Angeline (Bride Brigade Book 2) Read online

  Angeline cleaned her face and hands and lay back on the bed. “I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”

  Cassandra put the lid on the chamber jar and slid it under the bed. When she stood, she put her hands on her hips. “I have a pretty good idea what didn’t agree with you. How far along are you?”

  Her eyes wide now, Angeline pleaded, “Please, don’t say anything to anyone. I promise Lydia knows and I would never consent to marry a man unless I’d already told him of my condition.”

  “I won’t tell anyone as long as that’s true. Was Lydia mad at you?”

  “She’d guessed when she asked me to join your group.” Angeline explained about how desperate she’d been.

  “Many parents would do the same thing, which is scandalous if you ask me. Even if you were disappointed in your child, she’s still your child. And how could you cast out and not love your grandchild?”

  Cassandra waved off her comment. “Well, talking solves nothing. You need to come down and nibble on toast and have some tea. That will help what’s ailing you.”

  Angeline sat up but hesitated. “I’m afraid to. I’d hate to be sick at the table.”

  “Try at least. If you never come to breakfast, the others will wonder why. I wouldn’t tell but people being what they are, they’ll speculate.”

  “You’re right, I’ll go eat. I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t want anyone to guess.” She forced herself to dress but left her thick blond hair flowing down her back.”

  After watching her dress, Cassandra asked, “How can you wear your corset so tight?”

  “My clothes won’t fit unless I do. Soon they won’t fit at all.” Then what would she do? Angeline wondered if the seams could be let out or the few dresses she had could be altered. Perhaps the mercantile had some fabric that would coordinate.

  After breakfast, she felt slightly steadier. Perhaps Cassandra had been right. She excused herself to go to the mercantile and check the fabric available. She had two dollars left she’d been saving until she was so weak she required food. Now at least she didn’t have to worry about meals.

  The morning breeze cooled her and a few cottony clouds drifted in the brilliant blue skies. Fresh air further revived her and she enjoyed the two block walk. While she chose the material she would use, her energy ebbed. After making her purchase from a man she remembered from their arrival, she tried to make conversation while he wrapped her package.

  The vigor which had been with her on her walk had completely disappeared. In its place a clammy, smothering sensation overwhelmed her. If only she could reach Lydia’s she’d be safe. She hardly remembered taking her fabric and going out the door.

  The world spun and she reached out her hand to steady herself but found only air. She gasped for breath, unable to breathe. Her knees turned to rubber and she felt herself sinking.

  Firm hands clasped her upper arms. “Miss, may I help you?”

  She looked into the kindest hazel eyes she’d ever seen. His blond hair barely showed under his hat. “I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I’m still tired from my journey.”

  He looped her arm onto his. “I’m the local pastor, Grady McIntyre. Please allow me to escort you to the Harrison home.”

  “Thank you, I’m Angeline Chandler. Frankly, I can use a solid arm to lean on for the walk.” She clasped his forearm as she would a stair banister. For a minister, he was muscular and appeared strong.

  “You must be one of the young women who came with Lydia. I couldn’t get away to greet your arrival but I understand there was quite a reception committee.”

  She forced a smile. After all, he was gallant enough to help her and deserved a friendly response. “I was awfully tired. I hardly remember anyone except the mercantile owner and the sheriff. Lydia made a point of greeting them.”

  “I remember that trip and imagine by then you only wanted a bath and a bed. That’s a tiring ride.”

  “Deadly. I’m surprised my teeth didn’t fall out with all the bumps and rattles.”

  “Don’t understand how anyone’s brave enough to leave town. Once I arrived, I vowed never to leave.”

  She grinned at his attempt to cheer her. “Me, too. Do you and your wife live by the church?”

  His face sobered. “I live in the parsonage. My wife died just over a year ago. She never recovered from our son’s birth. Our…my son is eighteen months old.”

