The Mercantile Owner's Bride Page 5

  She stared at him. “Really?” Her smile lit up her entire face.

  “You are becoming a wonderful cook,” he said. “You’re a quick learner.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Mrs Mac used to tell me that,” she said, then suddenly clamped her mouth shut.

  “Mrs Mac?” he asked between mouthfuls.

  “Forget it. She’s not important now.” He watched as the happiness left her face, and wondered who Mrs Mac was, and what she’d done to Phoebe. She’d obviously caused her great harm, and it saddened him.

  “Sit and eat with me,” he told her, eager for the smile to grace her face again. She did as he asked and sipped her tea before placing a cheese biscuit on her plate.

  “Oooh, they are nice,” she said, happy once more.

  It didn’t take much to make his Phoebe happy. He again wondered what tragedy had devastated her life.

  * * *

  “Phoebe,” Edward had said a few days later, as she tidied up the kitchen after breakfast. “I think it’s time you explored.”

  She stared at him. What was he talking about?

  “Dayton Falls, I mean. You haven’t really seen our little town, and it’s time you did.”

  She continued to stare and shook her head. “Only if you come with me.”

  He stepped in closer to her. “I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t. I have to take care of the store.”

  “I don’t want to go out there alone,” she said quietly. She was happy in her little domain here in their spacious flat. Wandering about making beds, cooking, sweeping, and cleaning up – it all made her happy.

  Thinking back, she couldn’t recall a time she’d been outside alone. Ever.

  It was a scary thought, and she didn’t want to do that.

  “You’ll be safe,” Edward said confidently. Had he picked up on her lack of self-assurance?

  She shook her head slowly.

  “I’ll stand outside and keep an eye on you. I promise.”

  She still wasn’t convinced, but knew she had to try for his sake. “Alright then, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Get some meat from the butcher. Perhaps for a roast? Mr Simpson will know what you need.”

  A roast? Was he losing his mind? She’d never cooked a roast and had no idea how to go about it.

  Despite her misgivings, she nodded, and he continued. “Tell him to put it on my account.”

  The moment Edward left to start work, Phoebe prepared for her visit to the butcher. She had no decent coat, so prepared to brave the cold. Dayton Falls could be quite chilly at times, much colder than she was used to.

  Sliding her thin jacket on her arms, she snatched up a basket and made her way to the store.

  Edward had just finished serving a customer as she entered, so was able to put all his attention on her. His eyes bore into her, and she wasn’t sure if she’d done something to cause his dismay, or whether it was the jacket.

  He opened a notebook and scribbled something down but said not a word. He then opened the door to her. As she walked away, he issued instructions. “Take a stroll down the street, and check out some of the other stores,” he told her. “You might need them one day.”

  She looked back at him over her shoulder. What she really wanted to do was run back inside and hide behind her husband.

  This was an adventure, but not one she savored. At least he would be watching to ensure she was safe. But what if a customer arrived? Then he’d be gone.

  She swallowed. It shouldn’t be that hard. Unfortunately, for her it was.

  Phoebe straightened her back and stiffened her shoulders. She’d faced situations far greater than this one. She could not show fear. Would not show fear.

  She glanced across the street until she saw the sign to the butcher’s shop. Her heart was pounding, but she pushed forward. Crossing the road, she lifted her skirts to avoid getting them dirty.

  Barely moving her head, she checked her husband was still there. He was. It gave her the fortitude to continue.

  She would show him she had grit, even if she didn’t feel quite as gutsy as she tried to make out.

  She walked past the Barber Shop, as well as the Seamstress, glancing in the windows as she did. She glimpsed the sign to the Sheriff’s Office, then rushed past until she reached her destination.

  Did he have a wanted sign with her picture on it? She certainly hoped not.

  As she opened the door to the butcher’s shop, she was relieved to see a familiar face. “Good morning, Mrs Jensen,” Phoebe said, her hands still shaking from her ordeal. “I have your name right, don’t I?” She held her breath waiting for an answer.

  “Good morning Phoebe. Yes, you do.” The older woman smiled at her, glancing quickly at her bare head. Despite that, she seemed friendly enough.

  Mr Simpson suddenly appeared from a backroom. He approached the counter with a package, which he handed to Mrs Jensen. “Put it on the account, Mrs Jensen?” he asked.

  “Thank you, yes. Oh, Mr Simpson, this is Mrs Horvard. She’s new in town.”

  After they’d exchanged pleasantries and Mrs Jensen left them, Phoebe told the butcher what her husband had requested.

  He went out back again and returned with a package that looked similar to the one Mrs Jensen had left with.

  “Mr Simpson,” she said quietly despite the shop being devoid of other customers. “I have no idea what to do with this. Can you help me?” She felt two inches tall asking for such assistance, but what was she to do?

  She grimaced as he fought back a smile, then slowly explained the steps to cooking a roast. Phoebe’s relief was palpable.

  “Thank you very much, Mr Simpson,” she said as she opened the door.

  “Anytime, Mrs Horvard,” he said. “I am always happy to help.”

