The Substitute Bride (17 page)

T
he woman must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Elizabeth had no other explanation for the harsh expression on the teacher’s face as she stood outside the one-room schoolhouse swinging the brass bell. Children formed lines in front of her, girls on one side and boys on the other.

Not that Elizabeth didn’t have some sympathy for her, grouchy face or not. She couldn’t imagine facing all these children of different ages and intellects every day.

At least no one was telling her whom to marry or where to put the slop. Or pressing to get close. Like Ted.

Jason Harper leaped from the back of the wagon and trotted over to a group of boys while Robby lagged behind, head down, shuffling along like an old man.

Elizabeth tugged at Anna and Grace’s hands. “Come along, girls. You don’t want to be late.”

Anna skidded to a stop. “I don’t want to go.”

“You have to go to school.”

“Why?”

Because Rebecca is watching Henry for the day and I’m free as a bee on the first day of spring.
“Because I said so.”

Anna scowled. “That’s a dumb reason.”

Evidently, regret for past behavior didn’t mean Anna wouldn’t question Elizabeth’s authority.

“Whenever I ask my mama anything she says ‘because I said so, that’s why.’” Grace rolled her eyes. “Every time.”

Well, if Elizabeth sounded like Rebecca, then she must be doing something right. She retied the bow on Anna’s pigtail. “Don’t you want to grow up to be smart?”

“Why? To bake biscuits all day?” Anna thrust out her lip in a perfect pout.

She’d hit a nerve, that girl. Exactly the life Elizabeth had now. A biscuit maker, for pity’s sake. Talk about lowering her aspirations. “No, so you can teach or be a nurse or a doctor. Education gives you freedom.”

Anna arched a brow in disbelief.

“Education gives me freedom—when school lets out,” Grace said, with a giggle.

Only six and already as smart-mouthed as Anna. “Well, go on, your classmates are marching inside.”

The girls whirled toward the schoolhouse then took off at a run, barreling up the stairs, their boots clunking on each step.

Elizabeth pulled herself onto the wagon seat, vowing she wouldn’t be a biscuit maker all her life and clicked to the horses. In front of the Sorenson Mercantile, she set the brake and tied up to the hitching rail. She’d sell the eggs, not much of a career but a start.

When she’d packed Anna and Robby’s lunch bucket, she made a sandwich for herself. She couldn’t waste money eating in town. Not that she knew exactly what she’d do with her day.

A sign caught her eye on a storefront next door to the mercantile: For Lease

This building was available for someone with gumption. Someone with ideas. Someone like…

Her.

Elizabeth peered through the grimy window into a room littered and dirty and in need of paint. But light streamed in the window, throwing patterns on the plank floor. Cleaned up, this would be a cheerful place. Elizabeth ran a finger down the pane. Here women could gather and exchange books and ideas, find ways to improve the community. For a brief time, free from children and homes and men.

She closed her eyes and pictured it all clearly. In front of the window a table, perhaps on the back wall a bookcase brimming with books and magazines.

Her eyes popped open. She’d collect books for a library, maybe start a book club. Ladies could gather once a week to improve their minds. To instigate improvements in the community.

On the back wall, a door led somewhere—outside or to another room? She hustled around the building and found a window. That meant a back room. Her pulse skipped a beat, then slowed as an idea planted itself in her mind, then bloomed.

This could be a place for her and Robby.

Maybe with just the two of them, she could give her brother the attention he needed. Perhaps get him to admit what bothered him, if he knew.

Even with Anna no longer giving him the cold shoulder, the forlorn expression in his eyes hadn’t diminished. Ted treated her brother like a son, but Robby kept his distance, refusing his overtures, looking lost and miserable. Her brother’s sadness tore at her. She’d given him everything she’d thought he wanted. And it wasn’t enough.

In a way she understood. She felt hemmed in, suffocated by the demands of her routine. She’d gone from a life of ease to a life of endless responsibility, all thrust upon her overnight, giving her no chance to find her own way.

Ted was kind. Trying hard to get close. Too close. He wanted
a real marriage when a business contract was what they’d agreed on. She had to keep him at arm’s length. She knew with certainty that if she loved Ted Logan, she’d lose herself. She’d become dependent on his smile, on his affection, on the harmony of their marriage.

