Letters to Caroline (Brides of Serenity Book 1) Page 2

  With great effort, she managed to open her eyes. The first face she saw was that of a tiny woman with dazzling white hair and a wrinkled but friendly face. “There,” the woman announced, sounding satisfied. “I told you she’d wake up as soon as you both took a step back. What’s your name, dear?”

  Caroline tried to speak, but her voice didn’t want to cooperate.

  “Water?” the woman asked.

  She nodded.

  The woman stepped away, and a familiar-looking man moved into her line of vision. “Let me help you,” he offered. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and helped her sit up to sip from the glass he held in his other hand.

  Only when her thirst was quenched did she take a moment to study her surroundings. She was lying on a bed in a simple bedroom with a light quilt drawn over her body. Besides the white-haired woman and the man holding her, she saw one other man in a black suit hanging back near the doorway, his hat in his hand.

  The familiar-looking man helped her lean back against the pillow in a half-sitting position. When he released her, she missed the warmth of his arm around her. “I’m Caroline Morgan. You were at the train station,” she remembered.

  He nodded. “Adam Phillips,” he told her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

  I could never forget anyone as handsome as you, she thought, and felt her face grow warm at the thought. He was almost unbearably handsome, with light eyes and dark blond hair. Although he was seated in the chair beside her bed, she remembered from their brief encounter that he was tall enough to make her forget her own awkward height. Looking at her now, he gave her a crooked smile that warmed her heart.

  “Oh!” she cried, suddenly remembering. “Jacob is dead?”

  The man in black stepped forward. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Morgan,” he said. “I’m Reverend Brown and this is my wife Mildred. Jacob passed away in his sleep last Monday night.”

  “In his sleep? That’s unusual for a man his age, isn’t it?”

  “Not at his age. He was seventy-six, after all.”

  “Seventy-six? But--but he said in his letters that he was thirty-two!”

  Brown and Adam exchanged knowing glances. “Jacob Anderson wasn’t known for being truthful, God rest his soul,” the Reverend explained.

  Caroline sank back against the pillows. “I see,” she said softly. Her mind was spinning, but thankfully the buzzing sound that had filled her head back at the train station was gone. She was silent, letting the information sink in. Even if she could have accepted the fact that Jacob lied to her, none of that mattered now; she was alone in a town that was hundreds of miles from home, with no money and nowhere to go.

  She sat up again as a thought occurred to her. “My bag! I left it at the station!”

  “It’s here. My girls brought it along for you.”

  My girls. She felt a twinge of disappointment that she quickly shrugged off. Adam had daughters. Of course he was a married man with children.

  “I see,” she said again. “Thank you so much for your kindness, but I’ve imposed on all of you long enough. I’ll just get my things and go --”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Mildred scoffed. “You’ll stay right here for the night. We can work out the details in the morning.”

  “But--”

  “It’s no imposition. Our daughter was married last spring, and this was her room.” She turned and made a small gesture at her husband, who nodded and motioned to Adam. Without a word, both men left the room, although Adam glanced back over his shoulder to smile at Caroline before he vanished.

  “Now,” the older woman said brusquely as soon as they were alone. “Why don’t you tell me why a young thing like you would travel all the way out here to marry a stranger?”

  Caroline toyed with the edge of the quilt for a long moment, afraid to meet the other woman’s eyes. “I had no choice,” she mumbled. “My parents are gone and my uncle . . . I have no home, Mrs. Brown.”

  “Are you with child?”

  Caroline gasped. “Of course not!”

  Mildred studied her and then nodded, apparently satisfied. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  She couldn’t honestly answer that question. Her money had barely covered the cost of her train ticket, and the food in the dining car was ridiculously overpriced. The food she had packed for the journey ran out too soon, forcing her to ignore the hunger pangs and growling sounds from her empty belly.

  Mildred nodded again and sat back, crossing her arms over her considerable bosom. “You don’t seem like a fainter, so I guessed it was hunger or a child. You just need food and a good night’s sleep.”

  And then what? Caroline didn’t speak her question out loud, but her new friend seemed to hear it anyway.

  “There are plenty of men in Serenity looking for a wife,” she said. “Now, don’t look at me like that! You were willing to marry one stranger, so another one will do just as well. But this time Mr. Brown and I can help you choose one who doesn’t have one foot in the grave.”

  “Perhaps I can find work as a seamstress--”

  “If you are handy with a needle, you’ll find work. But this town in no place for a woman alone,” Mildred said bluntly. “There are no hotels or boarding houses that are suitable for a proper young lady. Just the saloon, and that’s no place for a woman. If you plan on staying in Serenity, you’ll need a husband.”

  At the mention of marriage, Caroline glanced at the doorway with a thought of the tall blond man who had so recently held her in his arms. Just as quickly, she dismissed the thought. He was already married, she reminded herself. She’d need to look farther.

  Suddenly, she realized that Mildred was watching her with a knowing smile. “I’ll get you some soup,” the white-haired woman said, rising from the chair and smoothing her skirt. “Then you take a little rest, and we’ll talk about this some more when you feel better.”

