Mail Order Matron (Brides of Beckham Book 9) by Kirsten Osbourne Page A
Authors: Kirsten Osbourne
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farmer, with no real hopes of being anything more in his life, but he enjoyed working the land and planned on doing it for the rest of his life.
She sighed. Surely there was someone who would suit him. She’d write to the man and let him know she was looking for someone, but that it could take a while. She wouldn’t tell him that he wasn’t exactly a matrimonial prize. Certainly he already knew that.
Chapter One
August 1886
Julia stood over her mother’s grave barely listening to the words the preacher was intoning. The doctor had said her mother would either recover or die within a year. Sixteen years later, her time taking care of her was finally over. She knew it was horrible of her to even think it, but she was relieved, even as she was consumed with grief.
The sicker her mother had become, the angrier and more critical she’d become. The last sixteen years had been extremely difficult, and she resented the years she’d given her mother. She knew she’d done the right thing, but that didn’t seem to be enough. She wanted back the years that she had been criticized and yelled at. She wanted to go back to being eighteen with her whole life in front of her.
Glancing up, she could see Joseph standing with his wife and four children. He’d waited two years for her, but had finally given up. How could she blame him? She kept asking for one more year, and he finally told her he couldn’t agree to that. He needed a wife, not a woman who could see him for fifteen minutes a day with her mother bellowing at her from the other room the entire time.
She quietly dropped her handful of dirt onto the coffin and stood smiling as people shook her hand and offered their condolences. The whole time her mind was racing. What now? Her entire adult life had been devoted to caring for her mother. She had the small house they’d lived in. Money wouldn’t be a real issue. She wasn’t rich by any means, but she wasn’t a pauper. What she was—was alone.
Joseph took her hand in his. His wife and children had walked off to their wagon. “I want you to know how sorry I am. I hope you understand I just couldn’t keep waiting for you.”
Julia nodded, her blue eyes clear. “I appreciate the fact that you waited as long as you did. Most men wouldn’t have.” That much was true. She did appreciate how long he’d waited. She wished he’d waited forever as he’d once said he would, but of course, that was something a woman could never ask for.
“What will you do now?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve put so much time into caring for Mother that there wasn’t really a world outside. I’ve barely been to church in the last sixteen years. I don’t know anyone anymore.” She sighed. “You don’t need to hear my troubles. I’ll clean out mother’s things and go from there.”
“I hope you have only good experiences from here on out.”
She nodded gravely. “Thank you.” She turned to greet the next person, wondering if she would ever be able to stop loving Joseph.
As she slowly walked home, she thought about what she could do with the rest of her life. She was thirty-four years old. She had no trade. No marriage prospects. No real skills unless one considered cooking and cleaning. Julia walked from the cemetery on the outskirts of town to the small house she’d grown up in which was on one of the main streets.
Many people had baked cookies and cakes and casseroles. She didn’t have a place to keep them from getting bad, so her first order of business was walking and giving away all but one of the casseroles. She couldn’t eat them all even if she wanted to, and one of her mother’s primary complaints about her had been her thickening waistline. She’d protested that she couldn’t help but gain weight when all she did was stay in the house, but her mother had just become angrier.
She sighed. Surely there was someone who would suit him. She’d write to the man and let him know she was looking for someone, but that it could take a while. She wouldn’t tell him that he wasn’t exactly a matrimonial prize. Certainly he already knew that.
Chapter One
August 1886
Julia stood over her mother’s grave barely listening to the words the preacher was intoning. The doctor had said her mother would either recover or die within a year. Sixteen years later, her time taking care of her was finally over. She knew it was horrible of her to even think it, but she was relieved, even as she was consumed with grief.
The sicker her mother had become, the angrier and more critical she’d become. The last sixteen years had been extremely difficult, and she resented the years she’d given her mother. She knew she’d done the right thing, but that didn’t seem to be enough. She wanted back the years that she had been criticized and yelled at. She wanted to go back to being eighteen with her whole life in front of her.
Glancing up, she could see Joseph standing with his wife and four children. He’d waited two years for her, but had finally given up. How could she blame him? She kept asking for one more year, and he finally told her he couldn’t agree to that. He needed a wife, not a woman who could see him for fifteen minutes a day with her mother bellowing at her from the other room the entire time.
She quietly dropped her handful of dirt onto the coffin and stood smiling as people shook her hand and offered their condolences. The whole time her mind was racing. What now? Her entire adult life had been devoted to caring for her mother. She had the small house they’d lived in. Money wouldn’t be a real issue. She wasn’t rich by any means, but she wasn’t a pauper. What she was—was alone.
Joseph took her hand in his. His wife and children had walked off to their wagon. “I want you to know how sorry I am. I hope you understand I just couldn’t keep waiting for you.”
Julia nodded, her blue eyes clear. “I appreciate the fact that you waited as long as you did. Most men wouldn’t have.” That much was true. She did appreciate how long he’d waited. She wished he’d waited forever as he’d once said he would, but of course, that was something a woman could never ask for.
“What will you do now?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve put so much time into caring for Mother that there wasn’t really a world outside. I’ve barely been to church in the last sixteen years. I don’t know anyone anymore.” She sighed. “You don’t need to hear my troubles. I’ll clean out mother’s things and go from there.”
“I hope you have only good experiences from here on out.”
She nodded gravely. “Thank you.” She turned to greet the next person, wondering if she would ever be able to stop loving Joseph.
As she slowly walked home, she thought about what she could do with the rest of her life. She was thirty-four years old. She had no trade. No marriage prospects. No real skills unless one considered cooking and cleaning. Julia walked from the cemetery on the outskirts of town to the small house she’d grown up in which was on one of the main streets.
Many people had baked cookies and cakes and casseroles. She didn’t have a place to keep them from getting bad, so her first order of business was walking and giving away all but one of the casseroles. She couldn’t eat them all even if she wanted to, and one of her mother’s primary complaints about her had been her thickening waistline. She’d protested that she couldn’t help but gain weight when all she did was stay in the house, but her mother had just become angrier.
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