by Amanda Boone
“I loved him so much, Jared, with all my heart and soul. I still love him. I’m not sure I can ever stop. So, you see, I can’t love anybody else. I can like you, but love is probably out of the question.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”
Startled, she stared at him. “Happy?”
“Of course.” Jared laid his hand on her shoulder and caressed it. “Bridget, do you think I haven’t had the same feelings as you’ve had? When my wife died, I thought I would never be the same. I, too, thought I would never love anybody else. Over time, though, that feeling lessened. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Sarah, and like you, I always will. Nothing will ever change that, especially since she died giving me Emily.”
“You do understand.”
“I do. And like you, I’m not sure I can love you the way I loved Sarah. But I want a wife. I want Emily to grow up knowing that a man and woman can have a respectful relationship. We have a lot in common, Bridget, and I think we could build on that to have a good marriage.”
“I don’t know, Jared,” Bridget admitted, shaking her head. “Oh, I thought I did when I headed out here. I thought I did as late as dinner tonight. But on the way to the hotel, I realized that I might have made a huge mistake by agreeing to take a chance with you. I shouldn’t have agreed to something like this with anybody for that matter. And you have a child. What if our marriage isn’t good and it affects her?”
From the look of surprise on his face, Bridget could tell that Jared hadn’t thought of this. How could he not have? He had a daughter to care for. He needed to put her above everything else.
“I hadn’t thought of that, but I assure you that I would do everything possible to see that we have a wonderful marriage and that we would be good influences on Emily. Please, Bridget. I don’t want a woman from the bar to be Emily’s mother. She needs a strong female influence in her life. From everything Elise tells me, that’s you. From the talk I had with you tonight, when you told me about your involvement in the suffragist movement, that’s you. I have no qualms taking you as my wife.”
Bridget hesitated. Despite coming to Forestville with every intention of marrying Jared, his sweet daughter needed a woman in her life who could love her and care for her. From everything she saw at dinner, that appeared to be Karin.
But she did like Jared. She thought she could live with him if he gave her room to be her own person, if he didn’t expect her to dote on his daughter day and night, if he didn’t make her sleep in the same bed with him.
As though he’d read her mind, Jared said, “Until you get to know me, you or I can sleep in Emily’s room. Or I could sleep on the sofa. We wouldn’t be in the same room, let alone the same bed.”
“What if I never want to sleep in your bed?”
“I haven’t had sex since before Emily’s mother died. I don’t frequent prostitutes or bars.” He gently squeezed her hand with his free one. “Tell you what. The traveling preacher will be here a week from Sunday. That’s when Elise and Moya are getting married. Until then, we’ll spend as much time together as possible and see if we think we can do this. If we agree that we can, we’ll get married when they do. If either of us has reservations, we won’t, and we’ll continue as friends getting to know one another better.”
Bridget smiled. “I like that idea. Let’s decide then.”
Chapter 6
After spending hours with Jared, when he wasn’t busy managing the lumber and mill company, and Emily for the past ten days, Bridget had made up her mind. If Jared hadn’t changed his mind, she would marry him. Like Elise had said, he was kind and gentle. Even if he didn’t know she was watching him, he treated everyone the same, with respect.
Jared even admired the fact that she wanted to run a newspaper with her brother and supported her decision to look for a suitable building. When none appeared usable for their purposes, he contacted his boss, who lived in Sacramento, and got permission to build the business and purchase the supplies with Mike.
On that Sunday, Bridget and Elise prepared for their weddings together in Elise’s bedroom. When they went to the church that afternoon, they were fully committed to making their futures with these men.
It wasn’t an elaborate affair like Bridget had been planning in New York. The only people present were the brides and grooms, as well as Stina, Karin, Emily and Mike. The four repeated their vows simultaneously, the preacher pronounced them husbands and wives, and everyone left the church.
Bridget knew that Elise and Moya were headed back to Elise’s house to consummate their marriage, but she and Jared wouldn’t be doing that yet. He had promised that he would wait until she was ready, and she wasn’t quite there yet. Instead, they went to the site of the newspaper office with Mike to see how far along it was.
To Bridget’s delight, the building was already framed. As they walked through the unwalled rooms, Mike explained that there were two offices in the front of the building with an entrance between them so he could have privacy to work. Bridget assumed the other office was for her. Straight in from the foyer, Mike pointed out the printing area.
“Thanks to the generosity of the company owner,” Mike said enthusiastically, “we’ll have the latest, most modern equipment available. I only have to pay half of it. Let me show you how I thought we could set it up.”
With boards he found lying around the site, Mike laid out the position of the various pieces of equipment, where they would keep the paper, and where the letter boxes could be housed. He also showed her where the storage room he planned would be located.
Bridget was impressed with all the thought Mike had put into his project. She’d never known him to be so excited about anything before.
“I didn’t know you were this interested in going into the newspaper business with me,” she said when he stopped talking long enough for her to insert herself.
