Page 6 of The Preacher's Bride

Immediately, Caleb’s preacher instincts kicked in when he saw Ella lying on the couch, pale as a sheet as she attempted to sit up. “Please, don’t get up on my account.” A crease formed between Caleb’s eyes as he sat on a chair across from her. “How are you feeling?”

Ella gave him a small smile. “I’m okay, but I feel like an invalid. Doc Morgan wants me to lay down until the baby comes.” With much effort, she sat up and instinctively rubbed her stomach.

“Well, just stay there,” Caleb said, concerned. She had always been so active in the community; it was hard seeing her like this. For a moment, he wondered if something was wrong with her or the baby, but he pushed the thought aside. “I won’t stay long.”

Ella leaned back on the couch. Colton lifted her feet, sat down beside her, and placed them on his lap, the adoration he had for his wife prominent in his eyes. He smoothed the skirt of her dress down and rubbed her leg out of habit.

A crease formed between Ella’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Reverend Henley?”

“Caleb, please,” he corrected, a small smile lighting his lips.

Ella’s eyes flew open as she looked at Colton and then back. “Are you okay?”

Caleb nodded. Here, she was very sick herself, but she was more concerned about his well-being than her own. “Mrs. Hill, I hate to trouble you with this now, but I was wanting to know if I could talk to you about something.”

“Yes, of course,” Ella replied, concern filling her eyes as she listened attentively.

Caleb proceeded to tell her of his plan to send for a mail-order bride to help out around the house and care for his children. “My question to you is this: can you tell me who to contact, or would you help me to set it up?”

Ella laughed, her eyes wide. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Caleb’s mouth flew open in shock as his face fell. Of all the things he had expected her to say, this wasn’t it. “I… I… I’m so sorry I bothered you with this. It was a stupid idea.” He rose to his feet and headed toward the door, his bulging muscles tense under his jacket.

“No! You misunderstood!” Ella said, stopping him. “Please, come back over and sit down. That’s not what I meant.” A broad smile spread across her face. “You talk about the Good Lord working in strange ways!”

Caleb narrowed his eyes, confused. “I’m… not following you,” he said as he sat back down.

Ella’s face beamed brightly, bursting with excitement as she turned to her husband. “Colton, would you be so kind as to bring me the oil painting of Mia?”

Colton suppressed a smile, nodding as he headed into the bedroom.

Caleb wondered what was going on, but Colton was back before he could ask. He handed Ella a small picture frame, and she laid it face down on her lap as she turned back to Caleb. “You aren’t going to believe what I’m about to tell you, Caleb.” She held up a letter. “I just got this letter from my best friend in NewYork, Mia Flynn. In the letter, she asked me if I could find her a husband. She wants to be a mail-order bride.”

Caleb’s eyes flew open wide, unable to believe what he was hearing. “What? Why?”

Ella shrugged. “You can read the letter yourself, if you like. Essentially, she’s in financial trouble.” She let out a deep breath. “You see, we shared a tenement before I left, and we used to split the rent. It was okay for two people who were both working. But I’m ashamed to say that I left her high and dry when I came here.”

Caleb’s heart pounded hard against his ribcage, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Why doesn’t she just get another roommate?”

She shrugged, smiling. “No one was me, I guess. You see, we’ve been best friends for a long time. And if the shoe was on the other foot, I know I couldn’t replace her, either.”

Caleb nodded in understanding.

“Caleb, before you say anything, there’s something you should know first.”

He waited, listening intently.

Ella let out a deep breath. “Mia and I worked together. She’s a dancehall girl and a seamstress.”

Caleb nodded as Ella waited for it to sink in.

“Caleb,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Gentlemen came in and paid to dance with us. Nothing more. It’s good money, but she’s getting tired of that life, just like I did.” Ella bit her lower lip. “My question to you is: will it make a difference? Could you still care for her, knowing that?”

“Of course I could.” He shrugged. “We all come from somewhere. Right?” One corner of his lips curled up into a smile. “You said that she sews?”

Ella laughed. “Oh, yes! In fact, she’s been sewing for ladies in New York, and she sews all her own clothes. It’s just notenough to make ends meet. She said that she would rather be a seamstress for a dress shop… or make clothes for her own family.”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “She said that?”

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