An Angel in the Mail

by Callie Hutton

  “I don’t understand.” Mrs. Darby leaned back and looked at her in surprise. “If you come from such a background, why did you agree to be a mail order bride?”

  Angel’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t. My stepmother did. She applied at the agency in my name, she sent the letters to Nate, and signed the contracts.”

  The woman’s jaw dropped. “Why would she do such a thing?”

  Angel related the story of her papa’s illness, ending with her arrival in Oregon.

  Mrs. Darby listened with expressions of both anger and sympathy on her face. When Angel had finished, the woman made a clucking sound, her lips tightened in a straight line.

  They turned at the sound of the front door opening and the noisy chattering of Nate and the children. Angel quickly wiped away her tears, and began chewing on a piece of bread that tasted like shoe leather.

  Mrs. Darby rose and smoothed the bed covers. “Don’t you worry, we’ll talk again, and I promise everything will be all right, you’ll see.” With that, Angel’s new ally left the bedroom.

  Within minutes, Nate’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Full of life and energy, her husband strode into the room.

  “How do you feel?” he asked as he approached the bed.

  “Sore,” she said, hanging her head, “and mortified.”

  Nate put his finger under her chin, lifting her head. “I’m really sorry you fell.” He gave her a half-smile. “But you shouldn’t be embarrassed. These things happen.”

  They stared at each other for a minute. Settling himself gently on the bed, he leaned over and, cupping her face in his hand, kissed her on the mouth. She jerked her head back. The completely unexpected kiss had caused a jolt all the way to her toes.

  “What’s the matter?” He dropped his hand.

  “Nothing. I, um, I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

  One brow arched as he regarded her intently. “Well, since we can’t do anything about it anyway,” he glanced down at her wrapped ribs, “there’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

  The coolness in his voice felt like a slap.

  “Papa, Mrs. Darby said to tell you dinner’s ready, and you should help our new mama downstairs so she can join the family.” Luke came skipping into the room, but before he could leap on the bed, Nate scooped him up.

  “Okay, son, go tell Mrs. Darby we’ll be right there.”

  Angel was still disoriented from the kiss, but apparently Nate’s good humor had been restored. Since he had all these kids to deal with, he seemed able to recover quickly. Probably a very good trait, one she could certainly practice herself, given her new life.

  “Can you bring me my dressing robe?” she asked. “I’m afraid it’s somewhere in my trunk. I haven’t been able to unpack anything yet.”

  Nate bent over the open trunk, and started taking out dresses. And more dresses, and more dresses. “Honey, these fancy dresses are nice, but I’m afraid you’ll ruin them doing your chores.” He looked over the pile he had tossed onto the bed. “No dressing robe in that trunk. I’ll try the other one.”

  He emptied that trunk also, which contained even more fancy dresses, along with gloves, hats, fans, stockings, handkerchiefs, and other fripperies that brought a frown to his face. Finally, toward the bottom of the second trunk he held up a robe.

  “Is this it?” He asked, waving the gold and blue flowered silk robe.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “This won’t do you much good on cold nights.” He brought the robe and helped her into it. Then, tossing the covers off, he helped her to her feet.

  She winced as she took the first step.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes, I think so. It just hurts when I move.”

  He looked at her and winked, and smiled that impish smile as he placed his arm around her waist and walked them toward the door.

  Angel hoped he couldn’t feel her heart pounding from just that little contact. You may want to kiss me, but I can guarantee you’re not going to care too much for my cooking.

  The table was set for eight places. As Nate sat her carefully in one of the chairs, she noticed none of the dishes matched. The sugar bowl in the center of the table didn’t have a top. The three coffee cups for the adults had mismatched, chipped saucers under them.

  Mrs. Darby had certainly put enough food on the table. A large bowl of lentils and rice, carrots, and some type of delicious-smelling baked fish sat alongside pickles, and a smaller bowl of garden greens. As Angel eased into a chair, Mrs. Darby added a basket of steaming biscuits, and a crock of butter next to it.

  “Go to the sink and wash up.” Nate spoke to the boys as he settled Julia-Rose on a cushion on her chair. Then he deftly tied a strap around her waist, reached over and took a biscuit out of the basket, and placed it into her chubby hand. She immediately nibbled on it, banging a spoon on the table with her other hand.

  The four boys climbed on their chairs as Mrs. Darby placed glasses of milk by their plates. Soon everyone was settled, and Nate bowed his head in prayer. Mrs. Darby and the boys all echoed his “Amen,” and they dug in.

  Angel’s head spun as hands shot out and grabbed for food. Instead of passing bowls, everyone just scooped out what they wanted by leaning over, and plopping it on their plates. Mark smacked Matt’s hand when he took two biscuits. Matt shoved one of the biscuits in his mouth, and laughed at his brother’s scowl, crumbs falling down his shirt.

  Nate broke up a bit of fish, added lentils and rice, and set it in front of Julia-Rose. The baby dropped her spoon and biscuit, and using both hands pushed food in her mouth, smearing it on her face, hands, and in her hair. Angel had never seen anything like it.

  She thought of her meals back home in a well-carpeted dining room, the highly polished mahogany table set with silver, china and crystal. In the center of the table was always a large candelabrum, with vases of seasonal flowers flanking either side.

  Meticulous butlers served the courses, and removed dishes as they emptied. Conversation was soft spoken, and nothing discussed that could interfere with digestion. When the meal came to an end, Angel and Sylvia sipped strong, fragrant coffee, laced with cream and sugar, while her father retreated to the library for brandy and a cigar.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Angel?” Nate asked, looking at her empty plate.

  She jerked from her musings. “Actually, I just had some bread before you came home from church.”

