Mail Ordered Deception

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jackson stared at the woman who answered the door. She had long auburn locks of hair that hung to her waist and seemed disheveled as if she had been sleeping; her green eyes stared back at him with the same level of intensity as a frightened cat; her skin was tan as though kissed from many days in the sun. She stood before him a mere few inches shorter than he was and even though he had to look down to meet her gaze, he could not find a single frail thing about her except in her nervousness toward the situation that he also felt. He could see this through the gentle blush that rose to her cheeks and the heavy breathing that brought her chest outward and inward in an exaggerated way.

“You must be Mr. Porter. I’m Monica Greene,” she said as she stuck her hand out toward him. It took Jackson a moment to realize she meant for him to shake it. He took her hand in his and gave a short, gentle shake before releasing her hand from his again. Jackson was surprised to feel her palm almost rough with callouses as if from a lifetime of field work, but the back of her hand was feather soft.

“Yes, I had a feeling you might be,” he said. He knew there was more he should be saying, but instead stood there in the doorway with his mouth dry and his mind empty of thoughts. She looked back up at him and he could tell she was about to speak by the way she opened her mouth slightly. Not about to look weak, he cut her off quickly before she could begin. “Given the situation we happen to be in, perhaps it would be best if we were on a first name basis with each other."

“Yes, that makes sense,” Monica replied, her voice holding strong. He waited for her to continue with an eyebrow raised. “Jackson,” she finally finished. He nodded in approval and thought he saw a look of disdain in her eyes. If it had been there, it passed quickly.

“I have an appointment set up at the courthouse tomorrow at eight in the morning. I trust that will be satisfactory." She nodded and asked if she could inquire about a few things to him. He gestured with his hand that she could.

“I was told you have a daughter. What is she like?”

“Bethany is four years old and a very bright girl. She spends most of the daylight hours either going on rides in the woods or playing in her room. She has already picked up some small words to read but only a few."

“How many people do you have in your employment?”

“Thirty-one people work for me. I have a driver, a chef, three maids and two butlers. There’s my accountant you have already met. My foreman, three gardeners, ten trainers, six groomers, a lawyer, a personal doctor, and there’s one person who is in charge of running errands in town. I will soon have thirty-two, once I hire someone to be your driver."

“That is not necessary sir. I mean, Jackson,” she began but again he cut her off.

“On the contrary, I should have ensured that it was done before you arrived. Do you have any more questions for me?” Monica appeared to hesitate.

“What will be my duties as your wife?” He expected this question, but what he did not expect was the level of fear he detected in the shakiness of her voice. A woman who signed up for a position such as this would be able to predict the certain implications, right?

“Your ‘duties’, as you call them, are to entertain and tutor Bethany, to handle affairs that may be bothering the servants, and to observe Bethany’s riding lessons. You do not, however, handle any problems with my foreman. The matters he attends to are best handled by me directly. You also are not permitted in my bedroom. You will stay in your own bedroom even after the ceremony. Rest assured, I will not enter your bedroom either, and especially not without your permission." Monica had been holding her breath through his answer and once he finished, let it release. Jackson could see the relief on her expression and then promptly took his leave.

Monica’s Point of View

She watched him leave in confident strides and she stepped back into her room, shutting the door in front of her. Monica then leaned her back against the door and let her head spin with everything she had just learned. The man she had just met was ill represented on the order she had received. His written description did not do him justice, she thought. What was described as blonde hair, had hints of brown playing throughout, and she expected his blue eyes to be icey, but was surprised to find them like pools of water, with flecks of sunlight thrown in. She also did not expect a man who worked behind a desk with a silver spoon to appear in such fine shape, with clear muscles pressed against his business jacket. Her heart beat faster thinking about his appearance and so shook her head to drive it out. Monica needed to focus.

This appeared to her to be a situation of being a wife on paper, but instead was here to be a mother. This idea calmed Monica somewhat, because the thing that had scared her the most about this whole plan, was what wives were expected to do with their husbands. She had never been with a man before and learning she would not be required to do so brought her a great sense of relief.

The idea of helping to run the ranch in the way she was expected was a little nerve wracking though, due to the fact that it was surely a multi-million-dollar operation and she had never owned more than twenty dollars at a time. She would learn the ropes quickly and do whatever she needed to do to impress her future husband. Monica didn’t have a choice in the matter. She touched the locket that she had put around her neck and thought of her parents. Her father especially came to mind, knowing he was out there in the best hospital in the country. It was for him that she was doing this and Monica was not going to forget.

