The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) (8 page)

Jem never wanted to be in the man’s company again. Not even for one more day.

All that mattered was seeing it for himself.

That’d prove Pa wrong.

ELEVEN

T
he wedding the next day was simple and quick. Becky felt more like a spectator than a bride as she clutched her simple bouquet of wildflowers. Isaac had surprised her with them just before the ceremony, making her blush. He stood beside her, reminding her again of a great oak towering over her. Before them was a weathered old miner, who also served as a preacher to the logging camp. Their vows were simply and quietly spoken, but felt strange, committing their lives and love when they scarcely knew one another. In the blink of an eye, she was a married woman, complete with a simple gold band.

A group of loggers with droopy handlebar mustaches and red suspenders jostled together in the tiny cabin. At first, the men seemed to hang back a little, nodding respectfully to Becky and looking at Isaac as if he were every inch the boss-man he appeared. At one point, they collectively appeared to gather their courage and took turns punching Isaac in the arm and whispering into his ear. He laughed with them ruefully and occasionally glanced in Becky’s direction. He looked uneasy to her, which didn’t inspire much confidence.

A burly man with red hair took his turn punching on Isaac’s arm. He had a great booming voice that carried like a carnival leader’s, so it caught Becky’s attention from across the room. “Should’ve had old Sam fix me up with a bride too. She’s a looker—sure you won’t change your mind? I could use a wife—”

She grew absolutely still, transfixed on the man’s face, and yet trying desperately not to let anyone know she was watching him. Listening.

That she’d
heard
.

But she had.

“Brody.” Isaac wasn’t speaking nearly as loudly, and his voice probably wouldn’t have carried to her across the room if she weren’t looking directly at him, watching his lips move. She also saw how he tried to silence Brody with a stern look.

“I wouldn’t mind getting a surprise like that one day,” another one of the men said, thrusting a jug of whiskey into Brody’s hands and spilling some of the golden brew onto the floor in the process.

Becky watched as Isaac grabbed the jug and shoved the dangling cork in place. He tossed the jug back to one of the laughing loggers and growled at them. “Save it, men.”

She scarcely registered the events going on around her. An image of Sam teasing Isaac yesterday came to mind and claimed all of her attention.

I can sure pick ’em—right, Son?

That’s what he’d said. It hadn’t made sense at the time.

Sam’s words whirled in Becky’s head.

And then everything fell into place.

The room tilted around her in the heat. The heady smell of spilt whiskey was nauseating. She’d nearly bent her bouquet of wildflowers in two she’d gripped them so hard. They were ruined now, wilting anyway. She might as well throw them out...

Isaac’s father came right up to her then. Maybe he’d been watching her all this time. “You all right?” he asked.

“Just tired, I guess. I think I’ll—” She gestured weakly to the door at the back, the one that led to the new addition they’d built. For her. And Isaac.

Isaac.

He hadn’t sent for her.

He hadn’t wanted any of this.

It all made so much sense now. Every look he’d sent her way. The doubts she’d felt coming off him.

She was such a fool.

She’d come all this way. Thought it was an answer to prayer.

But how could it be?

Sam
had sent for her. Not Isaac. What grown man would want to marry a woman
his father
had picked out for him?

Sam must have seen her dart one more stricken glance at Brody and Isaac, for he winced ever so slightly, enough for her to notice. Enough to realize it was all
true
.

“He may have been reluctant at first, but...” Sam’s voice trailed off at the disbelieving look she sent him.

She had to get out of here—now.

Becky flashed an apologetic smile at Sam, because no matter what he’d done or why, she found she couldn’t stop liking him. Before he could say anything else, she escaped into the room at the back where she’d slept last night—the room she was supposed to share with Isaac tonight. She looked around numbly. The space was scarcely big enough for the large double bed and one wardrobe, both of which looked new. The wardrobe looked broad enough to store her things and Isaac’s as well, but the doors hung a bit crooked. His men were hopefully better loggers than carpenters.

The thought failed to make her smile.

Probably because she kept circling back to the fact that Isaac hadn’t sent for her.

She sank onto the edge of the bed. Their marriage bed. She stared at nothing for a long while, the ruined flowers in her lap, her gaze fixed on the wall, making shapes out of the wood grain:

A cloud. A whale. A swirl. Maybe smoke.

Jack hadn’t wanted her and now Isaac too? She’d been
foisted
upon him—that much was evident. Would she always be Isaac’s obligation? He seemed a moral man—he probably married her out of duty, to please his father. She moaned and bowed her head.

I’m an unwanted bride.

She was about to throw the crushed wildflowers out the window, when she stopped and, with a sigh at her own sentimentality, placed them in her trunk, on top of everything else she’d brought from home. She undressed quickly, throwing on her nightgown, hardly conscious of her actions. But there were men in the other room. She felt their presence, heard chairs scraping across the floor. The sound of male voices and laughter. At least someone was happy. She crawled into the bed and covered herself with the white sheet. It looked new, crisp and a little stiff. She crossed her arms protectively over her heart against the pain, refusing to cry. Her tears seemed frozen inside. Now, more than ever, she missed Mama. The dim shadows outside deepened to black as she stared out the lone window. Despite her confusion, she registered the sounds of the men dwindling to a murmur.

