“That’s wonderful. It’ll be good for him and for his family.” Beatrice finished kneading the dough and put it into a bowl to rise. “Now what?”
“You just sit there. I have the cookies ready to go. We’ll chat while they bake.”
“Sounds nice.”
When the small family left an hour later, the cookies were baked, and the bread was rising in bread pans. She put the bread pans into the ice box to keep cold, not wanting to stay up long enough to bake them that night. Toria wiped the table to make sure everything was perfect.
She found the two men sitting in the parlor talking, so she said, “I’m going to get ready for bed. Goodnight, John.”
“Goodnight, Toria. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re very welcome in every way.”
She hurried into the bedroom and undressed quickly, worried that Mortimer wouldn’t give her enough time to change before he came in to bed as well. She needn’t have worried. He gave her a good thirty minutes before he opened the door.
She wasn’t asleep yet, and very nervous about sharing a bed with him for the first time, even though he’d agreed that nothing needed to happen between them yet. It was still strange to share her bed with him.
“Toria? Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“I think tonight went really well.”
Toria smiled in the darkness. She could hear sounds of him undressing, but all the lights were out, which made her feel much more comfortable. “I do, too. I think John has turned a corner. He seems genuinely happy to be here.”
“I think he is.” Mortimer slid under the covers beside her, careful not to touch her. It was an awkward position for both of them to be in. “Thank you for welcoming my son as if he was your own, but not pressuring him by mothering him. I think that’s the key. You give him choices, but you’re not pushing him toward anything.”
Toria rolled over so she was facing him. “I’m happy to be of any kind of help at all. I’m just glad he’s no longer determined to hate me.”
“I don’t think he ever really wanted to hate anyone, but I could be wrong. His devotion to Grace was very strong.”
His mention of his late wife’s name made her think of the woman who kept appearing to her then fading away. She didn’t mention Grace, though. She couldn’t. She had his attention for now, but she was certain as soon as he thought of his perfect first wife, she would be forgotten once again. “Goodnight, Mortimer. I hope you sleep well.”
Mortimer went up onto one elbow. “I’d like to kiss you goodnight, if I may?”
She loved the way he always asked for permission before kissing her. Soon, maybe he would realize he didn’t need to, but for now, the formality seemed sweet to her. “I’d like that.”
His kiss was soft and brief. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Toria closed her eyes, falling asleep with a smile on her lips. He may not love her, but he treated her with caring and respect. What more could a mail order bride ask for?
Early the next morning, she got out of bed and dressed in the darkness. She needed to bake the bread she had waiting in the ice box, as well as make breakfast and prepare lunch for fifteen people.
She started with the bread, and while it was baking, she whipped up batter for pancakes. She made bacon and scrambled eggs to go with them, wanting a good breakfast for both men, but particularly for John. He was starting delivering full time that day, and she knew he’d need his strength.
The siren’s call of bacon brought both men into the kitchen, each of them yawning. “We may have stayed up later than we should have last night,” Mortimer said with a grin.
“That’s understandable. We had guests, and you two had a lot to catch up on. It’s not like you see each other every day!”
Mortimer laughed. “My sweet little wife is sarcastic in the mornings.”
“It happens sometimes.” She put breakfast on the table for both of them, but she stayed at the stove for a bit longer. She needed to boil the chicken that would be the base for her chicken and dumplings for the men coming for lunch. She was a little nervous about serving so many of them, but she was also excited. It was a new business venture, and something that would surely make a little extra profit.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mortimer asked, frowning at her back.
“Yes, in just a minute. I have to get lunch started, and then I’ll be there.” As soon as she finished, she sat down at the table, and realized then the men had waited for her. “You should have started without me!”
“We have manners,” Mortimer said, taking her hand and bowing his head for the morning prayer.
“I tried to take a bite of bacon, but Dad made me stop!” John said after the prayer, a grin on his face.
“You sure are happy in the mornings,” Toria said. “Have you always been this way?”
He nodded. “Most always. There was a time after Mom died that I was never happy about anything. Thankfully I made it through that, and I’m doing better now.”
“I’m really glad. I’m sure your mother would have wanted you to be happy, even after she was gone. It’s not a sin to laugh and joke and be happy again.”
John frowned. “I guess I never thought of it that way. Anytime I wanted to smile, I thought of her, and remembered I was supposed to be grieving. And then the guilt would hit me again.”
Mortimer shook his head at his son. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt that way? I would have told you it was unnecessary. Your mother was the least selfish person I’ve ever met. She wanted you to be happy at all times above all else.”
“But I needed to grieve her.”
“Of course you needed to grieve her, but it didn’t need to last five years. She never would have wanted that at all.”
Toria sat quietly, listening to the two of them talk. She felt like she should leave the room for such a private talk between father and son, but she needed to be there to get her bread out of the oven when it was done if nothing else.
Long after they’d left for the store, she mulled over everything that had been said in her mind. She worried that her presence would keep them from being able to do the things they needed to do at times.
“You’ve done the right thing, letting John move back in here. He’ll stay out of trouble and be far happier.”
Toria turned and looked at the woman sitting at the table. “You’re Mortimer’s Grace, aren’t you? You’re his wife.”
Grace gave one nod. “I was his wife. You are now.”
“I’m not his real wife. Not like you were. He still loves you with everything inside him.” She kept working on getting all the cooked chicken off the bone as she spoke. “John has never stopped mourning you. I feel like I can never live up to your memory.”
“You’ve told both John and Mortimer that you weren’t trying to live up to me, but that they should see you as your own woman. If you really believe that, why do you worry about living in my shadow?” Grace asked logically.