The Widower's Wife
Read The Widower's Wife Online
Authors: Bice Prudence
By
Bonneville Books
Springville, Utah
© 2010 Prudence Bice
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
ISBN 13: 978-1-59955-411-2
Published by Bonneville Books, an imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc., 2373 W. 700 S., Springville, UT 84663
Distributed by Cedar Fort, Inc. www.cedarfort.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bice, Prudence, 1967-
The widower’s wife
Prudence Bice.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-59955-411-2 (acid-free paper)
1. Mail order brides--Fiction. 2. Widowers--Fiction. 3. Farm
life--Fiction. 4. Wisconsin--Fiction. I. Title.
PS3602.I27W53 2010
813’.6--dc22
2010010337
Cover design by Tanya Quinlan
Cover design © 2010 by Lyle Mortimer
Edited and typeset by Megan E. Welton
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
Printed on acid-free paper
For Teila, Tasha, and Krista—my three hopeless romantics.
Thanks to my wonderful husband and family for their unending encouragement and patience, to my father-in-law, Virgil, for his horse-sense, and to Pam and Jocelyn—you are both irreplaceable.
As the train slowly pulled into Darlington Station, Jillian Grey anxiously searched the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man that she would begin her new life with. For a fleeting moment, she considered staying on the train and escaping the life she had chosen almost three months previously, but Jillian was a woman of integrity. She had given her word and was therefore honor bound to fulfill her commitment of marriage.
As she looked out the window, Jillian thought back to the night she had told her parents of her decision to become a mail-order bride.
Jillian’s parents were shocked, disappointed, and angry. Her mother cried while her father threatened to both disown and disinherit her.
“How could you embarrass this family in such a way?” her father shouted. “What will people think? What will they say? I can already hear the gossipmongers whispering the tale of how my only daughter, heiress to a substantial fortune, has thrown everything away to go to some forsaken place and become the wife of a dirt poor farmer. Who, I might add, you’ve never even laid eyes on before! He could be a lunatic for all you know!”
Jillian knew her family was still recovering from the scandal that had rocked their quiet, comfortable existence in high society only months before. Visions of Nathan Shaw ran mercilessly through her mind. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts.
“Father,” Jillian said anxiously, “you did not raise me to be a fool. I would not jump blindly into a marriage, even one of this nature. Mr. McCullough and I have been in correspondence for nearly two months now. He is a decent, hard-working man.”
She chanced a glance over at Marcus, her brother, hoping to get any kind of clue as to what he was thinking. He sat in the corner lounge chair, not moving. His handsome face was strained and contorted in a mournful expression. Jillian wasn’t even sure he was listening anymore. She knew he still blamed himself for what had happened to her months before. He felt that if he had not encouraged Nathan, had not helped set him up as a superior gentleman-like man, Jillian would have seen through him for the rake he was. Jillian wasn’t so sure. They had grown up with Nathan. He had always been a little flirtatious and easily influenced, but she had chalked it up to the fickle tendencies of youth. She thought she’d sensed a deeper commitment beyond those temporary fractures in his character. Despite what she had said to her father, she had been a fool where Nathan Shaw had been concerned.
“Jillian.” She winced under her father’s glare. “This whole business is foolhardy, and I simply will not have my daughter traipsing off to some farm in Wisconsin to live with a complete stranger! Your mother and I have decided that you will go immediately to vacation with your Aunt Adelaide in Lexington for a time, just until you get your mind back where it ought to be. Then you will return to your studies at the university. We all need to get this whole sordid business behind us.” Luckily, Jillian had predicted her father’s reaction and prepared for it.
“It’s too late, Father.” Jillian gripped the couch to brace herself in the face of his anger. “I’ve already told the dean that I won’t be returning this fall or ever, I’ve purchased my ticket, and I’ve sent a letter informing Mr. McCullough of my arrival date.”
Even though she expected a harsh reaction from him, Jillian was still taken aback by her father’s extreme anger. His frame shook with fury, and Jillian gripped the couch even harder.
“Jillian, how dare you go behind my back and do this! Does this family mean nothing to you?” His words stung, and moisture erupted from her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. “I will speak to the dean,” he continued, “and get things straightened out. You will get this foolish idea out of your head.”
“No, Father.” Jillian tried to call upon her inner courage. “I have given my word, and I will not break it. If I have to run away, I will. I’m turning eighteen in four months. I am not a child any longer!’
Jillian heard her mother sob more audibly and saw her frail hand reach up to grasp that of her husband. Suddenly, her father’s shoulders slumped, and he groaned inwardly.
“Why, Jillian? We have worked so hard to give you all the things in life that could make you happy, not to mention an education—a privilege and rarity for most young women. Why choose this path and give up so much when you are free to accept any man that your heart desires?” New tears erupted from Jillian’s eyes as Nathan came to mind, unbidden once more.
“Yes, Father, you have been very good to me”—she took a deep breath—“and I have tried doing things your way.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcus wince noticeably. So he
was
still listening. “Father, I need to do this. I cannot bear it any other way.”
