The Replacement Wife Page 3

  Good Lord, what a fool I am, she thought. She stared out at the green grass. It really was a lovely view, just as she’d imagined when she’d daydreamed about the children she would have with Joe. Joe Junior. Her soon-to-be stepson. Oh, God. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands.

  “Do you want a glass of water?”

  She straightened up and looked at him. The concern in his eyes was touching, really, although it only made the ache in her chest grow worse. Of course he’s not the one who needs a mail-order bride, she thought. Just look at him. He probably has a whole list of women who want to get married. She allowed herself a long final gaze at him before tearing her eyes away to examine the porch’s floorboards.

  “No, I just need a minute,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” And maybe I will be fine, she thought. At least I didn’t say anything too revealing on the ride. He probably has no idea that I even mistook him for my fiancé. It could make for a funny story someday. Someday far, far in the future. Or maybe never.

  “All right,” she said, gathering her strength and rising from the chair. “Let’s go meet your father.”

  There was that smile again. Amy averted her eyes and stepped toward the door, waiting for Joe to open it for her. Perhaps one day she’d be able to simply look at Joe and forget how he’d made her feel when they’d first met, but that day was going to be a long time coming. For now, it would be better to simply ignore those feelings and wait for them to go away. She was here to marry his father, and if she had made a mistake along the way, it was nobody’s fault but her own.

  She followed Joe inside and looked around the home where she’d be living. A long rug ran the length of the hall, revealing only a portion of the finely polished wood beneath, and just inside the door there was a small mahogany table with a porcelain vase atop it. Joe closed the door behind them, leaving the corridor cool and dimly lit.

  “He’s probably in the dining room,” Joe said. “Lunchtime.”

  Amy nodded and followed him. They went by a pair of framed paintings on the wall, and although she barely glanced at them in passing, they seemed to call out to her. She stopped and backed up a few steps to look more closely. One was of a young boy, perhaps eight or ten years old, and the other was of a girl the same age. Each held a wild bird in hand—the boy, a cardinal, and the girl, a robin—and they both appeared to be smiling slightly, looking right at Amy. There was a tiny brass plate affixed to the bottom of each frame. The painting of the boy was labeled “Timothy Orne”, and the girl, “Sarah Orne”.

  “These look so familiar to me,” she said.

  Joe stepped closer. “Maybe you’ve seen some other paintings this artist did. I think he was from Boston.”

  “That could be, I suppose,” she said. “Are these family members of yours?”

  Joe chuckled. “Not that I know of. I don’t even know why we have them, to be honest. They’ve been hanging here ever since I was a boy.”

  She leaned closer and ran her fingers over the frame, staring at the girl’s painting, trying to see all the detail in the low light of the hall. It was as if the girl’s smile were one of understanding, a girl who’d already found a home, welcoming the woman who’d just arrived. Amy took a deep breath and realized that she could smell Joe’s shave soap, he was standing so close to her. She turned to look at him.

  This could be all right, she thought. Things started out oddly, to be sure, but it could all turn out fine. Children were usually like their parents, both in character and form. For all she knew, she would grow to love and respect Joe’s father, just like she had imagined on that nervous day when she’d visited Westward Hearts. There was only one way to find out.

  “Let’s not keep your father waiting,” she said.

  Joe nodded and turned, leading her to the end of the hall. The doors to the dining room were closed, but Joe took hold of each doorknob and opened them wide. “Pa, I’ve brought your wife,” he said, then stepped out of the way.

  As she stepped in to the dining room, it was clear to Amy that the son had inherited his eyes from the father; Joe Sr. had the same shade of piercing blue, though now red-rimmed and watery with age. The rest, Joe Jr. must have gotten from his mother.

