by Jillian Hart
Who wouldn’t? She was beauty personified with the rich tumble of her dark, silken hair and the wisps framing her porcelain face. She was slender grace and innocent sweetness. As lovely as she was on the outside, it was her gentleness shining through that made her striking. He swallowed hard, feeling.
Just feeling.
“No, I was the lucky one,” she insisted, breaking into his thoughts as she slipped away. Evelyn and the sisters-in-law clustered around her, drawing her from him. Willa glanced over her shoulder and her brief smile let him know it was all right. She wanted to go with them.
“Don’t worry, Austin.” Evelyn laid a protective arm across Willa’s slim shoulder. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“You’d better.” He let her go, since it was what she wanted.
What surprised him was the tug of his heart when she left the room.
It wouldn’t be wise to fall in love with her, keeping in mind what she’d told him last night.
“I didn’t know mail-order brides looked like that.” Brant lowered his voice and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “I’ve never seen a prettier woman. Where did she come from?”
“The better question is what is she doing with you?” Derek elbowed Austin in the arm. “I’m still in shock. That’s your bride? You married her? Unbelievable.”
“I know just what you mean.” He would never forget his first view of Willa standing at the depot. Wisps of hair had framed her heart-shaped face, anxiety bowed her rosebud mouth and with such a slight, almost fragile quality to her she’d looked as if the wind could blow her away. “She wasn’t what I was expecting, but I sure hope I can deserve her.”
“She’s awful young.” Pa followed them into the library, where the faint trace of cigar smoke lingered in the room filled with leather furniture and lined with bookshelves. “I figured she’d be older, as a widow.”
“She’s old enough to be married twice.” Austin slipped into one of the chairs, holding his hands out to the fire roaring in the river stone hearth. His real problem sat on his tongue, a problem he couldn’t tell his family. How could he confess to his brothers, who’d made good matches, and his father, who’d found true love with his own mail-order bride, that Willa was not everything he’d hoped for?
“Pa!” a little boy’s voice called out.
“Pa,” another little voice echoed. Twin sets of feet thundered into the library. Three-year-old Arthur and four-year-old Stewart dashed to a breathless stop in front of Brant. “You gotta come see the train wreck we made with our train set. It’s a big one this time.”
“Sure, boys. I’ve got to see this.” Brant ruffled his sons’ heads, making them laugh, as he stood from his chair.
“You gotta come, too, Uncle Austin!” Stewart hopped in place, as cute as could be.
“Come and see.” Arthur wore a wide, endearing smile and grabbed Austin by the hand.
“How can I say no to that? You know how I like trains.” He launched to his feet, letting the child tug him along, talking excitedly.
That’s what I want, he thought, not sure how it could be. Willa wanted a marriage of duty. That was far different from the large, happy family full of love and laughter he wanted. He shook his head. Nope, he couldn’t see it working out now.
“Food is on the table.” Berry poked her head into the parlor and winked. “Austin, I sure like Willa. She’s a keeper.”
“Yes, she is.” No matter what, he would take care of her. The tie that had bound him to her from the first moment he’d read her plea in the territorial paper remained, unbreakable.
He inspected the train wreck and commented on the spectacular event to please his nephews, but he couldn’t get beyond his feelings for Willa. She was his to keep, and the emotions he had for her went beyond duty and obligation. Analyzing them was best done at a later time.
* * *
“So there I was, four years old and stuck up in this tree.” Brant wiped the last of his gravy with a piece of johnnycake. “All the big neighbor kids had swung over to the next tree, not even realizing I’d climbed up after them.”
“I was stuck on the ground,” Derek explained as he pushed back his chair to relax a little, done with his meal. “I couldn’t go up after him, I was too small, but I didn’t want to run home and tell Ma we’d disobeyed her.”
“Who were you kidding?” Austin’s coffee cup clinked to a rest in its saucer. “You were sitting there crying like a baby.”
“Hey, I was a baby,” Derek protested. “It was expected.”
“My poor baby.” Derek’s wife, Delia, reached over to pat his cheeks like a two-year-old. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “And here I thought you were a big tough guy.”
“I was tough. For a two-year-old,” Derek protested.
“Sure you were.” Mr. Dermot chuckled.
“That’s why you were sobbing so hard,” Evelyn chimed in.
Willa took a sip of tea, intrigued by the merriment. She’d grown up in a solemn house where joy was as scarce as luxury. But in this home, joy beamed as freely as the lamplight on the table.
“Don’t cry, Uncle Derek.” Young Stewart scrunched his face up with concern.
“Then Austin saved the day.” Brant went on with his story, taking time to reach out and cover his wife’s hand with his. Berry gazed up at him happy, too.
“I didn’t do much,” Austin said with a casual shoulder shrug. “I climbed up and brought him down.”
“You were a rock.” Brant laughed easily. “I was so terrified I couldn’t breathe. The only thing that scared me more was the chance of Ma looking out the window and spying me up in the tree where I wasn’t supposed to be. I couldn’t make my little fingers let go, so I just hung there the entire time it took for Austin to climb up the old maple tree. A wind kicked up and it was rocking me back and forth like a dead leaf.”
