The Substitute Bride Read online

  He clicked to the horses. “I left my children at the neighbor’s. I’ll pick them up tomorrow after breakfast.”

  Elizabeth swayed on the seat. “Children?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Anna and Henry?”

  Sally hadn’t mentioned children. “I’m just…tired.”

  How old were they? Since Mama died, Robby’s care had been left to Martha. Sure, Elizabeth had read to her brother, taught him to tie his laces, but she had no experience caring for children.

  What did she know about husbands for that matter?

  And the tomorrow-morning part—did he intend a wedding night?

  Well, if he had that expectation, she’d call on her touchy stomach. No bridegroom would want a nauseous bride.

  Though if she didn’t get something to eat—and soon—there wouldn’t be a wedding. For surely the bride would be fainting on the groom.

  Chapter Three

  On the drive through town, Ted’s bride glanced from side to side, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. From the dismay plain on her face, the town disappointed her. Ordinarily he wasn’t the edgy type, but this woman had him feeling tighter than a rain-soaked peg.

  Not that Ted thought the town paradise on earth, but he hoped she didn’t look down her aristocratic nose on the good people of New Harmony.

  Silence fell between them while she plucked at her skirts. “I’m…I’m sorry about my clothes.”

  “No use crying over spilt milk.”

  Though money was always a problem. Because of her carelessness he’d have to spend more. Would he rue the day he’d advertised for a wife?

  No, if Sally was kind to Anna and Henry, he could forgive her most anything. From what she’d said in her letters, she liked children and would be good to his.

  If not, he’d send her packing.

  His stomach knotted. He hoped it didn’t come to that. Since Rose’s death, his well-planned life had spun out of control.

  Every day he got further behind with the work. Every day his children got less of his attention. Every day he tried to do it all and failed.

  To add to his turmoil, he’d felt the call to another life.

  A life he didn’t seek. Yet, the unnerving summons to preach was as real, as vivid, as if God Himself had tapped him on the shoulder.

  Him.

  He couldn’t think of a man less qualified. Yet the command seared his mind with the clarity of God speaking to Moses through the burning bush.

  As if that wasn’t enough to leave a man quaking in his boots, his bride, the answer to his prayers, now harbored second thoughts.

  Lord, if this is Your plan for our lives, show us the way.

  Up ahead, Lucille Sorenson swept the entrance of the Sorenson Mercantile. The broom in her hand stilled as she craned her neck to get a look at the woman sitting at his side. He tipped his hat as they rolled past, biting back a grin at the bewildered expression on her face.

  They passed the saloon. Mostly deserted at this hour.

  “Does that tavern foster gambling?”

  Ted’s breath caught. “Reckon so. Never been in the place.”

  “I’m glad.” Sally smiled. “I’m sure I’ll like…the town.”

  “I’ve lived a few places and the people here are good.”

  “Good in what way?”

  “Folks pitched in after Rose died. Insisted on caring for the children and doing my chores. They’ve kept us supplied with enough food to feed an army of thrashers. I owe them plenty.”

  “People like that really exist?”

  He raised a brow. “Aren’t farm folk the same in Illinois?”

  A flash of confusion crossed her face, but she merely shrugged. A prickle of suspicion stabbed at Ted. Something about Sally didn’t ring true. Before he could sort it out, they reached the parsonage.

  Ted pulled on the reins, harder than he’d intended. No reason to take his disquiet out on his team. “Here we are.”

  “Already?”

  “Doesn’t take long to get anywhere in New Harmony.”

  He set the brake, climbed down and walked to her side, reaching up a hand to help her from the seat. She took it and stood, wobbly on her feet. Was she sick? He looked for signs she’d be depositing her lunch in his hat brim. But all he saw was clear skin, apple cheeks and dazzling blue eyes.

  He’d never seen bluer eyes, bluer than the sky on a cloudless day. His attention went back to her skin—smooth, fair with a soft glow about it. He’d have no trouble looking across the table at that face.

