The Bartender's Mail Order Bride (14 page)

S
upper had been served
, Maria’s meal well received, and Mrs. Allen seemed to enjoy her introduction to a different kind of food, Maria practically glowed as she answered question after question. Meg thought for someone who didn’t know how to cook, Mrs. Allen sure knew what she liked.

Her sisters had been on their best behavior, and Meg had nodded to Sam right after the empty dishes of flan, Maria’s famous custard, had been cleared.

“It’s almost sunset,” Meg said, hoping that Sam would take the cue and they could leave.

“Oh, right. Let me go get the buggy ready for you,” Hank said. “Come with me, Sam?”

“What? Yes, sure,” Sam said as he followed Hank out the door.

Clara took Mrs. Allen’s hand as they all stood and walked toward the porch. “It’s been a delightful evening, Mrs. Allen. Thank you for encouraging Sam to play for us. It was marvelous, and I hope that we can do it again and hear more.”

“Meg could tell you more about that than I could. Sam doesn’t seem to want to play anymore, and it was clear that he’s never even heard her sing. Such a shame that they don’t share that part of themselves together,” Mrs. Allen said, her eyebrow arching at Mr. Archer.

Her father coughed into his hand. “Yes, that would be lovely. And thank you so much for coming,” he said as he gently steered everyone outside and glanced back at Meg.

Meg thought this couldn’t have been a more odd evening. Why didn’t she think that this might happen? She’d sung with her sister almost every night for years, and somehow, Sam had never heard them and somehow, they had to do it tonight.

Meg hugged each of her family members, giving Clara an extra squeeze of thanks for keeping the conversation off the topic of Meg and Sam for the majority of the evening. “Thank you,” she whispered in Clara’s ear.

“You’re welcome, and good luck.” Clara squeezed a bit harder in return.

Not much was said on the way home, Meg remembering the song and the peaceful evening with her family. Her heart swelled as she thought of how they’d all pulled together on her behalf, and aside from the music issue, things had gone easily.

She glanced at Mrs. Allen, who watched the sky turn from pinks and grays to purples and dark blues—one of the finer of Arizona’s many fine sunsets that Meg had had the pleasure to see.

“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Hm?” Mrs. Allen said as she turned to Meg. “Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful sunset.”

“Nothing quite like them, I think.” Sam pulled his hat down his forehead a little to shade his eyes as the sun made its final descent for the day.

“You know what else is beautiful?” Mrs. Allen took one of Sam’s hands and one of Meg’s in hers from her seat between them. “Seeing so much love between you two, and so much shared passion. You are very fortunate to have met each other and had years together already.”

Meg did everything she could not to glance at Sam, instead keeping her eyes steady on the sunset for fear she might cry. A twinge of guilt had been growing into a full-fledged knot over the past couple of days. Sam’s mother was so—nice. She was feeling as though they should be honest with her, but also honored Sam’s desire that she not be upset by the truth—about either the marriage
or
the mercantile, so she’d stayed silent.

As Meg and Mrs. Allen entered the house and Sam took the buggy around, Mrs. Allen said, “I’m exhausted, Meg. You don’t mind if I head up to bed, do you?”

“Of course not. Please, do what you like.” Meg hung their coats on the rack by the door and lit a lantern for Mrs. Allen to take with her upstairs.

“Please tell Sam I had a lovely evening and good night for me. And Meg, you have a lovely family. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

Meg walked slowly back into the parlor as Mrs. Allen climbed the stairs.

“Why are you frowning?”

Meg spun toward the door as Sam closed it behind him.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. Don’t you think it went well tonight?”

“Your mother didn’t say otherwise. She went up to bed as she was tired.”

“Then why the frown?” Sam sat on the settee and Meg joined him.

“I…I am feeling a little guilty about your mother. She’s so very nice and I like her very much. Would it be so awful to tell her the truth?”

Sam’s leaned his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face with both hands. “I have to say it’s crossed my mind. I’m feeling guilty myself. She is a very kind woman, and in some ways, she doesn’t deserve this.”

“What do you think she’d say if we told her?”

He stroked his chin for a bit. “There are two parts to this. The marriage
and
the mercantile. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have pretended about either one.”

“Why did you?” Meg’s heart pinched at his pain and regret.

He stood and paced in front of the cold fireplace. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I hadn’t seen her since my father died, and I wanted her to be happy. She’d been through so much after the accident, and she’s so very proud of my brother.”

“So you wanted both for her to be proud of you and not cause her pain?” Meg leaned back onto the settee, tapping her finger on her chin.

“Yes, I think so. It was a hasty decision, one I’ve come to regret.” Sam stopped pacing, resting his hands on the mantle, his head falling. “Parts of it, anyway.”

