The Unlikely Wife. Debra Ullrick
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did after picking up her sack. At the top of the landing, he stopped and faced her. “There are three rooms. Take your pick.”
She peeked inside the first bedroom, then the second and then the third. “Iffen you don’t mind, I’ll take this one here.”
“That’s fine.” He managed to keep his head from shaking in frustration. “Whatever you want.” Somehow he had a feeling she would take the sparsest bedroom. The smallest room with the iron-framed bed, light blue quilt and matching curtains. Only a single dresser, a night stand with a lantern, a wash bowl and basin, three paintings on the wall, and one small closet occupied the room. The other two, which were larger and decorated as nicely as the rest of the house, didn’t seem to fit her. One thing for certain, she was a simple woman who liked simple things.
“Well, good night, Selina. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Michael,” she spoke softly in that melodic voice of hers, the one that in no way, shape or form matched her masculine attire or attitude.
Trying not to think about any of it, he headed to his bedroom, undressed and slid between the new cotton sheets. He rolled onto his side and stared at the blank pillow next to him. Tonight was the night he was supposed to be sharing with the woman of his dreams. Yet he’d felt nothing but relief when Selina said she wasn’t going to share his bed.
But he couldn’t bear the idea of spending his wedding night alone, without the woman he had dreamed about for five long months. A phantom woman who now only existed in his heart and his imagination. Grief barreled through him as the death of his dream came crashing in on him. Though he was exhausted, he dragged his weary body out of bed, threw on his pants and headed out onto the porch, where he leaned against one of the posts and stared up at the stars and the quarter moon.
Mosquitoes and gnats buzzed around his head. He waved them away as he watched the fading and returning lights of the stars dancing in the darkness above him.
Wind blew through the leaves of the trees and across his face, whispering a mournful sound that reflected the sad state he now found himself in.
He had no idea how to deal with his swirl of feelings.
Minutes ticked by while Michael berated himself for placing that ad in the first place. For not going out to meet her. For falling in love with a fantasy. If he hadn’t done that, then none of this would have happened. “Lord, I know I did this to myself, but what am I going to do about Selina? She’s a woman who is the complete opposite of everything I ever dreamed of. Imagined. Prayed for. She’s a woman—” He stopped and sighed.
Selina was a woman. That much was obvious when the blanket had fallen from her shoulders. Through her thin nightgown, he could see the outline of her womanly curves, curves that would be the envy of most women. Yet the way she dressed did nothing to show her femininity.
He sighed heavily and scratched his neck.
“Lord, You know I’ve been talking to You for eleven years, asking You for a woman like Rainee. Why would You send me someone like Selina? Why? Please, help me to understand.”
He listened for that still, small voice, but the only sounds he heard were coyotes howling in the distance, frogs calling out into the darkness and an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees.
Selina stepped up to the door in time to hear Michael ask why God had sent him someone like her. Her heart broke knowing she was causing Michael so much pain and heartbreak. But there was nothing she could do about it. Still, it hurt something fierce that he didn’t want her. Her dreams of them becoming truly hitched disappeared like smoke in the wind.
Careful not to make a sound, she backed away from the screen door and hightailed it back upstairs and into her bed. Not one normally given to crying, she buried her head into her pillow, soaking it with her tears. Something akin to bear claws tore at her heart, shredding it to pieces.
Being in love with a man who didn’t love her back hurt something fierce. Living with him every day was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever come up against. “Lord, give me the grace I need to survive. And I’d be right beholden to You, iffen You’d ease this awful pain in my heart and in Michael’s, too.”
After a few hours of fitful sleep, Selina lit the lantern next to her bed and slid into her garments. She grabbed the lantern in one hand and her boots and stockings in the other and crept down the steps and into the kitchen.
Careful not to make any noise, she made her way down the cellar ladder and cut off a slab of bacon and fetched a couple of eggs before she commenced to fixing breakfast. Coffee, bacon, eggs and fresh flapjack scents made her stomach growl.
Selina stood in front of the dish cabinet. Back home, she had a handmade breadboard counter to hold her dishes. It sort of reminded her of this piece of furniture, but her breadboard counter had a flour bin and several drawers and it didn’t have glass doors like this fancy piece did. Plus, hers was covered with oil cloth and this one had a shiny finish to it. Made her afraid to touch it, it was so fancy. But she didn’t have any choice. Not if she wanted to serve Michael his breakfast.
She opened the door, pulled out a couple of plates and froze at the sight of the dainty blue flowers and leaves. They were blue, not yellow, not pink and not any other color but blue.
Her favorite color.
Sure seemed like someone went to an awful lot of trouble to get dishes with blue in them. But, she sighed, they weren’t meant for her. She set the table and then sat down with a hot cup of coffee. Bowing her head and closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together and said her morning prayers.
“Good morning, Selina.”
Selina yanked her head upward to find Michael standing in front of her with a look of a man who didn’t know what to do.
Bags sagged under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was all muffed up, and his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them.
“Did you sleep well?” Jumpin’ crickets, Selina. That was a stupid question. Anyone could see he ain’t slept but a wink.
His gaze slid over her face. “About as well as you, apparently.”
Selina wished she had stopped in front of the looking glass before she came down. She had no idea what she looked like. Slowly raking a finger through her hair, she stood and put her back to him. Having him study her like that made her skittish. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asked, even though she had already grabbed him a cup and started to fill it.
“Yes, thank you. That would be nice.”
“You just sit yourself down and I’ll fetch ya some vittles.”
Selina placed a plate with four pieces of bacon on it, six biscuits and a small mound of scrambled eggs onto the center of the table.
He looked up at her. “Aren’t you going to have any?”
Selina glanced at the food and frowned. “Yes, sir.” Confused by his question, she lowered herself onto the chair.
Before she could ask more, Michael reached over and clasped her hand in his.
Her attention flew right to him. Warmth spread up her arms and into her body as she yanked her hand away. “Wha—whatcha doin’?”
“Getting ready to pray.” His eyes softened.
“Oh.” She nodded, feeling dumber than a fence post for asking. She slid her hand back across to his.
His eyes drifted shut.
She knew she ought to close her eyes and concentrate on his prayer but her mind took a turn in another direction. While he prayed, she studied his face, wondering if those full lips were as soft as they looked.
Strength flowed through his rough hand even though he held hers with the softest of touch. Having her hand in his felt right nice, a little too nice considering their circumstances.
Her eyes trailed