  She stood outside the shop, and looking back at the Mercantile, discovered Edward was still standing there. He gave her a wave, and she waved back. What sort of wife was she to need her husband to stand guard to ensure her peace of mind?

  She walked in the opposite direction of the Mercantile, as Edward had instructed.

  Next door was the Post Office. It might come in handy one day, but on second thoughts, perhaps not. She had no family, and no one to write too. Except her friends at the Burlesque. Was it worth the risk? Mr Grayson might find the letters and discover where she was and drag her back.

  She let out a small shriek. No, she couldn’t risk it.

  With just the saddlery and livery at the end of the row, she crossed the street again, avoiding the blacksmith and newspaper office.

  She continued along the sidewalk until she came to the Millinery, where she stared longingly in the window.

  Phoebe gawked at the array of beautiful hats on display. She put a hand to her head – she didn’t possess even a bonnet, let alone a hat as attractive as these.

  Perhaps one day she would.

  She sighed. That would never happen because she didn’t have money. She’d never wished for beautiful things before, because she’d never had them. You force yourself not to wish for those things that are totally out of reach.

  In the short time she’d been in Dayton Falls, Edward had spoiled her. He’d given her stunning dresses, perfume, and much more.

  But the most important thing he’d given her was a home. A safe place to live.

  And for that she would be eternally grateful.

  She continued her travels, and to her surprise, the Mercantile was right next door.

  Edward was nowhere in sight.

  She watched through the window to find him serving a customer. She hadn’t known he was missing, and she survived.

  This time.

  Would she risk it again? It had been quite an ordeal for her, not having done such a thing before.

  Edward opened the door for his customer and greeted her. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked flippantly.

  She stared up at him open-mouthed. He really had no idea how hard that had been for her. “Not really
, but I did enjoy the Millinery.”

  He frowned. “You didn’t enjoy getting out,” he asked, quite taken aback.

  She looked about, ensuring there were no prying ears. “Edward,” she said, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “I have never been outside alone before.” Except for the night she ran away, she silently added. And that was terrifying.

  They stared into each other’s eyes for nearly a minute, then she lifted her skirts and pushed her way inside.

  “But Phoebe,” he called after her. “That can’t be right.”

  She stopped at the entrance to the private residence and glared at him. “Are you sure?” she said quietly, then continued on her way.

  When she looked back over her shoulder, she watched Edward shake his head. Perhaps he was learning more about her than he ever wanted to know.

  Chapter Seven

  Phoebe felt more nervous today than she had when she arrived.

  She was attending church for the first time since their marriage. The preacher hadn’t seemed too keen to meet her then, and she wondered what his reception to her would be like today.

  Edward looked very smart in his Sunday best suit. She would straighten his tie, and they’d be on their way.

  But he had other ideas.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  She shook her head. He was always giving her surprises and gifts, and he shouldn’t.

  “Wait here.” He almost ran to the bedroom and returned with a large package. “Open it.”

  He stood back grinning from ear to ear. Her curiosity was piqued.

  She tore at the wrapping then stood back. It looked like a hat box. Could it be? Her heart skipped a beat.

  Slowly she pulled off the lid and pulled out the bonnet. It was made of emerald green silk. Her heart sped up. How did he know she dreamed of a hat or bonnet?

  She leaned into him and hugged him tight. “Oh Edward. This is beautiful. Thank you so much!”

  “Go to the mirror and put in on,” he said, unhooking himself from his wife.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Phoebe ran to the bathroom and put the hat to her head. Edward had insisted she leave her hair down today, and now she knew why.

  Pulling the bonnet on her head, she stared at her reflection. The color perfectly suited her red hair. Did Edward see her staring at the hats in the Millinery? No matter, she couldn’t recall seeing this one in the window.

  As she tied the emerald green bow, she noticed the detail on the bonnet. It had stunning ruffles near the front and was puffed out at the back. She would be able to wear it with her hair up as well.

  Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know if that was because of the bonnet itself, or because Edward cared enough to buy it for her.

  Edward came up behind her and stared at her reflection. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  “You look even more beautiful,” he said, stroking her long hair. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  She blushed at his compliment. “The color is perfect.”

  He grinned. “I had it made especially for you.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and Phoebe felt warmth go down her spine.

  “You’ll go to the Millinery tomorrow for fittings,” Edward said. “I have ordered and paid for more, but you will choose this time.” He smiled briefly, then turned away. “We must go,” he said. “Or we’ll be late for church, and that just won’t do.”

  More? Edward had ordered more hats for her? When would she use them all?

  He put a finger to her lips. “No argument. It’s done.”

  Phoebe hooked her arm through his, and they went on their way. This was a much more comfortable way to be outside, she decided. With her husband by her side.

  She discovered a few more stores on their way, including a dress shop and boot store. Edward caught her staring.

  “They are beautiful boots for sure,” he said, then lifted the bottom of her skirts slightly. “That’s next on the agenda.”

  She was beginning to realize it was pointless to argue, so nodded her head briefly.