  What a terrible faux pas. “I apologize for reminding you of your sorrow and offer my sincere condolences. I imagine being a minister and raising a son alone keeps you very busy.”

  He smiled again, which relieved her. “Extremely. Mrs. Gallagher keeps him when I’m away from home. He gives her a time, though, and I’m not sure how much longer she’ll consent to stay with him.”

  “I’ll bet he’s adorable. I don’t know her, but if she’s older then perhaps keeping up with him is tiring. Are you going to attend Lydia Harrison’s socials and look for your son a new mother?”

  “No young woman would marry a minister with a small child. I think it best if I tend to the congregation.”

  “Oh, I think you’re wrong about no one marrying a man with a child. Still, I suppose being the preacher means you have to walk a fine line.”

  His voice held censure. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Miss Chandler. I enjoy time with congregation members and especially with my son.”

  “I’m sure you do.” That must be a touchy subject. “What’s your son’s name and does he look like you?”

  Pride and love glowed on his face. “Matthew looks like me but his eyes are more blue than hazel. He’s walking now, which keeps Mrs. Gallagher on the run.”

  She admired him for showing his love for his son so openly. “He sounds delightful. Is he talking yet?”

  “He says words and short sentences. I guess more like phrases.”

  “What are his favorite words?”

  “Embarrassing to admit, but they’re ‘no’ and ‘mine’.” The minister laughed. “We’ve had discussions about both of those.”

  “I used to play with my neighbor’s children on occasion. They change so fast at that age. He’s lucky you’re willing to spend time with him.”

  He sent her a puzzled glance. “That’s what parents do.”

  Surely he didn’t believe that. “Not all of them.”

  They reached the steps to Lydia’s and Angeline paused and turned to face the minister. “Here we are. Thank you for helping me. I genuinely appreciate your assistance.”

  He guided her to the door then tipped his hat. “Let me know if I can aid you in any way. Good day.”

  She opened the door and sighed that she was home, or the closest she had to one. If she could make her way up the stairs, she’d be able to unlace this blasted corset and lie down. All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other.

  Cassandra spotted her and hurried toward her. “Oh, you’re back. Let’s go to our room and you can show me what you purchased.” Leaning near, she said, “Lean on me. You look positively gray.”

  “Thank you. I’m about to drop.” She didn’t say another word until they were in their room. Plopping across the bed, she unbuttoned her velveteen jacket and silk blouse.

  “Here, let me help. Sit up. I should never have let you go out laced up that tight.” Cassandra helped her remove the corset and then let her lie back down. When Angeline’s breathing returned to normal, she explained what had happened.

  “Oh, he sounds nice. Thank goodness he helped you.” The other woman picked up her package and untied the string. “Now let’s see what you have to redo your clothes.”

  “Nothing matched exactly, so I tried for coordinating. I know the result will be terrible, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  Cassandra unfolded the pieces of fabric. “This black velvet will work for the suit you had on today. You bought a lot of this gray foulard, so I suppose you plan to make a new dress. Good, the dark green will make a new top.” She
looked in the wrapping and held up two spools of thread and a packet of needles and pins. “There’s no trim.”

  “I didn’t dare spend the money. I only had a couple of dollars left. I can take trim from the green dress in the armoire. It’s the smallest thing I have so I know I can’t wear it now.”

  Cassandra examined Angeline’s clothes. “We can use the skirt and it will go with the dark green for a blouse.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “We? Are you saying you’ll help me?”

  The other girl tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been nice to me.”

  Tears threatened to pour from Angeline’s eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you. I’ve felt so alone. I appreciate so much you being willing to help me and not telling anyone of my…predicament.”

  “If you’ve recovered enough, take this seam out while I take the green dress apart. We’ll have to hurry if you’re going to have something to wear to the social on Friday.”

  They worked companionably for most of the day. By evening, Angeline had fashioned a new top of the dark green and the green skirt had been let out in a way that she could tie it at the side and accommodate future growth.

