Mail Order Compromise (Kansas Brides Series #5)

by Barbara Goss

  “What do you think?” Brock said as he halted the buggy in front of the house.

  “It’s big. How will I ever find you in there?”

  “I’ll make sure you always find me, sweetheart.” He kissed her briefly. “Let’s go, I’ll show you the inside.”

  A large, yet youthful, man came out and started to unhitch the horse from the buggy. Brock nodded. “Thank you, Jake.”

  “Who’s Jake?” she whispered.

  “Our stable manager.”

  “Oh,” she said, as he helped her down from the buggy and led her toward the front door. But before they got to the steps, the door opened and about twenty people came filing out. They stood in a line along the edge of the porch, smiling at them.

  “What’s this?” she whispered to Brock.

  “Our reception party. Those are the servants.”

  “Good grief!” was all Sarah thought to say.

  Brock introduced her to every single one by name. She was amazed that he knew each one personally. He stopped in front of one pretty young maid. “Sarah, this will be your personal maid. She’ll take good care of you, won’t you Edith?”

  Edith smiled and curtsied, as if she and Brock were royalty. Sarah was in awe of everything. She’d never seen anything like this before.

  Then after introducing her to a man in overalls named Mort, he asked him, “How’s your mother doing?”

  “She’s comin’ along jest fine. Thank ye fer askin’, Mr. Vee.”

  “Give her my regards, Mort,” he said.

  Once they had finished with the introductions the staff scattered, except Edith who stuck close to Sarah.

  Sarah leaned over and whispered to Brock, “Why did Mort call you Mr. Vee instead of Mr. VanSickle?”

  “I prefer Mr. Vee. They all refer to me as such. It started years ago when a few of the servants had a hard time pronouncing VanSickle. They call my father, Mr. Van. I like those nicknames. They make us all seem more like family.

  “Can I have them call me Mrs. Vee then?” she asked.

  “Certainly. I’ll let them all know.” He turned to Edith. “Did you hear that, Edith? You’re to call you’re my wife, Mrs. Vee.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Brock,” she curtsied again.

  “Thank you, Edith. You can report for duty attending to Mrs. Vee tomorrow morning. She’ll not be needing you anymore today,” he said. “Take the rest of the day off and spend some time with that beautiful baby of yours.”

  “I will!” she exclaimed, all smiles. “Thank you.” She then dashed off as if he might change his mind.

  “She looks so young to be married and a mother,” Sarah said.

  “Edith is the cook’s daughter that you just met. The woman wearing the apron?”

  Sarah nodded. “I remember, Martha.”

  “And Edith isn’t married, she’s only eighteen and got herself into some trouble, but we’re doing all we can to help her along. She’ll be a good maid.”

  “Who supports the baby?” Sarah asked.

  “Everyone chips in,” he said. “Edith was born in my father’s house when I was still in short pants,” he said with a chuckle. “We’re like one big family here.”

  As Brock led Sarah up the curved, main staircase, she asked, “Why did your father give you all the servants he’s had for years? Why didn’t he keep them?”

  “Because when I moved into this house it was my first experience managing a staff, and he thought it would go easier for me if he gave me seasoned staff that knew exactly what to do.”

  “He sounds like a wise, considerate man,” she said.

  “You’ll like him.”

  They reached the second floor, and all Sarah could see were bedrooms. The doors were all open and she could see beautiful, colorful rooms decorated exquisitely. She felt disappointed. She wanted to decorate the house she lived in herself, to personalize it. There would be nothing for her to do here, and it all felt so strange.

  “Which room is ours?” she asked.

  “The one on the far right.” He steered her to the room. “It’s at the very front of the house.”

  The room was done in shades of chocolate brown and beige with gold curtains. It was awfully masculine for her taste. Maybe she’d be able to transform the room into something they’d both like—if she decided to stay here, which she doubted.

  Most of the room was round, and she supposed it was inside the turret she’d noticed at the front of the house.

  She ran her fingers over the headboard of the massive bed. “Oak?”

  “Yes. The whole set is oak. Do you like it?” he asked.

  “It’s beautiful. It would look great in the farmhouse,” she said giving him a sideways smile.

  “Very funny, Mrs. Vee.” He smiled as he opened a door, guiding her into the walk-in closet, and through to a small sitting area.

  “Will this suite do for our honeymoon?” he asked.

  Her heart jumped in her chest a bit as she was reminded of the consummation. Remembering her mother’s boyfriend and his rough manhandling of her, she shivered, and hoped Brock was a patient and gentle man.

  It wasn’t yet dark out, and Sarah had no idea Brock would want to consummate the marriage right then, but as he came toward her with a suggestive look in his eyes, she knew that’s exactly what was on his mind.

  He pulled her gently toward the bed that was covered with a gold quilt.

  “Now?” she asked stiffening.

  He seemed to study her, and then said, “Why not?”

  “It’s still daytime,” she pointed to the window.

  Brock walked over and closed both the window curtains, then returned to the bed. “There. Now it’s dark.” He reached over and pulled her down to lie beside him.