Three Months Ago

“Monica darlin’, you’re gonna be tough for me, right?” her father said with a feeble voice. Though he was only in his early forties, he sounded and looked as though he were sixty. He reached out to her from his bed and she took his hand in hers, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

“You’re gonna be fine dad. Really. Momma is sendin you somewhere good. She said so. You’re gonna get your docterin’ and be back home before you can even miss’us." He coughed, sitting up and leaning over the bed, just far enough to spit the blood into the bucket that sat there. Monica couldn’t stand it any longer, so she made an excuse about chores and left their two-room cabin to stand outside with her mother. “Momma, he’s gettin' worse. When does he go to the doctor?”

“Soon, my girl. Soon,” she said in a worn-down tone. Her mother had been working almost nonstop at the eatery just to pay for the morphine the local doctor gave us and still, it was barely enough. She didn’t say what Monica already knew. They could not afford to send him, even if Monica stopped doing all of the chores on the farm to work the same hours as her mother did, it wouldn’t be enough and not by half. They needed a solution and fast, or her father wouldn’t last another month.

“You know, a man came to me last week. Offered me a job. Pays real well, he said." Her mother looked at her quizzically, waiting for what could be their salvation.

“What kinda job, sweetie?” A few tears that had she had been fighting spilled over as she looked at her mother. Immediately, she caught on to what Monica was saying. “No! I won’t be hearin’ any nonsense about you givin’ away your honor. The idea of my daughter givin her body to anyone throwing a coin at her is more than I can stomach. You will not bring that kinda shame on this family or yourself, girl!”

“But momma---,”

“I said, NO!” At that, Monica stopped talking. Her mother breathed out a sigh to calm herself. “We don’t have much, but that is one thing no one can take from us. Do you hear me?” Monica nodded, understanding that her mother was right. If her father even suspected that she was considering that line of work, he would rather just let himself slip away. Her mother cleared her throat to speak again, and Monica looked up at her. “But there might just be a way for you to help your momma out and still keep your honor." Monica perked up.

“I’ll do anythin’ to help daddy. Anythin’. What’d you have in mind?”

“There is call everywhere for mail order brides my girl. We can afford to put up an advertisement for you. If you marry someone with enough money, you can send enough for your daddy’s treatments. Once he’s well, you can come back home." The idea seemed sound enough.

“But momma, what about sharing a bed?” Her mother shook her head and then looked her in the eye.

“I would rather you didn’t have to, you know. But if you do, at least it will be in holy wedlock and you won’t be shamed." Monica nodded and took her mother’s hand in hers. This was something she knew she could do. For her father, she would do anything.

Present Day

She thought of her dad, alone on that hospital bed, her mother, working all day and all night to make some kind of payments, until Monica could send some money their way. All she had to do was earn the trust of her husband. She had to build a reputation with him, and then, Monica would send some of his money their way. He would be her husband, and he obviously had enough money to spare. Jackson would not fight her on the matter, she just knew it. Then, she would pack up and leave in the night to go back home. This plan would work. It simply had to.

After brushing her hair again, Monica left her room and headed downstairs. If she was going to do this, she needed to get started. Without missing a beat, she followed the path she had taken back outside and walked over to the closest of the barns. It held easily twenty horses, all of them surely about to give birth. There were groomers and stable hands walking around, cleaning the stalls, feeding the mares, and brushing them out. She was surprised to see how diverse the crew was. There were men of different colors and women too. One of the men looked up and noticed Monica standing there. He dropped the shovel in his hands, which caused the rest to look at her as well.

“No, please, keep going as if I’m not here. I want to see what you do." They looked at her uneasily.

“Yes’m,” the man closest to her said. “Ya’ll heard the lady. Back to work." Everyone in the barn resumed what they had been doing before, only a little slower this time. Monica watched as they all worked together like a clock. Everything fit so perfectly that they all finished at the same time and moved on to the next barn. She followed them there, which held just as many mares but these were clearly a few months earlier in their pregnancies. Again, they worked, this time quickly, used to her presence. When they moved to the third barn, this time it held upwards of thirty mares and their new foals. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Monica spun around at the sound of a man’s voice behind her. She looked up to see a man almost a foot taller than her, with a short beard and brown hair. He wore clothes that suggested he worked outdoors but were still in much better condition than the rest of the workers had. “Name’s Terry, ma’am. Terry McKnight. I’m the foreman here." He looked down at her and the way he didn’t bother to stop at her face made Monica uncomfortable. She shivered internally under his gaze and took a step backward so she could look him in the eyes.

“Yes, it is, Mr. McKnight. I’ve never seen so many foals in one place before." Terry looked around before facing her again.