  As they neared the tiny chapel, Phoebe heard music and began to sway to the beat. Edward stared at her. “I love music,” she whispered as they neared the doorway.

  “Mr and Mrs Horvard,” the preacher said as he greeted them at the door. “Welcome.”

  They slid into a seat at the back and waited for the service to begin. Phoebe looked around the building, with its intricately carved ceilings and columns, and it’s stained-glass windows.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she whispered. How did she not notice all this the day they married? Probably because she was exhausted and nervous.

  “It’s no different to other churches,” he whispered back.

  Phoebe licked her lips. Should she tell him? “This is the first real church I’ve ever been in,” she admitted quietly.

  His expression was one of shock, but the service began, much to Phoebe’s relief, meaning he didn’t get to respond.

  After the service, everyone stayed for coffee and cookies, as well as socializing. Many of the parishioners lived well out of town, Edward told her. This was often their only chance to see other town folk.

  He introduced her to the regulars, as he’d called them. Perhaps she would start to make some friends? She hoped so.

  She left an hour later with a cacophony of names and faces in her head. Her one fear was getting people’s names confused.

  “You did well,” he said as they strolled back home.

  Home. She did now think of it as home. It was the only real home she could remember having.

  Edward tightened his grip on her waist.

  It was time. She needed to tell him of her past. Snippets of her life were making their way from her memories and out of her mouth.

  She didn’t want him to find out she was a wanted woman from the sheriff.

  “I,” Where did she start? “I have to tell you something,” she said.

  He stared at her but didn’t interrupt.

  “The reason I had to come here in a hurry.”

  He quickly shushed her. “Not here. Prying ears and all.” He pulled her closer. “Besides, I don’t want you to feel compelled to tell me anything.”

  Her lips pulled into a tight line. He’d given her so much, and she’d given him so little in return. She owed him this much, and she would see to it her heard her out.

  She just didn’t know when that would be.

  * * *

  Edward sat down to his first roast supper since his marriage just a few weeks ago. Was it really only such a short time?

  He stared down at his plate. Roast pork, apple sauce, and vegetables. Phoebe had really outdone herself this time.

  He wiped his mouth with a clean napkin, then took a sip of coffee. His belly was full, and his heart was too.

  What he really wanted to do was infiltrate the walls that Phoebe had put up between them. His life was an open book, but she was living in the shadows.

  Every now and then she let something slip, like her comment about Mrs Mac, then she suddenly pulled down the shutters.

  Trying to get her to open up had so far proved impossible.

  She leaned into him and took his dirty dishes, and he began to stand.

  “Where are you going,” she asked with a sly smile. “I have a surprise for you.” She touched his shoulder and guided him back into his chair.

  He relished her touch – it was not something she did often. In fact, they rarely made physical contact, but when they did, sparks flew. At least for him they did. He had no idea about Phoebe.

  She lifted an item from the counter top and placed it on the table. It was covered with a kitchen towel, so she really had meant it to be a surprise.

  He reached over to remove the kitchen towel, his curiosity getting the better of him. She slapped his hand away.

  The contact was brief, but he relished it. As she pulled away, he reached for her hand again.


  “Phoebe,” he said softly. “I like it when you touch me.”

  She froze for just a moment, then giggled and proceeded to prepare for his surprise. “Are you ready?” She sounded as excited as a teenager.

  It made his heart sing. When she was happy and excited, it lifted his mood.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did as he was told. “Now open them.”

  She had the kitchen towel in her hand and was pointing. “Is it pie?” he asked excitedly. He hadn’t had pie for a very long time. It felt like forever.

  “Apple pie,” she said. “And cream!”

  “Oh my Lord,” he said. “You are quite the cook now, Phoebe,” he said, grabbing for her hand, and kissing it softly.

  He stared up into her face. She looked shocked. Was that because he kissed her hand, or did she feel the things he was feeling?

  Did her heart do a little flutter when he touched her? And did the butterflies in her stomach all come to life when they connected?

  She snatched her hand back out of his light grip. “I, I need to get a knife and cut this up,” she said, pulling away.

  She reached into the cupboard and pulled out two bowls, then served them each a piece of pie.

  “I’m a rich man,” he said.

  She glared at him.

  He stumbled to explain himself. “I don’t mean rich with money, although I am that too,” he said. “I’m rich in another way. I won the lottery when they sent you to me.” He might not have thought that at first, but now he knew better.

  Her glare turned into a sweet smile. He reached for her hand again and indicated for her to sit down. “I admit to having misgivings when you arrived,” he said, looking at the table. “But you have proven yourself time and again.”

  His voice suddenly dropped. “I’m falling in love with you, Phoebe,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think I was capable of love, but you proved me wrong.”

  Her eyes never left his. “I don’t know if I’m in love or not,” she said. “Since I’ve never been in love as far as I know.”

  He chuckled, but she ignored him and continued.

  “When you are close, I feel a little flutter in my belly.”

  He stood and pulled her up with him, enveloping her in a big hug. “Oh Phoebe,” he said into her ear. “That happens to me too.”