  “What a relief wearing something that fits will be available. I won’t have to wear that strangling corset now.”

  “I don’t think they’re good for the baby. How could they be good for anyone? Lydia said most women in Tarnation only wear a corset on Sundays, if even then.”

  “Wonderful. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” Angeline hung the new clothes in the armoire. She turned to regard the dress she’d worn this morning. “I’d better force myself back into that for this evening.”

  She laced up her corset over her chemise. How she hated the trapped feeling of not being able to take a deep breath. At least she had great posture.

  Cassandra held up a blue dress. “You can use part of the drape on this to form a design and enlarge the top so no one can tell the difference.”

  Buttoning her blouse, Angeline glanced up. “You’re very good at this. You could own a dress shop.”

  Cassandra help up both hands in mock surrender. “Not me. I want to be a woman of leisure with servants to wait on me hand and foot.”

  “Then I hope that’s what you get.” They left the room to join the others.

  The next morning, Angeline heaved into the chamber pot again. After she’d recovered and washed up, she dressed in her altered skirt and new blouse. “I intend to go thank the minister for his help. Maybe I can also talk to him about forgiveness for my situation.”

  Cassandra shrugged as if she thought Angeline wasted her time. “Might make you feel better. If I get bored, I’ll work on the suit you had on yesterday. It’s too nice not to wear. You’ll need thread this color if you still have enough money to buy a spool as you pass the mercantile.”

  After breakfast, Angeline excused herself and walked toward the church. What if the minister had gone to call on members of his congregation? She supposed she could use the exercise even if he wasn’t home.

  She found the parsonage neatly painted white to echo the church. She knocked on the door.

  Grady McIntyre answered, holding a squirming toddler. “Miss Chandler, may I help you?” He stepped aside to admit her.

  She entered, curious about his home. “I came to thank you for helping me yesterday.”

  “Not necessary at all. This is Matthew. He’s being a handful this morning.” He set the boy on the floor.

  Angeline knelt to the child’s level. “Hello, Matthew.”

  The child reached for her and she picked him up. “What a lovely, strong boy you are.”

  The little boy grabbed for her hair, which she’d left partly down.

  The minister took him from her. “He’s liable to get your clothes dirty.”

  She didn’t know how to approach the real reason she’d come so she blurted out the truth. “I wondered if I could talk to you.”

  “Of course. Have a seat. Mrs. Gallagher isn’t here today, but I’ll just put Matthew in the next room with his toys.” He disappeared and was back quickly. “That doesn’t guarantee he’ll stay there, so we’d best get started.”

  “Do ministers keep things private like a priest or a lawyer?”

  “You can be positive anything you tell me is kept in strict confidence. What’s bothering you, Miss Chandler?”

  “Do you believe God really forgives our mistakes if we’re truly sorry?”

  “I believe that with all my being. All that’s necessary is that you ask His forgiveness with an earnest heart.”

  Angeline exhaled her relief and stood. “Thank you. I appreciate you seeing me without an appointment.”

  He rose and walked with her. “You don’t need an appointment to see me. Please stop anytime. I’m always pleased to see a smiling face.”

  She wondered aloud, “Do you see many of the other kind?”

  His grimace answered the question, but he said, “Not many, but those I see are enough to remain at the forefront of my memory longer than I wish.”

  Walking back to Lydia’s, Angeline thought about Matthew and wondered what her baby would be like at that age. What would happen to her and her child? Would her baby even live to be a toddler? She made a promise that if a man asked her to marry him, as long as she believed he would never harm her child, she’d accept his proposal.

  She supposed she still believed in love, but she doubted she would ever open herself to its pain again. Having failed so badly in deciphering Horace’s character, how could she trust her judgment? Settling for security for her child would be enough.

  She turned in at the store and went inside. After finding the correct thread, she took it to the counter.

  An older woman was there, leaning on her cane. “Michael, how soon can you deliver that flour? I let myself run out and I can’t make bread for my dinner without it. Found too many weevils to sift in what I had and tossed it in the rubbish.”

