A Bride For Us

Perhaps I could learn to love him.

 

A voice, muscling its way past the many troubling ones in her head, fought for her attention. It was a thought that left her feeling hopeless, for she understood that her future was as uncertain as her marriage to the complete stranger who sat beside her, barely breathing.

 

Her attention shifted to the side in yet another failed attempt to see the face of the man she was now legally married to.

 

Tan skin, a working muscle in his jaw, curly brown hair...

 

Mentally, she noted his features, the tension in his muscles as he gripped the reins. His gaze remained fixed on the dirt road before them, his sealed lips a sign that he didn’t wish to converse with her.

 

Her gaze shifted to the worn-out shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame, holes littering every inch. It was apparent that the brown color of the fabric was a result of weeks—possibly months—of neglected laundry. His rolled-up sleeves exposed hairy hands, and his brown pants hung loosely around his thin waist.

 

Shrinking back, her head settled on the cold metal of the wagon as her tired eyelids pulled shut. And in the silence, broken only by the sound of the rusty wheels making contact with the dirt road, a war raged within her as she considered the events of her life in the last few weeks—the death of her mother and the medical debt it had resulted in. Penniless, she had been desperate enough to leave her home in New York and journey to Wichita Falls to answer an ad for a mail-order bride.

 

Her emotions darted back and forth, fear burying its fangs in her heart as tears filled her eyes at the thought of her present reality. She was married to a stranger, knowing nothing but his name—Raymond McAllister—and his need for a bride.

 

A loud screeching sound filled the air as the fast movement of the wagon slowed to a crawling pace. She sat up straighter, her eyelids parting as it came to a halt. She turned to Raymond just in time to watch him jump down the side of the wagon. Her gaze followed him around the wagon until it settled on a building.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes grew in size as she gawked at the atrocious building before her. A two-story building stood in her line of vision, threatening to collapse under the impact of the soft breeze. Its whitewash paint made its exterior appear gray and haunted, and the wooden windows, devoid of glass, made it appear deserted. She stared at the broken-down front porch, certain it housed termites.

 

Something took hold of her hand, gaining her attention. One look at him and she saw clearly that his intent was to help her down from the wagon. She bobbed her head numbly, taking ahold of his shoulders as his hands gripped her waist and lifted her down before settling her on her wobbly feet. He released her, and her gaze drifted back to the building.

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Turning her weary eyes away from the building, she found him hoisting her large black trunk up the three stairs leading to the porch.

 

For a few seconds, she stood there, numb.

 

“If the sky is anything to go by,” his voice broke through the barrier of confusion that clouded her mind, “you need to come inside.”

 

Fighting her desire to crumble into a pile of emotions, she forced her feet forward. She took the first stair up to the front porch, the wood beneath creaking under the weight of her body. Horrified, her eyes flew to the porch in search of him, but they were met by an equally broken-down wooden door. Wincing, she took the next two stairs onto the porch and into the dimly lit building.

 

She blinked, her vision struggling to adjust to the light as her gaze traveled the room before her.

 

“Children, say hello to Miss Lily Austin. She’s to be your new mother.” She turned sharply to the side, shocked by Raymond’s announcement, and she was even more shocked to find six sets of eyes staring back at her.

 

She gasped, clutching her chest as she stared into the malnourished faces of six children.

 

Children! she thought, suddenly nauseous. What was she to do with six children?

 

“We do not need a mother!”

 

Mother! The word made her lungs constrict as her eyes darted to the child that had spoken. She was most likely the eldest, her large eyes staring back at her with open disdain. Her clothes hung on her skinny body, and her loose brown locks of hair were in dire need of washing.

 

“Scarlet!” Raymond’s stern voice beside her made it nearly impossible to keep her frightened feet on the ground.

 

“I’m sorry, Papa,” the child answered, glancing down.

 

“Miss Austin, these are my children,” he said, and her eyes immediately darted to him, her mouth falling open. She doubted he'd even noticed her shock, because he carried on like he hadn’t. “Scarlet’s my eldest. Then there’s James, my eldest son, and Josie, Lexie, Leonard, and Mirabel.” He finished, turning to her.

 

She tried to breathe, but it seemed impossible; all she could do was gawk at this complete stranger. He had practically lied to her, saying absolutely nothing of his six children! Six!

 

“I have work to do,” he announced before turning and making his way past her. If it were possible for eyes to bore holes in human flesh, hers would have done exactly that to the back of his head.

 

“Hello!” someone chirped, pulling her attention from the lying bastard as he walked out of the door.

 

She spun around, still dazed by the news. The youngest child stood waving and smiling, her big brown eyes beholding the stranger before her with awe.