“Jillian.” This time his voice was soft and filled with tenderness. He held his arms out to her and she went eagerly into them. “I had not realized you were still hurting so. But you’re still so young. You have plenty of time for your heart to heal. There are many honorable young men who would be proud and privileged to have a chance to win your affections as soon as you are ready to love again. So why do something so rash and dangerous? Go to your Aunt Adelaide’s and mend your broken heart. You will see that I am right. One day you may even thank me for saving you from throwing your life away.”
Reluctantly, Jillian pulled herself out of her father’s arms and stood to her full height, lifting her chin slightly. “You may as well already consider me a married woman, Father. I am bound by my word. Mr. McCullough is expecting my arrival a week from Tuesday. We will be married that same day.” She heard her mother’s gasp. “I may not be in love, but I know I will find fulfillment and happiness in this man’s home.” She tried to soothe her father’s anxious mind once more. “You would like him, Father. He is very much like you. I can feel his goodness in his words. Oh, he doesn’t say too much about himself in his letters, but the way he talks about his children—his love for them, and his hopes for their future—”
Jillian stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look of pain seeping again into her father’s eyes. How ironic it must seem to him. Here she was, leaving to care for a stranger’s children, to give them hope, love, and dreams while simultaneously shattering the dreams her father had for her.
Jillian’s mother spoke for the first time since she had confessed her plans, causing Jillian to start.
“Life will not be easy out west, Jillian,” her mother said. “I have heard many accounts of the horrors and hardships women are called on to bear in homes that are no more than broken-down shacks. You’ll have no running water or indoor facilities. My love, you will be caring for what, three children besides?”—she paused as if to add emphasis to her next three words—“another woman’s children?” She looked with sympathy at her daughter. Jillian attempted to say something in defense, but her mother placed a hand on her arm and squeezed lightly.
“Now, Jillian, I’ve no doubt you will be able to meet their physical needs. You have always been an industrious worker and willing to care for others. To your credit, you have had much experience helping the neighbors with their little ones.” She gently lifted Jillian’s chin to look into her eyes. “But have you truly thought this through? These children, at least the oldest one, will still be agonizing over the loss of their mother. You will most likely face a good deal of resentment from this child. Who will bear the brunt of your frustration when this child hurts you? Certainly not the child or her dear departed mother. This little girl will almost certainly see you as an enemy at first. How, my love, will you deal with the resentment she will feel toward you?”
Jillian’s mother was wise, and her words cut deep into Jillian’s heart. Jillian wished she had time to send Mr.McCullough another post and ask more questions, but there would be no time for a return letter.
Her only hope was that her newfound love for these children would be enough to overcome any obstacles they would face as a family.
“Mother, I know it won’t be easy,” Jillian said. “But I’m strong, and I’m willing to face this challenge,” she said resolutely.
A tear silently traced its way down her mother’s ivory cheek. What a beautiful woman her mother was. Her hair was an unusual shade of auburn, darker than Jillian’s, but there was no question from whom Jillian and her brother had inherited their stunning green eyes. Though she was small and somewhat frail, Jillian’s mother had always possessed an inner strength that Jillian had admired and tried to emulate. Jillian suddenly felt compelled to say more, as if it would ease the pain in her mother’s eyes.
“I already love these children, Mother,” she said. “I don’t know how or why, but I do. Surely my love can endure any pain that may come my way.” She was encouraged as she thought she saw a bit of hope leap into her mother’s eyes at last. “You have taught me well. If I can but bring this family even a portion of the love and happiness you and Father have always given me, then I will have done a great work in my life.”
Jillian sat next to her mother and laid her head against her shoulder. Instinctively, her mother began to caress her hair. She felt her mother’s heart beating softly, and she closed her eyes reverently. She could feel the love in this home. The air was thick with it. She breathed in deeply, savoring the memories. She would treasure them and lock them up in her heart. Something told her inwardly that she would need to call upon them later for comfort and strength.
Jillian now scanned the crowd around her, noticing there were many more men at the station than women. Already she had seen many different men rudely stare at her, taking her in fully with their eyes. Although she had always considered herself plain, men seemed to find her attractive. Even as early as fifteen, she had been turning heads, and since that time, her figure had fully developed and she was too often forced to endure salacious stares from the male population, including some from well-bred men twice her age. It had always made her uncomfortable, and she couldn’t abide how men could be so impolite.
Previously, Jillian had inquired how Mr. McCullough would recognize her at the station. His answer had simply been not to worry—apparently it wouldn’t be a problem. She hadn’t particularity liked his answer, for other than knowing the color of her hair and eyes and her height, he did not know much about her. She began to worry.
Unable to face the fear of being left standing alone in a new town among people with whom she had no acquaintance, Jillian’s pragmatic nature overrode her confidence in this man’s assumed ability to pick a total stranger out of a crowd. When she arrived in Chicago to change trains, she sent Mr. McCullough a telegram confirming her arrival time. At the last minute, she decided to add a quick note, which stated that when she exited the train, she would be carrying a yellow embroidered handkerchief.