The Harvest Time Mail-Order Bride (Holiday Mail-Order Brides Book 14)

by Kit Morgan

  Isabella’s younger brothers and sisters were thankfully taken in by relatives who were already living in the new country. They didn’t care for Antonio’s gambling either, and begged her to live with them too. But she’d said no – she’d refused to leave their father. Perhaps because she was the only one foolish enough to think she could save him.

  She was wrong about that. And she’d paid dearly for it.

  Isabella got up, dressed, then sat on the bed and wondered what to do next. She was hungry and wanted some coffee. Should she see if Calvin was up yet? If he worked a farm, he likely was. Or did he view this as a well-deserved break from his labors and was sleeping in?

  A knock on her door answered her question. Calvin – it had to be. She swung the door open with her chin held high. She’d gotten so used to playing the part of the noble that she didn’t think twice about it now.

  “Uh, howdy,” Calvin said, twisting his hat in his hands. “Do ya wanna get somethin’ to eat?” I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m powerful hungry.”

  She nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead she fetched her coat and rejoined him at the door. He offered her his arm as he’d done the night before, and she took it without question. For all she knew they’d be married before lunch.

  “Hank’s might be open early on account there’s so many folks in town. We can eat, then go see if Sheriff Riley’s back yet.”

  Sheriff Riley?” she asked. “Why you need to speak with this man?”

  “On account of he would know if the preacher and his wife are headin’ back to town this mornin’. As soon as the preacher gets back, we can get married.”

  “Oh yes, preacher. He … he not here last night.”

  “Nope, done went to the Johnson farm. It’s that time of year – Warren’s probably gonna bring his cider to the festival and sell it.”

  “This festival,” she said as he led her out the door and closed it behind them. “You sell things there too?”

  “Yep. Hats.”

  “Hats?”

  “I told ya last night Ma makes and sell hats, didn’t I?”

  Isabella nodded in recollection. “Ah, si … I forget.”

  “Don’t ya mean forgot?” he corrected.

  She felt like an idiot. For Heaven’s sake, she needed to work on her English! “Yes, forgot.”

  “How long ya been talkin’ our language?”

  Isabella sighed. “Not long enough.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been talkin’ it all my life and I still can’t speak right!” He laughed again and grinned. “I guess this means you’ll be talkin’ better than me in no time.”

  She smiled in return, not sure if he was laughing at himself or her. Maybe he was just trying to make her feel better about her poor English.

  “I cain’t wait for ya to meet the rest of the family. Samijo, she’s married to my brother Arlan, the one ya met yesterday? Anyway, she just had twins.”

  “Twins? You mean little bambini?”

  He screwed his face up at her. “What’s a bambeenie?”

  She let go of his arm and pantomimed cradling a baby in each arm. “Bambini.”

  “Oh yeah, babies – I got ya! Yeah, they got two. Twins.”

  “Twins,” she repeated the new word.

  “I’m a twin. My brother Benjamin and I look ‘zactly alike, almost.”

  She smiled as she realized what he was talking about. “There is another? Like you?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll meet him and his wife Charity today. They’ll be up and about soon.”

  “Where is everyone?” she asked. She liked hearing him talk. And how else were they going to get to know each other?”

  “Ma, Arlan, Samijo and their twins are at my Aunt Betsy’s. She runs the mercantile in town – you’ll meet her today too. Daniel’s here in the hotel with me. He’ll be staying with Aunt Betsy too, on account … er … of us bein’ … together.” His face and neck turned red, his ears redder. He seemed so fierce yesterday, so wild. Yet today he had the innocence of a child right now. What man was embarrassed by love? Unless …

  Isabella looked at him – really looked at him, from the top of his head to the tips of his boots. He was still blushing. None of the men she was familiar with blushed when the topic of love was brought up. But then, maybe Americans didn’t view things the same as her people. The only other reason she thought he might go crimson was …

  She studied him again. His eyes flicked toward her momentarily, and she saw his blush deepen. Then she knew. Buono il dolore! Lui era vergine! Good grief, he was a virgin!

