The Substitute Bride. Janet Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ flung open the door. Skinny arms and legs burrowed into her skirts. “I don’t want you to go,” her brother said, his voice muffled by tears.

      “I don’t want to, either. But I’ve explained why I must.”

      Robby’s arms encircled her waist, hanging on tight. Her breath caught. Could she do this? Could she leave her brother behind? “I’ll be back, as soon as I find a job. I promise.”

      With few skills, what job could she do? Could she find a way to support them? All those uncertainties sank like a stone to her stomach. Refusing to give in to her fear, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She would not fail her brother.

      “What if you can’t?” Robby’s big blue eyes swam with tears. “What if—” he twisted a corner of her skirt into his fist “—you don’t come back?”

      Looking into her brother’s wide eyes filled with alarm and hurt, Elizabeth’s throat tightened. Was he afraid she’d die like Mama had?

      “I’ll be back.” She knelt in front of him and brushed an unruly lock of blond hair out of his eyes. “We’re a matched set, remember?”

      Robby swiped at his runny nose, then nodded.

      “We go together like salt and pepper. Like toast and jam. Like—”

      “Mashed potatoes and gravy,” Robby said, voice quavering.

      “Exactly.” The smile on Elizabeth’s face trembled but held. “In the meantime Martha and Papa will take good care of you.”

      “But—but when we move, how will you find us?”

      One month until the bank tossed them out on the street. One month to forge a new life. One month to save her family. Her stomach dropped the way it had at nine when she’d slipped on the stairs and scrambled to keep her footing. She hadn’t fallen then and she wouldn’t fail now. “I’ll be back before the move.”

      Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I want to come with you.”

      If only he could. But she had no idea where she’d go. What conditions she’d face. “Eight-year-old boys belong in school.” Elizabeth forced the words past the lump in her throat.

      Tugging him to her, she inhaled the scent of soap, thanks to Martha’s unshakable supervision. A sense of calm filled her. She could count on Martha, who’d raised her brother since Mama died, doting on him as if he belonged to her.

      Robby’s eyes brightened. “Can you get a job on a farm, Lizzie? So I can have a dog?”

      His request pressed against her lungs. What kind of a father gave his son a fluffy black-and-white puppy for Christmas, then turned around and sold it in January? Reversals at the track, he’d said. As always with Papa, luck rising then falling, taking their family and their hearts with it.

      A chill snaked down her spine. What if Robby caught Papa’s fever for gambling? If she didn’t get him away from here, her brother might spend his life like Papa, chasing fantasies.

      “I can feed the pigs and chickens,” Robby pleaded, his expression earnest.

      “I don’t have the skills to work on a farm, sweet boy, but once we’re settled, you’ll have the biggest dog I can find.” She kissed his forehead. “I promise.”

      Yet another promise Elizabeth didn’t know how she’d keep.

      A smile as wide as the Chicago River stretched across Robby’s face. “You mean it?”

      “Have I ever failed to keep a promise?” She ruffled Robby’s hair. “Now promise me you’ll be brave while I’m gone.”

      His head bobbed three times. “I will.”

      She wrapped her brother in one last lingering hug. “I love you.” She blinked back tears. “Now, tiptoe to your room and crawl under the covers.” She tapped his nose with her fingertip. “Sweet dreams.”

      His lips turned up in a smile. “I’m gonna dream about a black-and-white fluffy dog.”

      She forced up the corners of her mouth as Robby took one last look back at her then slipped out the door.

      No longer able to hold back her tears, Elizabeth leaned against the wall, fingering the cameo hanging from the delicate chain around her neck, the last tie to her mother. She would miss her room, her home, the place she’d lived all her life. Her watery gaze traveled the tiered moldings, crystal chandelier and wood-planked floor. Once this bedroom had held a mahogany writing desk, hand-carved armoire and handsome Oriental rug.

      Here one day, gone another.

      Like her life.

      “Elizabeth, we miss your company.”

      Papa’s booming voice was followed by the muffled mumblings of her want-to-be groom.

      She swiped the tears from her cheeks, then hustled to the half-open door and caught snatches of Reginald’s conversation. “Tomorrow…at my side…ceremony.”

      “I assure you, Reginald, she’ll be there,” Papa said, his voice carrying up the stairs, putting more knots in her stomach than she’d tied in her linens.

      He’d promised her to Reginald Parks much as he had the armoire he’d sold to Mrs. Grant last week and the cherry break-front he’d shipped to the auctioneer the week before. He expected her to bail him out as Mama’s fortune had, until he’d squandered every dime and worried poor Mama into an early grave.

      How could Papa believe Reginald was the answer? She couldn’t abide the man. He had no patience with Robby, even hinted at sending her brother to boarding school, as if losing his mother hadn’t been enough upheaval in his young life.

      Surely God had another answer.

      She sighed. If only she and Robby could have a real home where a family shared their meals and the day’s events at a dining table that stayed put, where a man considered his family first, where love didn’t destroy.

      “Elizabeth Ann!” Papa called. “Reginald is waiting.”

      She heard the familiar creak of the first step—Papa was on his way up. With her heart thudding in her chest, she eased the door shut and turned the key until the lock clicked. Then she jammed her hands into her kid gloves, grabbed her handbag and the small satchel stuffed with necessities and tore to the open window.

      She looked down. Way down to the lawn and shrubbery along the back of the house. She gulped at the prospect of following her possessions out that window. Now was not the time to lose her nerve. She dropped the satchel. It bounced but stayed shut. When the valise hit, the latch sprung, scattering clothing across the lawn. Praying she’d hold up better when she alighted, Elizabeth flung the rope of sheets over the sill.

      A rap on the door. “Be a good girl and come downstairs.”

      She grabbed the footstool and set it below the window.

      “Reginald promised you a lovely matched team and gilt carriage as a wedding present,” СКАЧАТЬ