He eyed her carefully, but didn’t see a trace of evidence of tears. When his Grace had cried, you could tell she’d been crying for hours and hours later. “I did. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize your nickname.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’d rather not be called Vicki, but take your time adjusting. It’s not a big deal to me. I’ve answered to Victoria for many years.” She poured them each a glass of water, setting his on the table in front of him. She added the plate of biscuits she’d made to the middle of the table before sitting down beside him. “I didn’t have time to bake bread today, but I thought you might be happy with some biscuits.”
He smiled, nodding at her. “Everything looks wonderful, and I’m almost as partial to biscuits as I am to fresh-baked bread.”
“You’ll have fresh-baked bread tomorrow,” she said softly. Maybe he wasn’t pleased with her so far, but there was no reason she couldn’t change his opinion. Her mama had always told her that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. This man seemed to set great store in eating special things that pleased him, so she would just have to see if her mother was right.
“Thank you for caring about my tastes in food.”
“It’s my job as your wife.” Toria watched as he served himself, passing the dishes to her after he got his portion of each.
“May I say a blessing over our meal?” He’d not thought to ask for a Christian wife, but he could see he’d found one. How had he forgotten something so fundamental?
After the prayer, he took a bite of his mashed potatoes and gravy, his eyes widening in surprise. “This is delicious.”
“I got the impression from your letter you wanted a wife who could cook.” It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to marry him. She knew she had a skill that she would be bringing into the relationship that he needed.
He frowned. “You’re everything I asked for, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “And I’m not quite sure why that displeases you, but I can see it does.”
He sighed. “It’s not that you displease me. I think you’re a beautiful woman. I don’t know you.” He looked down at his plate for a moment, deciding he needed to confess what was really bothering him so he could get it off his chest. “The truth is I was hoping for a bride just like my late wife. She was a petite blonde. When I saw you standing on the platform, I was sure the wrong woman had been sent to me. That’s not fair to you at all, so I’m going to do my best to get those ideas out of my head and be happy with the beautiful woman God has sent me.”
“Is that really what your disappointment was?”
He nodded. “That’s everything that upset me upon seeing you. I know it’s silly, but that’s how I felt.” He took a bite of his fried chicken, closing his eyes as the flavors washed over his tongue. “Tell me why you responded to a letter for a mail order bride. Looking at you I can’t imagine that you would have trouble finding a husband.”
Toria shrugged. “I had some offers, but none seemed right to me. I’ve been working for several years at a mercantile in town, and the owner’s wife died a short while ago. As soon as she was buried, he started chasing me around, telling me that I needed to marry him and help him raise his six children. Now I have nothing against children, but I did have something against him. Quite frankly, he made my skin crawl. There was no way I could marry him. When he trapped me in an alley, I screamed for help, and my niece’s butler heard me yell. He rescued me and took me straight home to Elizabeth, who showed me your letter. It’s as simple as that.”
“Did you think about trying to get another job?”
“After Sebastian fired me, I knew there was no way anyone else in town would hire me.” She shrugged. “It’s time I married anyway. I’ve always wanted children, but I’ve only ever had my nieces and nephews—and no one would want to claim those children.”
Mortimer widened his eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“They were referred to as the demon horde, because they were always in some sort of trouble. No teacher lasts more than a semester because the demon horde frightens them off. If you’re driving down the road and you have a rotten apple hit you in the head from the highest tree? One of the demon horde is in that tree throwing apples at you.”
He grinned. “They sound like a lively bunch.”
Toria simply shook her head. “Lively doesn’t begin to describe the demon horde. Elizabeth was a very well-behaved child, along with her sister Susan. The next two boys who come after them were well-behaved. It’s the youngest ten that people need to avoid if at all possible.”
“Sounds like they were children who wanted to be allowed to play.”
“Play pranks, you mean.” Toria sighed. “I stopped babysitting them, and I don’t even regret it.”
“John was always very well-behaved before Grace died. Once she died, he changed. There was never a school here, but she’d taught him at home until she got so sick. She died within two months of her first symptoms. After that, John started to come to work with me every day. He didn’t particularly like it, and he always blamed me for his mother’s death.”
“Why? What does he think you could have done?”
“I shouldn’t have moved us out here to a place where there was no doctor, you see. That’s why it’s my fault.”
Without thinking, Toria reached out and covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I hope you realize that he’s being unfair.”
“I do realize it. Sometimes it helps, and others it doesn’t.” He shrugged. “I have some of my own guilt for not being close enough to a doctor to save her.”
“I think I probably would too, though I don’t think you should at all. People get sick and die sometimes. I won’t say it’s God’s will, because I don’t believe it’s ever his plan for someone to die. Time heals you. Some are healed slower than others. It sounds like your John is still very much grieving his mother.”
Mortimer turned his hand over, gripping hers. “You might be right. I just wish I knew what to do to help him. He’s going to the saloon and drowning his sorrows in a bottle more often than not. I’d much rather he was staying home, or courting some nice young lady.”
“It might be good for him to stay home…but if he’s still grieving his mother, it’s not a time for him to court any young ladies, nice or otherwise. Do you think he would accept a supper invitation if I made one? I hate the idea of him being alone and feeling the only way to avoid the loneliness is to go to the saloon. It’s not good for him.”
“I don’t think that’s why he goes, but if you want to invite him to supper, be my guest. I would love to have him here for a good reason.”
“He’s been here for bad reasons?”
“Sometimes when he’s had too much to drink, some of the men from the saloon will bring him to me because they don’t know what else to do with him.”
Toria nodded. There hadn’t been a saloon in Beckham, thankfully, but she’d heard many stories of how men were changed by drink. “Sounds like he needs to get his head back on straight, doesn’t it?”