A Bride in Store (11 page)

Was he angry she’d hesitated to take his arm? He should be. So very rude of her. If he could have read her thoughts though . . . if Axel could have read her thoughts . . .

William pointed to an empty chair. “They thought you’d want to sit between me and Julia.” He rushed over to help Nettie get up on the bench with her sisters.

Everett pulled out Eliza’s seat, then sat on his wife’s other side. “I hear you’re marrying Axel.”

“Yes, whenever he gets here.” She pulled her gaze off William and lowered her voice. “Though the wait’s quite nerve-racking. How did you handle meeting each other for the first time without fainting?”

Both Julia and Everett’s faces contorted in silent amusement . . . or maybe embarrassment?

Dex stood and clinked his glass with a spoon. “Let’s pray.”

Everyone at the table bowed their heads. Even Matthew, though he didn’t stop talking, but rather whispered quite loudly, “Leg hurt. Bad.”

Julia gave his knee a quick peck.

“Lord, thank you for good friends, your provision, and the beautiful weather you provided so Rachel didn’t natter my ears off all day stressing over dark clouds and wind. Keep the kiddos glued to their chairs. Bless our conversation. Don’t let me embarrass the newcomer so badly I receive a lecture tonight.”

Rachel snorted.

“Amen.” Eliza chimed in with the rest of them.

Everyone began passing around food, the adults fixing plates for the children. Julia handed her a bowl of potatoes.

“So, concerning your question about not fainting at your first meeting, have you written to Axel?”

“Oh yes, many times.”

“Everett and I hadn’t even written. In fact, he didn’t know I was coming.” She sent a furtive glance toward William’s mother. “Rachel played matchmaker.”

“So this mail-order-bride thing isn’t a completely stupid thing to do?” She took a glance at William’s mother. “My friend Ruth insisted I’d lost my mind when I told her why I was coming out here.” And maybe she had, considering she’d resolved to marry a man in order to run a store.

Julia cringed. “I’m not saying marrying a stranger is the
wisest
thing to do.”

Everett’s face showed up behind his wife’s back. “What she means is, I was very stupid.”

“When you’re stuck together, however, you’re forced to make things work.” Julia’s smile lit her soft brown eyes.

Everett shrugged as he dished some green beans onto two plates. “Or you don’t. Marriages don’t always turn out—even for people in love. A young friend of mine’s wife left after a few months, with no warning, and another mail-order bride near here was abused.”

Great. If only Ruth were here to add the horror stories she’d heard. But Axel wouldn’t be a horror story—no man who cared for his mother could be evil. Eliza took a platter of sausage and onions and spooned herself a small helping. “I was hoping for a little more reassurance.”

Julia squeezed her shoulder. “If two people are committed and have the Lord on their side, you aren’t doomed. Have you talked to Axel about your commitment to God? What you want from life? Why you’re marrying? If I’d advise anything, it’d be to talk about everything before you say ‘I do.’ If you have a secret, eventually the person you marry
will
find out.” Julia cast a glance at her husband, who gave her a sad smile.

What deep dark secret had this beautiful woman attempted to keep?

Julia kissed the top of her son’s head. “So the sooner the better.”

She had no secrets. Nor anything enticing to a man other than her experience running a store. Hopefully that would be enough. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Then you’ll be fine.”

Unless, of course, Axel was hiding something. No, she needed to stop letting her mind go back to thinking the worst of him just because no one talked him up. He was laid up from an accident because he was helping his mother—he was a good man.

The conversation picked up around her, and she tried to concentrate on eating. Axel’s mother and his letter had explained his whereabouts, but her heart still wasn’t at ease. Maybe because William seemed so edgy. But why? She’d asked him if he thought her marrying Axel was a bad idea, and he’d said nothing terribly contrary. Though the drinking bit had her concerned.