  Now it was Isabella’s turn to blush. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d never been married before, had he? And if he had, he didn’t say anything about it in the letters Mrs. Ridgley read to her. So he was innocent and wild! They were both puro, untouched. Unsoiled.

  It was a good thing she’d escaped her father when she did!

  They reached the restaurant, where Calvin escorted Isabella to a table, pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit before he did. Well – obviously his mother had taught him well! But once they sat, all he did was stare at her like an idiot.

  “You’re up early,” a voice said.

  She watched Calvin shake himself and looked at Hank, the proprietor of the ristorante. “Yeah, gotta lot to do today. What ya got to eat this mornin’?”

  “Maybe if ya’d look at a menu, ya’d see,” Hank retorted. “Ya want coffee?”

  “Yes,” Isabella was quick to say. She looked at Calvin and gave him a sheepish smile. “You like coffee?”

  “Yeah, I like it fine.”

  “Among other things,” Hank muttered as he noticed Calvin’s besotted look, then turned to fetch some cups. He returned and set them on the table. Calvin was still staring at her, and she began to fidget in her chair

  Hank left and returned again, this time with a coffee pot. “Whatcha have?”

  “Mr. Weaver? Calvin?” she said to get his attention. She was unsure of what to call him until they were married, so she tried both.

  “Oh, yeah!” he said and shook himself. “Uh, what’s good?”

  Hank rolled his eyes. “Why don’t I pick? Ya don’t seem capable this morning.” He glanced at Isabella. “Course, can’t say I blame ya.”

  Isabella blushed. At least he hadn’t made a rude comment or leered at her, things she’d had to deal with over the last two years. “You are also cook here?” she asked.

  “I am this morning. Might I suggest my flapjacks?”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Calvin rubbed his belly in anticipation. “Bring us two orders, will ya?”

  “Coming right up,” Hank said, then left to fetch their orders.

  “Hank’s a good sort,” Calvin told her. “His roast beef is sometimes a little tough, but other than that he does all right.”

  She smiled as heat crept into her cheeks. This was the first time she and Calvin had been alone since her arrival. She liked it, even though some might think it improper. The thought had her glancing around the restaurant, but they were the only two customers. Good. She wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little before they married later that day. “Nervous?” she asked.

  “’Bout what?” His brows knit together for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Oh, you mean for when we get hitched? To tell ya the truth, I’ve been nervous as a cat ever since yer last letter came.”

  “What is this… nervous cat?” she asked, curious.

  He laughed. It’s just a sayin’ we have ‘round here. Don’t they have sayin’s like that where ya come from?”

  “A saying?”

  “Yeah, you know – like ‘the grass is always greener in the other fella’s yard’? That sorta thing.”

  She smiled and nodded in understanding. “Yes, we have many where I come from.”

  “Where exactly do ya come from? I mean, I know ya come from back east, but before that – I never thought to ask ya. Course, I can guess it’s Italy.”

  She gazed at him a mom
ent. He was indeed handsome, and a sudden realization hit: they would have incredible-looking children! “My family and I, we come from Trastevere two years ago. It is a town that is … part of Roma, Rome. We come to New York. I then travel south to New Orleans.”

  “That’s where ya met Mrs. Ridgley?”

  “Yes. She a nice woman, very kind to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Ya know, ya don’t talk the same way ya write.”

  Isabella turned red with embarrassment. She might as well tell him the truth, now that her broken English forced her to. “Mrs. Ridgley do the writing for me. My English … is not so good.”

  “Yeah, ya told me. And I told ya about mine, so I guess that makes us even.”

  A tiny giggle escaped her. She liked his sense of humor. “You help me improve, yes?”

  Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I don’t know how much improvement I’d be for ya considerin’ I don’t talk all that great myself. But ‘round here ya don’t need no fancy speech. So long as ya get yer meanin’ across to folks, yer okay.”

