A Convenient Wife

She cast him a questioning glance. “You know I am, Doc.” Ellie halted midway across the kitchen and turned to him. “She sounded kinda funny, though. She asked me if we’d talked about a change in my status. And I said, did she mean from poor to well-to-do?”

“Your status?” Win snatched at the word, well aware of Tess’s meaning.

“I suppose she was thinking how different my life is now, since I’ve been here. But I don’t know exactly what she meant.”

Win pulled her chair out and waited as she picked up bowls of vegetables from the stove. Watching him closely, she placed them on the table, then slid onto her seat. She’d eyed him curiously the first time he held her chair for her, but had come to accept the small courtesy without comment. He walked to his place and sat down, weighing his words carefully.

“I think she was referring to your status as a single woman,” he said. “I have a notion folks are wondering about us, Ellie.”

“What for?” she asked. “What is there to wonder about? I’m your housekeeper and you’re the town doctor.”

“Some folks saw me kiss your forehead on the way home from church Sunday morning, honey. There’s been talk.”

“People think I’m after you?” she asked, fingers lifting to cover her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. “I’ve never meant to—”

He reached across the table and clasped her wrist. “Don’t, Ellie. Don’t even think that. It’s not you they’re speaking of. It’s me. They think I’m taking advantage of you.” It wasn’t the sum total of the gossip that was circulating, but not for a moment would Win allow Ellie to be privy to the words that criticized her presence in his home.

“You haven’t,” she gasped. “Not for a minute. You wouldn’t.” Her head shook from side to side as she spoke, and tears formed in her dark eyes, spilling onto her bodice.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Win said, reproach gnawing at him. “But the truth is, I did kiss you, Ellie. And in so doing, I’ve compromised your…” Somehow, virtue wasn’t the correct word to use here, he decided.

“Reputation,” he finished with a nod.

“I didn’t have much of a reputation when I got here,” she said softly. “I’m sure that little peck on my forehead didn’t do a whole lot of damage.”

“Well, it made folks talk. And I won’t allow them to besmirch your name in any way.”

“You can’t go fighting any battles over me, Doc,” she told him. “I’ll just have to find someplace else to live.”

He shook his head. “Not on your life, honey. You’re staying here, where you belong.” Releasing her hand, he motioned to her fork. “Come on, now. Eat your supper, and I’ll tell you what I think we should do.”

Obediently, she picked up the utensil and speared a piece of carrot, carrying it to her mouth and chewing it, her eyes never leaving his face. And then she leaned back. “I can’t eat till you put me out of my misery, Doc,” she told him. “What are you planning?”

“Well,” he began, picking up a chicken leg and inspecting it. “You do fry chicken to a turn, Ellie,” he said with a grin, then turned the full force of that smile in her direction. His teeth bit into the tender meat and he chewed for a moment, wondering how she would take the revelation of his plan.

There was only one way to find out.

“Your father has been making noises again, about you living here. And along with folks being curious about my intentions, I’ve decided we should get married.”

Ellie dropped her fork, and it clattered against the thick china plate, then fell to the floor. “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “Now look what I’ve done.”

“I’ll get you another fork,” he said, rising quickly and walking to the buffet.

“Not that,” she said, her voice breaking as tears formed. She looked up at him and anguish painted her features. “I’ve put you in a terrible spot, Doc. You don’t want to marry me, any more than you want to…” She halted as if she could think of nothing horrendous enough to compare.

“Oh, but I do,” he said, placing the fork in her cold fingers. “Now, sit up there and eat,” he told her, circling to his own chair. He watched as she chewed and swallowed bites of potato and a forkful of green beans. Woodenly, she reached for a piece of chicken and ate it, her eyes fastened to her plate, as if something there was too marvelous to ignore.

“Ellie?” He spoke her name quietly, carefully, and was rewarded when she looked up at him.

“Doc? Are you funning me?” she asked, and beneath the scoffing words, he detected a note of hope.

“No.” His head shook slowly. “No, I wouldn’t do that, Ellie. You know me better than that, I’d think.

“I thought we’d go and see the preacher,” he told her, mindful of her stillness. She’d eaten a bit of the chicken, but not enough to please him. “If you eat everything on your plate, we can go after supper,” he said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

She looked down with a frown. “I don’t think I have any appetite,” she said. “My mind’s just spinning around in a circle, and I feel dizzy.”