“If I’d have seen it, I would have had an apoplexy.” Austin’s father leaned back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his face crinkling in humor. “A four-year-old over thirty feet up in the air. What were you thinking, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“Nothing much,” Brant quipped.
“At least that hasn’t changed,” Derek teased back.
“Sweat was pouring down my neck worrying Ma would catch us,” Austin confessed as he set down his cup. He balled up his cloth napkin and tossed it beside his empty plate. “I knew I would be the one to get a whipping, because I should have been watching you better.”
“So here I was, starting to slip because my hands were sweaty,” Brant added. “The wind was knocking me back and forth along with the rest of the branches. I start to slip.”
“Derek—the baby—is sobbing up a storm below me,” Austin added picking up the story. “Brant is starting to cry above me.”
“It wasn’t crying,” he denied staunchly. “I was more like squeaking since I was too scared to actually breathe. You have to breathe to be able to cry.”
“It sounded like crying to me,” Austin chuckled. “I’m two thirds up the tree, going as fast as I can because all the crying is bound to alert Ma at any moment. The branch Brant is holding begins to bend. Then crack, it gives way completely.”
“I’m airborne, still clutching the branch for all I’m worth,” Brant continued.
“I have visions of him knocking me off the limb I’m on and taking me down with him.” Austin twisted in his chair to look at her. The lamplight burnished his hair and worshipped the chiseled planes of his face—straight sloping nose, high cheekbones and the strong cut of his jaw. Laughter looked good on him. It polished away all the sadness and disappointment, making him seem like a different man.
She’d never seen this side of Austin before.
“But all of a sudden I jerked to a stop.” Brant shook his
head, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. “Something stopped my descent. I sat there, tears streaking down my face—”
“I thought you said you weren’t crying,” Derek interrupted to tease.
“—and when I looked up, I was still holding on to the broken limb. But it had gotten caught between a snag and another branch, and that’s what stopped me. By the time Austin got to me, I couldn’t let go of that stick. I clutched it all the way to the ground.”
“I had to pry his little fingers off it before we went back in the house.” Austin tipped back his head and laughed.
“Those are my boys,” Mr. Dermot chuckled. “Nothing but trouble. Just wait until your sons are old enough to give you gray hair.”
“Are you kidding? Berry and I are watching them like a pair of hawks.” Brant laughed. “I know every trick in the book. No one’s pulling the wool over my eyes or winding up stuck in a tree.”
A baby’s cry rose from the next room. “I’d better go check and see what our future troublemaker needs,” Delia laughed as she slipped out of her seat.
The conversation turned to the chances that Evelyn’s baby might be a boy, too, making for the fourth grandson in the family. The words blurred together as Willa sipped her cup of tea. Over the rim she watched her husband, relaxed and affable. Laugh lines looked at home on his face, tucked in with fine lines around his dazzling blue eyes.
He’d become even more handsome to her. A small gust of warmth returned to brush against her heart.
“Time to retire to the library, men.” Mr. Dermot pushed back from the table. “You know what happened last time we lingered at the table.”
“I drove you off, that’s what.” Evelyn bobbed out of her chair, bright with happiness. “Just stay out of our way and we might reward you with dried blueberry pie.”
“Maybe,” Berry chipped in mischievously, standing up to begin stacking plates. “We’ll just have to see how you behave.”
“That’s a woman for you.” Brant winked as he exchanged a smile with his wife. “They have all the power.”
“And don’t you forget it, mister.” Berry laughed as the men rose from their chairs.
Willa set down her teacup, but before she could stand and help stack the dirty dishes, Austin circled behind her chair and pulled it out for her. Warm tingles skittered across her nape, knowing he was right behind her, so close she could feel the fan of his breath in her hair. She stood on wobbly knees, this time not from the morning sickness but from something she didn’t understand.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice resonate and low so that only she could hear.
“Better.” Her worries felt lighter seeing this new side of him. His good humor went deeper than she’d dared to hope, and since he clearly wasn’t a drinker like Jed, maybe she should stop expecting the worst of him.
“Just take it easy, okay?” His big hand landed on her shoulder to gently squeeze. What had been comforting and encouraging before, now felt like something more. She watched him join the men, his gait confident, his impressive shoulders straight and strong and his laughter ringing like deep-noted music.
He’s a better man than I dared to hope for. She stacked her plate on top of his, staring as the brothers bumped shoulders, talking and jostling as they crossed through the parlor.
“I picked up a new brand of whiskey.” Mr. Dermot’s voice rose among all the others and carried back to her. “It’s a quality label. I’ve been saving it for my boys.”
“Then crack open the bottle,” Brant called out.
“And haul out the cigars,” Derek chimed in.
“That sounds good to me,” Austin agreed, his tone light and jovial as he trailed out of her sight.
Whiskey. Willa’s heart stopped beating. Just when she’d believed he didn’t drink. Dread filled her as she listened to the faint rumble of men’s voices in the distant room.
“Willa, are you all right?” Evelyn abandoned her stack of dishes and circled the table. “Do you need to lie down?”