The surrounding prairie grasses and the lowing of cows made the dirt yard possibly the prettiest dining area she’d ever eaten in. Smiles, laughter, and good-natured teasing swirled about her. Would she be able to manufacture this for her own children, since she’d not known such warmth? Could Axel? It seemed he hadn’t experienced a very loving family either.

On the other side of the table, William finished making a plate for his littlest sister. He pressed her nose with his index finger, and she scrunched her face but clearly enjoyed the attention.

Eliza’s stomach twinged. Would she be in Kansas hoping a man who didn’t love her would fulfill her vocational dreams and stay faithful if her mother hadn’t run and her father had been as affectionate as the Stantons?

A chill wrapped around her despite the unobstructed sunshine.

“Are you cold?” William stood beside her, gripping the back of his chair. “I could get you one of Mother’s shawls.”

“No, I’m all right.” She shook her head and sat up straighter. “Didn’t Mrs. Langston say her hands felt cold all the time? Do you have any idea what is wrong with her?”

He sat and took the bowl of corn Ambrose passed him. “Unfortunately, I don’t. All I can do is search my medical books and hope to run across a remedy. She’s better off visiting Dr. Forsythe.”

Rachel’s head perked up on the other side of Ambrose. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Langston?”

“I don’t know.” William tore off a hunk of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. “She didn’t ask me for help, so I’m not going to push myself on her.”

“Why do you always give up so easily?” Eliza eyed him. “If something needs doing, or a goal is worthy, you should pursue it with your whole heart.”

“Sometimes no matter how hard you work for something, the dream hops in a wagon and leaves you behind.”

She bit her lip. He probably meant Nancy Graves. “Maybe a dream’s particulars need to be abandoned, but not the dream itself. Change the plan. Readjust your expectations. Take your doctoring for instance . . .”

The table grew quiet, and even little Matthew quit his monologue, though the tapping of silverware grew louder. Perhaps a close-knit family was not as free with criticism as hers had been.

“What about my doctoring?”

She glanced around the table. Besides the girls chattering away, everyone’s face was blank. Perhaps she needed to extricate herself.

But at the same time . . . “I don’t understand why you don’t practice medicine freely now. People want your help, and evidently, you’ve done a lot of good. Why not do the best you can—throw everything you have into your calling—despite not having a degree? Why not return to Dr. Forsythe and resume your apprenticeship rather than think yourself incapable?”

Ambrose coughed on something he must have swallowed wrong. John slapped him hard on the back while William kept his gaze on his plate.

“Maybe doctoring isn’t what I’m supposed to do right now.” He stood and took the empty pitcher from the table. “I’m getting more lemonade.”

He stomped off, and the sound of silverware clinking against dishware began again.

Eliza felt Julia’s eyes on her, and she turned to the Stantons’ neighbor. “I hope I didn’t ruin dinner.” She sighed. Maybe this was why her family hadn’t treated her affectionately—she was too free with her critical thoughts.

“Oh no, you said nothing we haven’t wanted to say. But he’s such a wonderful young man, we hate to jab at something so sore.” She gave her a slight smile. “I guess I shouldn’t have bothered advising you to be open with your feelings. Seems you’re not the kind to keep things inside.”

Eliza ignored the food on her plate and reached for her basket of lemon tarts. Perhaps one—or four—would make her feel better about the disturbance she’d caused.

Would William despise her now that she’d embarrassed him in front of his family?

For some reason, her stomach was more upset over the possibility of his having a poor opinion of her than the uncertainty of her future with Axel.

Will handed his empty dinner plate to Ma, then crouched, waiting for Nettie to toddle toward him. He frowned at the lurching progress she made across the grass-patched yard.

“You need to work on keeping your heels down, sugar bug.” He swooped her up in his arms and kissed her soft forehead.

Ma gave Becca a narrow-eyed glare from across the table. His
little sister let go of one of the barn cat’s tails, blinking big innocent eyes.

“I’ve had enough trouble getting Becca and Nettie to mind this week. If I wasted my breath insisting Nettie walk right, she’d never get out of the corner.”

