The 12 Brides Of Summer (Novella Collection Book 4)

by Vickie McDonough

  “I know my sickliness upsets you, but I wish it didn’t.”

  “Really, Papa, how could it not? I want you to regain your health.”

  He looked toward the window again. “I would like that, too, but I fear it’s not meant to be. Still, I’ve made my peace with God, and it’s in His hands now.”

  Prudy hated that he sounded so resigned. “Don’t give up. Please.”

  He smiled. “There’s a big difference in losing hope and resting in the arms of the Savior.”

  “I do believe I understand that. Aunt Louise helped me to see my need for God.” She nibbled her lip and dropped a spoonful of sugar in his tea as she considered the question that had been bothering her for days. There really was no easy way to ask but to just do so. “How will we get by if you’re unable to work again?”

  He accepted the teacup she held out and took a slow sip. “Sit down, Prudy. There’s something I should have told you years ago.”

  Curious, she plopped onto the edge of a side chair.

  With a shaky hand, her father placed the teacup and saucer on the table beside his chair. For a moment, he rested his index fingers against his chin and returned his gaze to her. “We’re not as destitute as you may think. Some years ago, I received a substantial inheritance from my uncle Max.”

  Prudy’s eyes widened as she considered the news. “Why have you never told me?”

  He grinned. “Because I was afraid you’d want more clothing and froufrous than you already had. You were only nine when he died, and I didn’t feel you were old enough to know about financial issues then. I’ve managed to save the majority of the money so that when I’m gone, you and your mother will have plenty to live on.”

  There was a huge relief in knowing he’d planned for the future. “I remember Uncle Max. He lived in a mansion in Boston—a very large mansion. Just how well off are we, if I might ask?”

  “Well enough that you have no reason to worry about us becoming destitute. And I don’t want you pestering Adam about my old job. He’s doing a fine job as mayor.”

  “Interim mayor.”

  He shook his head, a sad look darkening his gaze. “You have to face the truth, Princess. It’s highly unlikely that I will be able to resume that job.” He blew out a loud sigh. “I’m not even sure I want to.”

  “But how can you say that? You lived for that job. I know how important being mayor was to you.”

  He lifted a brow. “My job was not what I lived for. You and your mother always came first. My job was important because I was able to help the town I grew up in, not because of the prestige.”

  Things were so different than she’d thought. “But what about Mother? She loves being the matriarch of the town.”

  “True, but she will be fine as long as she can continue to live in the manner she is accustomed to.”

  She hated how haughty her mother sounded, but in truth, Helen Willard did see herself as better than others because of their financial status—and to think, it was all because of an inheritance. Prudy’s heart clenched. The same could be said about her. She winced as she thought of how horribly she’d treated Karen Parsons when the pastor’s fiancée first came to town. She had wanted Clay for herself and had tried to chase Karen away. She needed to apologize, but she was afraid. Bakerstown still had only one church, and all decent women were expected to go to Sunday services. If Karen snubbed her, attending church could be terribly uncomfortable.

  A knock at the front door pulled her from her troubling thoughts. “I’ll get it. Are you feeling up to having visitors if it’s someone to see you, Papa?”

  “Yes, but don’t let them linger overly long.”

  She nodded and rushed to answer the door, hoping one of her friends had come to visit. As she pulled it open and saw Pastor Parsons and his wife standing there, she felt the blood drain from her face. Prudy forced a smile. “How nice to see you both again.”

  Oh dear, she’d just told a falsehood to the preacher.

  Pastor Parsons smiled, as did his wife. “We wanted to welcome you back to town and also see how your father is doing.”

  “I’m sure he’s delighted to have you home again, as is your mother,” Karen said.

  Prudy dared to glance at her and was shamed by the woman’s friendly smile. “Thank you. Papa is in the parlor and said he would welcome a short visit.”

  Pastor Clay removed his hat and escorted his wife inside. Prudy closed the door then led them to the parlor. “Please have a seat. Papa and I were just enjoying some tea. I’ll go reheat the water while you visit with him.”