  She supposed that there were not many men who could look good with a grease-stained napkin tucked into the shirt collar, and Joe’s father was no exception. As they stepped into the dining room, they had indeed arrived in the middle of the midday meal. Joe Sr. sat at the end of a long table, like a king presiding over the array of dishes laid out in front of him. It was quite a spread: sliced ham and mashed potatoes, roasted chicken and biscuits, a half-gone cherry pie and a bowlful of apples. But then, the father was quite a man. In fact, she’d rarely seen anybody his size; the only thing that kept him from sitting closer to the food was his stomach, which was already pressed up against the edge of the table.

  Amy felt one hope crumble inside. Aside from his eyes, there was little that he apparently shared with his son—or, at least, not anymore. His girth had impressed her first, but she immediately realized that she had somewhat underestimated the age difference that she would have with her husband. Joe Sr. was sixty if he was a day, with a laurel of stringy white hair. The veins in his cheeks lent a reddish tinge to his otherwise ashy skin, and she could see a dab of gravy at the corner of his mouth. Still, she could live with all of that. She tried not to judge books by their covers, for the world was full of people who were perfect on the inside—for all she knew, Joe Sr. was one of these rare and special men.

  It was just a little hard to tell at the moment, since he hadn’t spoken a word yet. He was simply staring at her, his cheek bulging with whatever food he was chewing.

  “Pa, this is Miss Chase,” Joe said.

  The old man swallowed, then bunched up his napkin in one heavy fist and smeared it across his mouth. “Of course it is,” he said. “Who else would it be?”

  Joe turned to Amy. “This is my father, Joseph Peterson Sr.,” he said. “He goes by Joss.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She wasn’t sure whether to approach him and offer her hand, but Joss didn’t seem to be expecting it. Instead, he leaned forward and his eyes narrowed as he peered at her.

  “You’re prettier than I was expecting,” he said. “That’s good.”

  Amy blushed, and her gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Pa, don’t embarrass her,” Joe said. “Amy, why don’t you have a seat? You’re probably famished by now.”

  In fact, it wasn’t until he’d mentioned it that she realized just how hungry she was, and she allowed Joe to pull out a chair for her before he went to sit on the other side of the table. “You have a lovely home—”

  “Carol!” Joss barked suddenly, startling her. “Bring another plate!” In a moment, the door to the kitchen swung wide and a thin, nervous-looking woman entered. “Here’s the girl. She’ll want to eat something, I guess,” he said as he eyed the plates laid out on the table.

  Carol went to the sideboard and took out a plate and silverware, then wordlessly placed them in front of Amy.

  “Thank you,” Amy said, but there was no reply. Carol simply went to the back of the room and stood behind Joss, her back against the wall and her eyes drilling holes in the carpet.

  “You must be happy to be finished traveling,” Joe said. “That’s a long trip from back East.”

  “Longer than I care to remember,” she said. “I didn’t think we’d ever—”

  “So I hear tell you had trouble back home.”

  Amy turned to Joss. “Beg your pardon?”

  “The girl from the agency said you were getting kicked out,” Joss said. “Some kind of problem with your uncle. You a troublemaker?”

  “No, I’m not,” she said. “And that’s not quite what happened. We had a disagreement and I left on my own.”

  Joss snorted. “Before he kicked you out, you mean. I guess you got lucky that I needed a wife.”

  We’ll see about that, she thought.
“In fact, I was wondering about that. They said that your first wife died?”

  “Couple years ago.” He broke a biscuit and stuffed one half into his mouth.

  “It was a hard time,” Joe said. “The doctor said Mom had the consumption.”

  “Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry. For both of you.”

  “She was a good woman,” Joe said.

  Joss nodded. “Hard worker.” He dipped the other half of the biscuit into the gravy boat and then popped it into his mouth. “Not like this one here,” he said, throwing a glance toward Carol. “But I won’t have to worry about that much longer, will I?”

  Carol’s face flushed.

  “Pa, you’re not still thinking—”

  “Course I am! Why would I pay for something I’ll get for free? Do you think I built up the business by throwing money away?” He turned to Amy. “You know how to cook?”

  “Well, of course, a little,” she said.

  “You know how to keep house?”