“The foals are nice, but that wasn’t what I was referring to, ma’am,” he said a little too quietly. “if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, Mr. Porter got lucky getting such a pretty little thing all to himself." She straightened herself to appear taller and forced his gaze back up to hers.

“In fact, Mr. Mcknight, I do mind. What you are saying to me is quite out of line, and I expect your behavior towards me to be nothing but respectful. Are we clear?” Monica spoke to him with such authority that the rest of the workers had stopped again to see what was happening. Terry on the other hand, simply grinned at her tone of voice and bowed his head at her.

“Clear as crystal, ma’am,” he said and he turned and walked away. She turned around and saw the other workers still staring at her.

“What is it?” Monica saw them looking at each other then back at her. The worker who spoke before came up to her with a sad sort of smile on his face.

“Well ma’am, no one here would ever talk back to the foreman like that. No one ever has, except for Ms. Lilly of course." She smiled at how fondly they seemed to remember that woman.

“Lilly, that was Mr. Porter’s first wife, wasn’t she?” He nodded back at her. “If you don’t mind telling me, how did she pass?” His eyes turned red with unshed tears as he spoke.

“Not at all, ma’am. Ya’see, not long after she gave birth to Little Beth,” Monica realized he was talking about Bethany, “she got sick. An infection the doctor said from givin birth. She went to Heaven only a day after Little Beth was born." A tear spilled down his cheek. “Ya’ gotta understand ma’am, Miss Lilly was a kind lady. Took care of us right proper she did. She cared. But she didn’t let us slack off none, neither. She ran this place side by side with Mr. Porter. Ain’t never been no woman better than Miss Lilly." Monica realized then that she had big shoes to fill. She was determined to see that these people could look up to her the way they looked up to Lilly. For as long as she was there, that is.

“Thank you for telling me." He started to return to go back to work, but she called out to him. “What is your name?”

“It’s Jessie, ma’am." With that, he returned to his duties and she returned to the manor. The sun was setting over the mountains and she realized it was probably close to supper time. So, she went to find Jackson. It was time to meet Bethany, her main focus of being here.

Jackson’s Point of View

Work was done for the day for him and Jackson began to head to his room for supper. Once he reached the main entryway, he saw Monica standing there. She caught him looking and offered him a smile. Though he normally did not feel up to niceties, Jackson could not stop himself from smiling back at her. They stayed that way for only a moment before he remembered himself, remembered Lilly. His smile fell and in turn, so did hers.

“Supper should be served shortly. I will be in my room. If you need me, you may knock on the door." Jackson saw her open her mouth to speak, so he stayed.

“I think it is time for Bethany to meet me, don’t you agree?” He pondered this for a moment, not wanting to address the fact that she would replace Lilly as his daughter’s mother. It had to be done though, and it would be best if it was done before he also introduced her as his wife.

“You are right, Monica. I will send for her." With that, he raised a little bell from a nearby table and rang it. A young n***o man entered the room, dressed in a suit. He approached Jackson directly.

“Yessir?” he said with a slight bow of the head.

“Could you fetch Bethany for me, Wesley? She is probably in her room."

“Yessir, right away sir,” he said again with a bow. Once he took his leave, Jackson noticed the scowl on Monica’s face.

“What is that look you are giving me?” The look he saw vanished as if it had not even been there before.

“I assure you, I do not know what you mean,” she replied attempting to sound innocent. It was convincing, but he knew what he had seen. He gave her that look again with the raised eyebrow and waited.

“Monica, we are to be married in the morning. It is probably very important that we are honest with each other, do you agree." Again, he waited. Finally, she took a deep breath to reply.

“s*****y was abolished almost thirty years ago. Or have you forgotten?” The way she crossed her arms then and looked at him with a judgmental eye, put an anger in him like he had before when he had accidentally yelled at Bethany.

“I’m going to make this absolutely clear. I have never owned any slaves. The n***o men that live on this property and work for me, I pay as much as I do the rest. The women too. I will not have someone who just arrived, make assumptions about my character. Most in this state may disagree with my philosophies and how I run this ranch, but that makes no difference to me." He saw her lower her head and for a moment felt guilty for coming down so hard on her, but it was only for a moment. “Do not question my integrity again."