 

Forcing a smile to her lips, she said, “Hello, there.”

 

“You’re pretty, like my dolly,” she announced, holding up a dirty rag doll.

 

“Oh.” She touched her cheek, not knowing whether to accept the little girl’s words as a compliment or an insult, considering the dolly she referred to. “What’s your name?” Her rage had blinded her earlier, making it impossible to pay attention when Raymond introduced the children.

 

“Mirabel.” A beautiful smile settled on her thin lips. “And you’re Miss Austin!”

 

She found the child’s enthusiasm quite adorable. A soft giggle drifted from her lips. “You can call me Lily. Miss Austin makes me sound really old.”

 

Mirabel nodded. “And you can call me Millie.”

 

“Millie!” Scarlet hissed, turning to Mirabel as if to scold her. Mirabel turned to Scarlet and stuck out her tongue before turning back to Lily with a smile on her face.

 

“Can you cook?” She traced the unfamiliar voice to one of the boys. Lily raised a brow in question. “I’m Leonard. Or Lenny. Mama used to call me Lenny.”

 

Sweat pricked her skin as she stared at all six children before her. They were young—really young. Scarlet seemed to be between the ages of eleven and twelve, or perhaps even older. Her figure was thin, but she seemed wiser than an eleven-year-old, and her eyes seemed to gaze upon Lily with accusation. The boy who stood beside Scarlet seemed to be the next in age, perhaps ten-years-old. Lily wasn’t certain, for his brown eyes held wisdom and his jaw was set, like his father’s. His curly brown hair was unevenly cut, most likely trimmed by Scarlet.

 

Standing next to the boy was a girl. She stood quietly beside her brother, her brown eyes observing Lily with curiosity. She was thin, but her skin seemed more alive than the others. She was eight or perhaps nine. A younger girl stood beside her, her gaze fixed on the dirty floorboards as Lily watched her. As if sensing Lily’s eyes on her, she raised her gaze, fierce green eyes settling on Lily.

 

She turned from her to Lenny, the one who had wanted to know if she could cook. The little boy seemed to be no older than six, and next to him was Millie, who was most likely four or five.

 

Four girls and two boys. Just what Lily needed—a husband and children! She groaned loudly.

 

She tore her gaze from the children and began examining the room. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was manageable, with sparse furnishings that consisted of an old, worn-out gray sofa, a rocking chair, and a dirty rug sprawled across the center of the dirty floorboards. Behind the children was a space that opened up into a kitchen with a wooden table and a stove visible from where she stood. There was a staircase to her right, most likely leading to the bedrooms.

 

“Can you?” Lenny called, bouncing on his heels.

 

Lily drew her attention back to Lenny and nodded, deciding that she wouldn’t take her frustration out on the children. However, she was irritated, and she needed to let it out.

 

“Give me a second, children.” She forced a smile before turning around and stumbling out of the door.

 

The second the door slammed closed behind her, she hurried down the squeaky stairs and began searching for her unruly husband. It was a vast piece of land, she noted, even as she stomped through the property in search of him. The house needed work, but it could be done right after she had a conversation with the man she was certain she would kill.

 

She found him hard at work in the barn, feeding the animals.

 

“The nerve of you!” she began, heat burning her face and most likely turning it red.

 

He turned to her, and for the first time, she saw his face. Two deep lines creased his forehead as he frowned, fierce green eyes dimming at the sight of her. His parched lips parted slightly, his muscles flexing as he leaned down and placed the bucket in his hands on a bale of hay before straightening. He was most likely in his mid-thirties, several years older than her twenty-three years.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

She swore, causing him to shrink back. “Children?!”

 

He folded his arms across his chest.

 

“You have children?”

 

“I didn’t think that would be a problem,” he answered casually before turning his attention to the work before him.

 

Lily clenched her fists, fighting the urge to yell in frustration. “Let me guess,” she said sarcastically, “you forgot to include that in your ad.”

 

“An honest mistake.”

 

She glared at him, her face catching fire. The vile man had deceived her! He had practically lured her into this marriage to be a mother to his six children, to feed them and clean them and mend their clothes. He probably also expected her to serve him as his wife and keep his bed warm through the winter!

 

She bit down on her lower lip, afraid she’d curse again. With one last glare his way, she decided she was too tired to come up with a way out of her predicament today. She’d sleep on it and wake up with a solution the next morning.

As it was, divorce seemed to be the only solution.