  “Could I help you?” Karen offered.

  Prudy’s pulse raced. Did Karen want to get her alone so she could gloat about winning Clay’s hand when Prudy had so desperately wanted to marry him at one time? “Uh. . .it really isn’t necessary.”

  Karen’s kind smile sparkled in her eyes. “I really don’t mind. Now that you’re back, I’d like to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable to that.”

  Prudy didn’t know what to say. Could the woman be as guileless as she seemed? She glanced at Papa, and he nodded for her to go on. Perhaps he wanted to speak to Pastor Clay alone. “Of course. Just let me get the tray.”

  In the kitchen, she placed the tray on the table, refilled the teapot, and set it on the stove to heat. With nothing else to do, she forced herself to face Karen. “So, how are you and Pastor getting along?”

  “Wonderful!” She beamed and leaned in as if to share a secret. “You probably can’t tell yet, but we’re expecting our first child.”

  Prudy blinked, trying to be happy for the couple, but she couldn’t help thinking that if she had married Clay, she might now be the one who was carrying his child. A pair of deep blue eyes intruded on her thoughts—Adam Merrick’s eyes—but she pushed the troubling thought away. “Oh my, that’s. . .um. . .exciting news. Congratulations to you both.”

  “Thank you.” Karen’s smile dimmed a little. “I know you and I had a bit of a rough start when we first met, but I’m hoping we can put it behind us and be friends.”

  How could she be so forgiving? “I have to admit that you’ve surprised me. It would well be within your rights to despise me for the deplorable way I treated you.”

  “I understand that a woman will do almost anything for the man she loves. I’m sorry you were unaware of my relationship with Clay before you fell for him. No one can blame you for something you didn’t know about.”

  Disarmed by the woman’s kindness, Prudy leaned back against the counter. “Um. . .I’d like to be friends, too. Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Don’t give it another thought.” Karen swatted her hand in the air. “Now that you’re home, I hope you’ll consider coming to the sewing circle again. I suppose your mother told you that we’re meeting at the Spencers’ home now.”

  Prudy nodded. “Mother wrote and told me how she felt it best that she no longer host it, in light of Papa’s illness.”

  “How is he doing, if I might ask?”

  Prudy shrugged. “Not nearly as well as I’d hoped.”

  Karen laid her hand on Prudy’s arm. “Your father is a good man. Clay and I have been praying for him.”

  Tears filled Prudy’s eyes. Her mother wouldn’t hear of her father not recovering and in some ways seemed oblivious to how ill he actually was. She’d not been able to talk with anyone about her fears, other than crying out to God. A sob slipped out, and Karen wrapped her arms around Prudy. She wept as all her worries gushed to the surface like an overflowing rain barrel. After a long minute, she stepped back. “I’m sorry. I got your lovely dress wet.”

  Karen smiled and patted her shoulder. “It will dry.” She tucked a strand of Prudy’s hair behind her ear. “Please know that if you ever want to talk, you’re always welcome at my home.”

  Fresh tears blurred her vision. “Thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “None of us deserves the sacrifice that Jesus made for us in giving His l
ife to set us free from the chains of sin, but He went to the cross anyway. He commands us to love one another. How can I not obey?”

  As she lay in bed that night, Prudy wrestled with all that had happened that day. Karen’s kindness still astounded her. How could she be so forgiving? She flipped onto her side and stared out the open window. A gentle breeze wafted in, cooling her, and the repetitive chirp of crickets lulled her to a relaxed state. Karen made her want to be a better person. To be more forgiving and less demanding. More like Karen and Aunt Louise and less like her mother. She’d become a Christian while living with Aunt Louise and had grown in her faith, but since she returned to Bakerstown, she had reverted to her old, blustery self.

  She yawned. She’d treated Adam Merrick almost as bad as she had Karen. Tomorrow, she needed to apologize.

  CHAPTER 5

  Prudy’s mother glided into the kitchen. “What’s that delicious smell, Betsy?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Prudy smiled. “Good morning, Mother. I talked Betsy into allowing me to bake some dried apple bread.”

