Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) (5 page)

A
nthony pulled
at his collar as he opened the door of Borroum’s for his new wife. He jingled the coins in his pocket--some of the very few he had left--and thought about what Mr. Banks had just told him.

Corinth was in the middle of an economic boom, and almost twenty-five years after the Civil War, everyone was glad for it. As the crossroads of major railways, Corinth had been a focal point, the meeting place for the troops of the North and the South. Corinth changed hands a number of times, and a major battle, the Battle of Shiloh, had been fought nearby.

Things had calmed down a great deal since then, and stores and industries were popping up all over--like this store, Borroum’s drug store and soda fountain. It was a favorite of Anthony’s--as was the better restaurant down the street--but since his parents and Adelaide passed, and Anthony had learned that the store that his father had built wasn’t doing as well as they’d thought, he’d spent more time in the drugstore than the fancier places in town.

He winced at the memory of supper last night, Michelle’s first night, and the empty silver case in the corner. Mr. Banks had kindly offered to purchase several family heirlooms and it had kept Anthony and the store in business and the house running--although it hadn’t been enough to keep the nanny.

Holding his hand briefly near Michelle’s bustle as he escorted her into the shop, he noticed her dress. He’d thought long and hard about sending her the money for the new dresses, knowing that her circumstances were such that she’d have none. As several well-dressed ladies turned to him and smiled, he was glad he’d done so. It wouldn’t have been fitting for the new wife of the best clothing store in town to turn up in sack cloth.

He nodded as he passed by the young ladies who batted their eyelashes as he did. He sighed--had he been interested, he might have courted any one of the many eligible, lovely young southern ladies in Corinth. But that was impossible in his current situation--he wasn’t willing to let any of the townspeople who had known his father know about his financial circumstances.

He actually wasn’t willing to let Michelle know, either, but his chances were greater that he could keep that from her than from someone from Corinth. He guessed that now was as good a time as any for him to introduce Michelle, get that part over with. He imagined it would be a bit of a surprise due to his family’s standing in the community, but the sooner he dropped that pebble of information into the pond, the sooner the ripples would end.

“Hello, ladies. What a lovely Sunday, isn’t it?” He took off his hat and nodded to the smiling ladies.

“Why Anthony, who is this stunning young lady on your arm?” Both ladies’ eyes were stuck on Michelle, and Anthony turned to her, pleased to see her broad smile and innocent eagerness to meet them.

“Melanie Davis and Penelope Benson, please allow me to introduce Michelle Blake. Er--Michelle Chandler. Michelle is my wife.”

Anthony’s eyes followed the soda glass that slipped out of Melanie’s hands and clattered to the ground, shooting soda on the bottom of her dress.

“Oh, my,” Michelle said as she picked up the glass and looked around, Anthony imagined for something to clean up the soda with.

He looked up and met the frowning glare of Miss Benson as her friend fanned herself, her face flushed. Anthony knew that Melanie had had her sights on him for a long time, and even if he
had
been able to court in Corinth, she would not have been on his list of potential wives. All the better to get this over with and out in the open now.

By the time Michelle stood up and set the empty soda glass on the counter, Miss Benson’s frown had turned into a forced smile. Miss Davis still looked as if she’d swallowed lemons, her lips puckered and her eyes cast downward.

“Melanie, let’s congratulate the new couple and move on. We’re expected at the Archies’ for tea soon.” She extended her gloved hand to Michelle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Chandler. Welcome to Corinth. I do hope you’ll enjoy it here.”

Miss Davis squeaked a, “Nice to meet you,” before she glanced quickly up at Anthony and followed her friend out the door. Anthony shook his head as the ladies looked back once before the door closed behind her.

Michelle lightly brushed at her skirts, swishing them a bit as some of the dropped soda had landed on her, too.

Anthony took a towel from the counter and bent down, wiping the remaining root beer from her skirts. As he stood, Michelle looked up at him with twinkling, crystal blue eyes and a big, bright smile. “I do apologize for that,” he said as he set the towel down on the counter.