Then when he chose to withhold that smile, that affection, that harmony, she’d wind up like her mother…brokenhearted.

This shop was her and Robby’s ticket to freedom, a chance for independence right here in New Harmony. Maybe here she’d find some air to breathe, some time to find her way.

Would Ted allow it?

Well, she hadn’t promised to obey, only to try. And hadn’t she tried and tried and tried? Lily and Richard would gladly help Ted with the children until Robby found his stride. She wouldn’t be leaving Ted in the lurch.

She sighed. Ted would be upset, but surely God understood her need to help her brother. Her shoulders slumped. But where would she get the money for the rent?
Lord, if this plan is all right with You, help me find a way.

“It needs a lot of work.”

Elizabeth jumped as if she’d been caught in a criminal act and reeled toward the speaker. Mr. Sorenson stood outside the back door of his store, a broom in his hand. He ambled over.

“Two years ago we rented the place to a lawyer but the folks of New Harmony didn’t provoke enough lawsuits to keep him. It’s been standing empty ever since. The missus and I’ve talked about expanding, but we got more work than we can handle now. My desk’s buried under receipts and a pile of bills.”

“I loved math in school. Bookkeeping sounds like fun.”

“Fun? I’d sooner get a tooth pulled. And the missus can’t add two and two.”

Here was her chance. “I’m sure I could handle your books. How much is the rent?”

“What are you aiming to do with the place?”

“I’d like start a ladies’ club, maybe a library, though I’d have to find some books.”

He leaned on the broom handle and scratched his head. “Sounds citified.” He chuckled. “So it’s sure to please the ladies. Normally, I’d charge—” He stopped. “Did you say you could handle my books?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“In that case, it’s yours for the price of handling our accounts.”

“That’s all?”

“You’ll be doing us a favor.”

Elizabeth reached out a hand and they shook. “You have a deal.”

“Do you want to take a look around? See what you’re in for? It’s not locked.”

Elizabeth opened the door. A three-inch shadow streaked across the toe of her shoes. She leaped back, pressing her hand to her bosom. “Looks like you already have a tenant.”

Mr. Sorenson chuckled. “Mice included at no charge.”

She pivoted and spotted dust and mice droppings everywhere. Nothing Tippy could help her with here. She’d wanted to escape the tedium of the farm, not add more work to her load. “Looks like I’ll need to borrow that broom.”

Mr. Sorenson handed it over with a grin, then thumped the window with a fist and lifted it with ease. “That’ll improve the odor in here.”

A small stove stood away from one wall. Cobwebs dangled between the chimney and the wall. She swung the broom, bringing down the webs.

“I’ll fetch a bucket and some rags. There’s a pump out back for water.”

They walked to the front. Another small stove. More webs but no sign of mice.

“Will you need a table or two?”

“Yes, and chairs. I hadn’t thought about those.”

Mr. Sorenson waved a hand. “Got some grates out behind the store that’ll make fine bases. Barrel lids will work as tops. I’ll ask Cecil to nail them together. Covered with oilcloth, they’ll look fine.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Not often New Harmony gets a new enterprise.” He grinned. “Besides, the ladies might stop in for supplies once they’re done chatting here. And Cecil needs something to do besides hanging out at the store, getting in the way.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I expect the school will loan you a few folding chairs they keep on hand for programs and such.”

“What a good idea. Thank you, Mr. Sorenson.”

“Ted’s a man I respect. I’m happy to help out his missus.”

Would Mr. Sorenson be so generous if he knew her plan to move in here? “Could I trade the basket of eggs out in the wagon for oilcloth to cover the tables?”

“You’ve got a deal. I’ll get them.” He turned back. “It’s a relief to get that empty store off the missus’s nag list.”

“Let me take down the sign.” Elizabeth hurried to the window and then handed it to Mr. Sorenson.

“You know, Mrs. Logan, you’re just what this town needed.”

“I am?”

“A breath of fresh air. And a pretty one at that.” He tipped an invisible hat, then ducked out the back, the sign under his arm.

Her chest filling with excitement, Elizabeth all but skipped to the front door and opened it, welcoming in the breeze and sunshine. She’d found something of her own, a place to exchange ideas and instigate change.