  “Sarah,” he said gently, “you’re stiff as a board. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just a bit afraid.”

  “You weren’t afraid when we hugged and kissed before, and I know you were as anxious as I to get to this point. What’s changed, my love?”

  “Before, I knew we couldn’t go further, but now, that’s not the case. Now, I know we’ll go where I’m afraid to go.”

  “I don’t want to do anything that you aren’t onboard with, Sarah,” he said. He released her from his embrace and leaned back on the pillows with his arms behind his head. “Let’s just talk then.”

  Sarah followed suit, laying at his side with her arms behind her head. “All right.”

  “Tell me about your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart. Now that I’m your husband, surely you can tell me. It will help me to understand why you’re so frightened.”

  She sighed. “My mother was passed out on the sofa, again. I was in my room paging through a catalog, when he burst into my room, and attacked me. I screamed but that didn’t seem to matter since my mother was out cold. Who would hear my screams and help me?” Her voice quivered. “He was bigger than me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  Brock reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He touched me, here,” she put her hand to her breast. “And then he started to move on top of me, and he was making animal-like noises and telling me in vulgar language things he was going to do to me. I didn’t understand his words, but they scared me anyway.” She took a deep breath. “I reached over to the nightstand for something to fight him off with, and my hand grasped my wooden jewelry box. I picked it up with one hand—it was heavy—but I felt a surge of strength and I cracked him over the head as hard as I could with the sharp corner. I saw his eyes roll up and then he fell off me and lay so still that I thought he was dead. I got up and ran to Elaina’s house and her parents let me stay with them. They knew I put up with a lot, and they understood. I really expected the sheriff to come to the door and arrest me for murder—but the man wasn’t dead. Elaina’s mother, Mrs. Wakefield, told me she saw him in the general store. I didn’t know if I should be happy or sad.”

  “So he didn’t—”

>   “No!” she exclaimed. “I never went back to the house after that night. My mother begged me to come home, but I refused. I didn’t tell her why. Maybe I should have,” she said.

  “That’s when I picked up your second letter from the post office. I was eager to escape, and your invitation was too hard to resist.

  “I stayed with the Wakefields until I received the tickets you sent me.”

  “Are you sorry you came?” he asked.

  “No! Not one bit. I love you, Brock. I really and truly love you, and I’ll try to be a good wife to you,” she said, turning to him and resting her hand on his chest. “I’m ready when you are, but please be gentle. I’m just so thankful that my first time is with you and not that horrible man.”

  Brock turned toward her, and their bodies touched lightly. “Are you sure? Because I can wait, I’m a patient man. But know this: I would never be anything but gentle with my most precious possession.” He stroked the sides of her face. “I love you too much if that’s possible,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the rough beginning to your life, Sarah. That’s a promise.”

  His words warmed Sarah down to her toes. She leaned forward and kissed him gently.

  Ok, do it, I’m ready.”

  Chapter 8

  Brock threw back his head and laughed. “Silly girl. That’s not the way it’s done.”

  “I know the facts of life, and I’m sure I know how it’s done. So let’s get it over with. But I won’t remove my clothes until the room is darker though.”

  “Sarah! You were so passionate while we were courting and now you want to me to just ‘do it?’”

  “I don’t understand,” she said looking up at him.

  Brock shook his head, as if he was frustrated.

  “I’m doing something wrong, aren’t I?” she asked.

  He nodded, but still looked at her with compassion. “Why don’t we just forget about ‘doing it’ and enjoy each other as we did when we were courting?”

  “All right.” She relaxed then, knowing that ‘it’ wasn’t about to happen. However she knew that the act must be done, and her mother seemed to enjoy it, but she enjoyed many things that Sarah didn’t. From reading, she knew that the first time was terribly painful. She was relieved that he wasn’t going to do ‘it’, just yet.

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  As she did so, Brock did not put his arms around her. He decided the best way to consummate this marriage was to let her take the lead. Due to her fright, he wasn’t sure if this tactic would work, but it was worth a try. He knew that she had passion; he’d seen it on many occasions. He just had to make her see that the act was a mutual thing and took two willing participants.

  He returned her kiss with as much passion as she, and it wasn’t long before she was leaning into him. His hands remained at his sides as she kissed his neck and rubbed her hands all along his chest. Suddenly, she stopped and removed her hands from his chest.

  “I feel as though you aren’t participating, Brock. Is something wrong?”

  “Do you want me to participate?” he whispered in her ear. He was definitely ready to partake. However, he needed to know if she was.

  “Of course, I do. It feels odd to kiss passionately without your arms pulling me close. I love it so when you hold me,” she said softly.

  “Maybe if you kiss me again and put a bit more into it, I might respond,” he whispered in her ear.

  She took his lips into hers and gave him an open kiss. He was so tempted to move his tongue into her mouth while he had the opportunity, but he held back. It wouldn’t do to frighten her now. Only then did he put his arms around her and pull her close.

  “You taste delicious,” she murmured.

  They kissed again and Brock continued to let her make the first moves. Her body was taking over and her fear had vanished. She took ahold of his back and pressed him even closer. He didn’t think he could take much more of her seduction. He was already fighting to keep his breathing normal.