“No, no. I’m all right.” The warm curl next to her heart had vanished right along with her hopes. So, Austin did drink. She just hadn’t seen it yet. She knew what that meant. Dejected, she lifted her chin and added Mr. Dermot’s plate to her stack.
At least there would be no more guessing or wondering or waiting for the dark side of her husband to show up. She was about to get a good look at the real Austin. Her stomach twisted into a knot of worry as she lifted the stack of dishes and followed her sisters-in-law to the kitchen.
Chapter Ten
She couldn’t stop imagining the worst as she set the dishes on the work counter alongside the other stacks. It looked as if a whirlwind had gone off in the kitchen. Empty dishes and bowls, cooking dishes and pans lay everywhere. Hard to know exactly where to start, so she grabbed the washbasins to fill with hot water from the stove’s reservoir.
“No you don’t, Willa dear.” Berry swept in to grab the basin and gently nudged her out of the way. “I’ll do the heavy lifting, as I’m not the one expecting. Yet.”
“Although it’s fun to try, isn’t it?” Delia entered the room, carrying her babe in arms. The little bundle looked at them with curious blue eyes, before stuffing his fist into his mouth and letting out a wail.
“I’m holding out hopes for a girl next time.” Berry turned the knob and steaming water poured into a basin. “How about you, Willa?”
“What?” She blinked, her gaze traveling across the work table to where Evelyn dealt with the leftovers. It was hard to get her mind off of worrying about Austin and that whiskey bottle. She covered her stomach with her hands. “How did you all know?”
“I didn’t say a word. Cross my heart.” Evelyn covered the remaining biscuits and set them inside a hamper.
“It was the ginger tea,” Berry explained. “It’s a dead giveaway.”
“We knew the moment Evelyn made the pot for you.” Delia settled down in a corner chair to nurse. “How far along are you?”
“Almost three months.” She forced her hands away from her stomach, watching the natural ease Delia had with her son. The woman paused to smile down at her baby nestled against her breast and ran a loving hand over his soft downy head.
“Nearly that far along? You’d never know it. You’re such a wee thing.” Berry hefted the basin onto the counter. “We know there’s no way the child is Austin’s.”
“No, as we’d never met before our wedding day.” Shame gripped her, tying up her tongue. Or maybe that had more to do with her fears about Austin and how much he intended to drink. She strained to hear anything coming from the library, but all she heard were the sounds of the children playing in the parlor, building worlds and adventures with their train set.
“I’m a w-widow,” she blurted, before the Dermot women could think the worst of her.
“We know, but it wouldn’t matter to us if you weren’t.” Berry smiled gently over the steaming water. She grabbed up a bar of soap and shaved bits into the basin. “Austin did tell us that, but not much else.”
“I don’t think he knew much more, as my letter of acceptance to him was brief.” She remembered how hard that letter had been to write, her hand shaking so hard she’d barely been able to hold a pen. She’d huddled behind the trading post building in the shelter of wind and snow, fearful of the future and relieved she had a home to go to. Never would she have imagined in less than two weeks’ time she would be here, standing in a beautiful kitchen in a gracious home surrounded by kind women. Women she was now related to.
“What are you hoping for?” Evelyn closed the hamper’s lid. “A boy or a girl?”
“Gee, I haven’t thought that far.” Her knees weakened. She’d tried not to think of the babe at all, as someone she could fail. What did she know about family? Jed’s family had disowned him. She c
ould never rightly call what she grew up in a family. She shrugged, not knowing how to explain what she felt. Her mind was too preoccupied with other worries. What about that whiskey bottle? It haunted her as she spied a dish towel hanging on a hook and snapped it up. What would Austin be like drunk?
“If it’s a girl, you’ll be the most popular one here,” Berry quipped as she plunged the glassware into the soapy water. “Pop wants a granddaughter. He’s so funny. When I first learned I was pregnant with Stewart, he told me he was putting in an order for a boy. He wanted a grandson.”
“Then by the time I was carrying Kyle, Pop had his fingers crossed for a little girl.” Delia laughed sweetly. “Of course, when Kyle came along, Pop wasn’t disappointed. What he truly wanted was a healthy, happy grandchild. I told him we’ll see what we can do next time around.”
“Now it’s Willa’s turn.” Berry slipped a handful of silverware into the rinse water. “We’re real glad you’re here, by the way. Austin deserves a good wife. He’s a nice man.”
“He is nice.” Every little thing he’d done for her weighed on her now. She was so, so grateful but the fear wouldn’t leave her. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I stepped off the train and saw him.”
“I imagine he felt the same way.” Evelyn swept over to take charge of the forks Willa had dried and put them away in a drawer. “You are clearly the best thing that could have happened to my brother.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She thought of how she’d hurt him with her honesty last night. But wouldn’t being dishonest have hurt worse in the end?
“We do. He’s had such a hard time finding himself a wife,” Delia added from the corner. “Of course, living in this small of a town so far from everywhere else, there just aren’t a lot of unmarried women to choose from.”
“He had a steady girlfriend in school. He was serious about her,” Berry added. “I happen to know he was planning on marrying her.”