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

the house all the time.  She never did.”
    Clara stared at him.  “I never have anything perfect.  I have two girls who work beside me all day to make the house as presentable as it is!”
    “I guess we all see our own shortcomings.  I don’t see you as having any.  I think you’re a fabulous wife and mother.”
    She bit her lip against the words she truly wanted to say.  She wanted to ask why he didn’t love her if she was a good wife and mother, but she knew that was completely inappropriate.  He was still mourning Sally.  She walked to the dresser and put her nightgown on top of it, knowing she’d wear it that night.  Walking back into the main room, she got her crochet hook and yarn and sat at the table.  “Tell me about Sally.  How did you meet her?”
    He sat down with his whittling, a new block of wood in his hands.  “We were neighbors growing up.  We both lived in a small Texas town.  It was my dream to be a rancher, so I saved up every dime I could, and remained living at home with my parents until I had enough to buy a small piece of land and some cattle.  My father was the barber in our town, and I was an only child.”  He carefully made a long slice through the wood.  “Sally waited for me.  She was five years younger than me, but I was thirty before I felt like I was ready to marry and start our lives together.  We married on her twenty-fifth birthday.”
    Clara was startled a woman would wait for a man so long.  That never happened in the east that she’d seen.  “Did you move up here right away?”
    He nodded.  “We got married and started our journey the next day.  We got our land here, and our cattle, and began our lives together.  She was happy here for the first few years.  We had Gertie three years after we married and then Robert.  She was so sickly after Robert was born.  I kept begging her to go to the doctor in town, but she kept saying that it was just that she needed time to recover from childbirth.  By the time we got her to the doctor, he said it was too late.  If I’d taken her sooner, he might have been able to do something, but I didn’t.”
    Clara squeezed his hand.  “You can’t blame yourself for her death.”
    “I can’t not blame myself for her death.  She was a good woman, and I loved her, and I let her die.”  He shook his head, his eyes dark and sad.  “How did your husband die?”
    “He had a heart attack while working one day.  Finances had been tight, and the doctor said he just worried himself to death.”
    “And you tried to farm after his death?”
    She nodded.  “I couldn’t see remarrying so quickly, although I had a couple of offers.  When the bank told me they were foreclosing, I felt like I had to get out of town.  I had to figure out a way to raise my children without the constant worry that I was feeling.”
    “And you answered my letter.  I’m glad you did.”
    “You are?”  She was truly astonished by that fact.  She thought he resented her.
    He nodded.  “You’re a good wife to me and a good mother for my children.  How could I not be glad it was you who came to marry me?”
    She was pleased by his statement but not sure if she really believed him.  He’d obviously truly loved his wife.  She would always be second best.

Chapter Six
     
     
    It was late the following afternoon, when she’d just sat down after baking six fresh loaves of bread and a cake, and had dinner in the oven staying warm for when Albert and Clarence got back that she heard a knock on the door.  In the months she’d been there, they’d never had a visitor.
    Clara jumped to her feet and rushed to the door.  She blinked twice at the woman in front of her.  She was a carbon copy of Sally.  She knew because she’d looked at the other woman’s photo enough, hoping she could be more like her.
    “May I help you?” she asked softly.
    “I’m Mary.  My brother-in-law lives here.  At least I think he does.  Is this