Genevieve: Bride of Nevada (American Mail-Order Bride 36) by Cynthia Woolf

be dangerous and—”
    “You’re changing the subject like you do every time we discuss our marriage.”
    “There’s nothing to discuss. I told you on the day you arrived that I don’t want more children.”
    “Yes, just before we married. Not really much of a choice at that time was there?”
    “Would you have changed your mind?”
    “I don’t know. I might have,” a wretched knot formed in her stomach. “But you didn’t give me a choice. You betrayed me, Stuart.”
    He ignored her outrage and brushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t have. As soon as you learned about Lucy and Billy, you were mine.”
    She thought about his words a moment and then slumped her shoulders in defeat. “I do want children but if I can’t have my own…even if I could have my own, I still want to be their mother. You’re right. As soon as I met them, I was a goner. But that doesn’t change the fact you didn’t give me a choice.”
    “Come now, you go upstairs. I’ll bring the doctor to you when he gets here.”
    Genny started out of the kitchen, then she turned back. “Someday you’ll love me and regret all this time we’ve missed when we could have been together.”
    He remained stoic, her words seeming not to penetrate. “You may be right, but for now this is the way we live.”
    She nodded and left.
    He found her attractive. Her body drove him to distraction. Genny smiled. She could work with that, couldn’t she? Or should she bother. He’d rejected her so many times, she wasn’t sure she could take much more.
    Later, the doctor showed up and looked at her wounds.
    “It’s a good thing Stuart scrubbed the bites. Pigs are dirty creatures. In the mean time I’m putting a new antiseptic on your bandages to help you heal.” The doctor poured a yellow liquid on the cloths.
    She hoped it would help. It certainly stung enough, though nothing like the whiskey, for which she was grateful.
    “All right. Can I perform my chores? I’m bored staying in bed,” said Genny.
    The doctor nodded. “You shouldn’t have any problems working other than soreness. And the pain will be around for a while.”
    “Thanks, Doc,” said Stuart.
    “Any time. I just wish you all lived closer to town,” the doctor said, teasing Stuart.
    “So do I in these situations, Doc. Believe me,” agreed Stuart.
    *****
    It was November 29th. Where had the time gone? Christmas would be here before she knew it. She’d been knitting and sewing for a couple of weeks now and had most of her presents done. Genny had used material from Martha’s dresses and other clothes. She’d made matching shirts for Stuart and Billy, a pillow for Nettie and knitted scarves or socks for everyone else.
    Stuart came back from town with the mail. There was a letter from Katie. Genny slit open the envelope with a knife and took out the two sheets of paper.

    November 10, 1890

    Dear Genny and Julia,
    Sorry for the same letter, but it’s just easier this way. I wanted to let you know that I arrived safely in Charlottesville, Virginia. My husband’s vineyard is a small ways from town, so I don’t know when you’ll receive this letter. We were married the same day I arrived and, well, I’m now Katie O’Malley. His home is large, but rather run-down and I’m working like crazy to clean up the place. It could be so beautiful.
    His mother is a complete pain. The woman uses a wheel chair because she says she can’t walk, though I’ve caught her at least once getting around without the chair. She is mean and vile, and no matter how hard I try to be nice, she’s ugly to me. I’ll keep trying, though right now I’m kind of tired. But as my mother use to say, a smile can always brighten a situation. I’m smiling as I write this letter to you, hoping things will improve.
    My husband, is a nice looking handsome man, but he has secrets. Like he’s a widower. Not that it would have made any difference, I just would have liked to have known in