“Yes sir,” he heard her say. He saw her eyes shoot up as she realized how she spoke to him just now. Jackson could not blame her either. He just talked to her like she was a servant and nothing more. Regret filled his heart for speaking to his future bride that way. Even if the marriage was just on paper, she would still be his wife and he could not allow himself to lose sight of that. Before he could apologize however, Wesley returned with Bethany holding his hand. Her eyes were still red and swollen, meaning that had had still been crying. The guilt from the current situation coupled with the guilt from earlier. It overflowed in him and he too felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Come here, Bethany." She clung to Wesley a moment longer, breaking Jackson’s heart, but he did not let that show. Eventually, Bethany took her father’s hand and he knelt down beside her. “Sweetheart, this is Monica." Bethany turned to look at the woman standing on the other side of the room and waved at her. Monica waved back and smiled. “Monica is a very special, very kind woman, who is very important to me,” he paused, trying to read his daughter’s reactions. “So, I am going to marry her, and she is going to help look after you." With that, Bethany whirled to face him again.

“No, daddy! No! I need you, just you!” She cried as she clung to his leg. He looked up at Monica who was clearly unsure of what to do. She looked away from the scene his daughter was making as if trying to give them a sense of privacy. So he sternly pulled her off of him and stood her up.

“Now you listen here, Bethany. I told Monica that she would be meeting a lady this afternoon. You are not going to let me down, are you Beth?” She shook her head and faced Monica reluctantly. Although they were perfect strangers, Monica took a few steps forward until she was only a few inches away from the little girl. She knelt down until she was eye level to Bethany and spoke in the sweetest tone of voice.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Little Beth,” she said, using the nickname the servants usually called her. This little gesture caused Bethany to smile and immediately warm up to Monica. “I have heard so many good things about you." Monica stuck her hand out as a sign of companionship, and Bethany took it happily. Jackson looked at the sight before him and a small smile formed on his own lips. He thought that maybe this could work out after all. He could see the instant bond between these two young women and for the first time, felt glad that he let his sister talk him into doing this.

Monica’s Point of View

Bethany’s little hand felt warm in hers and when she finally smiled, it was as warm as the sun. Monica continued to smile back at her and finally released Bethany’s hand.

“You love daddy?” Bethany asked suddenly. Monica’s smile switched into a gape, not expecting this question. What could this child even know about love and marriage? She wondered to herself. When Monica looked up, she saw Jackson had his head down, also unsure of how to respond. So, Monica looked into Bethany’s eyes, and reading hope in them, knew exactly what to say.

“Yes, I do, Little Beth, very much. Your daddy is a very good man,” she said softly. Bethany beamed with happiness and threw her arms around Monica’s legs. Caught off guard, she almost fell down. Once she was again steady, Monica reached down and pulled her into a tight embrace. Jackson coughed and they released each other.

“Now that you two have met, I will be taking my supper now,” he said gruffly. Monica wondered where the lightness had gone and she and Bethany watched as Jackson left them to go upstairs. Without even thinking about it, she took Bethany’s hand back in hers.

“So, where do you usually eat your supper, sweetheart?” Instead of answering, Bethany began to walk, her smile a little more sad now that her father had left. Monica followed. She was led up to the second floor. This was the first time she got a good look at the second floor and it was a child’s paradise. There was soft carpeting throughout in colorful patterns, toys scattered all over and a little table with paper and pencils of all different colors. Bethany led her across the floor until they reached a doorway. There was a door attached but unlike the others in the manor, it was left wide open. Inside was a small bed with decadent spreads of blankets, pillows, and little dolls. The walls were painted a bright pink and the window at the other end was floor to ceiling. At the opposite end of the room that the bed was on, there was a table with a single chair.

“I eat here, ma’am." Bethany said, pointing to the table. Monica thought about Jackson eating in his room, and Bethany in hers. Although the room given to the child was perfect in every way, it now seemed cold and lonely. She wondered how much time Jackson actually spent with his daughter. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Both Bethany and Monica looked up to see the man whom Jackson called Wesley before. He was carrying a silver tray. On top of this tray was a large dome covered plate.

“I have your supper Little Beth,” he said fondly. Bethany smiled and nodded in thanks. Wesley saw Monica also looking at him and his voice became more professional. “Would you care to take your supper in your room, Ma’am?” She looked back to Bethany who appeared to be disappointed upon hearing this. Monica’s heart was saddened for the little girl who was clearly crying out for companionship. She did not even notice the time pass until Wesley spoke again. “Ma’am?” Monica looked up at Wesley again.

“No thank you, Wesley. Bethany and I will be taking our supper in the dining room this evening. Is that right, Little Beth?” she said gesturing to Bethany. Bethany jumped up happily at that.

“Oh yes, yes please!” Monica took Bethany’s hand in hers again.

“If you could just show me the way. I am still learning my way around the manor,” Monica said to Wesley more confidently.

“Of course, ma’am,” Wesley replied. He turned around and they followed him back down to the first floor, Bethany now with a skip in her step.