Meg’s stomach flipped. Was he referring to her? Or the mercantile?

She decided to let it pass until he was ready. “What could be the worst thing to happen if we were to tell her?”

“I’ve thought about that, too. I think she’d be disappointed about both of them. At this point, probably most disappointed that we’ve deceived her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s been nothing but kind, to both of us.”

“If we tell her, she’ll have to know that I am a bartender at the restaurant. And that you and I aren’t really married.”

Meg jumped to her feet. “Of course we are. It was a true, legal marriage.”

Sam pushed back from the mantle, his sorrowful eyes turning to Meg.

“Yes, it was legal, but nobody thought it was a good idea, least of all your father. The right thing to do would be to have it annulled as it hasn’t even been a week. I’ve asked much too much of you, Meg. It’s not fair to steal your life from you just to protect my mother.”

Meg thought for a moment as Sam began to pace. Watching the stride of his long, lean legs as he ran his fingers through his black hair, she thought of all the time that she’d watched him, laughed at his jokes, been thrilled when he’d come to visit her brother. He knew nothing of this, and she knew it was time. It was her one last hope, before they told his mother and he sent her home.

“Sam, I don’t think your mother is asleep yet. Would you play for me? Just one song?”

He cocked his head at her, his eyes questioning.

“Please?”

He frowned, but removed the sheet from the piano. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear?”

Meg thought for a moment, and said, “Anything you’d like, really.”

He began to play, and when it was time, she began to sing. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers over the keys as he turned to look at her. She kept singing, and he smiled and continued.

As they finished the song, Sam looked toward her, but his eyes were drawn over her shoulder to something behind her.

Meg turned to see Mrs. Allen standing at the foot of the stairs in her robe, her lovely, black hair braided and over her shoulder. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt. It was just so beautiful, and I thought it might be a good time to tell you that I’ve decided to stay here in Tombstone. I can’t bear to leave you two, and if I miss you having my grandchildren, I’d never forgive myself. Your father is gone, Sam, and your brother is very busy and happily married. I’d like to start a new life here. In Tombstone. I hope we can talk about the details tomorrow, and for now I’ll leave you two alone.”

Meg knew her mouth was open but had no control over it as she watched Mrs. Allen retreat up the stairs.

Sam sighed. “I suppose we have no choice. If she’s staying, we have to tell her. There’s no way around it now. We must tell her first thing in the morning. And then I’ll take you home.”

M
eg didn’t sleep
a wink and jumped out of bed at the first birdsong, even before the sun had risen. She’d often admired that the birds knew when to start singing, even in the dark, to herald the new day, and she was grateful that they ended her torture, allowing her to get dressed and start pacing.

She’d spent the night thinking about what Sam had said, and about what he thought might happen. He was right. If Mrs. Allen was staying, there was no way they could expect friends and family—the entire town—to continue their pretense. Sam would have to go back to work. Suzanne and James would go back to the mercantile. There really was no option.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t want to leave, that her place was here with the man she loved and his charming mother, whom she’d grown quite fond of in such a short time.

Her only hope was to tell him the truth, tell him how she felt about him and hope for the best.

She knew it was early, and what she had in mind was extremely untoward, but she was fairly sure Sam hadn’t slept much either. She put the final pin in her hair and took one last look in the mirror. Out loud to her reflection, she said, “It’s now or never, Nutmeg Archer,” and smiled her best, most confident—if not quite believable—smile. “Oh, I mean Nutmeg Allen.” She laughed at her mistake. Not even
she
knew what the truth was anymore.

She cracked the door open, checking across the hall for any sign of life in Mrs. Archer’s room. Seeing none, she opened the door slowly and tiptoed down to Sam’s room, closing her door behind her. When she reached it, she smoothed her skirts and her hair, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Gathering all the courage she could muster, she reached for the doorknob and jumped a step back as it opened, Sam appearing as startled as she thought she must.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

She hesitated at his frown. “I wanted to talk to you before we met with your mother, if that’s possible.”

He held his finger to his lips and peered down the hall, stepping out of his room and closing the door. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her behind him down the stairs and into the kitchen.”

“Sam, I—“

“Shhh,” he said again and opened the door to the garden, pulling her out to the small table and chairs surrounded by flowers of all kinds—and the one rosemary bush.

“I don’t think she’ll hear us out back, but she’ll likely be up soon. I haven’t slept at all, I don’t think. I’m so sorry to put you through this, Meg.”

Meg’s eyes softened, and she knew it was time. “Sam, please don’t be sorry. You haven’t put me through anything that I didn’t want to be put through.”

He frowned again as he leaned back into his chair. “What do you mean?”

She had been so certain that if she told him, he would be overjoyed, but her nerves jangled at his frown. She tugged at the sleeve of her dress, and looked up as his blue eyes never left her face.

