Hearts Awakening (6 page)

Ellie would also have a husband, of sorts, of her own. A home to call her own. She would have a respected place in this world. And she would never, ever again have to bow to the authority of her cousins.

Reminded of the reality of her situation within her cousin’s household, she swallowed hard. If she returned to the city now, she would be met by a flood of questions from her cousin. Yet given the circumstances of her departure, she suspected even he would support her decision to leave without completing her two weeks, as promised.

But what about Daniel and Ethan? What arrangements would Jackson be able to make for them now that she had left so abruptly? Could she really walk away without any thoughts for their well-being?

Disappointed that she had let her own pride blind her to the needs of those two innocent boys, she paused to reconsider Jackson’s proposal more rationally.

When she did, she realized that marrying him would bring great gifts into her life. Gifts she had the free will to accept or deny. Gifts that called her to rely on her faith and her belief that His plan for her life was now unfolding, according to His will, and with blessings, abundant with His grace.

Humbled, if not determined to be the woman of faith she yearned to be, she rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirts. Armed with renewed faith and a sense of purpose that had been missing in her life for too long, she set her mind on protecting her interests, as well as the boys. But before she accepted Jackson’s proposal, she needed to know exactly what his offer entailed, particularly since he could easily set her aside one day, seeing as their marriage would never be consummated.

Jackson had admitted he only wanted a wife to help raise his boys, but had he considered what role she would play in any or all of their lives once the boys reached their majority? Would he expect her to leave then, as penniless and homeless as she was now? Or would he allow her to stay and live out the days she had left in his home?

She paused, grateful for the gift of good common sense, as well as an eye for detail, before walking directly back to the house with her back straight and her head held high. She needed answers to those questions—answers that would determine whether she would agree to marry him or not.

Unfortunately, even though she rushed her steps, Jackson Smith was long gone by the time she returned to the house. Disappointed, but not discouraged, she eventually found him working alone in the orchards on the western side of the island, a solitary figure nearly obscured by a crop of pale yellow apples flushed with just a hint of pink.

She lifted her skirts and traipsed down one of the narrow grassy expanses between long rows of apple trees, their limbs bowed close to the earth under the weight of a very healthy harvest. She had to sidestep her way past trees where drop baskets sat filled with apples that had fallen to the ground before anyone could harvest them.

Concerned she might startle the man enough to cause him to fall off his ladder at the crown of a nearby tree, she called out to him when she was a good four trees away. “Mr. Smith?”

In response, he moved a branch out of the way, looked at her, and gentled the branch back in place. “If you need someone to help take you back across the river, you’ll likely find Michael Grant back at his house. It’s on the north shore. Obviously, he hasn’t made it here yet.”

“I wasn’t looking for Mr. Grant. I . . . I was looking for you,” she ventured and stopped a few feet away from the bottom of the ladder he was standing on.

He looked over his shoulder at her, frowned, and climbed down slowly, protecting the apples he had stored in the canvas pouch secured around his neck and lying against his chest. When he had both feet on solid ground, he turned to face her. “I thought you wanted to leave.”

She moistened her lips. “I thought I did, too. I still might.”

His gaze softened. “I never intended to insult you with my proposal. I made a mistake. My problems are my own, not yours, and I’ll simply have to find another way to solve them.” He turned and started back up the ladder.

“Perhaps you don’t need to worry about that,” she blurted.

He paused and reversed his steps. When he was back down again and facing her, his gaze narrowed with disbelief. “You’ve reconsidered?”

“Somewhat,” she admitted. “I realized I left without giving you the opportunity to explain exactly how this business proposal of yours might work.”

He cleared his throat and looked self-conscious for the first time since she had come to this island. “As I said earlier, I’m not a rich man in my own right. In all truth, I haven’t a penny to my name.”

Her eyes widened. “But this island, the orchards—”

“All held in trust for Daniel and Ethan and subject to the terms of my father-in-law’s will,” he explained as he removed the white cotton gloves he wore while harvesting. “My father-in-law was a very wealthy man, wealthy enough to indulge his lifelong passion for orcharding, which would provide little more than a middling existence for them all, at best. When he named me executor of his will, as well as the boys’ trust, he made sure I’d have the authority to allocate whatever funds I deemed necessary for their well-being and security, as well as my own, particularly since he assumed . . . that is, he had no reason to believe Rebecca would die so young,” he said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“I see,” she murmured, surprised to see how uncomfortable he was discussing his situation when he had been so at ease discussing her plight earlier.

“I was going to suggest that I would provide for you quite comfortably, at least until the boys reached their majority. Then you’d be free to stay or to leave, as you or I might prefer.”

She swallowed hard. “I might agree to stay only until Ethan reaches legal age, but I’d expect a settlement of some kind when I left, if that’s what I decided to do.”

“Or if I decided that was best,” he said and cocked a brow. “Did you have a figure in mind?”

Surprised he would even consider her demand, she smiled. “No, but I expect you’d be fair when you suggested one.”

He moistened his lips. “Two hundred dollars a year, held in trust, until Ethan’s eighteenth birthday. Until then, you’d be free to use the accounts I’ll set up in the city, within reason, of course.”

She shook her head. “That’s far too generous. One hundred dollars a year would be sufficient.”

“We’ll compromise. One hundred fifty a year.”

“Agreed.” She drew in a long breath. “I’d also need to know that if you died before the boys are of legal age, I’d receive my funds immediately.”

He snorted. “You’d take the money and leave the boys, even though they were still young?”