  “Yes.”

  Joss turned back to his son. “So tell me, why would I need her after the wedding?” he asked, hooking a thumb toward Carol. “You find a new job yet?”

  Carol shook her head. “No, not yet, Mr. Peterson.”

  Joss fixed her with his watery blue eyes. “Better hurry up on that, then.”

  Carol said nothing, but scowled at Amy just long enough for her to notice it.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Joss asked, pointing to the food with a half-gnawed chicken leg.

  “Oh, yes...should I serve myself?”

  “Take whatever you want,” Joss said. “Except for these,” he added, quickly shooting out one hand to the dish of mashed potatoes, which he pulled closer to his own plate. “She didn’t make much today.”

  Amy glanced across the table, but Joe seemed to be avoiding her gaze. She took a slice of ham and some bread, though she was already less hungry than she’d felt only a few minutes earlier. In fact, she seemed to be losing her appetite by the minute; her hunger was being quickly replaced by a feeling of dread. Still, she had to admit that with the way the day had started, it was possible that Joss would end up surprising her. Perhaps there’s still reason to hope for the best. After all, Joe was so late that I didn’t think he was going to impress me either; maybe bad first impressions just run in the family.

  “So, Joe gave me a little tour on the way, but I don’t recall seeing your hotel,” she said. “I’m sure it must be nice; I’d like to see it sometime.”

  “I’ll take you over there tomorrow so you can see it,” Joe said. “I need to stop by anyway. I’m actually taking over the manager’s job, starting next month.” She watched him sit up a little straighter as he spoke, and she could see a gleam of pride in his eyes.

  “You are? That’s wonderful!”

  “That’s temporary,” Joss grunted. “We’ll see how things go.”

  Joe seemed not to have heard his father. “I’ve been working there ever since I was a boy,” he said. “Nobody knows the place better than I do.”

  “Knowing is only half of it. Doing is the other half.” Joss turned to Amy. “He’s a smart boy, but he doesn’t apply himself. I’d never get any work out of him at all if he didn’t have his heart set on that fool horse of his. Did he tell you about his horse?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “It’s a blasted waste, if you ask me,” Joss said. “One horse gets you around as good as any other, but he wants the most expensive horse you’ve ever heard of.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll do a fine job at the hotel,” she said. “It must be nice to have a son you can bring into the business.”

  “It’s nice to have somebody who’ll work for even less than what I’m paying Al Gates over there right now.”

  Amy looked over at Joe, who gave her an embarrassed grin. “It’s all right,” he said. “Everybody has to work his way up.”

  Amy gave him an encouraging smile, then turned back to Joss. “Mineral Point seems to be a nice little town,” she said. “Joe was saying before that it’s a good place to raise a family.”

  Joss shrugged as he carved out a huge spoonful of potatoes. “Good as any other, I guess.”

  “Do you have any other children?”

  Joss snorted, then answered with a voice muffled from food. “One was enough.” He swallowed the potatoes, and took a moment to simply study Amy. For the first time since meeting him, she had the distinct sense that he was not looking at her like she was an employee, or an investment he’d made. He was looking at her like a man looking at a woman, simple as that, and his eyes lingered a moment too long on her chest. “I don’t need any more kids,” he said. “I just need...companionship,” he added as a smirk appeared on his face.

  Amy tried not to shiver as she crossed her arms and unconsciously grasped the locket on her necklace.

  “Still, I can’t have you staying in the house, much as I’d like to,” he said. “Too many gossips in this town, and I have a reputation to protect. Until the wedding, you’ll stay with Carol out back.”

  Carol, surprisingly, piped up. “What? That’s my room!”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, that’s my room,” Joss said. “I don’t recall you paying for it. You don’t like it, you can leave whenever you like.”

  Carol didn’t need to say another word; the tight-lipped grimace on her face said it all. Amy could almost feel the daggers of her gaze, however.

  “When were you thinking that we would, uh...get married?” Amy asked. Her voice had faltered, failing her at the end.

