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

by Kit Morgan

  “How lovely! Another wedding to scratch off my list!” Leona Riley cried with delight.

  Signora Weaver put her hand to her forehead. “Leona …,” she groaned

  “What?” But Leona didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to Isabella. “Too bad about your dress, though, dear.”

  Isabella looked at her fancy day dress and shrugged. “You no like?”

  “Oh no, dear, I didn’t mean it that way,” Leona said. “It’s just that … well, didn’t you want to have a wedding dress?”

  Isabella looked away and said nothing. Yes, a wedding dress would have been nice, but she didn’t have time to make one – not after fleeing New York, at any rate.

  Leona slumped. “Land sakes, now I’ve gone and upset you. I’m so sorry, dear – I didn’t mean to. I suppose we could have borrowed Charlotte’s dress again, but Benjamin’s wife wore it at their wedding, and I didn’t think it proper for two brides marrying into the same family to wear the same dress. I’d hoped you’d brought your own.”

  Isabella raised her head, her face somber. “I am married now, signora, so what does it matter?”

  Signora Weaver stepped in before Signora Riley could speak again, and thank Heaven! “So long as you’re happy, dear. When it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters.”

  “Yes, you are right.” She turned to her new husband, who gazed at her with his mouth half-open in disbelief. Maybe the reality that he was now married had just hit. “We go now, yes?”

  He nodded and snapped his mouth shut. “Yeah, we’d better.” He turned numbly to his mother. “Ya all right, Ma?”

  Signora Weaver now had tears in her eyes. “My boy, my precious boy … I have only one left.” She turned to Daniel and took him into her arms. “I guess I have you for a couple more years though, right?”

  “Sure, Ma,” he told her and returned the hug. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere yet.”

  Sheriff Hughes pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and loudly blew his nose. “That was a nice ceremony. I’m glad I came.”

  “Well, of course you came, Harlan,” Leona said and slapped his arm. “How can you not after making friends with this beautiful creature?”

  Sheriff Hughes smiled at Isabella. “I’m kinda jealous. You gonna make Calvin some of them fancy Eyetalian dishes you were telling me about on the stage?”

  “Yes,” she said proudly. “Many, many dishes.”

  “You’re a lucky man,” the sheriff told Calvin.

  Calvin gazed into his bride’s eyes. “I know.”

  The small group headed out amidst congratulatory backslaps from Calvin’s brothers and a couple of men Isabella hadn’t noticed before. They must have come in after the ceremony had already started. Two women were with them, probably their wives, both pretty with blonde hair. One was holding a baby in her arms and the other looked to be with child.

  When everyone was through with their congratulations, Leona ushered the two couples over. “Isabella, these are my sons Clayton and Spencer, and their wives Summer and Elle.”

  Isabella noticed the curious looks of the newcomers. They stared at her, as most did on their first meeting. She counted the seconds it would take for one of them to ask the inevitable.

  Five seconds, this time. “Where are you from?” Summer asked.

  “Trastevere, a neighborhood in Rome.” she said, then gave her now-rote explanation: Italy to New York to New Orleans to here.

  Thankfully, before they could ask anything else, Leona jumped in again. “And this is little Charles,” she said, indicating the baby in Elle’s arms. “Isn’t he a darling?” She looked at the newlywed couple, a wide smile on her face. “I bet the two of you can’t wait until you have one! Best hurry it along then!”

  “Ma!” Clayton and Spencer cried in unison. “They just got married, for crying out loud,” one of them chastised – Isabella had already gotten them mixed up and wasn’t sure which.

  “It’ll happen eventually,” Signora Weaver said. “But let the poor younguns get to know each other a spell. They can get around to that in their own good time. Besides, Benjamin and Charity have a head start anyhow.”

  Isabella understood her words, glanced at Charity and watched her blush. But the girl wasn’t only blushing – she looked like she was trying to hide, turning away from the group to face her husband. He put his arms around her and gave her a hug, as if to reassure her. Was something wrong? Had they been trying to have children without success?

  “Are ya tired?” Calvin asked her. “Do ya need to rest?”

