Peter to be happy. I can’t convince myself that Harry will make them happy. Is it just jealousy? A competitive nature? I didn’t think I had that. I’ve been Your peacemaker since I was a child, but I can’t help thinking that Dottie needs more than that.

  John didn’t sense a response as the songs ended, or when James said the opening prayer. Then Drew stepped up to the hearth to read. John had heard today’s story countless times over the years, how Jesus had healed a man who had been lame from birth.

  Have I been lame from birth, Lord? You asked the man if he wanted to be healed. I didn’t know I needed healing. Or am I just too complacent?

  Greater love has no man than this, that he should lay down his life for a friend.

  He remembered the verse. He believed it. That was the measure of a man, the measure of a hero. Would Harry be willing to lay down his life for Dottie and Peter?

  Would John?

  He thought about the matter as the service concluded and his family began moving around him. He was so deep in thought, in fact, that Harry beat him to Dottie’s side.

  So did Beth. His sister was already talking as she reached out to take Peter. “It’s so nice to have a baby to hold again. All our nieces and nephews are growing up so fast.” She jiggled Peter on her hip, and he beamed at her.

  “He needs some little brothers and sisters, if you ask me,” Harry said with a sidelong look to Dottie.

  “What a lovely idea,” Beth said. She held out Peter to him. “Let’s see how you do with a baby, Mr. Yeager.”

  Harry blanched, but he opened his arms. Peter clung to Beth, face scrunching.

  John stepped up. “I’ll take him.”

  To his surprise, Beth turned Peter away from him. “No. It’s my turn. You’ve had him entirely too often. Why don’t you and Dottie take a walk along the lake? I promise you won’t be needed for some time.”

  “I’d be happy to stroll along the lake with you, Dottie,” Harry said, offering her his arm.

  Beth looked pointedly at Nora, who practically leaped from her chair. “No, Harry, I need your help.”

  Harry frowned. “With what?”

  “With...” She glanced at Beth as if for inspiration.

  “With rearranging the furniture in my cabin,” Beth said. “Nora has a far better eye for it than I do, and she once lived in that cabin, so she knows exactly how things could fit.” She batted her eyes at the logger. “I’d be ever so grateful for the use of your muscles, Harry.”

  Harry preened, casting John a glance as if to rub in the fact that he had been chosen to do something more manly. “Anything for you, Miss Beth.”

  John took Dottie’s arm and led her away before anyone else could chime in.

  “I can see I’ll have to speak to my sister again,” John told her as they left the main house. “She’s still trying to play matchmaker.”

  “I can see I’ll have to speak to Harry,” Dottie countered. “I truly appreciate his kindness, but I do not think we will suit.”

  John wanted to raise his head skyward and burst into song, but he kept step with Dottie instead as he turned them to the north around the building, where a path led down to the shore. “That’s a shame.”

  Dottie swatted his arm. “Oh, you never wanted Harry to court me. I could see that.”

  He didn’t like that his jealousy had been that obvious. “I just wasn’t sure he was the man for you and Peter.”

  “I don’t think he is,” she confided. “I suppose he might become accustomed to dealing with Peter eventually, but why take that chance?” She picked up her skirts with her free hand to navigate the slope.

  Take a chance, she’d said. That was what she’d be doing with any man she decided to marry.

  That was what she’d be doing with him.

  They reached the lake. The day was overcast, Mount Rainier hidden behind clouds. The waters looked dull and gray, as heavy as the sky. “It must be hard to think of marrying again after the death of your husband,” John murmured.

  She wrapped her arms about her, and he realized it was chillier here by the water. He drew off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

  “You’re do
ing it again,” she said. “Being noble.”

  John laughed. “Well, then allow me to shiver in my nobility.” The wind whipped past him, moist with the coming rain, and he fought not to show her that shiver.

  “My husband wasn’t noble,” she said, gaze out on the waters. “He didn’t think like you do. He thought only of his needs, his happiness.”

  John suddenly wanted to meet her dead husband. “I don’t think I’d like him.”

  She puffed a laugh. “Oh, everyone liked him. He was friendly, charming, but there was no depth to it. I didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

  “And then he died and left you alone with Peter,” John said.

  “Then he left,” she agreed. “And I tell myself it’s a good thing that Peter never knew him. I couldn’t bear for him to hurt Peter, too.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt Peter,” John promised her. “Or you.”

  “I know that.” She reached up a hand to press it against her chest. “In here, I know that. But sometimes—” she reached up to touch her forehead “—I doubt in here.”

  He knew the feeling. “It’s easy to focus on our fears rather than our hopes.”

  She cast him a glance. “You, too?”

  Especially him. “Yes.”

  She frowned. “But, John, what could possibly frighten you?”

  Taking a chance. Risking his heart. Hearing that he’d never be anything but second best. He bent, picked up a stone and hurled it into the lake.

  “Being less than who I’m meant to be,” he told her.

  She put a hand on his arm as if to keep him from throwing another stone. “That’s impossible. You’re already the finest man of my acquaintance.” As if to prove it, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She’d just wanted to prove to John he was everything a gentleman should be. But one touch of her lips to his, and he made her feel like everything a lady should be—loved, admired, protected. His arms stole around her, and he held her close. Once more, she didn’t want the moment to end.