  Her mother shot a scowl at the cook. “It’s Betsy’s duty to prepare any treats you want, not yours.”

  Prudy rolled her eyes. “Don’t fuss at Betsy, Mother. It was my idea. Besides, how could you be so proud of those awful rhubarb pies I used to make and then fuss at me if I want to do some baking? I learned to cook many things while staying with Aunt Louise.”

  Her mother motioned for Prudy to follow her. Prudy checked the clock on the shelf—fifteen minutes more before the bread would be finished. She followed her mother to the library, where Helen closed the door.

  Crossing her arms, Mother stared at her for a long moment, making Prudy feel the need to squirm. Had she done something wrong? One thing she hadn’t missed while she was gone was being scolded for minor mistakes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I pay Betsy good money to cook for us. You’ll only confuse her if you start assisting her.”

  “I wasn’t helping her. I was making the bread as a gift for someone.”

  Helen lifted one brow. “For whom?”

  Prudy shifted her feet, hoping her mother wouldn’t make a mountain out of a molehill. “I was rather rude to Mr. Merrick yesterday, so I’m taking him the bread as part of my apology.”

  Her mother’s gray eyes widened. “You can’t do that. Why, he’ll think you have designs on him.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake. He’ll think no such thing.”

  “If you were hard on that man, I’m sure he deserved it.”

  “You don’t like him? Papa seems quite pleased with his efforts.”

  Helen pointed a finger in her face. “Mark my word, that man is trying to steal your father’s job while he is too ill to be aware of the fact.”

  Prudy scratched her temple. “Why did you invite him and his sister for supper on Friday if you don’t like him?”

  “I like him fine, but I don’t care that he’s doing such a good job replacing your father.”

  “Would you rather he did a bad job?”

  Several emotions crossed her mother’s face before she narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?”

  “No, Mother, I’m not. At first, I was also annoyed that Mr. Merrick was filling Papa’s shoes—and his office—but after talking with Papa, I’ve come to realize he puts his faith in the man doing a decent job and is able to relax, knowing the town is in good hands. If Mr. Merrick fails at his task, then Papa will be sorely disappointed and distressed, so it would be in our best interest to want Mr. Merrick to succeed, don’t you think?” Prudy could hardly believe she was defending the man, but she’d realized the truth yesterday afternoon.

  After blowing out a loud sigh, her mother relaxed her posture. “I suppose what you say is true.” Her hand quivered as she brushed several hairs from her face. “I’ve almost given up hope that Emmett will ever be able to work again.”

  Prudy clasped her mother’s hand. “Don’t give up. Somehow I’ll find a way to help Papa get better.” But even as she said the words, she knew there was little she could do.

  Helen smiled. “Maybe having you home again is just what he needs to rally.”

  Prudy truly hoped that was the case, but deep down she doubted it.

  Adam stood facing his desk, studying a bid to repair the fences at the stockyard. They’d been standing since the railroad came through town nearly two decades ago and were sorely in need of replacing. But doing so would require using up nearly one-third of the town’s remaining funds. On the other hand, not repairing them could cause cattle to break free and stampede the town, injuring its citizens and damaging property. Maybe he could ask for bids from other towns, although he hated not giving business to a local carpenter.

  A woman glided past his window, and he frowned. It looked like Prudy was going to arrive early today. Lucky him.

  As he watched her through another window, she suddenly halted. A man stood directly in front of her. He bent over and smelled something she carried. She took a step backward, and the man followed. Adam rushed to the door. He might not care for Prudy’s overpowering ways, but he wouldn’t stand by and watch her be harassed by an ill-mannered man. Still, he opened the door and listened to make sure he wasn’t jumping to conclusions.

  “You sure are pretty, miss. And whatever you’re carryin’ sure smells toothsome.”

  “I. . .uh. . . Thank you, but I must be on my way. Please let me pass.”

  He stepped closer. “What say you and me go somewheres quiet-like and share that delicacy?”