  “No, I am fine.”

  “Did ya want to change out of that dress? Or wear it to the festival?”

  Ah yes, the festival – how could she forget? She supposed it might be nice to be around a lot of people before she was carted away to who knows where. Besides, once she was on the Weaver farm, it would be safest never to leave it. “I am fine in this,” she told him. “We go?”

  “Sure as shootin’ we go,” he said with a wide grin. He offered her his arm and looked over the small gathering. “Time to see us a festival!”

  Spencer (or Clayton), hurried to the front of the group to stop them. “Calvin, Isabella – let me congratulate you one more time. And might I remind you boys,” he continued, giving each of the Weaver men a pointed look, “that there might be a few folks here that haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you were at a town function.”

  “What are you saying, Sheriff?” Signora Weaver demanded.

  “Now Mary, there’s no reason to get upset. I’m just saying that some folks might hold a grudge …”

  “I’ll make sure they mind their manners, Sheriff,” Arlan assured. “Besides, the twins are married now, and trust me when I say there ain’t nothin’ like a good woman to settle a man down.”

  Isabella watched the men’s expressions with interest, especially her husband and his twin brother Benjamin. It amazed her that they were so identical. She would have to get to know her man quickly so as not to mix them up by accident. Did Charity have the same problem when she first married into the family? Let’s see … Benjamin seemed the calmer of the two, and Calvin had a small cowlick that popped up no matter what he did to smooth it down. That was a start.

  “He’s right, Sheriff,” Benjamin agreed. “We’ll be watching out for our wives and kin. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen unless someone else starts it.”

  “Just be sure none of you … accidentally starts anything,” Spencer advised. “Or helps anything along. I’m sure there’re a few idiots in this town that might think it fun to pick a fight.”

  “My boys’ll mind their manners just fine, Sheriff,” Signora Weaver insisted. “Now let’s get on outta here – I got hats to sell.”

  The group exited the church and followed Main Street to where the festival was to be held on the other side of town. Gold- and rust-colored leaves clung stubbornly to tree branches, and the cloudless sky promised cool but dry weather. They approached where most of the town had already gathered, and booths had been set up along each side of the road.

  A group of fiddlers were tuning their instruments at the end of the boardwalk. The smell of baked apples and smoke tinged the air. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best except for a few men, setting up tables and chairs borrowed from Hank’s to create a dining area. Children ran between booths, chasing each other, only to be caught and dragged off by a parent or older sibling.

  Isabella smiled. This was going to be a fun day.

  * * *

  Calvin gritted his teeth. It was all he could do not to crush Isabella to him. They were the object of more than a curious glance, especially from the men. Yes, he’d married a beauty, the most beautiful woman he (and, judging from the looks of those around them, anyone else) had ever seen. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think that beauty was all there was to a good woman.

  It was certainly nice, though.

  His brother’s wives were also pretty, though they didn’t possess the ex
quisite looks of his Italian bride. But their hearts far outshone the stars. He’d prayed that he’d get a beautiful wife, and he had – on the outside. But was she as beautiful on the inside? The only way to find out was to get to know her, and that would take some time. Who knew what he’d be able to learn about her in the midst of the Harvest Festival? But he’d try nonetheless.

  “We’d best help Ma with her hats,” Arlan said. He turned to his wife. “Samijo, if ya get tired, take the twins to Aunt Betsy’s and rest. They’re all taking turns minding the mercantile today in case anyone needs somethin’, so it’s not like you’d be alone.

  She nodded, one of their sons in her arms, the other in Charity’s. “Don’t worry, I will.”

  He nodded and turned to his brothers. “Daniel, come with me. Benjamin, Calvin, go see if Aunt Betsy and Uncle Seamus need any help with their booth.

  “Aunt Betsy got herself a booth?” Benjamin asked.

  “What’s she sellin’?” Calvin added.

  “Cookies, pies, overstock from the mercantile.”

  Calvin turned to Isabella. “Would ya like to come with us or take a look around? Some folks are still settin’ things up, so it ain’t really got started yet.” And I’d rather have ya with me, he silently added.