  Joss reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small appointment book, flipping it open. He leaned over to look closely at it, mumbling to himself as he ran one index finger up and down each page. Finally he paused to write a note before closing the book.

  “Two weeks from today,” he said. “I’ll talk to the pastor. He’ll make time for me.” Then he turned his attention to his plate, as if he’d just concluded his business with her and had nothing else to say.

  “Carol, could you make me a cup of coffee?” Joe asked. “I think I’ll have a piece of pie.”

  His father’s hand shot out and he hooked a finger into the pie tin, pulling it close. “That’s for me,” Joss said. “Have some ham instead. It’s too dry anyway.”

  Amy picked at her food for another minute, then set down her fork. She’d had enough. Two weeks, she thought, and her eyes began to sting. Though she took a deep breath and managed to keep the tears from spilling out there at the dinner table, she could feel her last hope dying away like the flame of a guttering candle.

  Two weeks. She had fled across the country to escape a marriage to a man she didn’t fancy, and now found herself in precisely the same situation—except now in a new city, far from everything she knew. She had avoided nothing; she had merely postponed it. Fate, it seemed, had a particularly cruel sense of humor sometimes.

  Chapter 4

  It would have been difficult to say which was chilling her more: the thought that she had been unable to escape a loveless marriage, or the fact that Carol wasn’t sharing much of the blanket. As it turned out, sleeping in Carol’s room had actually meant sleeping in Carol’s bed too, which in normal times would have been the most unpleasant surprise of the day. Today it had ranked about fifth. Amy pulled on the blanket, but it hardly budged, like it had been anchored on the other side. She turned from one side to the other, trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. For a thin, bony woman, Carol took up a surprising amount of room.

  I guess it doesn’t really matter. I wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight anyway. She rolled off the bed and went to retrieve her coat from where it hung by the door, stepping quickly and lightly across the cold floor. Amy curled up in the room’s only chair, tucking her feet underneath and wrapping herself in her coat. She wasn’t particularly comfortable, but at least she was warm.

  What am I going to do? It was the question she’d been torturing herself with ever since the afternoon.
After the shock of meeting her fiancé—just the thought of using that word about Joss gave her another round of shivers—she had been left alone for most of the afternoon while the men attended to business in town. She had explored the house, trying to stay out of Carol’s way and battling her nerves. It was difficult to keep control of her emotions, of course, but then anybody would have been on edge after making such a big mistake.

  But was it a mistake? Her head was spinning. She had almost forgotten what had been awaiting her back home: a wedding with Adam Jordan and a lifetime of seeing Reginald smirk at her all around town. Either that, or end up homeless and penniless, left to fend for herself on the streets. Even though her escape plan had failed to work, that didn’t mean that she should have stayed there.

  The truth was that there was nothing that she could have done differently. It had been a mistake to come here and it would have been a mistake to stay. She’d never had a chance, and it didn’t matter whether she ended up with a devil she knew or one she didn’t. It was like she could see her entire life unfolding before her now: cooking and cleaning, darning his socks and washing the dishes, fulfilling her wifely duties with gritted teeth and dying a little bit day by day.

  Amy had controlled herself all afternoon, but now a sob leaped out of her throat. Almost immediately, however, she wiped away the tears that had appeared and she took a deep breath, forcing down the fears that were within her. Crying about things won’t help anything. Have to think now. There’s got to be a way out of this. She sat for a long while there in the darkness, listening to Carol snore and turning over options in her mind. Finally, a memory bubbled up and the tightness in her chest began to ease. That’s it. Of course. Something like relief went through her then, and Amy put her head back. She suddenly felt very tired, and this old chair was going to be a more comfortable place to sleep than in bed next to Carol.

  There was one person who she could turn to, in this new and unfamiliar city, now that she’d remembered her conversation with Virginia Broder back at Westward Hearts. “If you run into any problems,” she had said, “let my sister know. She can help.”