The Replacement Wife

by Lucy Evanson

  Amy just barely contained a laugh, though she felt a warmth in her chest at the same time. Joe, you poor sweet man. Trying to show me how seriously you’re taking things, but you sound like a banker greeting a client. She felt bad about her smile growing even broader, but she just couldn’t match his serious expression. “And a good afternoon to you, Mr. Peterson,” she said, trying to add a touch of gravity to her voice. “I trust you’re well?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” he said as he stepped inside. He removed his hat and looked down the hall to the kitchen door. “Is Carol back from the market?”

  “No. We’re alone,” Amy said. “Shall we go to the parlor?”

  He nodded again and followed her, letting himself fall heavily into one of the chairs opposite from the sofa. “I suppose we should talk.”

  “Sure,” Amy said. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about?” she asked, giving him the most innocent smile she could muster.

  His serious facade finally cracked as he chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know...the weather, I guess,” he said, before the smile faded from his lips. “Do you have any idea how we’re going to get you out of this?”

  Amy’s grin dimmed as well. “You don’t know how much I wish I did,” she said. “I’ve been practically pulling my hair out trying to figure out what to do.”

  Joe’s brow furrowed. “You know, you could always just refuse to go through with it.”

  Amy’s laugh was short and bitter. “That does seem like the easiest solution, doesn’t it?”

  “I take it you’ve already thought about that?”

  “Let’s just say that the first time I refused to marry a man, it didn’t work out very well. That’s how I ended up out here, in fact.”

  Joe couldn’t conceal his surprise. “The first time?”

  Amy felt her cheeks begin to burn. “It’s a long story,” she said. “I’ll tell you about it some other time. And in any case, I don’t have any family here. Nor any money.”

  “And if you refuse to marry him, you would need both.”

  “You see my problem.”

  He nodded, and his gaze dropped to the floor as he seemed to fall deep in thought. “Do you have any friends here?”

  It was a simple question, but it made her stomach clench to confess the answer. “I almost don’t have any friends anywhere,” she said in a quiet voice. “Except for you.”

  “Well...at least you have me, then.”

  “But I don’t want to cause any problems for you,” she hurried to add. “If your father found out that you were helping me get out of marrying him, I’m sure he’d be upset.”

  Joe snorted. “Upset would be a kind way of putting it,” he said. “That man holds a grudge like nobody else I’ve ever met. He’d make life miserable for both of us.” He stood up and began pacing, turning a tight oval on the parlor rug. He was silent as he went back and forth, and his frown grew deeper as the minutes passed.

  “It’s hopeless, isn’t it?”

  He turned sharply and stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. “Honestly, I don’t see how you can refuse to marry him and survive on your own,” he finally said.

  She had been steeling herself, trying to prepare for this moment, but his words still hit her hard. Of course this was how things were going to end up. There had never been any hope but a foolish one.

  “But that doesn’t mean things are hopeless,” Joe continued. “If you can’t be the one to break things off, then we have to get him to refuse to marry you.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Joe said, as much to himself as to Amy, like the idea was just now unfurling itself in his mind. “We have to convince him that it was a mistake to choose a wife sight unseen. Think about it,” he said. “The only reason you came out here was because of the understanding that you’d marry my father. He has an obligation now.”

  “I do too,” she said. “But I don’t see how that helps.”

  “The difference is that he’s got a reputation to protect,” Joe said. “Imagine how this would look: a rich man like him, sending all the way across the country for a wife, leading her on, then changing his mind and leaving her to fend for herself in a strange town. Wouldn’t look very good, would it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Well, he wouldn’t want people to find out that he broke his word. If they thought that he couldn’t be trusted, it would be bad for business. And if there’s one thing he avoids, it’s anything bad for his business.”

  “I see,” Amy said, slowly nodding as her brow furrowed. “Wait...what?”

  Joe laughed. “Look, if he refuses to marry you, then I expect he’d want you to keep it quiet,” he said. “And in exchange, he’d have to pay you for the time and trouble. You’d have money for a place to stay while you figure out what to do.”

  Amy’s jaw dropped open slightly as the pieces fell into place. “That’s a very clever idea,” she said. “But how do we get him to turn me down?”

  Joe frowned. “That’s the part I haven’t thought of yet.”

  They both fell quiet for a few minutes while lost in thought. The only noise in the room was the soft tread on the rug as Joe resumed pacing and Amy’s fingers drumming on the armrest of the sofa. Finally, however, she spoke. “Maybe we’re thinking too hard about this. He’s a man. He’s interested in a woman’s...well, her charms,” she said. “Maybe I can try to make myself less attractive?”

  “That’s impossible,” Joe blurted, and she watched as his cheeks immediately turned scarlet. “I mean...I don’t think that would work,” he continued. “We need to make him think you’re a disaster in some other way.”

  “I could try to be unpleasant around him,” she suggested. “I could start complaining about everything, make him think that I’m never happy about anything.”