  “I come with you,” she said. Good – he didn’t want her wandering alone in a strange place, even if it was small.

  “C’mon, then – let’s go see what Aunt Betsy needs done.” They set off with Benjamin, leaving Charity with Samijo and the twins.

  When they reached the mercantile, their cousin Matthew was minding things. “Howdy, cousin!” Calvin said as he strolled into the building. “We came to see if Aunt Betsy needs anythin’ carried to her booth. By the way, missed ya at my weddin’.”

  Matthew shoved his spectacles up his nose as if in annoyance. “Wedding?! Good grief, man, already? I thought you were getting married this afternoon!”

  “Nossir,” Calvin said. “I done caught the preacher first thing this mornin’.”

  “Why did no one tell me?” Matthew asked, flustered.

  “Aunt Betsy weren’t there either,” Benjamin added. “We thought maybe you came in late with Clayton and Spencer. Don’t tell us Ma forgot to tell ya it was about to start?”

  Matthew shook his head and sighed. “No one told us anything. It figures.”

  “Well, it was like any other weddin’,” Calvin said with a grin. “’Cept of course it was mine. I guess this means ya owe me for missin’ it.” He glanced at Isabella, who looked as if she was struggling to follow the conversation. “This here is Cousin Matthew. Ya’ll meet his wife Charlotte sometime today.”

  She nodded, and again he wondered if she’d really understood.

  “Are you going to finish the introductions?” Matthew asked.

  “Oh!” Calvin waved a hand between him and his wife. “This here is Isabella. She came all the way from Italy.”

  Now Matthew really looked at her. “This is your wife?” he asked in shock.

  “Well, ya done knew that when we came in! What’s the matter, Matty – them spectacles of yours need cleanin’?”

  “No,” he snapped as he studied Isabella. “Well, maybe. It’s just that things have been so busy with the festival coming up, and now that it’s here I’m busier than ever. I’m sorry I missed your wedding,” he told her. “It seems my Aunt Mary, your new mother in-law, forgot to inform us.”

  “We’re sorry too,” Benjamin told him. “I guess Ma was so excited, she ran out of here and didn’t take the rest of ya into account.”

  “No matter,” Matthew told them. “The important thing is that you’re finally a married man, Calvin. Congratulations to you both. Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you what my mother needs carried to her booth.”

  Calvin took Isabella by the hand and followed Matthew down the hall to a storeroom. Small wooden crates filled with paper bags of cookies and candy sat to one side. Aunt Betsy had created shelving by shoving pieces of wood through the slats in the crates, then filled the shelves with pies.

  “If each of us carries a crate, we can get all these pies moved in one trip,” Matthew explained. He then stepped into the hall. “Charlotte? Can you come here please?”

  After a moment, Matthew’s wife entered the storeroom. “What’s the fuss, Matthew?” she asked, then noticed the others. “Why Benjamin and Calvin Weaver, where did you disappear to? I thought we’d see you this morning.”

  “The church,” Calvin said. “I’m awful sorry, Charlotte, but Ma forgot to tell Aunt Betsy and the rest of ya that the preacher could marry us first thing this mornin’ and, well…”

  She glanced between Calvin and Isabella. “What? You mean we missed it?”

  “I’m plumb sorry,” Calvin apologized again.

  Isabella stepped forward. “I am happy you wanted to join us. You are family?”

  Charlotte stared at her a moment. “Why, yes.”

  “Where are you from?” Isabella asked, her eyes lit with curiosity.

  Calvin chuckled – usually that line of questioning went the other way around where Isabella was concerned. “Go ahead, Charlotte, tell her where yer from. I don’t think she’s ever heard your kind of accent before.”

  “I have,” Isabella said. “But hers is … not quite same as women in New Orleans.”

  “Oh, of course,” Charlotte said with a smile. “My family is from Mississippi originally. That explains the difference.”

  Isabella smiled. “Yes. I like it. It is, how you say it … different?”

  “I always did like being different,” Charlotte said. “Thank you. I like yours too.” She turned to her husband. “It’ll be nice to have another new member of the family, won’t it Matthew?”

