Nordin, Ruth Ann - South Dakota Series 02 - Bid for a Bride (4 page)

"Oh, there you are," Addy said as she walked over to her and motioned to the box in her arms. "I collected the things we’ll need to make soup. Are you ready to go home?"

Relieved, Lucy nodded.

"Be sure to come back around three," Mrs. Beecham called out. "I expect the chickens to be ready to sell by then."

"I’ll do that," Addy replied.

"And don’t you take any badmouthing from anyone in this town," Mrs. Beecham told Lucy. "Hold your head high, girl. No sense in cowering when you did nothing wrong."

Lucy stared at the woman, unable to think of a proper response, and Addy saved her from having to say anything for she replied, "Don’t you worry about Lucy. She’ll be fine once she gets used to everyone. She’s overwhelmed."

"That’s understandable," Mrs. Beecham said. "We can all be a scary lot."

Frank and Addy chuckled, and maybe if Lucy was able to laugh the whole thing off, she might too. But she couldn’t, and so she didn’t. She turned and followed Addy out of the store, glancing in the direction the two men went so she could get a good look at them because if either one decided to call on her in the future, she’d know to tell them no.

"Are you feeling alright?" Addy asked.

"I’m tired," Lucy replied, not wishing to dwell on the local rumor mill. She wasn’t up for it at the moment.

"When we get home, you may lie down and rest."

Glad to hear it, she pulled her bonnet forward and crossed her arms again as they continued down the street.

Lucy stared out the kitchen window, holding the knife over the vegetables she was cutting for the soup Addy wanted to make.

She wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Instead, images from her past came in rapid succession.

Meeting Adam, his asking if he could court her, the brief but happy courtship period, the wedding, their plans for the future where they were supposed to make a home together in Oregon… Tears slid down her cheeks, and she quickly brushed them away. Lies. Everything he ever told her was a bunch of lies.

Addy entered the kitchen and set a pound of chicken on the counter. She sighed in satisfaction and put her apron on. "This will make for a good soup now."

Lucy forced a smile and resumed cutting the vegetables in front of her.

Addy rubbed her back. "Give it time."

Clearing her throat, she softly said, "Thank you for taking me in."

"It’s the least I could do, dear."

As Addy unwrapped the chicken, Lucy glanced out the window and saw a man driving a wagon with Eliza and Brian on it. She twirled the knife in her hand, not feeling up to seeing them again. It wasn’t that they’d been rude to her, but she felt as if Brian could detect things about her no one else could and that bothered her.

She turned to Addy. "Do they come often?" She pointed to the window.

Addy threw the wrapper out and pushed aside enough of the curtain so she could see who Lucy meant. "Why, no they don’t. They usually stay out at their place. I wonder what they’re doing back so soon."

Lucy sighed. Just her luck.

Addy chuckled. "I think they’re here to see you."

She gasped. "What’s so special about me?"

Shrugging, she said, "I suppose you caught Brian’s fancy."

Daring another look out the window, she watched in dismay as the three dismounted from the wagon.

"Who’s the other man?"

"Oh, that’s John. He can’t talk, but he’s got a good heart."

"Right." Because according to Addy, all the Evans were good folk. She didn’t doubt Addy, but the last thing she wanted, or needed, was to entertain people. Once Addy brought her back after the tour of the town, she got much needed rest, and she rather enjoyed the quiet of being alone. But, apparently, the reprieve she’d been granted was at an end.

Addy wiped her hands. "I’ll get the door. You can keep cutting."

Reluctant, Lucy did just that, instead of bolting for the room Addy had given her to sleep in. She listened as Addy opened the front door and welcomed the Evans into the house, and though she couldn’t hear much of what was being said, she picked up on their closeness.

When they entered the kitchen, Lucy glanced over her shoulder and offered a smile, knowing it was hesitant, especially as her gaze went to Brian. She quickly looked away from him.

"How are you doing, Lucy?" Eliza asked, offering a kind smile.

Shrugging, Lucy said, "Fine. Just tired."

Addy approached Lucy and took the knife from her. "Brian wishes to have a word with you. I’ll cut the rest of this for you."

Lucy wanted to protest, but Eliza came over to them and gave a reassuring pat on Lucy’s back. "I’ll help Addy get supper started." Glancing at John who sat down, she playfully added, "He’ll stay here and listen to us engage in boring women’s talk."

John shot Eliza an amused look.

Lucy let out a wistful sigh. What it must be like to have a love like the kind Eliza and John did. Their affection for each other was obvious to anyone who cared to pay attention. When she realized the others were watching her, she handed Addy the knife and removed her apron.

Setting the apron on the back of a chair, she cleared her throat and approached Brian. "You wish to speak with me?"

Brian nodded but turned his face to the direction where Addy and Eliza stood at the work table. "Mrs.

Garrison, may we go to the porch?"

"Go on ahead," Addy replied. "We got everything in here covered."

Lucy promptly turned and headed down the hallway, keenly aware that Brian was behind her. Her shoes clacked loudly through the house, and even Eliza and Addy’s chatter from the kitchen couldn’t drown it out. She hurried out of the house, glad to quiet the sound her shoes made when she walked.

Usually, she didn’t notice such things, but with Brian around, there was a tendency to notice every little detail.

She sat in one of the rocking chairs, noticing he didn’t have his walking stick. "Don’t you need your stick when you go outside?"

He settled into the chair next to hers and smiled. "I do, but this porch isn’t far from the inside of the house."

"Oh, yes." Her cheeks warmed. She should have understood that. Rocking uneasily in her chair, she scanned the area. A couple of women talked across the street, but they were a few houses down so she couldn’t get a good look at them.

"I hope it’s alright that I wanted to talk to you," he said.