  “That is good to hear for someone like me. My mama, she no learn English.”

  “She didn’t? Why not?”

  “My father speak some, and I speak some, so she think she not need to.”

  “How did that work out for her?”

  Isabella shrugged. “It … it not matter. She died.”

  She watched his face become etched with concern. “I’m sorry. I cain’t imagine what it was like to lose yer ma. I lost my pa a few years back.”

  “No papa?”

  “No ma’am – no papa. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I lost my pa and ya lost yer ma. I guess there’s a difference.”

  She nodded in understanding. She just hoped he didn’t ask too many questions about her father. If he did and she told him the truth, he wasn’t going to like her answers.

  Thankfully he didn’t get the chance. Hank brought two plates to their table and set them down. “Here ya go! Dig in!”

  They watched him head back to the kitchen, then looked at each other at the same moment. “Ya don’t mind if’n I say a blessin’ over our food, do ya?” Calvin asked.

  “No,” she said and smiled. “I would like you to.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of him. She copied his actions and smiled at his simple prayer: “Lord, bless this day on account of Isabella and me gettin’ married. If ya could, Lord, maybe get the preacher and his wife back here quick-like this morning so we can spend some time at the Harvest Festival. Oh, and bless our food too. Amen.”

  She smiled and looked at him across the table. “You no leave anything out?”

  “I don’t think I did, did I?”

  Isabella shook her head. He was not only handsome, but possessed a simplicity she found comforting. She watched him cut into his flapjacks and begin to eat. “Does your mother make …” She waved her fork over her plate.

  “Flapjacks, ya mean? Sure does, and she can teach ya if ya want. How long’d ya say ya been in this country?”

  She stared at the table. “Only a few years.”

  He swallowed and stabbed another forkful of food. “How come ya left?”

  She took a sip of coffee as she considered her answer. She might as well tell him the truth. If he didn’t like it, what could she do? He seemed determined to marry her – it wasn’t like he was going to turn her away at this point. “There was a war, a … risorgimento. Revolution? No money. No food. No work.”

  He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “That sounds plumb awful. No wonder ya left and came to America.” He shoved his food into his mouth and chewed. The man had a healthy appetite.

  Isabella took a nibble, then reached for a small glass jar of syrup Hank had brought with the food. She’d come to enjoy the dish called flapjacks, probably because the syrup satisfied her sweet tooth.

  They continued eating, asking each other questions between mouthfuls. It didn’t take Isabella long to realize both of them were a little shy. It was nice to know they had that in common, in addition to the flapjacks. When the meal was over, they sipped their coffee in companionable silence.

  Isabella caught him peeking at her over the rim of his cup now and then, and his eyes brightened each time he did.

  “Yer right,” he finally said. “I am nervous.”

  She set down her cup and smiled. “Me too. We be nervous together then, yes?”

  He grinned in amusement. “Yes. We be nervous together.”

  She laughed at his imitation of her. “If you talk like me, you talk worse than before.”

  “I dunno ’bout that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Might be an improvement.”

  She shook her head in amusement, still smiling. It had been years since she’d smiled so much. “God, He answered your prayer.”

  “How so?” he asked, brow furrowed in curiosity.

  “The food was very good.”

  Calvin laughed. “I guess He did then, didn’t He?”

  Her smile faded. “Do you think He will answer the rest?”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Let’s walk down to the church and see if the preacher’s home.”

  She nodded in agreement. Several other patrons had entered by now, but paid them little mind. Arm in arm, they left the restaurant.

  A few men took a second look at her as they walked. Men, she’d noticed, tended to marvel at her beauty, and as soon as they found she had no social status or money, they assumed she was up for grabs. Unfortunately, her father had started to assume it too, and that’s when his plotting started. She was surprised he didn’t put an ad in the newspapers that he had a daughter for sale – or worse, gamble her away! Who knows what would’ve happened if she hadn’t run when she did?