  “Yes, of course. Now let’s get these things to Mother’s booth so she can get started selling her wares and we can take care of business here.”

  “You no go to the festival?” Isabella asked. Calvin could tell she liked Charlotte. Good, he wanted her to have friends. Lord knew one could get lonely out at the farm at times, even when you were surrounded by family. He hoped his new bride got along with Samijo and Charity as well.

  “Eventually I will,” Matthew told her. “But someone still has to mind the mercantile. Let’s go.”

  The men and Charlotte carried the crates of pies while Isabella managed a box full of Aunt Betsy’s goodie bags. Calvin liked that she pitched right in without being asked. He wondered if it might be heavy for her, saw she had no problem with it and let her help.

  They reached Aunt Betsy’s booth in the middle of the festival area and unloaded. Unfortunately, Aunt Betsy was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s mother?” Matthew lamented as he scanned the people milling about. “She should be here.”

  “Prob’ly helpin’ Ma with her hat displays,” Benjamin said. “I’ll check.”

  Calvin watched his brother make his way to the last booths near the end of the boardwalk and the fiddle players. Sure enough, their mother and aunt were there, unloading hats from boxes. “Do ya wanna help Ma with her hats?” he asked Isabella.

  “Yes, yes, I can do that,” she said with an eager nod. He liked that too. There wasn’t room for laziness on the farm. He certainly hoped she was no stranger to long days filled with endless tasks. Not every day was like that, but the women had their fair share.

  They left Matthew to fuss over the pies and goodie bags and joined Ma and Benjamin. “Isabella can help ya set up, Ma, if’n Aunt Betsy wants to go tend her own stuff.”

  “Why, that would be wonderful,” his mother said.

  Just then, Aunt Betsy took one look at Isabella and gasped. “Calvin Weaver! This is what you got yourself hitched to this morning? Is that why you didn’t bother to tell us?”

  “Really, Betsy!” Ma Weaver said. “It was my fault and no one else’s. I was so excited when Daniel came to fetch me that I plumb forgot to fill you in. Can we just drop it?”

  “Oh, all right, but land sakes! Don’t forget
to tell me when it comes time for Daniel to marry – I don’t want to miss another one!”

  “We’ll make sure ya don’t,” Calvin told her. “Where is Daniel? I thought he and Benjamin were helpin’ ya.”

  “He escorted Samijo and Charity to Doc and Millie's place,” Ma explained. “Samijo wanted to go there instead of the mercantile. She and Charity are feeling kinda tired from looking after those babies, and they were afraid the twins might be a bother down at the mercantile.” She glanced at Calvin and Isabella. “You two will find out soon enough.”

  Calvin and Isabella both blushed so much, he wasn’t sure whose face was redder. Which reminded him that tonight – tonight! – was his wedding night.

  Five

  The harvest festival was barely underway, but Isabella was having the time of her life. The people of Nowhere she’d met so far were friendly – they helped each other without questions or complaints. It had been all she could ever do to get her father to lift a finger. She’d worked her fingers to the bone day in and day out, only to have him steal her money for gambling.

  She shook off the thought and concentrated on the beautiful hats her new mother-in-law had made. Isabella had never tried her hand at millinery, and wanted to watch Mary Weaver at work. “You make all of these?” she asked in awe.

  “Sure did. Though Samijo helped with a few of these. I started teaching her to make them last year.”

  “You teach me too, yes?”

  Signora Weaver smiled. “Nothing would give me more pleasure! I’ve been trying to teach Charity, but she’s better at cooking than hatmaking. That, and she seems distracted lately.”

  “I might be distracted too,” Isabella admitted. “I never try to make a hat before, and my patience is, uh … is small.”

  “Well, we’ll work with what you’ve got, child.”

  Isabella gave her a warm smile and helped her set up the rest of the display. Once done, they stepped back to admire their work. This had to be the prettiest booth of all! Signora Weaver and her sister Betsy had decorated the front with ribbons and bows, leaving no doubt that the contents of the booth were for women.