The Borrowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane

hallway toward the sitting room. Judd turned to go back outside, then hesitated. Mary Gustavson wouldn’t have come here on a social call. Something was wrong. If it concerned his family, he’d be well-advised to stay and listen. Tossing his hat onto a rack behind the door, he followed the two women down the hall.

      The parlor’s tall windows faced east, offering morning sun and a fine view of the mountains. Edna Seavers had covered them with heavy drapes, which she kept drawn against the light. The well-furnished chamber was as gloomy as the inside of a funeral home.

      Edna sat in her customary rocking chair, reading the Bible by the light of a small table lamp. Her ebony cane was propped against one arm of the chair. The stroke had weakened her left side. She could hobble around the house with the cane, but for ventures out she preferred the dignity of a wheelchair.

      Was she any worse today? Judd studied her now, remembering what he’d learned from her doctor last month. His mother was more fragile than even she realized. But her will seemed as strong as ever.

      She glanced up as Gretel entered to announce the visitor. Her bony little fingers laid the black marker ribbon across the page before closing the Bible. “Two cups of hot chamomile tea, Gretel,” she said. “Please have a seat, Mrs. Gustavson.”

      Mary Gustavson lowered her ample frame onto the edge of a needlepoint chair. After her long trek in the sun, she would surely have preferred cold lemonade, or even water, to hot tea. But she sat in awkward silence, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

      Judd found a seat in a shadowed corner. He had no wish to be part of the drama, only to listen and observe.

      “Have you heard from your boy Quint, Mrs. Seavers?” Mary spoke good English but with a thick Norwegian accent.

      Judd could almost read the thoughts behind his mother’s disapproving frown. The tea had yet to arrive, and this uncouth woman had already brushed aside the social pleasantries and cut to the reason for her visit.

      Judd stifled a groan as he realized what that reason must be. Only one thing would have brought Mary Gustavson to this house.

      “As a matter of fact, I haven’t heard a thing,” Edna sniffed. “But why should my son be any concern of yours?”

      Mary’s reply confirmed Judd’s guess. “Our Hannah is with child. I’ve no doubt that your son is the father.”

      “How can you be sure?” Edna’s voice dripped acid. “For all you know, your daughter could have spread her legs for half the boys in the county. Just because we’ve got money, and because Quint isn’t here to defend himself—”

      “Hannah is a good girl!” Mary was on her feet, pale and quivering. “If she lost her virtue, it was because she loved your son, and he took advantage of her.”

      “My son is a gentleman. He would never take advantage of any girl.” Edna took a moment to pour a cup of the tea that Gretel had placed on the table. Her face was a mask of propriety but her hands were shaking. Tea sloshed onto the tabletop, staining the lace doily that covered it. “In any case, you’ve no proof of your accusation. Until Quint appears to answer for himself, there’s nothing I can do.”

      “Then write him a letter! Tell him he has to come home!”

      Edna set the teacup back on its silver tray, its contents untasted. “Nobody wants Quint home more than I do. I’ve written to him every week, begging him to abandon this silly adventure. But he hasn’t replied. I don’t know if my letters have even reached him. So you see, Mrs. Gustavson, whether I believe you or not, my hands are tied.”

      “But this is your grandchild, your own flesh and blood!” Mary’s work-roughened hands twisted in anguish. “My Hannah and your Quint, they were sweethearts. There was nobody else for her. You know that. Soon the whole town will see the scandal. Do you want that for Quint’s child? To be born without a father? To be called always by that ugly word?”

      Edna’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Really, Mrs. Gustavson, I don’t see—”

      “You must get Quint home! My daughter needs a husband! Her baby needs a name!”

      Edna had shrunk into her chair like a threatened animal. “But that isn’t possible. We don’t know how to reach him.”

      “Then who is going to marry my Hannah?” Mary demanded. “Who is going to be a father to your son’s baby?”

      “I will.”

      Judd rose as he spoke the words. Shocked into silence, the two women stared at him.

      “You?” Edna choked out the word. “But that’s preposterous!”

      “Do you have a better idea?” Judd’s mind raced, the plan falling into place as he spoke. “The marriage would be in name only, of course. We could have the divorce papers drawn up ahead of time. When Quint gets home, all we’d have to do is sign them. Then he and Hannah would be free to marry.”

      Mary Gustavson was gazing at him as if he’d just saved her family from a burning house. “Thank you,” she murmured.

      Judd forced himself to meet her tearful gaze. He’d offered his help out of genuine concern. But what was he getting that poor girl into? Even on a temporary basis, he was no bargain for any woman. And no bride deserved a mother-in-law like Edna Seavers.

      “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’m willing to marry your daughter, Mrs. Gustavson, but Hannah needs to be willing, too. She needs to understand the conditions and agree to them.”

      “She will. I’ll make sure of that.”

      Judd glanced at his mother. Edna’s face was white with suppressed anger. Her lips were pressed into a rigid line. None of this was going to be easy. But he had to do the right thing for his brother’s child—and for that child’s grandmother. He turned back to Mary.

      “If you don’t mind I’d like to ask Hannah myself. The least the poor girl deserves is a proper proposal.”

      Mary looked hesitant. Her mouth tightened.

      “I’ll come calling tonight, after supper. You can tell her to expect me.”

      “Should I tell her the rest?”

      “How much does she already know?”

      “About this? Nothing. I told her I was going to visit a friend across the creek. But she’ll find out soon enough.”

      “Then I’ll leave it in your hands. You know Hannah better than I do.” Actually he scarcely knew Hannah at all, Judd realized as he spoke. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

      “I’ll be going then.” Mary turned back to Edna. “I thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Seavers.”

      Edna’s only reply was a nod to Gretel, who’d appeared in the doorway to usher the visitor outside.

      No sooner had the front door closed than the storm broke inside the parlor. “How dare you, Judd? The idea, marrying that wretched girl! Think of the scandal! What will people say?”

      Judd faced his mother calmly. “What will they say if I don’t marry her? Once she starts to show, the whole town will be counting backward. They’ll know it’s Quint’s baby she’s carrying. For us to turn her away when we have the means to help—that would be heartless.”

      “But why should we have to take her in? Give her some money! Send her away to some home where she can have the brat and place it for adoption!”

      Judd willed himself to feel pity instead of outrage. “The brat, as you call it, is your grandchild—maybe the only one you’ll ever have. What if something happens to Quint? What if he doesn’t come home?”

      “Don’t say such a terrible thing. Don’t even think it.” Edna pressed her fingertips to her forehead, then released her hands to flutter like wounded doves to her lap. “In any case, you’re here. Surely