Dot stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, staring out the window at the garden where her mother once grew flowers. The familiar scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, a remnant of her father's attempt to make things feel normal. But nothing about this moment was normal. She absently traced a finger along the edge of the counter, lost in thought.
When she heard the front door creak open, she turned, her heart skipping a beat. Her father had said John Miller was coming by, but she hadn't expected him so soon. And she hadn't expected the nerves that twisted in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again after all these years.
The heavy footsteps that followed were unmistakable. John had always had a presence—quiet, but solid, like the earth beneath her feet. When he walked into the kitchen, she almost forgot to breathe.
He was more handsome than she remembered. The years had etched deeper lines into his face, and his hair had more silver in it now, but there was something about him that made her pulse quicken. Maybe it was the way he filled the space with that same quiet strength, or the way his eyes—still that deep brown she remembered—looked at her with a mix of surprise and something she couldn't quite name.
"Dot," John said, his voice low and rough.
"John," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She forced herself to smile, though it felt strained. "It's been a long time."
He nodded, stepping further into the room. "It has."
Her father, Reverend Hargrove, appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression unreadable. Dot's gaze flicked between the two men, unease settling in her chest.
"What's this all about, Dad?" Dot asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
Hargrove cleared his throat, glancing at John before speaking. "I've spoken with John about... your situation. He's agreed to marry you."
Dot blinked, the words hitting her like a punch to the gut. "He... what?"
"I thought it'd be best for everyone," Hargrove continued, his tone cautious. "You'd have protection, and John... well, he could use someone to take care of the home while he's out working."
Dot's eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, anger surged through her. "You can't just—" She stopped herself, forcing the words back down. She took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Turning to John, she asked quietly, "Did he force you into this?"
John's gaze met hers, steady and calm. "No, Dot. He didn't force me."
She shook her head, her voice softening. "You don't have to do this, John. You don't owe him—or anyone—a favor. This... this isn't your problem."
For a long moment, there was silence. Then, Hargrove cleared his throat again, sensing the tension, and murmured, "I'll leave you two to talk," before slipping out of the room, leaving them alone.
Dot stared after him for a moment before turning back to John. "You don't have to do this," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can handle the gossip. It's nobody's business if I'm pregnant."
John studied her, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak right away, and for a moment, Dot wondered if he would just walk out and leave her standing there with her unanswered questions. But then, he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers.
"It might not be anyone's business," John said quietly, "but that won't stop them from talking. You know how this town is, Dot. They'll tear you apart, whether it's their business or not."
Dot swallowed hard, knowing he was right. The town had always thrived on gossip, and a pregnant, unmarried woman was the kind of scandal they'd feast on for months.
John continued, his voice steady and calm, "I'm not doin' this because I owe anyone. I'm doin' it because... I know what it's like to lose everything. And I know you don't deserve to go through this alone. We can make it work—on our terms."
Dot searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. She knew John wasn't the kind of man to say something he didn't mean. He was offering her a way out, a chance to protect herself and her baby from the town's judgment. And in a strange way, she realized he was offering himself a chance too—a chance to have someone by his side again, even if it was just for convenience.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her. "What if it doesn't work?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
John's gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe hope—in his eyes. "Then we'll figure it out. But at least we'll be in it together."
Dot held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, John. Let's do this."
John let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and gave her a small nod in return. It wasn't a grand declaration of love or anything close to it. But it was an agreement—one born out of necessity, maybe even mutual respect.
And in this town, that was enough.
YOU ARE READING
The Farmer's New Wife
RomanceIt's the late 1940s. Dorothy Hargrove never expected to return to her small hometown, pregnant and unmarried. To avoid scandal and suppress gossip, her minister father arranges her marriage to widowed farmer John Miller. What starts as a marriage of...