Anthony’s heart tugged at her kind innocence. Had she not noticed that Melanie was shooting daggers at her from her eyes? Apparently not.

Michelle looked down at her skirts and laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. It’ll clean right up. Besides, I chose this fabric especially because I knew it would be easy to clean.”

His ears perked up. That’s right, she’d been a seamstress. The thought had crossed his mind when he’d chosen her letter to respond to that she might be helpful in the shop, but with all the commotion with the girls, he’d quite forgotten.

“Do you mean to tell me that you made the dress you’re wearing?”

Her eyes grew wide and she looked down at her dress, lifting up the sides of her skirts with her hands. Color crept into her cheeks and she looked up at him. “I didn’t have much to do after I’d written to you. I love to sew, and thought my time would be well spent making a wedding dress. I suppose it was a little hopeful--and forward.”

He turned and looked at her--almost as if for the first time. He looked down at the hem of her dress. He’d been running the shop with his father long enough to know good quality stitching when he saw it. He’d assumed that the dress she was wearing was one she’d bought but he looked at it with new eyes.

As his eyes met her hopeful ones, he took a step back, struck by the red ringlets that fell over her shoulders and her wide, sincere eyes.

He cleared his throat, took a step back and said, “It’s beautiful, Michelle. As are you.”

“Thank you. I love to sew and I’m very pleased that you like it.”

He frowned as he realized that this woman had placed great confidence in him, pulled up stakes and moved almost halfway across the country to help him, and that he’d not been quite honest with her. Heck, he hadn’t even told her what business he was in, let alone that it was sinking faster than he could bail.

She looped his arm through his as they turned to the counter to place their orders. He looked up at the ceiling and over to the drug store counter, and his stomach clenched as his eyes lighted on his new bride. He could kick himself. After all she’d been through to even
get
to Corinth after agreeing to become his wife and help with the twins, she certainly deserved better than a soda on her wedding day.

M
ichelle sighed
as she folded her wedding dress on the chair. The root beer had dried on the bottom of her skirt, making it stiff and sticky, but she had no doubt that she’d be able to clean it. When she’d made it for her wedding, she’d taken time to make sure that it would be beautiful for her special day, but also something she could wear again--and she knew she would.

She changed into a comfortable day dress, one she’d bought with the money Anthony had sent. She and Josephine had done what she thought was an admirable job of spending as little as possible to purchase what Anthony had listed, and she fingered the skirt of one of her favorites. She’d thought maybe it was a bit fancy at the time, but clearly Anthony had plenty of money and while she didn’t think she could
ever
give herself permission to freely spend money--she’d grown up poor and had never had enough--she did tingle with excitement that she might be in a position to help others less fortunate.

She crossed to the window, her gaze falling on the tree-lined drive and the piles of fallen leaves. Mattie and Missy were still piling leaves up and jumping into them, sometimes spreading their arms wide and dropping straight, falling into a deep cushion of crimson and yellow, the other giggling as the leaves puffed into the air and settled back down, ready for another round.

The cool glass felt good on her forehead. It hadn’t been a very long walk back, but long enough for her to be glad to remove her heavy coat when they’d reached the Robbins’ Nest.

She laughed as the twins both leaped into a pile of leaves together and crashed to the ground, giggling. She hadn’t had anyone to play with when she’d been their age--well, actually hadn’t been able to play much at all. Her father died suddenly when she was about their age, and her mother had had to start working at the factory as a seamstress.

She hadn’t seen much of her mother after that, but her heart warmed as she remembered the times that she did see her. Her mother had made it a point to make supper every night and afterward, she’d sit next to Michelle, quietly teaching her how to sew.

“It’ll come in handy for you someday, my love,” she’d said as she smiled at Michelle’s little hands struggling with the needle and thread.

