Mail Order Mother-in-law: Brides of Beckham, #42

By Kirsten Osbourne

When Heather Flowers realizes she's been taking care of her mother for more than ten years, and her mother is only pretending to be sick, she decides it's time for her to leave and start a new life elsewhere. At the suggestion of her mother's doctor, she seeks out Elizabeth Tandy, who's known for sending women out west to be mail-order brides.

Patrick O'Brien loves his life as a rancher in Clover Creek, Idaho, but with only his mother for companionship, he gets lonely. Ready to start a family and give his mother the grandchildren she craves, he sends a letter to a matchmaker back east to find him a bride.

When Heather arrives, she realizes that her life felt almost idyllic. She's married to a wonderful man, and she gets along well with her mother-in-law.

But then her mother arrives, pretending to be someone she isn't. Will their marriage be able to stand her interfering mother? Or will Patrick never trust Heather again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unlimited Dreams
• Release date: Aug 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201367503

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Chapter One

H eather! I need your help! Heather’s ailing mother, Caroline, called from her bedroom.

I’m coming, Mother! Heather was tired. Her mother kept her busy day and night. Nothing Heather was doing could even begin to be as important as what her mother needed. When Heather got to her mother’s room, she found her sitting up in bed with an annoyed expression on her face. Yes, Mother. I was just finishing up the dishes from your tea.

I would like you to read to me, Heather. It has been ages since you sat down and just read me a story.

Heather took a deep breath. I still need to do the laundry this afternoon, Mother. I don’t think I’ll have any time for reading to you.

Her mother pouted. What am I supposed to do then? I’m too ill to get up for longer than a meal. Why won’t you entertain me?

Because I have too much to do. The doctor will be here in a few minutes to check on you, and you can talk to him.

I don’t like Dr. Brown, Mother said, glaring at her daughter. He never listens to me. He comes in and hurries right back out.

I’m sorry. You’re going to have to entertain yourself. Would you like to read to yourself? I can get your Bible for you.

"No, I like it when you read to me."

But you also like a clean house, clean clothes, and food to eat three, sometimes four, times per day. I can’t sit and read to you when there’s work to be done. Heather was starting to think there wasn’t a thing wrong with her mother other than a desire to keep Heather at her side for the rest of her life. She was definitely going to talk to Dr. Brown about her suspicions.

Heather, you know you mean everything to me. Just sit with me for a short while and hold my hand.

I’m sorry, Mother. You’ll be ashamed if the doctor comes, and the house is in this state. Heather left her mother’s bedside and put away the last of the dishes from her mother’s tea.

When she’d finished, she put water on to boil for the laundry that still needed to be done, then prepared supper. Her mother hated soups, but Heather thought soups were good food for invalids, so that’s what she made. A huge pot of chicken and barley soup with plenty of vegetables from the garden Heather had grown with no help from her mother.

She was in the yard, hanging clothes on the line a few hours later when the doctor arrived. He stopped and chatted with Heather for a moment, while she continued her work. How is she? the doctor asked.

Heather bit her lip, lowering her voice because all the windows in the house were open on that hot July day. I want to know the truth, Doctor. Is my mother sick, or does she just like me waiting on her hand and foot?

Dr. Brown smiled. I’m so glad you asked me that. I didn’t feel like I could tell you unless you did. Your mother is fit as a fiddle. I think she’s just letting you do everything because you will. You let her be sick, so she is sick. But truly? There’s not a thing wrong with her.

So, if I were to leave her here alone, she wouldn’t starve or die because she was too sick to care for herself? Heather asked the question as frankly as she could. She was tired of being a slave to her mother’s illness. She was already twenty-seven years old. It was time for her to start a family of her own and stop taking care of her petulant mother.

It would be the best thing that could possibly happen to her, the doctor said in a whisper. Now I’m going to go check on her and make sure she is all right, but I’ll be surprised if I can find anything at all wrong with her.

Heather bowed her head for a moment, praying for the courage to leave. She couldn’t stay with her mother as her very own slave. Why slavery hadn’t been legal since 1865, and she didn’t think anyone—regardless of their skin color—should be a slave in these modern times. They were almost upon a new century.

The doctor came out ten minutes later after his examination, stopping to talk with Heather. She’s asked me to tell you that she won’t get better if you ignore her and don’t read to her for at least two hours a day. I told you. But I’m also telling you there’s not a thing to get better from.

Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your candor. As Heather hung the last of the clothes on the line, she started trying to think of a way to escape her situation. She believed with all her heart that she should honor her mother, but she also thought her mother should have some respect for her, and not expect her to give up her own life to take care of her.

The doctor was halfway out of the yard when he returned. I’ve heard that Elizabeth Tandy is a wonderful matchmaker. She sends women out to be mail-order brides. You could go to her and be out of town before your mother had any inkling of what you were thinking of doing.

Heather felt one corner of her mouth turn up in a smile. The movement felt foreign. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled or laughed. It seemed as if it had been years.

Her father had died shortly after she turned thirteen of a heart attack. Since then, her mother had expected Heather to take care of her. Knowing her father would have been against the situation gave Heather more courage than she would have otherwise had.

She decided then and there, she’d go into town before her mother awoke. She was going to be a mail-order bride. Anything to get away from Beckham, Massachusetts, and her controlling mother.

Back in the house, she stirred supper and set the table. She wasn’t going to serve her mother soup in bed, though she’d served her tea there earlier. She almost always made her walk to the table for her meals. Her mother didn’t like it, but Heather kept telling her that she needed to be able to use her legs.

While she waited for the soup to finish cooking, she swept the floor everywhere in the kitchen and sitting area, and then she scrubbed up the two footprints that could be seen on the otherwise immaculate floor.

She dished up the soup and put it on the table, then called to her mother. Supper’s ready. Come eat at the table with me.

You know it’s hard for me to sit up long enough to eat.

I do. That’s why I have everything on the table and ready.

With a loud, long-suffering sigh, her mother got out of bed and walked into the kitchen, not looking a bit sick. She did walk slowly and carefully, but with as little as she moved around, Heather thought that was to be