 

***

 

Raymond knew he should have apologized. He went through his entire day knowing he should have apologized. He had practically deceived a young woman into marriage, forcing her to travel several miles, only to hit her with the frankly disconcerting news that she was now mother to six children. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t afford a housekeeper. He had put out an ad for a mail-order bride a year ago that included mention of his six children, and no woman had been willing to take on the responsibility of becoming their mother. The children were already malnourished and near death, and if he hadn’t omitted the minor detail of their existence in his new ad, they would've all been dead by winter.

He needed a woman! No, his children needed a mother. He had no plans for Miss Austin that extended beyond caring for his children. She would do just that: care for his children and his home. She would be under no extra obligation to share his bed.

 

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. He had killed a woman once; he didn’t plan on repeating history with Miss Austin. Yet her beauty would be difficult to ignore. It had been the first thing he noticed when he saw her at the station; she was beautiful. Her clothes spoke of a woman of wealth and grace. Her lush, golden locks and shiny skin spoke of health and perfection. Her bright blue eyes spoke of hope, and her diction spoke of the best of educations. She wasn’t the type of woman he had thought would respond to an ad for a bride. She was the type of woman whose dance card was full at every ball.

 

He had to admit, ignoring her would be difficult. But if her angry outburst earlier was anything to go by, she probably didn't want anything to do with him.

 

He washed the mud off his stained hands and pulled his sleeves down before making his way into the house that night.

 

The building stood silent. The children were most likely asleep, and Miss Austin...well, hopefully she was asleep too. He didn’t know where she would sleep, however, considering he'd forgotten to plan for that. There were only two rooms in the house, one belonging to his children and the other to him.

 

The faint smell of food drifted to him. Stunned, he paused and breathed in the scent, his stomach churning in response to it. Turning to the side, he found a plate of freshly baked bread on the table. He hadn’t even known they still had flour for bread!

 

Hungry, he pounced on it, devouring every bite and draining his cup of water. Once he was done, he made his way upstairs to his room. He pushed the door wide open and immediately froze in his tracks.

 

Standing there, completely naked with her back to him, was Miss Austin. The light from the hearth illuminated her skin as water dripped from her wet hair and made a trail down her bare back. She was flawless, and for a while, he stood there, watching her, enthralled by the very sight of her, until she pulled her nightdress on.

Snapping out of his trance the second her silk nightdress fell over her shoulders to her knees, he turned around and silently pulled the door shut before making his way back down the stairs.

 

What did I get myself into with this mail-order bride business?!

 

A loud crashing sound was enough to drag Lily out of a weary sleep. Jolting upright with her hand pressed to her forehead to ease the headache that was rapidly coming on as a result, her blurry vision scanned the dark room.

 

“Papa?” a gentle voice drifted to her.

 

The voice was so distant she was almost certain she was imagining it. Tears stung her eyes, making it difficult to see as she rubbed her head and leaned back slightly.

 

The faint sound of someone sniffling reached her, and before she could fully understand what was happening, something was suddenly thrown at her, forcing a surprised yelp from her lips. It buried its head in her chest and wrapped its arms around her. It took a second of stunned silence for the memory of the previous day to bombard her mind as her vision adjusted to the dark room.

 

She glanced down at the small form in her arms: Millie. “Bad dream?” she whispered lovingly against the child’s dark brown hair as she ran her hand down her back.

 

Millie nodded, burying her face further into Lily’s chest. “Where’s papa?” came Millie’s muffled voice.

 

Lily glanced around, unsurprised by Raymond’s absence. If he thought that by avoiding her, he wouldn’t have to deal with her anger, he needed to think again.

 

“I’m not sure.” Instinctively, her arms curled around the child, pulling her close until her hair was tickling the tip of her nose. “Seems your papa’s avoiding me now. Would you like to sleep here with me?”

 

Millie nodded. “The monster’s afraid of grownups.”

 

“Oh?” Lily giggled, leaning back against her pillow and drawing Millie close. When Millie didn’t respond, she knew the child had fallen asleep. “Goodnight, little angel,” she whispered, planting a kiss on Millie’s head. “Tomorrow, your papa and I are going to have a lot to talk about, and I doubt it's going to end well.”

 

***

 

Pots and pans...

 

A soft groan escaped Raymond’s lips as the clanging of pots pulled him out of his slumber. He stretched his legs forward as his eyelids parted, welcoming the blurry sight of the living room. The second his vision cleared enough to see beyond the scantily furnished room, his gaze rested on a woman reaching up with both of her hands for the cabinets in the kitchen.

 

“Nothing!” she hissed, turning around and slamming the pan on the table. “This is useless!” She placed a hand on her forehead, visibly frustrated and most likely ignorant of the man who sat across the room from her, watching. “First, I journeyed for several weeks, then I found myself stuck in a home with a man and six children, and now,” she laughed with sarcasm, “now I’m to die of hunger!”