  Or across the pillow.

  Why had he thought she wouldn’t suit?

  He wrapped his hands around her waist, so tiny the tips of his fingers all but touched, and lowered her with ease. With her feet mere inches from the ground, their eyes met and held. Ted’s heart stuttered in his chest. His gaze lowered to her mouth, lips slightly parted…

  “Are you going to put me down?” she said, color flooding her cheeks.

  “Sorry.” He quickly set her on her feet.

  She sneezed. Twice. Three times. Then motioned to the road. “This dust is terrible.”

  Ted looked around him, took in the thick coat of dust on the shrubs around the parsonage, further evidence of the drought that held the town in its grip. Unusual for New Harmony.

  “Is it always dusty like this?”

  “’Cept when it rains, then the streets turn to mud.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t something be done?”

  “Like what?”

  She waved a hand at the road. “Like paving it with bricks.”

  “No brickyards in these parts.”

  “Hmm. If the dust turns to mud, why can’t that mud be made into brick?”

  An interesting point, one he hadn’t considered.

  “Well, I shall have to think about the problem,” she said, tapping her lips with her index finger.

  Thunderation. She sounded like the governor. Did she mean to send him out with a pickax and set to work making a road before sundown? “What are you, a reformer?”

  She raised a delicate brow. “Would that bother you?”

  “Hardly think you’ll have time to reform much more than my kitchen.” His gaze swept Main Street, mostly deserted at this time of day. Folks were working either at home, in the fields or the town’s businesses. All except for Oscar and Cecil Moore lazing on a bench in front of Pete’s Barbershop, whittling. “Even if you did, you’ll find nothing much gets done in New Harmony.”

  “Why? Are people here lazy?”

  “For a farmer’s daughter, you don’t know much about farming. Farmers don’t have time to fret about roads and such. We work and sleep. That’s about it.”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  “Fun?” He opened the gate of the picket fence and offered his arm. They strolled along the path to the parsonage door.

  “Don’t you have socials? Parties?”

  “Some, but this isn’t the city. We’re a little…dry here.”

  The breeze kicked up another cloud of dust and she sneezed again. “That I believe.”

  He chuckled and rapped on the wooden door, which was all but begging for another coat of paint. Jacob kept his nose tucked in the Bible or one of the vast number of books he owned. And let chores slide. Maybe Ted could find time to handle the job on his next trip to town.

  Lydia Sumner opened the door, neat as a pin and just as plain, wearing a simple brown dress with a lace-trimmed collar, nut-brown hair pulled into a sensible bun. She had a heart of gold and, like now, a ready smile that she turned on Sally.

  “Lydia, this is Sally Rutgers. My mail—Ah, fiancée.”

  “Hello, Miss Rutgers. Please come in.” She stepped back to let them enter the small vestibule, then motioned to the closed door of Jacob’s study. “My husband’s working on Sunday’s sermon. He’ll only be a moment.”

  Ted doffed his hat and they followed Lydia into the parlor, where dollies and doodads covered every tabletop. �
��Glad we didn’t hold him up.”

  “Can I offer you a spot of tea?”

  Ted shook his head. “No thank—”

  “Oh, I’d love a cup,” Sally chimed in. “Do you have some cookies, perhaps? I’m famished.”

  “Why, Ted Logan, you didn’t think to feed her?”

  At half-past three? “Uh…”

  Lydia patted Sally’s arm. “The ladies at church vie over appeasing my husband’s sweet tooth. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Bald head shining like a beacon in the wilderness, Jacob passed his wife leaving the room. Tall, long limbed with the beginning of a paunch, most likely the result of that sweet tooth, his pastor beamed. “Sorry to keep you folks waiting.”

  Once again Ted made introductions and he and Sally took seats on the sofa, leaving a chasm between them wide enough for a riverboat to navigate.

  Jacob clapped Ted on the shoulder. “Shall we get started?”

  “Yes,” Ted said.