“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

Her color was good. In fact, he’d say she looked downright healthy. Except for the dazed look in her eyes, and that was to be expected, he supposed.

“No.” She shook her head. “I never faint. I come from sturdy stock. But I surely do feel like I’ve been dreaming and somebody’s gonna come by and pinch me awake any minute now.”

“It’s no dream,” Win said. “And nobody’s going to pinch you awake. I’m going to make a bride out of you, honey.” And if he knew what was good for himself, and for Ellie, too, he’d save the wife part for later.

Chapter Five

A fist pounding on the door caught Ellie unawares as she cleared the table, and within minutes, Win had spoken to the visitor and was on his way, black leather bag in hand.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he called back over his shoulder. “Depends on how much stitching up I need to do.” His response had been immediate, his mind set on the man who waited on a ranch outside of town, broken bone exposed, and in too much pain to be moved.

Ellie nodded in agreement, closing the door behind him, then set about cleaning up the kitchen. The visit to the parsonage would wait. Win’s patient would not. A glimmer of what life would be like as the wife of a doctor made her pause in her work, the dish towel caressing the plate she held.

Win’s face had been set in lines she was becoming familiar with, lines that bespoke his concentration on the task at hand. Nothing was as important to Winston Gray as the people who depended on him for the skills he possessed. A wife would come in second to that multitude, Ellie thought. And yet, even that fact could not dissuade her from the notion of marriage.

She’d protested mildly, yet her heart had raced with joy as he declared his intentions. Mrs. Winston Gray. The sound of those words vibrated in her mind as she rubbed the surface of the plate she held, and she spoke them aloud.

“Mrs. Winston Gray.” Her mouth curved in a smile as she repeated the title, drawing out each syllable with anticipation. She would walk by his side every Sunday morning from now on, march down the aisle of that small church and sit with him, her skirt touching his trousers, her hand occasionally brushing his as they shared a hymnal.

That a man like Win should consider marriage to Ellie Mitchum was not to be believed. And yet, he’d said it was so, that they would talk to the minister and then speak their vows. She would hold her head up, no longer the cast-off daughter, but the chosen wife.

He was handsome. There was no doubt of that, yet it wasn’t only his good looks that made her heart beat faster. Large, but well-formed, his hands were gentle. His body was tall and rangy, well put together, with not a trace of fat apparent. She knew the breadth of his shoulders, wide beneath the suit coat he wore, for only yesterday she’d ironed three of his shirts. They were tapered, by the looks of them tailored especially for him. Not for Win the merchandise from Tess’s store. Rather, the fine broadcloth of clothing that spoke of city stores and handmade garments.

Yet, there was more to Win than the outer trappings. Beneath the skin itself beat the heart of a man bent on helping those in need. Kindness was his watchword, Ellie decided, placing the plate in the cupboard and lifting another into the keeping of her dish towel.

He truly cared, and upon that quality hung his decision to marry her. She was only one in a long list of those he tended. In this case, he’d extended his helping hand to an unheard of magnitude, that of marriage to a nobody. And didn’t that put her in her place.

She sighed, examining the plate she’d polished to a fine sheen, and then lifted it to the glass-fronted cabinet where his dishes were stored. A blurred reflection met her gaze, and she saw, within the waving glass image, a woebegone female who, but for the tender heart of a doctor, was bound for despair.

Ordinary. That’s what she was. Ordinary, and in need. Without a doubt.

She bent closer to the reflecting glass. Surely something about her nondescript image must have appealed to the man. Not even Win would take a woman in marriage on the basis of compassion alone.

Ellie straightened, stiffening her spine. If he’d seen something worthy in her, then it would behoove her to seek out that same quality and shine it to perfection. She would be a credit to him, not allowing him to be shamed by her presence in his home.

“You need clothes. And you need them now. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking of, not taking you to the mercantile. Tess is sure to have dresses that will fit.” Win pushed back from the table and rose. “We’ll take a walk over there as soon as I run next door to check on Kate.”

The morning sun was high in the sky, and Win was in good spirits. The compound fracture had been set and the stitches put in place in record time, he’d told her. His arrival home, long after dark, had prompted her from her bed, and she’d poured him coffee from the pot left on the back of the stove, then sat with him at the kitchen table while he spoke of the house call.