 

His gaze ran down the length of her for the umpteenth time in two days, the memory of the evening before sending a rush of heat through his skin. He could not forget what it had been like to see her without her clothes, even if the dress she had on now was quite lovely on her. The pink fabric complimented her fair skin and blond hair, its intricate flowery design speaking to her high taste in fashion. Her hands were devoid of the white gloves she had worn yesterday, and while he wasn’t close enough to see them properly, he could tell they were unaccustomed to hard work. They were feminine and didn’t seem to bear any bruises. She was beautiful, extremely beautiful.

 

He sighed wearily. What was he to do with a woman who looked like she belonged in a castle? It was bad enough he had deceived her into coming here; how was he going to keep her satisfied long enough for his children to outgrow their need for her? He had nothing to offer—nothing but a failing farm and six hungry children. They were lacking food, money, clothes, and hygiene. He had put out an ad for a wife because he hoped to put her to work around the house and on the farm. But the thought of putting ‘Little Miss Perfect’ to work made him feel like a monster. She seemed like a trophy, one that was to be put on display, never to be touched or used, only to be admired.

 

He rose to his feet, gaining her attention. She frowned.

 

“Good morning, Miss Austin,” he called, running his hands down his face and hoping he didn’t look as tired as he actually felt. If he did, he would look like he had been run over by a wagon.

 

Miss Austin placed both fists on her hips, the frown on her face deepening. “Doesn’t seem like much good is left in this morning, Mr. McAllister. On top of our need to have a serious conversation, you seem to have run out of food items.”

 

Raymond nodded. “I will check the barn for some eggs.” He turned to exit the front door, praying earnestly that his only hen had been gracious enough to lay an egg or two.

 

“And sugar, flour, bacon, coffee, milk…”

 

He froze in his tracks, her words filling him with anxiety; he didn’t have the money. Her list for breakfast seemed like a list for Christmas, and he didn’t think he could afford that much, even for the holidays.

 

“And some soap. I ran out of soap last night, and I would really like to wash the children’s hair. I fear they might have some lice living in there somewhere. I also cannot stand the sight of these floors and your windows!” She sighed loudly. “What sort of house doesn’t have glass for its window panes? And have you considered repainting these walls? I feel as though this house is about to cave in on me.”

 

“That’s a large breakfast.” His throat suddenly felt dry.

 

“Perhaps. But the children seem to be awfully in need of a good diet. Yourself included, Mr. McAllister. While I’m raging something furious about your decision to lie to me about your children’s existence, I do not hate you enough to want you dead. Neither you nor those lovely children. Millie’s having nightmares, and I’m convinced it has everything to do with the child’s need for a balanced diet. Also, there might not be another coach going to New York for a few more weeks, and I’m not mentally prepared for that journey just yet.”

 

Raymond turned around to find her scanning the room.

 

“You also have terrible taste, so I'll assume you need my help to give this room a burst of color. Perhaps we could buy some bright curtains and a rug? That would be wonderful…” She raised her gaze to his, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

 

Raymond felt dazed at her requests. There were so many; they made him realize what a failure he had been. He was neither capable of meeting the needs of his children nor the wants of his new...bride. Perhaps he needed to be honest about his financial state. She needed to know the truth about their need to manage the little resources they had. He could afford neither bacon, nor coffee, nor flour, nor sugar. He only had eggs from a hen that would most likely produce nothing in a long while, a bunch of wild weeds that would make for a wonderful tea, a farm in desperate need of revival, and six hungry children to feed.

 

He had opened his mouth to speak—to say those exact words—when the brightness in her eyes dimmed and the smile on her lips died. Her eyes suddenly filled with understanding, and her countenance fell.

 

“I didn’t…” She sighed, clasping her trembling hands before her. He could tell, just by looking at her, that she felt pity for him. “I have a few dollars…”

 

Heat immediately climbed up Raymond’s neck and to his cheeks, embarrassment and rage setting his entire face on fire.

 

“Perhaps we could cut down on the list and only purchase what you think is important. I’m sure the children would enjoy a breakfast, and it's been a while since I ate anything healthy—”

 

Raymond’s fingers balled into a fist as he listened to her offer to pay to feed his children.

 

“I will see about your list, Miss Austin,” he snapped, cutting her off, as humiliation and shame simultaneously ran down his spine. “I do not need your money. I am perfectly capable of providing for my own children.”

 

He didn’t wait for her response, pride forcing his feet forward and into the chilly morning.

 

He would see to her request without a means of paying for it.