  “No,” Sally said.

  Ted’s jaw dropped to his collar. “No?”

  She gave a sweet smile. “I hoped to have that tea first.”

  Used to cramming every waking moment with activity, Ted reined in his desire to hurry her along. Unsure this feisty woman would comply if he did.

  Once Sally devoured two cups of tea and three cookies, she dabbed her lips with the snowy napkin. “Thank you, Mrs. Sumner.”

  Ted lowered his half-filled cup to the saucer. “Now are you ready to get married?”

  She shot him a saucy smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  Jacob slipped his glasses out of his coat pocket. “Do you have the license, Ted?”

  “It’s ready to go, filled out with the information Sally sent me in her last letter.” He withdrew the neatly folded paper from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it over.

  Jacob scanned the document. “Everything appears in order.”

  Sally lifted a hand, then let it flutter to her lap. “Pastor Sumner, you…ah, might want to change one teeny thing.”

  He readied his pen. “Be glad to. What would that be?”

  “The name.”

  All eyes swiveled to Sally. Ted frowned. What in tarnation?

  The ticking of the mantel clock echoed in the sudden silence, hammering at Ted’s already shaky composure.

  “I’m, ah, not Sally Rutgers. My name is Elizabeth Ann Manning.”

  Had Ted heard correctly? The woman at his side wasn’t Sally? He frowned. That would explain her odd behavior on the way over. Clearly his children had come as a surprise to her.

  No wonder she hadn’t remembered anything from those letters he’d exchanged with Sally.

  He’d been duped.

  Pulse hammering in his temples, Ted rose to his feet, towering over her. “Why did you lie about your name all this time?”

  “I haven’t lied all this time.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve lied for less than an hour.”

  Jacob stared at the bride as if she’d grown two heads, one for each name. Lydia wilted into a chair, her smile drooping.

  “What are you talking about?” Ted shoved out through his clenched jaw, his tone gravelly.

  “Have you ever been down on your luck, Ted Logan?”

  The question caught him like a sharp blow to the stomach. He shifted on his feet. “Well, yes, of course.”

  She ran a hand over her fancy dress. “Despite what you see, I’m destitute. So when the real Sally changed her—”

  “What?” he bellowed.

  “You’re making me nervous, glowering at me like that. It’s not my fault Sally got cold feet.”

  His pastor laid a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Let’s stay calm. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Ted staggered back. “Who are you?”

  “I told you. Elizabeth Ann Manning, your bride. That is—” she hesitated then forged ahead “—if you can ignore a small thing like an identity switch.”

  “A small thing?” He pointed toward the door. “Use the other half of that ticket. Go back to where you came from.”

  Wherever that might be.

  Tears glistening in her eyes, she slumped against the sofa, her face pale and drawn. “I can’t.”

  Lydia hurried to the impostor’s side and patted her hand. She shot Ted a look that said she blamed him for this mess.

  Him!

  “I should’ve told the truth right off, but I was afraid you’d send me back,” she said, her voice cracking, tearing at his conscience. “I’ll get a job and repay you for the ticket.”

  Unable to resist a woman’s tears, Ted bit back his anger. Something terrible must’ve happened to compel this lovely, well-bred woman to marry a stranger. Still, she’d deceived him.

  Not that he hadn’t made plenty of mistakes of his own. God probably didn’t approve of his judging someone, especially someone with no place to live, no money and, in this town, whether she knew it or not, little prospects of either.

  Still, something about her claim didn’t ring true. If she was destitute, then it must’ve been a recent development.

  “Our marriage is one of convenience,” she whispered. “Weren’t those your words?”

  “Well, yes,” he ground out.

  She gave a weak smile. “Sally’s not here. I am. How much more convenient can I be?”

  Lydia released a nervous giggle. Looking perplexed, Jacob’s brow furrowed. Obviously nothing in those books of his had prepared him for this situation.