  Chapter 4

  Sunday supper was a rushed and messy affair, as Adam and the girls arrived back home much later than they had planned. By the time they had eaten and cleaned up, it was time for him to do the chores, and shortly thereafter it was the twins’ bedtime. He was grateful for the time alone to turn a few things over in his mind, but Sophie and Emily seemed to have other plans.

  He could hear them whispering and moving about in their loft as he sat at the table with a book in his hand. He’d been stuck on the same page for longer than he cared to admit, although he couldn’t be sure whether it was because of the noise above his head or the thoughts of the woman who had collapsed into his arms earlier that day.

  With a sigh, he closed the book. “Girls,” he said, the warning tone clear in his voice.

  “Sorry, Uncle Adam,” they chorused.

  It was silent for a bit, but he didn’t open the book again just yet. Presently, he heard footsteps and looked up to see Sophie’s face appear at the top of the ladder.

  “Uncle Adam?”

  “Yes, Sophie?”

  “Was that lady really going to marry Mr. Anderson?”

  “Well, she was supposed to.”

  “But he was so . . . old. Why would anyone come all the way here to marry such an old man?”

  Adam hesitated. He wanted to say, Because Jacob Anderson was a liar, but it didn’t seem right to speak ill of the dead. Instead, he told Sophie, “I’m not sure Miss Morgan had all of the information.”

  “But why? Why agree to marry someone you’ve never met?”

  “I think it’s terribly romantic.” Emily’s dreamy voice drifted down. “How wonderful to write letters back and forth and fall in love with someone’s words without ever setting eyes on each other!”

  Sophie snorted. “You think marrying ugly old Mr. Anderson was romantic?”

  “Sophie. Show some respect.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Adam.”

  “I don’t think love had anything to do with it,” he said slowly, more to himself than to them. “Sometimes, a person get
s lonely, and marriage to a stranger starts to sound better than life alone. These marriages by mail might not be as crazy as they seem.”

  “When I marry, it will be for love,” Emily announced. “He’ll write me love poems and sing songs about my eyes, and I’ll--”

  “You’ll be an old maid if you wait for that,” Sophie laughed. “Me, I’ll just marry David Baxter when we grow up.”

  “Oh, really?” Adam put his book on the table and leaned forward to see his niece better. David Baxter had been her best friend for years, and the two of them were nearly inseparable. Now, he wondered if perhaps the two of them were old enough to require a bit more adult supervision when they were together. He made a quick mental note to have a chat with David’s father at the first possible opportunity.

  Sophie laughed again and disappeared from the top of the ladder. He heard her footsteps dash across the floor, followed by a shriek of protest from her sister. “Uncle Adam! Tell Sophie it’s too hot to lay so close to me!”

  “That’s enough, girls.” He bit back a smile, glad that neither girl could see his face at the moment.

  As silence descended upon the house once more, he allowed his mind to drift over the girls’ words. He thought about Caroline Morgan, alone in the spare room at the Brown’s home, and he wondered if she would have gone through with the marriage to Jacob Anderson if the old man were still alive. As far as he could see, she really wouldn’t have had much of a choice.

  Wonder what she’ll do now, he wondered, picking up his book once more. She’ll have to go back home where she came from, unless . . . unless she finds another husband.

  Adam cleared his throat. He didn’t like where his thoughts were going. Resolutely, he opened the book and tried to focus on the page, but the seed of an idea had been planted in his mind, where he couldn’t stop it from growing.

  I could ask her to marry me, he thought. She could be a mother to the twins, and their grandparents won’t be able to take them from me. And it would be nice to have another adult to talk to. I don’t expect anything to do with love, he hastily added to his mental argument; it would be strictly a business arrangement.

  He shook his head. This was crazy. He’d only known the woman for a few hours, and she’d been unconscious for a big part of that time. He was not the type to jump into anything impulsively, even though there had just been something so . . . right about the way she felt in his arms.

  “Uncle Adam?”

  “Yes, Emily?”

  “Maybe you should marry Miss Morgan.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I think you’re lonely. Ever since-- ever since Miss Thompson--”

  “That’s enough, Emily. Good night.”

  “Good night, Uncle Adam.”

  Adam resisted the urge to put his hand over his heart to quiet its sudden pounding. He and his nieces had reached a sort of unspoken agreement to never mention Elise Thompson, and the sound of her name sent a chill racing through his body. He flushed with guilt at the realization that he’d even contemplated marriage to another woman without any thought of Elise running through his mind.

  Elise is never coming back, he reminded himself. Never. And it’s high time I faced that fact.

  He gave up on reading for the evening. He wasn’t making any progress with the book anyway.

  I need a wife, and Caroline Morgan needs a husband, he decided. I’ll never love again, but we could grow fond enough of each other in time. If she’ll have me, that is.

  Chapter 5

  “Mr. Phillips, are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Yes, Miss Morgan, I am.”

  “But . . . why?” Caroline wondered if perhaps she had hit her head when she fainted the previous day. Nothing that had happened so far this morning was making any sense at all. She’d barely had time to get up and dressed before Adam showed up in the middle of breakfast and asked to speak to her alone for a moment. The second they were alone, he blurted out his proposal. “Aren’t you already married?” she asked now.

