Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,11
as mine. We’re equals. Understand?”
She swallowed and gave a slight jerk of her head. The breeze lifted a tendril of gold and laid it across her eyes. Ridge brushed back the strand and found the texture like fine silk. Adeline flinched, pulled her hand away, and scooted as far from him as she could get on the bench seat. They weren’t even married yet, and already he’d made a mistake. Dammit! Luke had told him to be patient, that this would take a while. She’d reacted like he was going to hit her.
For sure someone had. A muscle worked in his jaw.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying…” He picked up the reins and set the horse in motion. Best if he kept quiet, so they rode the rest of the way in silence.
Once at the two-story frame house, he set the brake and helped her down. He tried to look at the place they’d be calling home through her eyes and saw little to commend it. A ton of work still needed doing, but he was glad he’d added colorful flower boxes under the front windows. Tally Colby and some of her friends had filled the planters with pretty marigolds and daisies, and frilly curtains framed the wide windows. Ridge hadn’t liked them much, but the women said Adeline would.
As he got time and money, he’d whitewash the place and pray the wind and sand wouldn’t strip the paint off too soon. And plant some trees. They did have one—a lone elm at the right corner, outside the kitchen. A weary soldier, it leaned until its branches nearly touched the ground. Ridge felt like that tree at times, especially after a night drinking with Clay and Jack.
Adeline handed him a piece of paper. “I like it.”
“Glad to hear that. Let’s go inside.” He prayed he’d remembered to straighten things up. He’d lived here on his own for the past month and sometimes forgot that ladies liked stuff neat and tidy.
“Our nearest neighbors are Travis and Rebel Lassiter, and their three young ones. You’ll like them.” He opened the door and gave her the grand tour. She paused for a long time in the parlor, sadness darkening in her eyes. There wasn’t a mess there, so she must have been thinking about something else. She’d said almost nothing about her former life in her letters, instead talking about books she’d once read and asking questions about him and the town.
Maybe one day when she was stronger, he’d get her to talk about family. He didn’t even know if she had any. But his curiosity would have to wait. They were on her schedule. He wished she could speak. Written communication was fine if that’s all there was. But a person said so much more when actually speaking the words. Cadence, rhythm, tone all revealed the state of mind of the speaker. If being safe helped, he’d do all he could to reassure her.
Moving on, she inspected the kitchen, opening cabinets and checking on dishes and pans. Her note simply read, “Good.”
Upstairs, she ran her fingers approvingly across the quilt on the bed. The golds, browns, and greens added a bright splash of color to the bland room, even he could see that. And he was glad he’d hung a picture—a sweeping landscape of the Hill Country that reminded him of a home he could never go back to.
“The women in town gave us the quilt as a marriage gift,” he explained. “They said it’s the wedding ring design, whatever the hell that is.”
The happy glimmer in her emerald eyes seemed to indicate she must know what that meant. Or maybe she was laughing at him.
She nodded at the small, round table tucked into a corner with two chairs, and slid her hand across the smooth wood of the tall chest of drawers.
“I emptied two drawers for you, Addie. But I can empty more if that’s not enough for your things.”
She raised her eyes to his and he wasn’t sure what he saw there. Acceptance? Disinterest? What? Before he could figure it out, she returned to the hallway.
Next, she glanced inside at the spare bedroom that they might one day use as a nursery. Ridge grew warm and unbuttoned the top of his collarless shirt. A baby was another subject they’d avoided in their letters. Maybe she didn’t want kids. He hadn’t let himself think about it much. Wanted men usually didn’t dream too far into the future—it was a hazard of the