Something Borrowed

Chapter 4

Amelia

Lunch was sliced turkey with baked potatoes and a smooth gravy that impressed Amelia, who had never mastered the art of straining lumps. It was the best meal she'd had in weeks, and she fought her instinct to gobble it up and feed the starving child inside her that had so recently purged her stomach of anything useful.

Amelia's thoughts bounced around like billiards balls in her brain as she fought to follow the conversation, both verbal and unspoken. At first, they spoke to her, asking her questions that she fought to answer without betraying too much of her murky past.

"Brent says you're from the city, Amelia," Brent's father said, spearing a piece of turkey as he stared at her. He was an imposing man, his belly straining at his suit jacket, the heady scent of cigar smoke and expensive whiskey a cloud around him. Amelia gulped as he frowned, realizing he was still waiting for an answer.

"Yes... sir... yes, sir, I am," she stammered.

He smiled a kind, fatherly smile. "There's no need to be nervous, dear. I'm delighted you're here. Brent, here, has been a bit of a wanderer. We'll enjoy having him around the ranch again."

"Yes, sir."

"What does your father do, Amelia?"

"He... nothing. Both my parents died when I was young, sir."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Was it difficult for you, growing up?"

No, it was sunshine and happiness and love. "No, sir. I was lucky to be placed in a good orphanage and educated properly. I can read and write very well." She blushed as the words left her mouth, and wondered if he would label her a braggart, or if he would condemn her for thinking literacy was a thing worthy of pride.

"Well, then, you're in luck. We've amassed quite a library here in the house. I'm sure Melissa would be happy to show you. You're welcome to any of the books, so long as you care for them properly."

"Yes, sir, that's a very generous offer." She couldn't help the childish exuberance that leaked into her voice.

But then the conversation turned away from her, and the tone began to darken.

"While the women are exploring the library, Josh will take you around the ranch, Brent."

"I'm sure he's got better things to do, Pa. I can look around myself." Brent was pushing his food around on the plate, his gaze on the window behind Amelia's head, glassy and wistful. 

"I don't want you lollygaging, son," his father said sternly, pointing a fork at his son. "This winter is supposed to be a long one. I would hate for you to lag behind when you could be taking a leadership role."

Brent opened his mouth, as if to protest, but his brother cut him off. It was the first time he'd spoken since the meal began. 

"It's fine, Brent," he said. "We just got back from a drive this morning so today's a light day. It'll give us a chance to catch up."

The words were soft and casual, but a look passed between Brent and his brother that spoke much louder. Growing up in a herd of damaged children had taught Amelia the value of watching faces and bodies. She considered herself fluent in unspoken words.

Give it up, said Brent's brother, narrowing his eyes just enough to convey annoyance.

No, said Brent with a furrowed brow and clenched jaw.

Please, came with a narrowing of the lips and a slight widening of the eyes.

"If you're not busy, a tour of the ranch would be great," said Brent, and Amelia was taken aback. She had not known Brent for long, but she didn't take him for a man who backed down from a challenge; any challenge. She took a bite of mashed potatoes and wondered what else she'd discover.

The rest of dinner passed in tense small talk and the sound of cutlery chinking against flatware. When Mr. Tucker finally pushed his plate away and stood, Amelia fought not to sag in her chair, deflating with relief. 

There was no serving staff, and Amelia shot to her feet when Melissa stood to help her carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. 

"Absolutely not," Melissa had snapped, glaring at her with warm eyes and a smile. "You go up to your room and rest. You've had a long morning. The boys will help me with this, won't you?" 

Amelia hovered as the men collected up the dishes and carted them to the kitchen. Cleaning was what she did for a living. Her greatest skill. Her life's work, she thought with a wry, self-deprecating smile. To be shunned from such activities felt... wrong. 

"I'm deadly serious," Melissa said when her eyes landed on Amelia, hovering in the doorway. "We'll go over the rules of the house this afternoon, and you can start helping with the chores tomorrow. For now, go unpack and rest. I insist. You'd be insulting me if you didn't." 

The last thing Amelia wanted to do was insult her new friend, so she retreated reluctantly to her room upstairs. The window faced the valley, and she sat in the windowseat and watched as Brent and his brother appeared from under the porch and strode across the yard. Brent's shoulders were still slightly curled, and he looked out of place against the backdrop of nature, gruff men, and livestock. 

Again, guilt curled in Amelia's belly. Brent was here for her and the life inside her. He'd never have otherwise returned to a place he clearly hated so much. When she'd first told him about the pregnancy he'd balked and paled and told her he was sorry. There was no way he could marry her, but he'd make sure she had a steady supply of money to keep her stable and safe. He'd sent a telegraph and, when the answer had come, it was like the light had gone out in his eyes. 

"My father will only support you if we're married. If we return to the ranch," he'd explained sullenly, and Amelia supposed she should be grateful that he'd at least told her the truth. At least he'd brought her here and feigned a marriage for the sake of her baby, rather than abandoning her to raise a bastard child, alone in a city that would condemn her as a whore. 

It was something. Of course she'd have preferred love and a real wedding and a real life with him. She loved Brent-- the man he'd been when they first met. The man with dreams and an easy laugh and sweet words that brushed away the cobwebs on her heart. She wanted so badly for that man to return, but those kinds of wishes were greedy. 

With a stifled sigh, Amelia stood from the window seat and walked to the vanity, peering at her reflection in the speckled mirror. So many days of travel had not been easy on her appearance. Her eyes were shadowed, her hair broken and messy, her skin dull. She shifted her gaze down to her flat stomach, running a palm over her body as she thought about the life inside. 

Brent was not her priority, except insofar as he assured this child's bright future. She had to remember that. Her love for this baby already far exceeded her love for Brent. She'd do whatever was necessary to keep it safe. If that meant going along with Brent's fake marriage to appease his father, then so be it. If it meant living the rest of her life watching her "husband" come and go, spending his nights away, drinking and playing cards and cavorting with strange women, then so be it. 

Her child deserved a secure future-- the kind of future that this beautiful, confusing place could promise. There was money here, and food. Family to lean on. Space to grow. 

"Nothing else matters," she whispered, smiling down at her fingers, splayed over her belly. "Just you."