Isaac would come to her soon.

She lay, lifeless and sad, imagining a very different wedding day, marrying someone who wanted her—who would love and cherish her. An image of Jack’s face floated into her mind. But Jack had chosen Melody. She sighed.

It was stupid to think about Jack now.

It had been stupid since the day she’d found out he was married.

Stupid heart.

It didn’t know any better.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she eventually began to drift away...

***

Once the last of the men emptied out of the cabin, Pop pushed Isaac into one of the rough ladder-backed chairs surrounding the kitchen table and pulled another across from him, straddling it with his lanky thighs. He rubbed his palms over the knees of his best denims, as though relishing whatever he was fixing to say.

“Son, I realize you know the particulars about babies and such, but there’s more to loving a woman than bare facts.”

This ought to be interesting
, Isaac thought with a sick wrench of his belly. Embarrassment was sure to follow.

“An untried woman needs a tender touch, and keep it sorta quick tonight— not that you’re likely to go long with it being your first time and all—”

“Aw, Pop.” Nothing he said could have made Isaac feel more like he was seventeen again. His neck burned with a creeping heat.

“I’m not blind, you know. Anyways, it may be a week or so before your wife can enjoy the act—leastways, that’s how it was with your mama and me, but then she turned out to be a generous lover.” Pop’s eyes grew wistful.

“Do you have to talk about Mama that way?” Isaac groaned.

“What? Don’t tell me I’ve raised a prude?” His father’s shaggy, white brows lifted inquiringly. Pop was frontier to the bone and had the disconcerting habit of speaking his mind.

“No, no. Anything else you feel the need to say?” Isaac tapped his fingers nervously against the table and stole a glance at the door at the back of the cabin.

“Well, one more thing, I guess, and I’ll be off.” Pop rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, his eyes lit with wry amusement.

“You’re leaving?” Isaac couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.

“Yep. I’m not staying the night, Son. In fact, I’m planning on staying with Brody for a spell. This way you two can get accustomed to married life for a while—without your father in the next room.”

“Thank you.” There was relief in that at least. “One more thing?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not all about you—remember that.” Pop gave an emphatic nod. “Well, I guess I’ll head out. You go on in—”

Pop was leaving. In two seconds he’d be out the door.

And Isaac would be alone.

With Rebecca waiting in the other room.

“Pop,” he said, stopping him. “I don’t even really know her. We’re still strangers. It’s sort of awkward. Don’t you think I should wait a while before—you know?” Isaac asked, filled with the most excruciating embarrassment he’d ever felt in his life. He’d get over it though. This was his father. Who better to ask?

“What better way to get to know her?” His father’s voice was flat, his gaze dead serious.

“Pop!”

“What did I say?” Pop was all innocence. “You’ll see. It’ll all work out, Son. This Rebecca’s the right gal. Remember I told you I prayed God would send the right woman for you?”

He’d prayed about it, but never thought to ask Isaac if he wanted a bride? That would seem the next logical step. Isaac shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh, Pop.” He pushed his chair back from the table a bit and faced his father with a feeling of grim determination.

“You’re not going into battle, Son. Relax. This part might be a trifle awkward, I’ll grant you that, but once you get the hang of it—”

“Out. Get out of the house.” Isaac was up out of his chair so quick he nearly toppled it backwards. He pointed toward the door.

“All right, all right. I know when I’ve gone too far,” Sam said with a chuckle. He swung his leg over the back of the chair like he was dismounting a horse. He grabbed up his hat from the nail by the door and jammed it onto his snow-white head. For a moment, he simply stood, looking at the door, then he turned with a misty-eyed expression and tugged Isaac to him for a quick hug.

“I only want the best for you, boy. I hope someday you’ll see that.”

“I know, Pop. I’m not sure I can say thanks yet, but at least I think I’m coming to understand your thinking.” Isaac tried to put his father at ease, certain he’d never understand what had possessed his father to send back East for a bride. A bride who was waiting for him through the back door. He glanced at it apprehensively, and his father gave him a little push in the right direction.

The sound of Pop’s laughter echoed as the front door closed behind him, and Isaac stood alone facing the door to his new bedroom.

TWELVE

I
saac found his new bride sleeping. Perhaps it was the sign he’d been searching for. He’d felt uncertain about consummating the marriage since they didn’t know each other. So maybe this was his answer. They should wait awhile—get to know each other.

He’d just drifted off to sleep, when a soft, feminine voice woke him.

“You’re back?”

What an odd question
, Isaac thought. Was he back?

“Um, yes?” he said, suddenly fully awake.

“I missed you, darling.”

Darling?
Isaac’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected endearment.

“You have?” he asked warily. Something wasn’t quite right with her voice, her manner. Like she was talking in her sleep, maybe.

“I thought you’d never come back.”

“Is that right?” He stilled as she leaned close, her breath tickling his ear.

“Jack...” Her whisper was strangely demure seeing as her lips were now trailing across his cheek.