Mail Order Motherhood (Brides of Beckham Book 8) by Kirsten Osbourne

couldn’t let the children see her cry.
    Albert watched Clara while they ate, wondering what had been said to hurt her so much at the store.  Why couldn’t people just accept that they’d done what they needed to do and let two lonely people find happiness together?
    Clara escaped to her room soon after lunch.  Albert and Clarence had gone onto the range to take more hay to the cows, Robert was napping, and the girls were washing dishes.  She lay down on the bed for a moment and cried her eyes out.  She knew she wasn’t as pretty as his first wife.  She knew that every time she spotted the other woman’s photograph, which was still on the dresser.  She was doing her best to be a good wife and mother, though.  Did that count for nothing?
    She took ten minutes wallowing in her anguish, and then realized there was nothing she could do but work harder and try to please him more.  She knew he enjoyed their time alone together while the children were in bed at night.  That was something.  Eventually maybe he’d have some affection for her.  Right now, affection seemed to be too much to ask.
    She hurried into the main room, still feeling chilled from her time in the sleigh.  She made a thick stew for supper filled with carrots and potatoes and some of their own beef. 
    By the time Albert got into the house, she was in a surly mood, angered that he hadn’t known anything was wrong.  The table was set and they were ready to eat.  Everyone ate in silence, her anger filling the air, and he seemed to be angry as well.  She had no idea what was wrong with him, though.  What did he have to be angry about?  She did everything for him and his children.
    After tucking the children into bed, she walked down the stairs, thinking she’d just get her nightgown and sleep upstairs with Natalie.  She didn’t have much of a desire to be around her husband.  She certainly had no desire to sleep beside him through the night.
    When he saw her go into their bedroom, he stood and followed.  “What are you doing?”
    “Getting my nightgown.  I’m going to sleep in Natalie’s room with her tonight.”
    “What is your problem?  When we left town, you seemed upset and now you seem angry enough to hurt someone.  Why?”  The look on his face told her he didn’t want to put up with her mood.
    She brushed past him without answering.  He grabbed her arm.  “What have I done to make you so angry?”
    She spun on him, wanting to lash out at him for everything that had been said about her in town.  Everything that had ever been said about her or her children.  For every time she felt inadequate.  She knew she was being unfair, though, and tears sprang to her eyes again.  “Nothing.”
    “You’re angry with me for no reason then?”
    She nodded, walking up to him and burying her face against his chest, relieved when his arms folded around her.  “I can’t explain it.  I’m never this emotional!”
    He held her close, rocking her in his arms.  “It’s a hard life here.”
    She nodded, knowing that wasn’t it either.  She would love her life there if she wasn’t so unsure of him.  “I just wish I didn’t always feel so inferior.”
    He pulled away from her, staring at her in shock.  “Inferior?  You really feel inferior?  Why?”
    She shrugged.  “I feel like I don’t cook well enough.  Like I don’t sew well enough.  I’m not a good enough mother.  Your children deserve their real mother, who did things the way she did them.  They shouldn’t have to put up with me.”
    He shook his head in disbelief.  “You are a wonderful cook.  There’s never anything left when you cook.  How could you not think that you’re good enough?”  He sighed.  “Robert barely remembers his mother at all.  She was sick for most of his life, and the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  Even when she was well, she wasn’t the kind of cook and mother you are.  You have everything perfect around