Page 16 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes
Opening the doors of the wardrobe revealed two shirts. She touched them. Good quality cotton. One was plain brown, the other black with a contrasting red yoke. A grin tickled her insides. It was kind of flashy. Not the sort of shirt she’d have expected of him. Stains under the arms indicated it wasn’t new. Had he bought it to impress a lady friend? Perhaps Rowena?
She slammed the wardrobe doors closed and sucked in air. No need to be upset. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about Rowena. But she couldn’t quite push aside the knowledge that according to the way her sister talked, he had loved her.
Or was it simply Rowena making things more dramatic than they really were in order to make herself look more important? Something her sister had been known to do on occasion.
I’ll choose to believe the latter.
Her resolve renewed, she opened the wardrobe again and hung her few items of clothing. Turning to the dresser, she opened the top drawer. Empty. The second was also empty. The third held a neat assortment of bundled socks and neatly folded neckerchiefs in red, navy, and black. She touched the red one. Did he wear it with that black and red shirt? Or with the brown shirt to brighten it up?
The bottom drawer held woolen union suits.
Her cheeks burned at looking at a man’s undergarments. But then tonight they would become intimate. Her skin almost burst into flames at the thought.
Slowly, quietly, she shoved the drawer into place and put away her things in the upper two. The extra blankets and winter wear she’d brought, she left in the trunk. An empty bookcase stood in the living area, and she put her Bible and a few books in it. Perhaps on a quiet evening, she might read to Flint. They’dsit side by side, perhaps shoulder to shoulder as it was when she read to Susie.
More heat burned her cheeks. She hurried from the room.
A clock hung over the table. Time to explore the kitchen and make supper. She discovered a well-stocked pantry. A good supply of flour, cornmeal, cooking oats, and everything she needed for baking. Plenty of canned goods. A selection of vegetables. Half a dozen jars of meat. No doubt courtesy of Adele.
She loved cooking and set about creating a meal meant to please any man… or more importantly… Flint.
Humming, as she worked, and at the same time, listening for Susie. And beyond the walls of the house, she strained for sounds of horses riding into the yard, signaling Flint’s return.
The vegetables were cooked, the potatoes mashed, and the meat and gravy ready. Susie grew fussy. She could not put off feeding the child any longer although she'd envisioned the three of them sitting down together, a new family in a new home sharing a meal.
Susie ate a decent meal and Bryn prepared her for bed, reading her a story— the same one as earlier. She tucked her in and started to leave.
“Auntie, I’s scared.”
The fear in the child’s voice burned through Bryn. “How would it be if I lie down with you?”
“You’ll stay?”
“You saw where I put my things in the next bedroom. That’s where I’ll be if I’m not in the kitchen.” She lay on top of the covers and pulled Susie into her arms. “But I won’t leave you. I promise.” She hummed.
A strange sound jerked her awake. She blinked, trying to remember where she was , and realized she’d fallen asleep cradling Susie. This was her new home.
Had Flint returned? She slipped from the room, grateful when Susie didn’t wake.
The house was dark. She peered out the window toward the barn, making out its shape in the moonlight, and strained to catch any noise. After a moment, she gave up. The food was still on the table. Golden light from the lamp she lit filled the room with strange shadows and she shivered.
The food had grown cold, but she ate a few mouthfuls. Remembering she’d promised to leave a meal for Flint, she filled a plate, put the leftovers away, and washed the dishes.
Had she ever been so alone? Knowing no one except for the sleeping child. She rushed into the bedroom she meant to share with Flint and looked out into the dark. Yes. There was a glow coming from the house across the way. She wasn’t alone. Adele was over there.
Back in the living room she took her Bible from the shelf and settled down in one of the two green upholstered chairs. The lamp on the table beside her provided light for reading. But the words floated before her eyes and after a few minutes she leaned her head back.
Should she wait up for him? Or be in bed when he returned?
Another rush of heat flooded her face.
Wouldn’t it be less awkward if she was already in bed when he came?
Sunlight lightened the room, wakening Bryn. Her body jolted in alarm before she remembered she was now Mrs. March, and this was her new home. And she was alone.
In two seconds she was fully awake and out of bed, reaching for her clothes. Had Flint not come home? Had misfortune befallen him? Finger brushing her hair into place, she stepped into the living area and ground to a halt. Flint lay on the sofa.Too long to stretch out, his feet were propped up on the round arm.
Strange feelings twisted her insides, making her stuff her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out. Was this how their marriage was to be? Sleeping apart? Found wanting in his opinion? Rejected? Again?