  “I guess that might work, if we had enough time,” Joe said, though he sounded less than enthused. “But we need something faster. Something that will make more of an impression.”

  She let her head fall into her hands. “I’m out of ideas. The only other thing I can think of is to pitch a fit in the hallway and pretend I’ve lost my mind.”

  “And get committed to the hospital up in Mendota? That would get you out of marrying him, but I don’t think you’re going to like how that turns out.” He went to the window and looked out. “We need to think of something soon. Carol’s going to be back from the—” he said, stopping suddenly and whipping around to look at Amy. “Wait a minute.”

  “What is it?”

  “You said you knew how to cook, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, if you know how to make a meal, then you should know how to ruin a meal, too,” he said. “How about you cook dinner tonight and show him what a poor job you can do?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I can’t think of anything else right now that would have such an effect on him.”

  Amy couldn’t restrain a smile from bursting out, and she clapped her hands together. “Joe, what a wonderful idea,” she said. “Do you really think this will work? This will change his mind?”

  “One meal? No, probably not,” he said. “But you’ve seen how much he loves his food. If you give him a vision of the next twenty years of bad dinners, that’ll make him take notice.”

  “All right, I’ll do my best.”

  “No. Do your worst,” Joe said, winking at her as he reached to the side table and picked up his hat. “If nothing else, this’ll be one black mark against you while we work on some other things.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, I need to go back into town while you plan dinner. I thought of something else we could try too.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “I’d rather not say just now. Let me see how it goes first.”

  Amy stood up and a sudden urge came over her; she quickly stepped close and kissed Joe on the cheek. “Thank you,” she sa
id.

  His face went slightly pink, and he kept his eyes glued to the floor as he walked out of the parlor. “See you later,” she heard him mutter just before the front door closed behind him.

  Amy went to the window and watched as he went to the street. He had almost left the yard when he paused and reached out for the gatepost, as if he were rethinking his departure. He stood there, his hand on the stone pillar, and he half-turned so that she could see his profile. Amy was certain that he was going to turn around and come back to the house, but then he seemed to regain his will to continue on. Joe stepped out to the street, climbed aboard the runabout, and was on his way.

  She couldn’t help feeling disappointed for a moment, though her better sense soon won out. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. He has things to do. He has another idea to help me, he said. Still, for a moment, she wished that all that could have waited and that he could have returned to her there.

  ~ ~ ~

  He was acting like a damn fool. That was the problem, Joe had decided, as he turned the carriage onto the side street. He’d overshot the place by two whole blocks, so now he had to turn around and head back up the other way, all because he’d been daydreaming instead of paying attention to what he was doing.

  Then again, who could blame him? What man in his right mind wouldn’t have been distracted by everything going on with Amy? You get a girl like that asking for your help, and it was easy to forget pretty much everything else—especially when it was clear that you were the only person she could count on.

  Joe’s eyebrows scrunched together as he unconsciously scowled. There were things in life that just weren’t fair, and if he had to rate them, he’d put being an orphan at the top of the list. Thinking about what Amy had said still almost took his breath away. He couldn’t even imagine how hard her life must have been growing up as she did—no parents, no siblings, no kin close enough to matter, as she’d said.

  He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought. It was too unpleasant to think about. Granted, his own family may not have been a shining example of love and warmth, but at least he had one. Then again, maybe growing up alone had toughened Amy. Maybe she was so eager to get out of her marriage to Joss because she was incapable of imagining what it would be like to belong in a family.

  Joe let out a loud, sharp laugh then, earning an odd look from a dog sitting on the sidewalk. Or maybe she knows exactly what it would be like to be part of his family. Hell, even I’m not so happy about it sometimes. No, what had happened to Amy may not have been fair, and he may not have liked it, but that didn’t mean that he’d be able to do anything about it, much as he might have wanted to.

  Of course, there was one other option. It was nothing he’d have ever dared to mention to Amy, but there was another Peterson man available if it wasn’t going to work out with Joss. His stomach did a funny flip just then, like he had just driven over a hill too fast. The idea of asking Amy for her hand was thrilling—and more than a little scary. He had resolved to strive harder in his life, to climb higher, but there were some heights that he may not have been meant to reach.

  A girl like that—pretty as you could hope for, with a sweet smile that made his heart beat stronger even just thinking about it—well, a girl like that would have been just about perfect for him, there was no denying it. Of course, there was no reason to believe that she felt the same, or that she’d feel comfortable trading one Peterson for another; thinking otherwise was a bit too much even for a naturally optimistic fellow like him.

  Even if he did work up the courage to ask her—and even if she did say yes—there would still be some rough sledding ahead of them. The best thing that could happen is that she says yes and Pa disinherits me. Going to be pretty hard to raise a family with no money—and that would be the best outcome. There’s no reason to think she’d even say yes in the first place. In fact, it was easy to imagine quite another scene: Amy putting her foot down, refusing to marry Joss. Joe, stepping in as the hero and asking for her hand. Amy, turning him down flat and Joss disinheriting him anyway out of spite.