  The man she remembered was mayor said, “I’ll get it to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, why don’t you stop at the café and have a meal there? Do you good to eat someone else’s cooking for a change.”

  The woman sagged on her cane. “No, I need to go home and put my feet up.”

  Angeline didn’t know what prompted her to speak, other than the woman appeared to be in pain. “I could carry the flour for you, ma’am.”

  “Would you? Why that’s kind of you. You must be one of the Bride Brigade girls.”

  Angeline frowned at the term. “Bride Brigade?”

  The owner, Mr. Buchanan, shook his head. “That’s what folks are calling the young women Lydia Harrison brought back with her.”

  She grinned. “Then I’m one of the Bride Brigade. My name is Angeline Chandler.”

  “I’m Keturah Eppes and I guess you’ve met our mayor, Michael Buchanan. I believe you should just say you’re Angel, for you’re one today.”

  “I’ll be pleased to help you as soon as I pay for my thread.”

  She quickly handed over the money for her purchase and picked up the flour. She prayed she wouldn’t have a fainting spell. Without her corset binding her, she felt much better today.

  Michael handed her the thread. “Thank you, Miss Chandler. I appreciate you helping Mrs. Eppes. I’d have to close the store in order to make a delivery. Otherwise she’d have to wait until this evening.”

  After slipping the thread in her purse, she picked up the flour. “I’m pleased to get to know people in my new home. Shall we go, Mrs. Eppes?”

  Angeline chatted with the elderly woman as they walked slowly toward Mrs. Eppes’ home. The spring breeze refreshed her but the flour was growing heavy by the time they reached the widow’s home three blocks away.

  At the door, Mrs. Eppes turned to her. “You come in and let me make you a cup of tea. How lovely to learn a pretty young thing like you also is nice.”

  The offer sounded genuine and she could use refreshment. “I don’t want t
o trouble you, Mrs. Eppes. Perhaps you’ll sit down and let me make the tea.”

  A relieved smile split the woman’s face. “What a grand idea if you don’t mind. I could do with a rest. I’ll just sit in my rocker and put my feet up a bit if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “You go right ahead. I’ll bring your tea in as soon as it’s brewed.”

  “There’s milk in the ice box and sugar in the bowl and I take both. Jo Jo Greenberg just brought a new block of ice yesterday so the milk should be nice and cool.”

  Angeline wondered if she could find everything without prying. She spotted the teapot on the kitchen table. With little trouble she found the cups and saucers. “Your home is spotless.”

  “Well, I do like things a certain way. Nowadays I have more trouble keeping them just so, though. Good thing Mrs. Querado comes in a half day once a week.”

  When the tea was ready, Angeline served Mrs. Eppes in the parlor of the small home. Sitting across from her hostess, she relaxed and enjoyed listening to the widow talk about her late husband and their life together. After taking the cups back to the kitchen and rinsing them out, she promised to return another day.

  Chapter Four

  Angeline arrived at Lydia’s in time for dinner. She helped clean up after the meal then went to her room to work on the purple velvet suit. The only velveteen fabric the mercantile had was black. Analyzing the un-seamed suit, she’d planned a solution to alter the garment.

  Cassandra came in. “Thought I’d see if you need any help. What took you so long?”

  Angeline explained about Mrs. Eppes. “Now I’ll work on this. Thank you for taking out the seams.”

  Her friend ran her fingers across the garment. “Love the feel of the fabric.”

  Angeline spread the black velvet on the bed and gauged her design before making a cut. “Everyone who’s seen me wear the outfit will know it’s had been enlarged.”

  “Not necessarily. Just don’t volunteer any information.”

  Worry dogged her. “What can I say if someone asks? I hate to lie.”

  Cassandra tapped a finger against her lip. “Say you tore the fabric and hated to discard the suit so you reworked the design instead.”