A Mistaken Match. Whitney Bailey

I’d hoped you’d cook as well as my mother, but I guess that was too much to wish for.”

      Ann bristled. She bit her tongue to keep her retort at bay. This man was never going to relinquish his prejudice against her.

      “As for your passage and the agency,” he continued, “I wouldn’t worry yourself too much about that.”

      Ann cocked her head and puzzled over his comment. “Why not?” she asked finally.

      “I’m confident the agency will refund their fee. They’d have to after the kind of mistake they made. And once you’re properly matched with your intended, he can repay me for your ticket.” He laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be scandalized to discover I could only afford steerage. Maybe we’ll tell him I sprang for a second-class ticket? Get a few more dollars out of him?”

      He turned to Ann and his smile dropped. “I’m only joking, of course. I’d never be dishonest.”

      Ann barely managed a weak smile in return. If only he knew the cost of repayment rested squarely on her shoulders. Even if she procured money, she’d first have to think of supporting herself. “But you’ll be alright until then?” she asked hopefully.

      James cleared his throat and gave a nervous chuckle. “Yes, though the sooner we hear from Mrs. Turner and get you sent off, the better. Fact is, I used most of last year’s profits to pay the agency fee and your passage. Until this year’s crops are in, I’m stretched a little thin. I counted on a lot more help around the house and the farm this summer and fall. It’ll cost to hire a hand during harvest.”

      Her insides clenched. If only a wealthy suitor really did await her, checkbook in hand.

      “Did you post the letter to Mrs. Turner?” she asked, sure that he had.

      James chewed his lip. “I did.”

      So it was done. The countdown had begun.

      * * *

      Back at the farm, James let Ann off by the door before pulling the wagon into the barn and tending to the horse. He took the few minutes of solitude to mentally review their trip to town. When he’d invited Ann to stay with him, he never imagined he could be so weak. He’d prayed over and over that morning for strength to focus on the task at hand. Such a simple task. Patiently await the arrival of his intended bride—a helpmate for the farm and the future mother of his children—all while sharing a home with the most breathtaking beauty New Haven had ever seen.

      He stifled a chortle. Simple? This was the hardest task of his life. Every time he turned around, a compliment escaped his lips. Why did he keep doing that? The only antidote he could think of was to follow his praise with criticism. To remind himself he couldn’t be caught up in the deceit of beauty again. Yet each time he criticized her, Ann’s doe eyes reflected the wound. Then his chest would tighten to see he’d caused her pain, and he’d be caught up in her gaze all over again.

      No, he couldn’t do this to himself! His time with Emily would be for nothing if he repeated the same mistakes. From the moment they met, he’d been utterly blind to Emily’s flaws. He’d ignored every warning God gave him and plunged ahead, hoping she’d grow a heart for farm life and family devotion.

      The summer sun still hung high in the sky when he left the barn. His cheeks burned and his mouth felt dry as dust. He headed to the well pump for a drink of water and found Ann already there. She let the tin cup hanging by a chain drop with a clatter and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.