  Wouldn’t that be something? Throw away everything I’m working for just when I’ve decided to take charge of my life. No, that’s not going to work out very well at all.

  Joe pulled back on the reins slightly as he looked around to get his bearings. They had just reached the bank; the building’s classical lines were easily recognizable even from behind—which meant that he was farther along than he’d meant to go.

  Unbelievable. After driving right past Westward Hearts on the front side, he had now passed it on the back as well. Joe could only shake his head as he turned the carriage onto the side street again and drove back to Main; this time he forced himself to keep a clear head until he had rolled to a stop right in front of the building.

  When he entered the office, the bell over the door seemed abnormally loud. Now that practically everything was crated up—even the rug was rolled and leaning in the corner—the bell’s echo lingered for a long time before softly dying.

  “We’re closed,” he heard Ruth call, and there was the sound of her footsteps as she came down the hall that led from the back office. “Don’t you see everything packed up—oh!”

  “Hi, Ruth.”

  “Joe, I didn’t figure I’d see you until tomorrow. They should have everything loaded up and ready to go by noon, and then I’ll bring the keys over.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “It’s not?” Her eyes narrowed, then widened quickly. “Is this about the Chase girl?”

  Joe shrugged. “No, not really,” he said.

  “Because if she’s giving your father any trouble, there’s not a lot I can do about that.” Ruth waved her hand toward the boxes stacked along the wall, as if to point out that Westward Hearts was closed. “I’d like to help—you know I would if I could—but my hands are tied.”

  “Amy’s not causing any trouble at all,” Joe said. “I just had something I wanted to ask you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know you usually had men in here looking for wives,” he said. “But did you ever have any women looking for a husband?”

  Chapter 6

  “How much longer are you going to take with that?” The door between the kitchen and the dining room was closed, but Joss’s voice was more than loud enough to hear.

  Amy took a second to wipe the sweat from her brow. The oven had been fired up for going on two hours, and the kitchen’s tiny window barely let in any air at all. “Not much longer now,” she called.

  “I told her you have dinner right at six o’clock, Mr. Peterson. Guess she ain’t as good as she said she was.” Carol’s voice was softer, of course, but Amy still heard her clearly. It was almost as if Carol had moved close to the door to make sure of it.

  Amy chuckled. Just getting Carol out of her hair had been the most difficult part of the whole afternoon; when Amy had announced that she was going to prepare dinner, Carol reacted as if she were about to lose her job already. Amy wouldn’t have guessed that anybody would fight so hard for the honor of making Joss his meal, but it had taken a ten-minute argument and the threat of tattling on her that finally got Carol to relent and leave her in peace.

  She grabbed a pair of rags and eased the roasting pan out of the oven and onto the stovetop. There was one thing she had to admit about Joss: he may not have been the most generous man she’d ever run into, but when it came to treating himself well, there appeared to be few limits. Carol had returned from the butcher’s with one of the fattest, heaviest beef tenderloins Amy had ever seen, and it had roasted beautifully so far. She stabbed it with a long fork to hold it steady, then cut into the thickest part of the roast. The meat was tender, dividing easily under the blade and revealing a gorgeous shade of pink. When she pressed with the knife edge, the juices ran clear with only the tiniest hint of blood. It was perfect just like this; another minute would have been too much. Amy smiled
and thrust the pan back into the oven. There was still much to do.

  By six-forty-five, everything was in place: she had sliced the roast and arranged it on a platter with sprigs of wilted parsley; the potatoes were piled high in a bowl and the gravy boat was filled and ready to go. Just about the only thing missing is Joe, she thought. He’d been gone all afternoon, and though she hadn’t needed his help, she sure could have used his support.

  Amy pushed the door open enough to stick her head through. “Joe’s still not home?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether he’s here or not. Are you going to bring me some food, or what?”

  Joss had scarcely finished speaking when there was the heavy thump of somebody bounding up the porch steps, then the sound of the front door opening.

  “Any food left?”

  “Hmph. All of it,” Joss muttered. “We haven’t even seen it yet.”

  “Well, good! I’m glad I didn’t miss it,” Joe said as he stepped into the dining room.

  “Have a seat. I was just about to serve dinner.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. As Joe passed behind his father, however, he stepped very close to Amy. “Whatever happens tonight, play along,” he whispered, before going around to sit down.

  She didn’t have time to wonder much about what he had said; instead, she brought out the potatoes and gravy, then returned for the tenderloin. “And now,” Amy said, pushing the door open with her backside as she held the heavy platter in both hands, “dinner is served.” She placed the roast in the middle of the table and stood back to admire her work.

  Joss stared at the platter with his jaw open, then glanced at Amy, then looked back at the platter. “What’s that supposed to be?”