“That’s because I love it here,” Mike replied. “I can’t wait to get started building this business from the ground up—literally, since we have to build the office. I’m already trying to find stories to write. Oh, and we’re getting our own telegraph machine. The owner of the company thinks it would be a great idea so we can communicate and have a current newspaper instead of relying on old stories.”
Mike nodded toward the second office. “That’s where we’re putting the telegraph, and we’re supposed to hire somebody who knows how to use one. If we can’t find anybody, we can have somebody trained to use it. I was thinking about Moya.”
“That would be a perfect job for him!” Jared exclaimed. “He’s told me a number of times that he didn’t know how he was going to support Elise, but he wanted to try.”
“See, Bridge,” Mike said “things are working out perfectly for us.”
Bridget frowned at his enthusiasm. He had always been an optimist, to his detriment sometimes. If he thought something was going well, he was sure nothing could ever go wrong. But things often did. Not every time, of course, but often enough that he should know that he couldn’t trust his optimism.
Everything he told her about sounded positive; it sounded like he was doing this for himself as well as others. She especially liked that Mike was interested in teaching Moya a new skill, so he could support Elise. His intentions were good, except his ability to give Moya a job wasn’t exactly in his power.
“Michael,” she said.
“I know what you’re thinking, Bridge. You don’t even have to tell me. It’s not going to be like the other times. It’s going to work, because we both know what we’re doing. The only if is Moya. What if he can’t do the job? But he’s a bright man, Bridge. He’ll catch on to it. I’ve already checked around town, and nobody knows how to work the telegraph machine or understand the code. All I have to do is tell the owner this, and he’ll send someone to teach Moya or send Moya somewhere to learn. All we need is Moya’s agreement.”
“So he doesn’t know about it yet?” Bridget asked.
“Not yet. I’
m going to mention it to him tomorrow.”
“Mike’s obviously put a lot of thought into this, Bridget,” Jared said.
“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” Mike added.
“Give the man a chance to show you this will work,” Jared told her. “If Harris is backing him and offering to build the office and pay for part of the equipment, it’s a likely this is an excellent proposition.”
“That’s it,” Mike said. “Harris. I’d forgotten his name.”
Bridget looked from one man to the other before she agreed. “All right, I’ll keep a positive attitude for now. But if things seem like they’re turning bad, I won’t hesitate to speak my mind.”
“You never do,” Mike chuckled.
Chapter 7
The newspaper printed its first edition about nine weeks later. Moya had turned out to be a natural at the telegraph machine. His presence in the office brought many people to the building to send personal messages to family and friends, which brought in some extra money for both Moya and the office.
At first, they only published news items from Sacramento, San Francisco or Redding, California. These articles were nationwide on some occasions and local to those cities at other times. They were current, though, and the citizens who could read appreciated the information, as they told Bridget often.
Locally, their first story came about a month into their operation, when a young boy raced into the office shouting that there had been an accident at the lumberyard. Mike grabbed his pencil, a small stack of blank paper on his desk, and a thin board to write on. Bridget scrambled after him.
By the time they got to the lumberyard, a crowd had gathered. Mike pushed his way through the mass of workers. Bridget managed to get past all the men with him. There she saw a man lying on the ground with another man kneeling over him. Jared stood nearby.
“Is he going to be all right, Doc?” Jared asked.
“Probably, but I won’t know until I get him back to the office and check him over carefully. Do you have a board wide enough for him to lie on so we can transport him? He tells me his back hurts.”
“Olson!” Jared called out. “See if you can find something.”
Mike stood beside Bridget, scribbling notes as the men conversed. Nearby, a blond man searched through the lumber. He threw pieces of wood around until he found what he was looking for.
“Will this one do, Doc?” Olson asked, hoisting a board about six feet long, three feet wide, and four inches thick above his head with both arms.
“That looks good,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to need at least two other men—strong men—to help us carry him to my office.”
Mike passed his writing materials to Bridget, saying, “Take this.” He turned toward the doctor. “I’m strong, Doc.” Then he faced Bridget again, taking off his jacket and handing it to her. “Follow us, Bridge.”
Once the men had carefully loaded the injured man on the board, Jared slid his arm around Bridget’s shoulders, and together they followed the doctor and his helpers to the doctor’s office.
Neither spoke, but Bridget’s mind was racing. She loved having his arm around her, but she was afraid to tell him. He had been true to his promise that he’d made before they married; he hadn’t even hinted at joining her in his bedroom at night. Their marriage was as yet unconsummated.
But she’d been so comfortable with him the last couple of months that she was finding herself attracted to the man. She’d seen him without his shirt, had watched as he changed into his nightshirt, the same nightshirt that he would put on before he removed his trousers. Jared was definitely a gentleman.
Now that she’d thought of it, though, he barely touched her—ever. Yes, he had his arm around her at that moment, but he never touched her in private. It was almost as if he regretted having married her and was only going through the motions publicly so he didn’t embarrass himself. She needed to talk to him about it that night.
