Husband By Arrangement. Angel Moore

her earlier was in a pile near the door on the back wall, and Scott was sweeping the floor.

      “You shouldn’t be sweeping. That’s my responsibility now.” She unbuttoned the top of her wool cape and slipped it off her shoulders.

      “I made this mess. It’s not fair for you to clean it up.”

      Rena raised her eyebrows. “Really? Isn’t that what you’re doing for me?”

      He stopped short and stared at her. “That’s hardly the same thing.”

      “You’re right.” She held out her hand for the broom. “What you’re doing for me—and my child—is much more important than sweeping up.” She grasped the top of the broom handle. “Please let me do my part. It’s difficult enough to be beholden to you. At least let me help.”

      He released the broom. “I promise to do better. I’ve been a bit overwhelmed since Ann left. I didn’t realize how much work she did until she was gone.”

      Rena swept dust from the corner behind the door. “Let me guess. You thought that because she owned a shop and spent her days in town she didn’t contribute much to the chores.” She opened the door and tossed the small rug from the entryway onto the porch. A cloud of dust rose up and blew away in the winter breeze.

      “I’ll get the other rugs.” Scott rolled up the braided rug in front of the fireplace and added it to the one she’d tossed outside.

      “I can do it. You need to see to the team and feed the animals. I’ll take care of the house.” She pulled back the curtain on the front window and realized, from the amount of dust and ash gathered on the sill, that it would take her several days to get the house thoroughly clean. “I won’t do it all today, but by the end of next week, things should be in good order.”

      Scott brushed his hands together to remove the dust of the rug and immediately apologized when he saw it float to the floor she’d swept moments before.

      Rena shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Papa never has learned to brush his feet outside.”

      “We’ll get it sorted out.” He looked at the room and then over his shoulder at the team and wagon. “I’ll take care of the outside chores and come back to help with supper.”

      “That’s not necessary.” She tackled the dirt on the floor in front of the fireplace with the broom.

      “I insist. We’ve both had quite a day, and I am accustomed to taking care of myself.”

      She stopped and laughed. An honest, hearty laugh. “I can see that.” She opened her arms wide to indicate the room.

      He smiled at her sarcasm. “It’s nice to see you laugh.” He closed the door, and she listened as his boots crossed the porch and descended the steps.

      When she heard the wagon pull away from the house, she dropped onto the chair by the hearth. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Rena Livingston.” As the words left her lips, she realized she was Rena Braden now.

      Nothing of her former self remained. Eugene Rodgers had left her with a child and taken everything else from her. Not even her father recognized who she had become.

      Being secretly engaged to a man who’d traveled the country had been thrilling. At first. She’d gone from excitement to shame and finally to disbelief and dread when Eugene had left. Wallowing in self-pity hadn’t helped. She’d had no choice but to move forward. One day at a time. One step at a time.

      Lord, give me strength.

      She forced herself out of the chair and explored the house. By the time Scott returned, she had ham frying on the stove and the table cleaned and set for a modest supper.

      Scott took off his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. “That smells nice.”

      “It’s the best I could do for tonight.” She cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. “We’ll need to go into town for some supplies, unless you have an arrangement with a neighbor for milk and butter. It will make cooking easier.”

      He hung his jacket by the hat. “No arrangement with the neighbors. I sold my cow to the Hendersons after Ann left. There wasn’t a need to keep her for one person. I do most of my eatin’ in town.”

      She poured the eggs into the frying pan where the bacon drippings she’d found in a jar on a shelf above the stove sizzled. “I’ll need milk for cooking.” She cleared her throat, hating to ask for something else on a day when he’d done so much. “And for me to drink.”

      He nodded. “For the baby?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’ll buy a cow tomorrow.”

      Rena scooped the eggs onto plates and set them on the table. “It’s ready. I’m sorry there isn’t more to it.”

      Scott joined her at the table. “Don’t apologize. It’s more than I’d have made for myself tonight.”

      He sat opposite her and reached out a hand for prayer. Her father had always insisted that they hold hands while he blessed the food—even during the years she’d refused to attend services with him. This was different. Scott was a man of faith who practiced his beliefs in his home, but he was also her husband. Only in name, but still her husband.

      Why then did she not want to reach across the table? She wouldn’t explore the possibility that it was a matter of trust. Her father had been her protector. Could she grow to trust Scott in time?

      Scott wasn’t unfamiliar. He was often in her father’s home. But they didn’t interact more than the necessary pleasantries. She’d cooked the meals, and he’d sat across from her. The wide table had prevented them from holding hands while offering thanks for their food as he’d sat next to her father. The table here in his home was smaller. It was expected. And he waited.

      She took a deep breath and dropped her hand into his. His grip was gentle, and his words sincere, as he offered thanks for their meal and for her efforts to prepare it. The next words stung her heart.

      “And, Lord, please help us to make the best of this marriage. I know neither one of us saw it coming, but You take care of Your children. I’m asking You to take care of us. Amen.”

      He released her hand and reached for the platter of ham.

      She slid her hand to her lap. Heat spilled into her cheeks. No one had ever prayed for her except Momma and Papa.

      Scott passed the ham to her. “I guess we need to talk about how we’re going to do this.”

      Rena nodded and took the platter from him.

      “You saw Ann’s room?” He pointed to the door in the front corner of the main room.

      “I did. I took a few minutes to look around while you were in the barn.” She spooned eggs onto her plate. Her appetite hadn’t been much for the last few weeks. The baby needed her to eat, so she’d try again.

      “I think it will serve you well. There’s enough space for a cradle.” He speared a bite of ham. “I hope you don’t think me too familiar to speak of such things.”

      “No. There are things that must be done.” She pushed the eggs around on her plate. “Though the need for a cradle will be months away from now.”

      “Can you tell me how long?” His lowered voice, and the fact that he kept his eyes on his plate let her know that he was possibly as uncomfortable with this topic as she was.

      “The baby should arrive near the beginning of August.”

      He looked up then. “I’ll get started on the cradle this month. I want to finish it before spring. There’ll be planting and such to do then.”

      “I could see if Papa will buy one. It doesn’t seem right for you to have to build it.” It was her turn to look away. “I’m certain he’d be willing to buy