“I realize you don’t know this, and it will come as a surprise, but for a long time before you needed a bride, I was hoping that you might choose to court me.”

“Court you?” he said, his hands on his knees.

She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice as she looked over toward the sunrise. “Well, I can see you’re surprised. I know you didn’t even notice me.”

Sam frowned and reached for Meg’s hand. “Meg, I—”

“Oh, excuse me,” Mrs. Allen said from the doorway.

A pang of guilt passed through Meg as she turned to see Mrs. Allen, her genuine smile radiating warmth—and trust.

Sam turned from his mother back to Meg, squeezing her hand. His back to his mother, he mouthed, “Are you ready.” She calmed a bit at his reassuring smile and nodded.

“Would you sit down for a moment, Mother? Meg and I have something we’d like to talk with you about.”

“Oh, dear, that sounds ominous. You’re not unhappy that I’d like to stay, are you?” She sat slowly as Meg and Sam did the same.

“We’re very happy that you’ve decided to stay. It will be a true pleasure to have you in Tombstone.” Meg wasn’t quite sure where she stood with Sam, if he still wanted to send her home, so she decided it would be best for him to tell the story, and she settled back in her chair.

Meg wrung her hands as Sam told the story, all of it, about how he’d sent for a mail order bride and Meg had agreed. She watched Mrs. Allen intently, her confusion growing as Sam’s mother’s expression changed from surprised to amused, a smile growing on her face almost from the beginning.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been married for less than a week, and that you agreed to marry because I thought you had been for some time?”

“Yes,” Sam said as he glanced at Meg.

“And that you don’t own the mercantile, but are a bartender at the Occidental instead?”

Sam dropped his head into his hands. Meg’s eyebrows shot up as Mrs. Allen stifled a laugh and winked at Meg.

“Well, thank goodness we all don’t need to pretend anymore. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this charade up.”

Sam lifted his head slowly, his mouth agape. “You mean—”

“Good grief, Sam, it’s plain as the nose on your face that the two of you barely know each other.”

“You knew?”

“Not at first, but it didn’t take long. It was clear that you two didn’t know some critical things about each other. At least, not to my mind.

“But we thought—” Meg’s smile came unbidden, and she laughed at how hard they’d tried, and his mother had known almost all along.

Sam turned to Meg, his eyes wide.

“I decided early on I’d wait and see how this went. It actually became quite amusing.”

Meg glanced at Sam and was relieved to see a smile spreading. “Mother, we tried so hard…”

“Clearly. You two went to great trouble to do all of this, and my only question is why?”

Meg and Sam exchanged glances. Sam took his mother’s hand and said, “I knew you’d been through a difficult period since Father passed away, and that we’d not left things on good terms. I thought that it would be easier for you, kinder, if you believed I was safe and happy, with a wife and a business, just as Father had wanted.”

Mrs. Allen’s eyes softened. “Sam, your father and I only wanted you to be happy. That’s all it ever was. Your father was frightened for you, truth be told, and wanted to make sure you earned a steady living. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be happy.”

Sam frowned. “I suppose I felt that you’d be happier, feel better, if you thought—”

“I’m much tougher than you think, Sam Allen. How else could I have survived your father—
and
his profession—for so many years. And raised two charming, talented sons.” She paused and took Meg’s hand. “Both with lovely, talented wives whom they love very much.”

Meg felt tears prick her eyes as Mrs. Allen reached over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Both Sam and Meg gasped, and Mrs. Allen laughed as she turned on her heel and headed into the kitchen. “Now finish what you were doing when I interrupted you and then come and tell me more. It’s quite funny, you know,” she said over her shoulder and then closed the door behind her.

Sam’s head fell backward as he laughed, Meg’s hand on her chest as she laughed beside him, relieved that it was out in the open and they could get on with the business of being a couple.

“Would you ever have guess it would turn out like
that
?” Meg asked. “Now, where were we?”

Sam wiped his brow and let out a deep sigh. He shook his head slowly and said, “Meg, I think it’s clear. It’s all out in the open with Mother, and there’s no need for you to stay any longer. As I said last night, it’s best you go home. You know even though your father has tried to be kind, he is not in favor of this, and I promised that I—”

Meg held her hands up to stop him from ripping her heart apart any further. She’d told him how she felt. It hadn’t mattered. Even after all their time together, and trying to help with his mother, he still wanted her gone.

She fought back tears that threatened to spill. She decided that she’d best maintain whatever dignity she had left and said, “Fine. That’s fine, Sam. I’ll go pack.”

She turned on her heel and ran upstairs, hoping that she’d reached the top before she swiped at her eyes with her sleeve, not wanting to give him one more second of her time nor one more piece of her heart.