  Scrambling for rational footing, something Ted took great pains to do, he struggled to examine his options. He’d spent most of his cash bringing his mail-order bride to Iowa. He couldn’t afford the time or money to begin another search.

  Still, could she be hiding something else? “Are you running from the law?”

  She lurched to her feet and planted fisted hands on her hips. “Most certainly not,” she said, her tone offended.

  Unless she was a mighty good actress, he had nothing to fear there. Trying to gather his thoughts, he ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Will you be good to my children?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  She hesitated. Her hands fell to her sides. A wounded expression stole across her face. “Yes, but God’s forgotten me.”

  God forgot no one. Elizabeth’s forlorn face told him she didn’t know that yet.

  Had God ordained this exchange of brides? Ted had prayed without ceasing for God to bring the wife and mother He wanted for him and his children. Had this woman been God’s answer all along?

  Lord, is this Your will?

  A potent sense of peace settled over him, odd considering the circumstances. “Well then, let’s get on with it.”

  His pastor turned to Elizabeth. “You do realize the vows you are about to exchange are your promise before Almighty God.”

  Elizabeth paled but whispered, “Yes.”

  Though Jacob didn’t look entirely convinced, he changed the bride’s name on the document.

  Lydia unpinned the flower on Elizabeth’s dress and handed it to his bride, her bridal bouquet, then reeled to the organ in the back corner of the room. Her voice rose above the strains of “Love’s Old Sweet Song” while Jacob motioned them to a makeshift altar. The song ended and Lydia slipped in beside Elizabeth.

  “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to…”

  Ted considered bolting out the door. But he couldn’t plant the crops with Anna trailing after him and Henry riding on his back like a papoose. He had priorities that demanded a wife, even if he hadn’t picked this one. He trusted with every particle of his being that God had.

  “Ted, did you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Join hands with your bride,” Jacob said in a gentle tone.

  Ted took Elizabeth’s ungloved hand, soft, small boned, cold, like his. Under that forceful exterior lived a woman as uncertain and unsettled
as him.

  “Elizabeth Ann Manning, do you take Theodore Francis Logan to be your wedded husband, to live together in holy marriage?”

  She swallowed. Hard. “I do.”

  Ted gave her credit for not getting weepy on him. He couldn’t handle a woman’s tears.

  “Do you promise to love him, honor and obey him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?”

  Elizabeth glanced at Ted, at the preacher, then back to him. “I’m…I’m not sure I can do the…obey part.”

  A strangled sound came from Lydia. Jacob frowned into the book he held, as if searching for a clue on how to respond. Ted opened his mouth but nothing came out.

  “But I promise to try,” Elizabeth added with a feeble smile.

  Jacob yanked out a handkerchief and mopped his brow, then the top of his head. “Is that acceptable to you, Ted?”

  He nodded, slowly. This woman had nerve, he’d give her that. She wasn’t one bit like Rose. Good thing they weren’t standing up in front of the congregation. If they were, after this, every man he passed would be guffawing.

  Looking eager to get the knot tied, Jacob righted his glasses. “All right, Miss Manning, do you agree, then, to what I just said, except for adding the word try to the obey part?”

  Elizabeth beamed. “I do.” Then she repeated the vows after the preacher, cementing her to him.

  “Will you repeat after me, Ted?”

  This marriage would be legal, binding like a business arrangement, but far more than that. As his pastor said, Ted would make his promises to this woman before Holy God, the foundation of his faith and his home.

  Ted gave his “I do” promise, then Pastor Sumner recited the words, words Ted echoed in a voice hoarse with strain.

  “I, Theodore Francis Logan, take thee, Elizabeth Ann Manning, to be my wife.” What was he letting himself in for? “To have and to hold—” Would she allow that? “—in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer—” She could count on the poorer part. “—and promise my love to you until death do us part.” He’d try to love her about as much as she tried to obey him.

  He turned his gaze from the preacher to his bride. She licked her lips, no doubt a nervous response, sending his stomach into a crazy dive.