My Brother's Bride: A Mail-Order Bride Story

By Suzanne D. Williams

He'd gone all these years without companionship, and at this childish gesture felt his masculinity greater than ever before. And strangely, a need for her softness, for the gentle hand and loving gaze a woman would give. As strong as he thought he was, alone, with her, he could be that much stronger.

 

Audra Pazikas came to America with her Papa for better opportunities, but his drinking and harsh life in the city soon reduced them to a miserly existence. His death, years later, leaves her with no choice but to accept the hand of a gentleman out west, seeking a bride. Perhaps, though, she'll find success and happiness in a new part of the country.

 

Family resentment put Gilbert Warren under his older brother's thumb from the youngest age. What his half-brother was too lazy to do for himself, he'd always force him to do. Including, taking his place during his nuptials. He just wishes his brother's bride knew he wasn't her new spouse.

 

The death of his brother before she can meet him throws their lives into unforeseen disorder. She was his brother's bride, but the days passing by, more and more, the marriage that should have happened was their own.

 

A mail-order bride romance by author SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201110925

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

Book preview

A MAIL-ORDER BRIDE STORY

––––––––

SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

© 2017 MY BROTHER’S BRIDE: A MAIL-ORDER BRIDE STORY by Suzanne D. Williams

www.feelgoodromance.com

www.suzannedwilliams.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About The Author

CHAPTER 1

1873, the Midwest

Head bowed, the judge shuffled through the papers beneath his palm, his lips in a sour pucker. A long strand of rapidly thinning hair waved in the wind of his movements. This is unusual, he said. He raised his gaze, the gray depth of his pupils a perfect mirror of the uncertainty in his voice.

His hat in his hands, Gilbert Warren crushed the brim, spinning it worrisome around and around. It’s all explained in the letter.

I read the letter, the judge continued, and I understand it fully. But it’s still unusual. He stared a moment longer then tapped the papers into a stack and extended them. Marrying a woman you haven’t met is strange enough, he continued. Whatever happened to old fashioned courting? Waving one hand in dismissal, he muted Gilbert’s response. I take it you’ve spoken with the young lady in question?

She hasn’t arrived, but we have her response and a photograph. He presented it as proof, and the judge’s gaze widened.

A most attractive young woman, he said.

Gilbert inclined his head. He thought so. He’d spent the majority of the night before contemplating how someone that pretty could marry someone as ugly as his half-brother, Harold. Surely, she had some sort of description to go on.

You say she doesn’t speak English very well? Won’t that present a problem? How are a husband and wife to communicate without the help of common language?

She doesn’t have to speak to cook or clean, he replied. Or so his brother had said.

Yes, quite. The judge cleared his throat. Well, when she arrives and you bring her here, I’ll perform the ceremony. As to the success of the marriage ... He shrugged. That is up to the Creator, who so far has seen fit to hold back the rain in our little town. His voice held no hope of that changing either.

Gilbert curled the papers in one hand and retrieved the photograph. He made his way out of the judge’s chambers. On the boardwalk, he blinked in the morning sun, and the strangeness of the day settled over him.

Harold was one lucky man. If he didn’t owe him so much money, he’d be more resentful. But doing this made them even. Harold received a gorgeous wife; he went home alone, but owing nothing.

That was supposed to be the better part of the deal, but with every minute that passed, more and more, he started to doubt it.

The horizon poked its head between the endless hills only long enough to hide again behind a sea of grasses turned golden in the setting sun. Pretty, in its own way, but very different from her native Lithuania where larch, spruce, and pine embraced a landscape rich with game.

Her heart grew heavy for a childhood left far behind, and she shifted her gaze to the fabric of her dress, cloth given her by the mistress of the hostelry where she and her papa had last lived. A kind woman with a round, florid face, she’d saved it for herself, she’d said, but thought Audra could make herself something that’d impress her husband-to-be.

It’s a perfect color for you, she’d said in faltering Lithuanian. You’ll want to impress him and this fabric will hold its shape on such a long trip.

A trip. As if she traveled this way on holiday and not because she had no choice. The sorrow in her heart strengthened, images of her papa’s last breaths forming in her tired brain, and she curled her fingers around the Bible weighting her lap. That, too, was a gift.

It’ll help you improve your English, the mistress had said. Plus, it’s full of wisdom.

The girl flipped the cover open and stared down at the page where her name was scrawled in wobbly ink. Audra Pazikas. A good Lithuanian name, a name she was proud of, soon to be set aside for another. She’d become Audra Warren. Harold Warren was her intended’s name. He’d described himself a man of moderate means, owning property and livestock.

Her gaze traveled back out the window, trying to picture it. But she saw Chicago instead ... cobbled streets and ramshackle tenements crowded with immigrants piled one atop the other in its tiny rooms, the smell of a dozen meals lingering in the air. Fine buggies filled with wealthy passengers driven alongside swaybacked mules hauling the day’s produce.

The stale air of the train filtered in her nostrils, and she sneezed, drawing the gaze of an elderly man across the narrow aisle. He smiled at her and offered the flask in his hand. She shook her head. Kind as his gesture was, she had no place in her life for drink. She’d seen its damage first hand in the slow decay of her papa.

The clack of the wheels and the rocking motion of the car slowly sent Audra to sleep. She awakened at the whistle of the train and the squeal of brakes, metal grinding on metal as they slid to a stop. Gathering her things, she followed the line of passengers onto the wooden platform, a billow of warm air from beneath the train blowing her skirt around her legs.

She smoothed it, best she could, and gazed around the handful of people for the man who’d been described to her – stocky, light brown hair, gray-green eyes. It could fit most anyone. However, the platform rapidly emptying, one face stood out.

He was nervous, his hat crumpled in his hands, shifting his feet this way and that. He lifted his chin, and their eyes met. He gave a short nod.

Lugging her bag, its weight tilting her somewhat, Audra forced her feet forward. She halted a fair distance off and formed her tongue around the words she’d been taught to say. Hel-lo, my name is ... Audra Pazikas.

He loosened his grip on his hat, releasing it in one hand. You said that real well.

Audra dipped her chin in response.

I’ll get your bag. He extended his arm, taking it from her grasp, and motioned toward a long, rectangular building at the edge of the platform. I imagine you’re tired, he said. So I’ve already gotten all the paperwork going and spoken with the judge. We’ll have this done in no time and be on our way.

As a married couple. That was what they’d agreed on. He needed a wife to take care of things, and she needed a roof over her head, food in her mouth. The mistress of the hostelry had written the response to his ad, since her own grasp of English was sparse. She’d enclosed a small portrait-style photograph and a brief history of her life in the United States.