Winning The Mail-Order Bride

“We’ll help,” Wyatt offered.

Lately, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to feel pride, or be proud of her sons, but she was proud at this moment. The table was cleared in no time, and with her permission, the boys went outside to play. After scraping some soap into the tub of warm water, she started washing the dishes and, upon his insistence, handed them to Brett to dry and put away.

“I—uh—I’m sorry about your husband,” he said when the silence grew a bit thick.

“Thank you,” she said out of courtesy but then broached the subject she’d been contemplating since finding the boys at his house. “I can only imagine what my sons told you.”

“Nothing bad,” Brett said. “Just that their father had died and that you came here to marry Josiah Melbourne because some church lady told you to.”

“That about sums it up,” she admitted.

“Sounds to me like that woman needs to listen to what the preacher’s preaching.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “That may be true, but it was what we needed—the boys and I. A fresh start.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, don’t you have any family?”

“No. My parents died when I was young.”

“Who’d you live with, then?”

“My aunt and uncle. They had several of their own children and were very glad when I married Sam.” She bit the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t like her to blurt out such personal information. If she hadn’t stopped herself, she would have told him she and her sons wouldn’t have been any more welcome with her aunt and uncle now than she had been twenty years ago.

“How old were you when you married your husband?”

“Seventeen. I thought I was old enough. Thought I knew what I wanted.” Grabbing another plate, she clamped her back teeth together. One meal shouldn’t make her feel as if she needed to share her entire life story. She must be overly tired and not thinking straight. Or nervous. Being alone with him had heightened her senses. She could feel him moving about to return the dishes to their rightful places. Knew the exact moment he stepped closer to her again. Like right now. Beneath the wash water, she squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“Oak Grove is a good town,” he said. “You’ll like it once you get to know everyone.”

“I hope so,” she said. “The boys need a place where they feel welcome.” That was better. What the children needed wasn’t a hidden secret.

“We all do,” he said. “Big or little.”

“That’s true.”

“That had to take a lot of guts,” he said. “Courage, I mean. For all of you. Moving away from Ohio.”

He was obviously as nervous as she was, and the idea of that—of a man his size, so capable of so many things, being uneasy—made her grin. Only because in some silly, unfathomable way, it made her relax a bit. “I wouldn’t call it courage,” she said.

“I would. That’s what it takes. Some folks spend their whole lives wishing things would change but never once realize they have to do something to make them change.”

She handed him the last pan and then walked to the table to wipe it down. “You say that like you’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“I have, more than once.”

The thoughtfulness of his tone had her turning around. He merely grinned before turning around to put the pan in the cupboard. Her heart skipped a beat and the swelling in her throat made her swallow, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything to say, even though she’d like to know more. She wanted to know why a man so kindhearted, successful and handsome wasn’t married. Were the women in this town blind? His back was to her, and even that was so fit, so muscular and shapely in how it narrowed from broad, thick shoulders to a trim waist, it awakened that feminine and primal part deep inside her that hadn’t been awakened in a long time. A very long time.

She had to swallow again as he turned about, and tightened her leg muscles to keep her from wobbling.

“I’ll go dump this water,” he said, picking up the tub.

Heart thudding, it was a moment before she trusted her legs to work. Then she crossed the room and draped the cloth over the edge of the counter. “I—I’ll collect the boys. It’s getting late, and...” Unable to think of more to say, she nodded. “Thank you again for the meal.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

Drawing another deep breath, trying to quell the awakening that continued to grow, she hurried out the door.

Chapter Three (#uccfdf28a-49ae-5942-bf78-94e4d4144b80)

The single bed in the house was small and the mattress so thin it fell between the rope stays. It shouldn’t matter. Fiona was so tired and worn-out more than any other time she could recall—she should have fallen asleep as fast as the boys had.

Thankfully, her breathing had returned to normal and the throbbing in parts of her that shouldn’t be throbbing had stopped. That had happened hours ago, yet sleep hadn’t arrived.

As her gaze went to the window, to the quiet darkness emitting nothing except a single star in the faraway sky, Fiona knew she couldn’t blame her sleeplessness on the bed, or even on her body’s reaction to spending the evening with a handsome man.

She was scared. Scared she’d made the wrong choice.

Brett’s kindness, how he’d shared his fish and eggs with them, should be looked upon as a sign of what the others in the community were like. How she and the boys would be welcomed. Instead, she was comparing him to Josiah. Weighing Brett’s welcome against Josiah’s. Everything inside her said the differences would continue, and that made her fear what was to come in the next few days. And the years after that.

She’d had practice in that area. Comparing men. As Sam had changed, she had too. She’d started to compare herself to other women—how happy and satisfied they were in their lives to how she felt. That was when she’d started to compare their husbands to Sam. Not just in attractiveness, but how they treated their wives. Her hope had been to find a man who would treat her and her sons with compassion and kindness this time, and she greatly feared that hadn’t happened.

Would life be better for her children here? It had seemed that way in Ohio. That moving away was their only chance to find something different. She’d lost all hope back there and was having a hard time finding any tonight. Or of finding any peace in believing she’d done what had to be done, any optimism in believing she had the strength to continue upon this path she’d chosen.

She wasn’t a weak or frail woman. Hard work had never worried her, and her faith had never failed her, yet it was none of those things that lingered in the back of her mind right now. It was her. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a mayor. Of a man so prominent. More than that, though, was her worry of how Josiah would treat her children. He’d shown no compassion or understanding for what they had been through before leaving Ohio nor shown any concern about their arrival in a strange place. Not even when it came to their hunger.

She’d had to be strong her entire life and had hoped that would change here. That the man she’d promised to wed would be her shelter against the storm that had raged upon her for so long. Life had worn her out, and she was tired of being tired. Tired of fighting the battle by herself.

Perhaps she was just being selfish and just needed time to get to know Josiah better.

The bed creaked as Wyatt shifted.

Lying on her side in order to leave as much space for the boys as possible, Fiona twisted to look over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” she whispered as he slipped off the bed.

“To sleep on the floor,” he said.

“No, Wyatt, you—”

“It won’t be any worse than the train,” he said, gathering one of the blankets.

“I’ll—”

“No, Ma, I will sleep on the floor.”

He was stubborn, especially when he set his mind to something. Pulling the pillow out from beneath her head, she handed it to him. “Take this pillow too.”

“No. You need that one. Rhett’s using the other one. I’ll be fine.” A thump and shuffling sounded as he settled onto the floor. “I’ll be right here, so don’t worry, Ma. Get yourself some sleep.”