She turned her attention back to him and ventured a good look at his eyes. He faced her, and just to be sure he really couldn’t see her, she waved her hand in front of his face.

He chuckled. "No. I can’t see you waving your hand."

She frowned. "Then how do you know I did that?"

"I felt the breeze on my face and smelled lavender. Well, I smelled some vegetables too. You were cutting vegetables in the kitchen?" When she didn’t answer, he continued, "I notice things about people. The way they talk, the way they smell, the way they feel."

"The way they feel?"

"Sure. You can tell a lot about a person from the way they shake hands. Take you, for example. Your skin is soft. That means you weren’t raised on a farm. You probably spent most of your life doing household chores, helping out your ma. Since you did some work though, it means you didn’t come from a wealthy family, so I’d guess you came from a smaller town but one bigger than this one. And judging by your hesitation when you shook my hand, I frighten you."

Her lower jaw dropped, and it took her a moment to respond.

"You gathered all of that from a handshake?"

"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to startle you. It’s just that when you’ve been blind all of your life, you find ways to learn about people other than watching them. It’s automatic. I gauge people without thinking about it."

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap.

"You don’t like the way I do that," he said.

Blinking, she said the first thing that came to mind. "Well, it’s positively spooky."

At that, he laughed. "I apologize. I’m not trying to be spooky."

She caught herself laughing along with him, and the simple act of laughing calmed her nerves a bit. "I suppose it’s like you said. You have to pick up things without sight so you use your other senses, but you seem to notice things about people that seeing people don’t."

"I observe and listen. There’s not much more to it than that."

Maybe not, but she didn’t think she could ever collect so much background information from someone by shaking their hand.

He shifted in his chair and faced the street. A woman called out for her son to get back to the house, and he grinned. "That’s Annabelle Carter. She has the shrill tone in her voice when she calls out to her boy. I’ve known her since grade school. She married Tom four years ago and had the boy, Charlie, two years later."

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "You were fond of her."

"Yes, I was. That was good, you know. You picked that up without having to see it."

"Oh." She shrugged. "I heard the wistful tone in your voice."

"So you see, there’s nothing spooky about it. Do I frighten you now?"

"Not so much."

He smiled. "Well, at least it’s better than before."

The breeze blew across the porch and stray stands of her hair got in her eyes so she quickly tucked them back into place.

"There is something I wish to discuss with you, if I may?"

She turned her gaze to him, noting that he was looking in her direction again. Though it still made her uneasy to know he was looking at her without seeing her, she said, "You may."

After a moment of awkward silence, he began, "I am aware of the circumstances that brought you to this town."

Who wasn’t? She sighed and waited for him to continue.

"You’ll have to forgive me." He cleared his throat. "I’m not graceful when it comes to talking to women. I thought… that is, I came to ask if you were considering marriage to a man in this town?" He cleared his throat again and waited.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. The question was bluntly stated, but his tone was gentle and even a bit apprehensive. Finally, she told him the truth. "I just got here. I’m overwhelmed with all that’s happened. It doesn’t feel real yet. I know it is, but I keep thinking I’ll wake up and realize it’s all been a bad dream."

He nodded.

They remained silent, lost in their own thoughts and rocking their respective chairs while life played out around them. The two women continued to talk further down the street.

Annabelle’s boy ran off again, and she set about the task of bringing him back to the yard. An older woman sat on her porch across from them and worked on some knitting. The only sound coming from their porch was the squeaks the chairs made.

Straightening in his chair, he stopped rocking and said, "If you were to consider marriage, I thought I’d offer a proposal. Should you be in the family way, you might need a husband to protect you and the baby. I can give you a good home too. I have my own house and make a steady income. And if there is a baby, I will raise him as my own. I had a father who took me out of town and put me in a field when I was eight. It was a month after my mother died." He paused, a slight flicker of something Lucy couldn’t identify crossing his face. "If you were to go on to the next life, I wouldn’t abandon the child. I’ll give him my name and my home, just as Eliza and John gave me theirs."

She blinked and a tear fell down her cheek. Wiping it with the sleeve of her dress, she said, "It’s terrible, what happened to you."

"No more terrible than what happened to you," he softly replied. "And I don’t wish to rush you in making a decision, but it’d be easier for the child if others thought he was mine. If you wouldn’t mind being my wife, I’d like to marry sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t expect us to be… together in the way of husband and wife until we got a chance to know each other better. You and I are the only ones who need to know the child isn’t mine."

If there was a child… She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair as she thought over the ramifications of saying yes and saying no. He was right. She knew how people were. Even the best towns had people who’d frown at the notion that she had a married man’s child, regardless of the circumstances surrounding the conception. She recalled the two men she’d overheard in town. What Brian was offering her was something she’d be hard pressed to find with anyone else, and although his uncanny ability to detect so much about her still unnerved her, she knew she’d be a fool to pass this opportunity up.

"Yes," she finally said.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Yes?"

Her lips curled up into a smile. "Yes, I’ll marry you. Is that so hard to believe?"

It seemed to take him a moment before he understood what she said, but then he smiled. "When would you like to marry?"

"Well, you said sooner is better than later, so I suppose today is as good a day as any. Maybe after supper?"

He nodded, still smiling widely. "That will be fine."

Despite the stress of the past day and a half, she found herself smiling in return. Brian struck her as someone who had an unbridled enthusiasm for life, not the contrived enthusiasm Adam had. And maybe that marked a profound difference between the two men. Everything Adam said and did had been an image he wanted to portray to those around him. But with Brian, what one saw was what one got, and after what she’d just been through, she preferred Brian.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss?" she asked.

"No. That’s all I had to say."

"I’d like to go in and help the women with the supper, if that’s alright?"