On Sundays, she accompanied her mother to church and then later around to visit friends, sometimes in the poorest neighborhoods in Lawrence--poorer, even, than her own. As she got older, she noticed that her mother would leave every Sunday with full bags of mending and come home with them full of different clothing, all needing repair. It wasn’t until Michelle was almost a teenager that she put two and two together, and realized that the items of clothing she’d been sewing in the evening with her mother had been returned the following week to their owners--no longer with holes in the knees or elbows, and sometimes with a new bit of lace, her mother spending what little extra she had to help the people she knew needed it most.

She’d been flooded with this memory as she and Anthony had walked home through a park in the middle of Corinth. As they’d strolled, her arm through his, a group of children caught her attention as they climbed one of the several trees in the park.

She’d gasped as one of the young boys fell--granted, from the lowest branch and no harm was done. But she’d thought of her mother when he’d stood and looked down at his knee, his eyes wide.

A younger boy hung by his arms then dropped to the ground, kneeling down to look at the offending hole in the other’s pants.

“Uh-oh. Ma’s gonna have your hide, Jake,” he said, speeding off when Jake tried to swat him. She watched them until they reached the end of the park and turned a corner.

“Did you see that?” she’d said to Anthony, who she thought had been watching the event unfold.

He sighed as he looked over to the corner the boys had slipped around. “Yes, I did. Boys will get into trouble, won’t they?”

“Trouble? A hole in your pants is trouble? They were just playing.”

He looked around her, looking up at the sycamore tree the boys had been playing in.

“I wouldn’t say trouble, exactly. But I expect his mother won’t be particularly happy when she sees the result.”

Michelle frowned as she looked up at Anthony. “It’s just a little hole. Easily repaired.”

He laughed and looked down at her, his brown eyes clouded. “For you, maybe, as you’re an excellent seamstress. Many of the mothers of these kids work, and I imagine that they have little time for mending.”

She looked up into the tall tree as they passed by. “That’s a shame. This town isn’t that small. Isn’t there a shop that can help?”

Anthony tugged at his collar and looked away, clearing his throat. “No. There isn’t.”

She glanced at him, the tone of his voice one she hadn’t heard before. She realized that she was a new arrival and she didn’t really expect him to tell her everything all at once. It was kind of him to allow her to acclimate at her own pace. She was sure there would be time for more questions later.

She pushed herself from the window, hoping that the time for questions would be sooner, rather than later.

Everything had been so hectic since she’d arrived that she’d not had time to unpack all of her belongings. Thinking of her mother, she reached for her hat box where she’d stored her most prized possessions, tucked inside of one of the hats she’d bought.

She reached for the small, satin bag, running her hand over the embroidery her mother had added to the front. It had been lovely to begin with and the silky purple and white flowers she’d lovingly embroidered were the perfect accent to the lavender satin.

She unbuttoned the clasp and reached in for the small, silver thimble and the collection of needles that her mother had given her just before she died. The thimble had been her grandmother’s before it had been passed to her mother.

Even though she’d worked most recently with sewing machines, she still loved the feel of needle and thread and she slowly placed the thimble in her index finger, its coolness inspiring her.

She looked around her room, spinning slowly as she took in the high ceiling trimmed with beautiful crown molding, the wainscoting on the walls at the top of lovely wallpaper covered with tiny purple flowers and the satin coverlet on the high, four-poster bed. She’d never had such lovely surroundings and felt like a princess, just like the twins had said she looked. And a very fortunate princess, at that.

She wished her mother could see her--her handsome husband and grand home, with two beautiful little girls to care for. And a housekeeper, too!

But if her mother could see her, she’d have pointed out that there were many less fortunate. Her heart tugged at the thought of people having less than she did and her mind started to turn.

What if she could help some of these ladies mend their children’s clothing? Jake couldn’t be the only boy in town who was rough on his knees--and his pants. Anthony hadn’t told her much about what she
would
be doing, and a jolt of excitement coursed through her at the thought that she might have the opportunity to spend some time helping people who needed it, just as she’d done with her mother.