“So you’ve been a sugar
pill
.”

Nettie shoved her thumb into her mouth.

“I’m more worried about her character right now. Besides, if her walking can’t improve, like Dr. Forsythe says, I—”

“He didn’t think carbolic acid would save Julia’s leg either.”

Ma narrowed her eyes at him. If he’d not been too old, she’d have ordered him to go cut himself a switch.

“Sorry, Ma, didn’t mean to interrupt, but I think it’s crucial while she’s young. She can put her heels down—she’s done it before—so I don’t believe Dr. Forsythe when he says she can’t.”

He squeezed Nettie tighter. “I’m the reason she’s like this.” He swallowed hard against the lump that invaded his throat every time he thought of that awful day. “I have to try.”

Ma’s gaze seared into him until he had to look up. “No one blames you.”

He shrugged.

Nettie twisted his ring. Even she knew the little happy face taunted him. He slid his ring around his finger to hide the silly smile.

Becca reached up and slipped it back around. “That’s not how you wear it.”

He let her put the bead back on top, but he wouldn’t promise to leave it there once he left. “You’re right.” He couldn’t help but melt at her pleading eyes. Ever since he’d stitched up her knee, she’d thought he was the best doctor in the world and annoyed their mother into helping her braid the band and bake the bead for him.

Everett and little Matthew walked past the barn and into the pasture.

“Excuse me, Ma. I want to talk to Everett.” He handed over his little sister and strode toward the pair.

When he came within talking distance, Everett looked up and smiled. “Trying to get out of cleanup, eh?”

“Seems you’ve found yourself a good excuse.” Will shrugged and smiled at Matthew, who was readying to poke a cow chip with a stick. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“I don’t see why not.” Everett leaned over to guide his son away from the unpleasant lump. “Let’s go this way, son.”

Will ambled behind them. “How do you stop thinking about a woman?”

“You mean forgetting one?”

When Will nodded, Everett shook his head. “Once Julia stepped off the train, I couldn’t keep her out of my mind no matter how hard I tried . . . and I was miserable. So why bother?” He took away his son’s stick before he speared another cow chip. “But Nancy’s been gone—”

“Oh no, not Nancy. Unfortunately, this woman’s engaged to someone else.” Will crouched to pick up a stone. He had to admit it: the spark of . . . something . . . was stronger with her than it had been with Nancy. Perhaps because he was older. Perhaps because Eliza had more backbone than Nancy, more backbone than he. “And I don’t have the luxury of time to help me forget.”

Everett frowned and looked over his shoulder. “You mean Miss Cantrell.”

“Yes.” He stood and threw the rock at a nearby tree.

Everett didn’t say anything.

Will crossed to the hackberry tree and leaned against the trunk as Matthew plopped down to dig in the soft dirt between its roots. “I’m finding excuses to watch her. I can’t stop thinking about her, and I’ve only known her for a week.” He’d heard of love at first sight, and this had to be what people meant, but if so, it was as dangerous as lightning, striking with no thought as to what it hit.

Everett sat on the ground by his son. “You shamed me years ago by saying life isn’t always about what we want when it comes to a woman. You should remember what your sixteen-year-old self said.”

“This time it’s harder for some reason, but it shouldn’t be. She’s engaged.”

Everett propped his arms up on his knees. “Well, then I’d say you’ve got thought problems. Second Corinthians tells us to bring every thought into captivity and make it obedient to Christ. If you memorize that verse—every time you realize your mind is not where it’s supposed to be—you can recite it, turning your thoughts in a God-honoring direction.”

“What if another pops into my head soon after?”

“The Bible says
every thought
. God knows we’re going to have to capture more thoughts than one. The passage uses a lot of war terminology . . . because it is war.” Everett leaned back, a pained expression dulling his face. “And war never lets up. It’s day after day, hour after hour, and the enemy keeps coming, the musket balls keep whizzing.”