  “My body is feeling strange, Brock. It wants something, but I don’t know what,” she whispered moving slightly against him.

  “I know what it wants, sweetheart. Do I have your permission to show you?”

  She nodded and pressed her lips to his again and continued to move against him.

  “Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Sarah lay with her head on his chest after ‘it’ had happened. It hadn’t been bad at all; in fact, he made it quite beautiful. He asked her permission before he made each intimate move, and that consideration only made her want him more. Never had she known anyone so thoughtful and gentle. His voice was so soothing that she never once felt as if he would hurt or harm her. When it had come to the painful part, she’d cringed, and he’d apologized several times, but the pain was quickly forgotten. How had she been so lucky to have such a wonderful husband?

  Brock still had one arm around her and he played idly with her curls, as somehow in their madness her golden hair had come down. He’d never seen it down, and it seemed he was unable to get enough of touching it.

  His hand left her hair and moved to her chin. He lifted her head to look at him. “I’m so sorry I had to hurt you.”

  “It wasn’t bad at all,” she said. “You more than made up for it.” She gave him a loving smile.

  “The minister saying the words didn’t make me feel like your wife, Brock. I didn’t feel married until ‘it’ happened. I feel truly yours, now,” she said.

  He kissed her forehead. “The Bible says marriage is supposed to make a husband and wife as one.”

  Sarah inwardly flinched. Would he forever talk about the Bible and God? It made her remember her previous life and all her sorrows. Evidently, He was a God for some people, but not for all. She didn’t think God even knew she existed. Yet, she loved Brock with her whole being and if God was important to him, then she would keep silent when he spoke of his beliefs. It’s the least she could do for him.

  Brock sat up and pulled her up with him. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

  Brock took her from room to room and she declared how lovely everything was, but it just didn’t feel like home to her. It felt large and cold. There was little privacy with servants running all around. It seemed like the bedroom was the only place where there was privacy. Sarah knew she’d never feel at home here, but for Brock’s sake, she’d try.

  They sat down to dinner with servants waiting on their every need. The food was perfect; everything was perfect. It just didn’t feel right to Sarah.

  They took their tea in the room Brock called the receiving room.

  “Brock,” she said. “Why is this room called the receiving room?”

  “This is where the butler brings our visitors and we come down and receive them here,” he explained. “Do you like it?”

  She gazed around the perfectly decorated room. “It’s fine,” she said.

  “We’ll have to turn in early tonight because church starts at nine, and I’d like us to eat a good breakfast first. I can’t wait for you to meet Reverend Flannery and some of my friends.”

  “Will Elaina and Pete be there?” she asked.

  “Certainly, also Garrett and Cole from the livery, with their wives. We have a lot of friends to begin receiving,” he said with a smile.

  Sarah wore a white blouse with a gray skirt to church. Her cape was red to match her hat.

  Brock held her hand as they walked into the church. He introduced her to people, and she never tired of hearing him say, “my wife.”

  Elaina found them in the foyer and she hugged Sarah. “I’m so happy to see you here, Sarah.”

  “It’s a compromise,” Sarah whispered back. Her eyes then gazed lovingly at Brock who was in an animated conversation with Pete. “I’d do just about anything for him, Elaina. I love him so much.”

  “So the weddi
ng night was good?” she asked.

  “It was beautiful.”

  “I’m glad.” Elaina squeezed her hand. “We’ll sit together in church.”

  The church seemed quaint, and much smaller and more personal than the church she’d attended in Cuyahoga Falls. Everyone seemed friendly enough, but then again, they usually did at first.

  The minister was a lot younger than she’d imagined he’d be, and he spoke from his heart. She immediately liked him. He was unpretentious, and the type of man that exuded sincerity.

  The sermon was about the Good Samaritan. How ironic. She’d never met a church person yet who would go out of their way for anyone—except perhaps Elaina, Brock, and Edna. Her list of good Christians was growing.

  When the service was over, Sarah thought it wouldn’t be difficult to continue going to church if it pleased Brock, and she could see that it did. She wanted to make him happy—he deserved it.

  They walked to their buggy after church and a middle-aged woman stopped them.

  “Thank you again, Brock.”

  Sarah’s ears perked up. What had he done now?

  “It’s no problem, how is Mary doing?”

  “She’s nearly over the worst of it. Thanks to your kindness in driving her to Abilene to see the specialist, and paying for it. Thank God there are still people like you in this world. God bless you, Brock.” The woman then walked in another direction with a wave.

  “What was that all about?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh, it was nothing. Her daughter has diabetes and went into a diabetic coma. Our local doctor did all he could, but she was still in bad shape. I simply took her in my buggy to Abilene and they put her into the hospital there and that seemed to do the trick. She’s now on a special diet with fasting and eating more of the right foods.”

  “How can you say it was nothing? You must have been gone days. Who took your place at the bank?” Sarah asked.

  “It was before my father left for Europe.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Sometime next week, I think.”

  “What is it that makes you such a kind and generous man?”