  “That’s the preacher’s house there, next to the church,” Calvin said and pointed. He went straight to the front door and knocked.

  A woman answered the door with a wide smile. “Well, if it isn’t Calvin Weaver!” Her eyes gravitated to Isabella and she gasped. “Is this your bride? Good gracious, I’ve never seen anyone so … so …”

  “Beautiful?” Calvin said. “Yeah, Isabella here’s a purty one, ain’t she? One more reason I’d like to get married today. She wants to also.”

  The woman looked from one face to the other. “Is there anything you need first? Do you have a dress, dear?”

  Isabella hung her head. “No, ma’am. I’ve no dress.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. “What a beautiful accent you have. I’m Mabel.”

  “Thank you, Mabel,” Isabella said. “It’s Italian.”

  “So it is. And it’s lovely – just as lovely as you.”

  If the people here kept being so nice, her cheeks were going to burst into flame from all the blushing!

  “She’s right, ya know,” Calvin said. “Yer the prettiest thing I ever did see, and I get to marry ya!”

  Isabella forced a smile. It was only a matter of time before he found out about her, and then what? Yes, she was a beauty – there was no doubt about it – but looks were all she really had. Of course she could sew and cook and was a hard worker, but she had no dowry, no trousseau, only an angry father who might be on her tail. What would she do if he showed up?

  She tried not to think about it and turned back to the woman, Mabel. “When can we marry?”

  “Why don’t you give us an hour? We were just sitting down to breakfast. The two of you are welcome to join us.”

  “We done just ate at Hank’s,” Calvin informed her. “And I’m sure Isabella here will wanna make herself ready, if that’s possible.

  She blushed anew. “I will be ready.”

  He noticed her pink cheeks and smiled. “While yer gettin’ all gussied up, I’ll fetch Ma and the rest of the family so we can get this done.”

  She arched an eyebrow at his phrasing. “It is work to get married?”

  “Oh nah, I didn’t mean it to sound that way.
What I meant was I need to round everyone up so we can get our weddin’ underway.”

  “Oh. I understand now.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “I can see we’re gonna hafta figure out how to communicate better. Ain’t that right, Mabel?”

  Mabel nodded. “The good news is, you two younguns will have the rest of your lives to do it. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll go finish breakfast, then get everything ready for your nuptials.” She stepped into the house and closed the door.

  Calvin sighed. “Well, that’s that. In a little over an hour, we’ll be hitched.”

  Isabella tried not to gulp. Her life was about to change forever. But the way her life had been going, that was almost certainly a good thing.

  Four

  Isabella’s hand shook as Calvin placed it in his. Her nerves had started jangling the minute they’d stood in front of the preacher, and for the life of her she couldn’t get them to settle down. Calvin wasn’t much better, though, squirming at her side. At least his hand wasn’t sweaty. Just another way they were alike, she supposed …

  “And do you, Isabella Cucinotta, take this man …”

  Isabella did her best to concentrate on what the preacher was saying. Thankfully, all she had to do when it was time to say her vows was repeat the words that came out of his mouth. In general, she knew what he was saying even without a perfect translation. It was a wedding, after all.

  “I do,” she said firmly when it came her turn, and the moment the words were out, she felt faint. She was married!

  “I now pronounce you man and wife!” the preacher announced. “Calvin, you may kiss your bride.”

  “Kiss?” She’d forgotten about the kissing part. She looked at her new husband who’d already turned to face her, just as flustered at this point as she was. What if he felt as woozy as she did?

  He slowly put one arm around her as if she might break. “My brothers tell me this is the good part.”

  She gazed into his eyes and realized that this might be the first time Calvin Weaver had ever kissed a woman. The man was shaking! But he still lowered his face to hers and gently let their lips meet. It was a chaste kiss, not what she’d expected from a huge man such as him. But it still sent shivers up her spine.