  “No. It’s a gift for someone. I insist that you let me pass.”

  Adam had to give Prudy credit for not cowering. The man barely seemed to rattle her. He stepped around the stranger and glanced at Prudy, noticing instant relief when her gaze met his. “Are you all right, Miss Willard?”

  “Yes, I believe so. But thank you for coming to check on me.”

  The dusty cowboy glared at Adam, but he met him gaze for gaze. “We don’t like our womenfolk to be pestered on our streets. You’d best tend to your business and be on your way.”

  “Who are you? The marshal?”

  “No, the mayor—and the boxing champion of Briar Glen College for three years running.” He stepped in front of Prudy and lifted a brow at the man, issuing a silent challenge.

  After a moment, the stranger dropped his gaze to Adam’s fist then shrugged. “I didn’t mean no harm. Just wanted to yammer with a purty gal.”

  “That’s fine, as long as the gal in question wishes to talk with you. This one doesn’t.”

  The stranger nodded then shuffled back the way he’d come. Adam faced Prudy, whose eyes were wider than normal and emphasized the blue of her irises.

  “Is that true?” Her head cocked, eyebrows puckered. “Were you a boxing champion?”

  Adam nodded. His manly pride at coming to her rescue wilted a bit, confronted with her disbelief. “I don’t need to result to lying to defend your honor, Miss Willard.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I was merely curious. And do you suppose we could use our Christian names since we’ll be seeing each other frequently?”

  Adam stared at her. What happened to the snippety harpy who’d barged into his office yesterday demanding all manner of information? He searched his mind. Was it possible Prudence Willard had a twin sister?

  Her smile drooped. “Would that be such a difficult thing?”

  Baffled, he cleared his throat and took a chance this was the same woman. “Uh. . .not at all, uh. . .Prudence. Would you like for me to carry that for you?”

  Her smile returned, lifting his spirits with it, and she handed him a plate covered by an embroidered towel. “Thank you, Adam. Now, do you suppose we could go inside? I have something to say that I don’t want aired in public.”

  Down went Adam’s spirits. She was putting on an act—being nice while on the street in case anyone was watching. He sighed and stepped back, allowing her to enter first
. While her back was turned, he took a whiff of whatever it was he carried, and his stomach gurgled at the delicious aroma.

  Prudy removed her hat and gloves, setting them on the corner of Jenny’s desk, and then she took the plate from him and also set it down. He’d hoped she’d brought something to share, but perhaps it was for a friend, something he certainly wasn’t.

  He waited for her to lash out, but this morning she seemed different, less sure of herself. She looked up at him, nibbling her lip, then glanced at the window and back at him. She sucked in a breath and spewed out, “I owe you an apology.”

  If she’d grown feathers and started squawking, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. The woman who left here yesterday didn’t seem like someone who’d ever be so contrite. “For what?”

  She threw out her hands. “For everything I’ve said and done since we first met. I was a nasty shrew yesterday, and for that, I’m sorry.”

  Dumbfounded, he stood there staring at her. “Are you sure you don’t have a twin sister?”

  She laughed. “Would you want me to?”

  “To be truthful”—he brushed a hand across his cheek—“not if she was like the woman who stormed in here yesterday, but this one, I wouldn’t mind so much.”

  She cocked her head and studied him, probably wondering if he was teasing. “I brought a peace offering.” She lifted the towel, folded it, and set it down; then she picked up the plate and held it out to him. A sweet cinnamon scent filled the air, making his mouth water. “I hope you like apple bread.”

  He grinned. “I hope we argue every week and you feel the need to bring more peace offerings.”

  Her soft laughter warmed him, making him want to hear that delightful sound over and over. Suddenly she frowned. “Oh bother. I forgot to bring any plates or forks.”

  “I can help with that. Jenny and I sometimes eat lunch here, so I believe there are a couple we forgot to take home.” He opened a cabinet on the wall, removed a pair of plates, and held them out to her. “There are no forks, but these will help a little.”