“Of course not, but I’d want access to the funds, since you’d no longer be here to pay the accounts in the city,” she insisted. “But I’d also have to have some sort of legal guarantee, in writing, that I’d be allowed to remain here on the island to raise the boys. In return, I’d agree not to . . . not to remarry.”

His eyes widened with surprise, if not respect. “Agreed, provided I retain the right to appoint a trustee to act as guardian, if need be.”

She nodded, gathered up all of her courage, and pressed on. “Beyond that, I have some additional concerns that would need to be addressed before I could agree to your offer.”

“Such as?”

“Such as . . . such as confidentiality,” she managed, unable to stop a warm blush from spreading across her cheeks. “Remaining husband and wife in name only is a reality that neither one of us should ever share with anyone, with the exception of the lawyer who would draw up the papers.”

“Not even your cousin?” Jackson questioned.

“Especially not my cousin,” she insisted, fearful that he would try to make her change her mind about marrying Jackson, although she hoped he might be too relieved to be set free of any responsibility for her to care one way or the other. “Even though no one else would know of our arrangement, I wouldn’t be able to tolerate the scandal of a . . . a philandering husband, either, and I must, that is, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on your total fidelity.”

His gaze hardened. “While my lawyer can easily draw up papers to reflect what we’ve discussed in financial terms, I’d also expect you to sign an oath that you’ll remain an obedient, dutiful, and faithful wife. If you failed to keep that oath, in any way, I’d move to have the marriage annulled immediately, and any and all financial arrangements will be null and void,” he said sternly.

Stung, Ellie resisted the urge to confess that she had already paid quite dearly for being true to her strong moral feelings on the issue of fidelity in marriage.

“In return, you can expect me to act as an honorable husband,” he added, as if trying to soften his demands. “Is there anything else?”

She drew in a deep breath, decided not to press the matter of having him sign a similar oath, and slowly let out her breath. One of the advantages of living here on this island was the virtual isolation they would enjoy, far from wagging tongues and the gossipmongers, who liked nothing more than to speculate about matters that did not concern them.

Still, she had one concern and one only that might force her to reject this man’s proposal unless he agreed to meet her demand. “The day I arrived at your home, you told me that you haven’t attended services regularly since your wife died. If we were to marry, I’d expect you to take the boys and me to Sunday services every week.”

He let out a deep breath, as if relieved she had not asked for something more. “Weather permitting, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

She smiled. “Then I agree and I . . . I accept your proposal.”

“You accept?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Good. Then if you have no objection, once I store these apples away, we can pick up the boys and be on our way.”

When he smiled and held out his hand, she accepted his handshake, but Ellie wondered what it might have been like had he proposed marriage out of affection for her and kissed her instead.

A dangerous thought indeed for a woman who had just agreed to marry a man who clearly did not love her and only wanted her to be his wife because he needed her to help raise his sons.

And nothing more.

Six

The marriage ceremony itself bore little resemblance to the one Ellie had kept stored in the hope chest of her dreams.

She was flushed from dashing straight from the island to the lawyer’s office and then to the parsonage with two reluctant little boys in tow, rather than from the excitement of finally becoming a married woman. She was also still wearing her dark brown work gown with only a single pale pink rose the minister’s wife had pinned to the collar to add a hint of beauty.

Instead of close family members, she was surrounded by strangers, including Reverend and Mrs. Shore, whom she had never met in person before today. An older couple, some twenty years her senior, they did not have a gray hair to share between them, and their love for one another lit each of their smiles. Likewise, Ellie had never met Mr. Clemmons, their new boarder, who had also agreed to serve as a witness. But he was a kindly looking man, with as gaunt a figure as she had ever seen.

More important, she scarcely knew the man dressed in work overalls and a flannel shirt who had exchanged vows with her only a heartbeat ago.

Daniel wore a sullen pout, but it was little Ethan’s teary silence as he clung to his older brother and stood very still in front of his father that tugged at her heartstrings. Jackson mumbled an apology to her, as well as to the minister, who was anxious to conclude the ceremony so he could finish his dinner.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t give a thought to needing a ring,” Jackson murmured as his cheeks flushed just a bit pink under the deep tan he wore.

The stately minister peered over his spectacles. “You can always get one later. A ring isn’t absolutely necessary for—”

“Nonsense. Of course it is. Every woman wants a ring to wear, even if it’s a temporary one,” Mrs. Shore insisted and reached into her pocket. When she pulled out her hand and opened it to Jackson, Ellie saw four intricately carved wood rings of various sizes lying in the woman’s palm.

“One of the congregants, Mr. Burke, is quite skilled as a whittler, and he’s been kind enough to make sure we have a supply of rings on hand, just for occasions like this. I’m certain one will fit your new wife well enough until you can purchase a proper ring,” she suggested, giving Ellie a reassuring look.

When Jackson selected one of two rings that looked large enough to fit Ellie’s finger, the minister’s wife leaned close to Ellie. “I wouldn’t wear that ring when you’re doing housework. The wood isn’t as durable as silver or gold, but at least you’ll have a ring as a memento of this very blessed day.”

Ellie smiled back. “Yes, I will. Thank you.”

Reverend Shore cleared his throat. “If we can continue . . .”

Jackson held out the ring he had selected for Ellie to see. When she nodded, he addressed the minister. “We’re ready now.”

“Then as I was saying, place the ring on your wife’s finger and join hands.”

Ellie’s hand trembled as Jackson slid the ring onto her finger. Jackson’s hand was cold, if not damp, the only indication he was as nervous as she was.