In her mind, she pictured the women coming in, sharing, laughing—making plans for the town and for themselves. And
in the process, she and Robby would find a modicum of freedom, a place to find their way.

Mr. Sorenson cleared his throat, interrupting her daydreams. He put a bucket of water and the rags he’d promised on the floor beside her. “I don’t see any more mouse nests, just droppings. The missus sent over a scrub brush and a jug of vinegar to cut the dust. Anything else you need, holler.”

“Thank you.”

“The missus is jabbering about your ladies’ club. With you next door, I’ll probably not get a lick of work out of her.”

“We’ll meet once a week, probably on Saturday. Women may not have much time or interest.”

“Once the word spreads, you’ll be swamped with members.”

Elizabeth grinned. “When can you show me your books?”

“How about early Saturday? I can introduce you to my ledger, get you started. After you get that mess straightened out, I’d say once a week should handle it.”

Elizabeth stepped outside with the broom and watched Mr. Sorenson head next door. She swung the broom and sent dirt flying. As Martha had always said: well begun is half done. For once the work didn’t feel like a chore. Not when it meant she’d take a role in town.

“Excuse me.” A familiar fellow she’d met at the café the night she married Ted appeared at her elbow, wearing a plaid shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing a glimpse of long underwear. He removed his billed cap and squinted into the sun, deepening the grooves around his hazel eyes. “I hear tell you need tables, missus,” he said, plopping the cap on his head.

“Please, call me Elizabeth. You’re Cecil, the genius with hammer and nails who’s going to make my tables.”

A deep red blush moved up his neck and disappeared beneath his cap. “Yep. Cecil Moore’s the name, but I ain’t never been called a genius.”

“A man that handy is a gift to womankind.”

“Well, I ain’t wearing no bow.” He hitched up his pants. “How many?”

Stifling a grin, she took count. “Four should be plenty.”

“If Sorenson’s got that many barrel lids out back, I’ll make ’em for ya. I’ll be back.”

“Please don’t rush on my account.”

“I only got one speed, missus. Rush ain’t it.”

Elizabeth watched Mr. Moore shuffle away. Clearly his one speed was tortoise.

Picking up the broom, she swept the store. Dust flew into her face and she coughed then sneezed, wishing for her red head scarf to cover her nose, especially if it would scare mice as well as chickens.

Oscar, the other Moore brother, appeared at the door. Apparently word was spreading, all right, but not to the ladies.

“Cecil tells me you’re going to form yourself a ladies’ club, whatever that is.”

The brothers didn’t resemble each other. Oscar was portly, baby faced and short. Cecil was as thin as a reed, long faced and wrinkled.

“Yes, I am.” She returned to her sweeping. If she kept getting visitors she’d never finish before school let out.

Oscar swung his head side to side. “Don’t look like much.”

“It needs cleaning,” she said, ending on a sneeze.

He guffawed. “Yes, ma’am, it surely does.” He grabbed the broom from her hands. “You’d better git some air. I’ll finish this.”

Elizabeth took a look at the man’s thick waistline. A little work wouldn’t hurt him. She grabbed rag and pail and walked outside to wash the window. When Oscar finished, she stepped inside to clean the other side.

“I hear tell you called my brother a genius,” he said.

“Well,
you
are a knight in shining armor for protecting me from all that dust, Mr. Moore.”

“Shucks, weren’t nothing.”

“You kept me from a coughing fit or worse.” She smiled. “I don’t call that nothing.”

The two men might not look alike but they both had blushes that would put a new bride to shame.

“Your brother is making tables out of crates and barrels. Isn’t that the cleverest thing you’ve ever heard of?” she said, rinsing out her rag.

“He fancies his self a carpenter, but hammering crates together don’t make him a craftsman.”

Apparently the Moore brothers had a competitive streak.

Oscar surveyed the room. “These floors could use mopping.”

She gave the window one last scrub and then wiped a hand over her brow. “As soon as I get a bucket of clean water, I’ll get started.”

“I’ll fetch it. It’s too heavy for a dainty thing like you.”

“Thank you. Your mother raised good men.”

“We raised ourselves, ma’am. Didn’t turn out to be Jesse James so I reckon we done okay.” Oscar disappeared then returned with the bucket. “Where do you want it?”