  “Of course not!” Adam looked bewildered and a bit affronted.

  “You are a widower, then?”

  “I’ve never been married.”

  “But the girls--”

  “--are my nieces.”

  “Oh.” Caroline drew a deep breath. “Mr. Phillips, I appreciate your kind offer, but I --”

  “Please call me Adam,” he interrupted.

  “And you may call me Caroline,” she said. “Adam, I appreciate your kind offer, but surely there are other women you would prefer. Women you actually know.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job of this. Let me start again.” Adam cleared his throat. “You need a husband and I need a wife to help me raise my nieces. I know I am a stranger, but no more so than Jacob was. If you were willing to take a chance on him, can’t you at least consider taking a chance on me?”

  She was silent, turning it over in her mind.

  “I am a hard worker,” Adam said after a moment. “I am not wealthy, but I do well enough at the sawmill, and my home is plain but sturdy. I have. . . that is, there is a . . .” he cleared his throat again and looked everywhere but at Caroline. “My home has an extra bedroom, so I am making this offer strictly as a business arrangement.”

  Caroline felt her face grow warm at his words. She wanted to run away and hide from this man and his pity, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. “And just exactly what do you get out of this marriage, Adam?” she asked evenly.

  It was his turn to flush. “I need your help,” he admitted. “My nieces need a mother. I can’t raise them alone.”

  “I see.” And she did see. Adam needed a caretaker for his nieces, nothing more. “May I have a few minutes to think about it?”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded and excused herself, making her way to the room she had stayed in the previous night. She managed to keep her movements calm and sedate until she had closed the door behind her, at which point she leaned against the door and began to tremble.

  Marriage to Jacob was one thing. She’d had months to get used to the idea of marrying him from the letters they had written back and forth. Even though he had lied about his age -- and God knew what else!-- marriage to him hadn’t seemed like such a crazy idea. But marriage to Adam was a different matter entirely.

  A business arrangement, he had called it. Naturally, he wanted them to have separate rooms. He couldn’t bear the thought of sharing a bed with her.

  Pride made her straighten her spine and push away from the door. When she made up her mind to marry Jacob, she had harbored the hope that they may someday grow to love each other. With Adam, however, such a hope was out of the question. If she were to marry him, they may someday become good friends, but there would never be love between them.

  Still, she didn’t see that she had any other choice. She was nothing if not practical. She had no money for a train ticket home, and no home to return to even if she did.

  Her decision made, Caroline nodded to herself and straightened her shoulders. She willed her hands to stop shaking as she raised them to tuck a few loose strands of hair back into its knot at the nape of her neck. Carefully, she smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath.

  Lord, please give me strength, she prayed. She opened the door and marched resolutely out into the kitchen.

  “Mr. Ph-I mean, Adam, I have decided to accept your offer,” she said. She was surprised by how calm and level her voice sounded in her own ears. “How soon do you think Reverend Brown can perform the ceremony?”

  # # #

  They were married in the church later that afternoon, with only Mildred Brown and a handful of townspeople in attendance. It all went off without a hitch other than one awkward moment of hesitation when the minister told Adam to “kiss the bride.” Adam gave her a faltering smile as he leaned in, and she turned her head slightly so that his lips barely brushed hers.

  That little bit of contact was enough to make her t
remble. She felt him tighten his grip on her hands and looked up into his concerned gaze.

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips,” Reverend Brown finished.

  Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. It was done. Caroline rolled the words over in her mind. Just like that, she was a married woman. She barely heard the kind words spoken by Mildred as the older woman linked arms with her and walked with her to Adam’s wagon.

  “Thank you for everything,” she whispered.

  “You’ll be fine,” Mildred told her. “You’ll see. Adam is a good man.”

  Caroline nodded, unable to form more words. She shook the minister’s hand and then Adam helped her up into the wagon. Moments later, they were headed out of town.

  The hot sun blasted down on them as they bumped along the plank road. Caroline fanned herself and prayed for a breeze. “Is it always this hot here?” she asked.

  “Not usually,” he said. “It was the hottest summer I can remember, and it doesn’t seem to be cooling off any. No rain to speak of, either. We’ll be driving under some shade trees soon.”

  On either side of them, she saw fresh tree stumps and piles of dead leaves. Dry-looking branches were heaped among the leaves and debris, and here and there she spotted scorched areas.

  “Lumber,” he explained in reply to her questioning look. “Pine, mostly. Some oak and maple. It brings in a lot of money around here. There’s even a new steam-powered sawmill over in Bloomingdale and talk of bringing in a second one.” He shook his head. “The loggers leave behind the treetops and branches that they don’t need. After the summer we’ve had, all of this is nothing but kindling.”

  They had reached the trees by then, and she breathed a sigh of relief as they moved into the shade. Adam pointed out different types of trees and told her a bit about the mill where he worked as a foreman. Eventually, the plank road ended and they continued along a simple dirt road through the woods. She drank in the fresh air, relishing her peaceful surroundings as conversation faded.