They finally reached the doctor’s office, and Bridget felt awkward being there while he was examined, because the doctor began undressing him. After giving Mike his belongings back, she told Jared she was going back to the office if Mike needed her for anything, even though she didn’t believe he would.
When Mike hadn’t returned to the office by the time Bridget needed to leave to help Karin get dinner, she wrote a quick note telling him to come to the house if he needed her help with the printing press.
***
At the house, Karin said that she wasn’t feeling well and had done her best to keep her distance from Emily throughout the day. She asked if Bridget would mind if she went home early.
“Of course not,” Bridget said. “And if you still don’t feel well tomorrow, don’t bother coming to work. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Emily on my own. She can even come to the newspaper office with me. She might enjoy that.”
“Tank you, Bridyet,” Karin said with her Swedish accent. “I vill try to be here tomorrow.”
“If you’re still feeling poorly, stay home. I want you to get healthy, and we don’t want Emily getting whatever you have.”
By dinnertime, Jared was still not home. That was odd, because he was always home to join them. Then again, they’d only been married a little over a month. Why would she expect that she would know how busy he was at work on normal days? He could have been joining them just because he was trying to be a good husband. Maybe his normal working hours were long. After all, he was the manager of the company town, the mill, and the lumber company, which most likely entailed a lot of work.
But in her heart, she was afraid he was staying away because he didn’t want to be around her. Bridget’s mind told her not to be silly. If he hadn’t wanted to marry her, he hadn’t been obligated to. She’d given him every opportunity to change his mind.
Maybe he was angry because she hadn’t let him into her bed yet. She liked him a lot, although she didn’t think it was love. And since they were married, she had no reason not to let him come to her at night. She really didn’t want to lose Jared. She wanted to stay married to him and even have children with him. And she definitely didn’t want him to find another woman like Matthew had. She couldn’t bear that kind of humiliation a second time.
“Bridget?” Emily said from nearby, breaking into Bridget’s thoughts.
“What is it, sweetie?” Bridget asked.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“I was wondering the same thing.”
“He always comes home to eat supper with me. Why didn’t he tonight?”
“Tell you what, Emily. Why don’t you and I put some food on a plate, cover it with a napkin, and take it over to his office?”
“Yes, let’s,” Emily said eagerly.
But Jared wasn’t at his office, and when they checked at the doctor’s office, he wasn’t there, either. Dr. Frey introduced himself and told Bridget that she should check at the newspaper office because Jared and Mike had said they were going there.
Since the house was on the way, Bridget suggested that they stop and get some food for Uncle Mike, too, before they headed over to the newspaper office. Emily agreed in her normal cheerful manner. The child had no inkling that something was amiss, and Bridget wished she could be so innocent.
When they arrived at the office, they found Jared, Mike and Moya sitting around the telegraph. The men stared at it so intently that Bridget thought they believed they could make it clickety-clack with their minds.
Chapter 8
“What are you doing?” Bridget asked.
The men started and spun to face her. Bridget laughed, but the men remained sober, obviously focused on something in their minds. This concerned her. If they were so fixated on the telegraph, something of import must be happening.
“Did something happen after I left the doctor’s office?” she asked, her voice filled with suspicion.
Emily burst around her and raced to her father. “Daddy! Where have you been?”
Jared pick
ed up the child and put her on his lap as he explained, “We’ve been waiting for a reply to a telegram we sent. Is that food you’re carrying?”
“It is,” Bridget replied, “but I’m afraid I didn’t bring any for you, Moya.”
“Dat’s fine,” Moya replied. “I ate a home.”
Bridget passed the plates to Mike and Jared. With Emily on his lap, Jared dug into the food. “Thanks, honey, I was starved.”
“It was my pleasure,” Bridget replied, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down. “Now, who’s going to tell me what kind of telegram you’re waiting for?”
“We sent one to Harris and asked him to get back to us immediately. We’re just waiting for his reply.”
“And you sent a telegram to the owner of the lumber company why?”
“You’re going to ask until you get an answer, aren’t you,” Mike observed, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. “All right then. The doctor doesn’t think the injury was an accident. He asked us to report it to Harris.”
“It takes three men to get an answer?”
“We’re all here for different reasons,” Jared explained. “Of course, Moya is here to operate the machine. I’m here for directions on how Harris wants to handle the matter, and your brother is here to get the story.”
“How long do you think it will take?” Bridget asked, more curious than angry, as the words sounded in her mind.
“Dere’s no telling,” Moya answered. “If he gets de message right avay, it could be yust a few more minutes. If he’s not at home and he has to be tracked down, it could take hours.”
Hoping that he would understand what she was doing, Bridget laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. For a man who spent most of his time behind a desk or running from place to place to keep an eye on things, he was built very well. She’d seen him without a shirt too many times to not notice his toned muscles, his flat, rippled abdomen, his narrow hips that were always covered with his trousers. She sighed. Oh, how she longed to see him naked!