  “Now, dear,” Mrs. Darby said, “just eat a little something more. You hardly touched the bread and jam. Here, I know it’s hard for you to reach, so I’ll fix a plate for you.”

  When she’d filled the plate to her liking, Mrs. Darby placed the food in front of Angel.

  Just then Julia-Rose pointed at her. “Mama.”

  Angel glanced up in surprise and was greeted by Julia-Rose’s wide smile, showing a few pearly baby teeth, fish stuck to her chin, and rice in her hair. She held part of the biscuit in her little hand, and Angel had never seen a more beautiful sight in her life.

  Mark looked down at his plate, and mumbled, “She calls everyone Mama.”

  It didn’t matter. Suddenly it occurred to her that she was, indeed, Mama to these five lively children. She glanced from one to the other. The twins giggled at each other. Matt shoveled food into his mouth, and Mark glowered every time he looked in her direction.

  For better or worse, it was her duty to nurture, love, and take care of them. Whatever it took, she would make sure she lived up to that responsibility. It wasn’t their fault her stepmother had committed fraud. She was here now, and by God, she would do right by them.

  Chapter 7

  After dinner, Nate settled Angel on the settee in the parlor. The boys helped Mrs. Darby clean up, while Nate took Julia-Rose upstairs to wash and change her. When h
e came back down, he brought the little girl to Angel, and set her gently on her lap.

  He’d cleaned the food from her hair and face, and changed her dress. Angel inhaled the sweet baby smell, and kissed her soft cheek. She ran her fingers through the fine, curly blond hair and tickled her under her chubby chin. The baby laughed and laid her head on Angel’s chest. Within minutes she had stuck her fingers into her mouth, and fallen asleep.

  And Angel had fallen in love.

  Nate sat next to her, putting his arm around the back of the settee.

  Matt ran into the parlor and skidded in front of his father, his three brothers on his heels. “Papa, can we go to the creek?”

  “Yes, but be sure to keep an eye on your brothers.” He turned to the twins. “Mind Matt, and don’t wander off.”

  “Yippee.” They all shouted as they raced for the door.

  “I’m gonna catch a frog,” Mark boasted as the door slammed.

  Mrs. Darby came into the room, smiling at them, and wiping her hands on a towel. “There’s plenty of food left over for tonight’s supper. I kept the apple pie I made aside so you’ll have something to go with it.”

  “Thanks, you’re a saint,” Nate said.

  “It was no problem, I assure you.” She turned to Angel. “I’ll be back in the morning. While Nate’s at his shop, we can discuss a few things.” With a wink in her direction, she placed a kiss on the sleeping baby in Angel’s arms. After returning the towel to the kitchen, she placed her hat on her head, tucked her loose hair under it, and left. The click of the front door closing left the house in silence.

  Angel felt the tension in the room rise. Is he going to kiss me again? This time I’ll be ready.

  Her heart started to pound in expectation and she glanced sideways at Nate. He gazed off into space.

  Okay, come on, now. I’m ready. She was grateful for the distraction when the baby shifted in her arms and let out a soft sigh. Her eyes met Nate’s, and they grinned.

  “Let me get you a bit of that pain medicine,” Nate said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen.

  All right, heart, you can slow down now. It appears there is no kiss in your immediate future.

  He returned with the small brown bottle, efficiently poured the liquid into a spoon, and handed it to her.

  After settling back onto the settee, Nate began playing with the ends of her hair. “Tell me about your life in New York.”

  Kiss alert. It can still happen. Speed up, heart. “There isn’t much to tell,” she hedged. “I went to school there, and lived with my father and stepmother, before my father died.”

  “Is that why you decided to come on this adventure, as you put it?” He smiled that lazy grin that made her stomach flip-flop.

  “Yes.” In an effort to sidetrack him, she shifted. “You do a wonderful job with your children.”

  He chuckled. “I just stumble through every day.”

  “I mean it. You have so much patience, and I still can’t believe you got five children up, dressed, and out the door for church. It makes me wonder why you felt the need for a wife.”

  Nate stared at her for a minute, his eyes twinkling with humor. Then, running his knuckle over her cheek, he leaned closer. “It’s hard doing it all myself. I really need someone who can take care of the house and keep track of the kids.”

  “Mrs. Darby?” Her voice squeaked as his fingers slid to the back of her neck and teased the hair along her nape.

  “There are other things a man needs a wife for. The cooking and cleaning are important, but companionship and nighttime comforting are important as well.”

  Pound, pound, pound. Angel felt the blush start at her toes and go all the way to her hairline.

  Noticing her discomfort, Nate laughed softly. “Will you jump again if I kiss you?”

  “No. This time I’m ready.” Do you think you could say anything more stupid?

  He moved even closer, and being careful of her ribs, kissed her deeply and thoroughly. His strong fingers massaged her scalp.

  “This is the kind of comfort I was referring to,” he said against her lips. “But we’ll put off anything else until after you’re healed.” He drew back and stroked her cheek again.

  His gaze rested on her throat where her heart beat rapidly. “You’ll never have to be afraid of me. I won’t ever do anything you don’t want me to. And I’ll never hurt you in any way.”

  “I know.” The squeak turned to a breathless sigh. She knew him to be gentle and caring. That furthered her determination to live up to his expectations. Again she blessed Mrs. Darby, who would show her everything she needed to know in order to run a house.

  After five days, Angel didn’t know any more about housekeeping than she did when she’d arrived. Mrs. Darby had been wonderful, teaching her cooking, cleaning and laundry. But no matter how many times Angel tried to copy her teacher, it never seemed to turn out exactly the way she planned.

  “I think you can probably handle changing the baby, since your ribs aren’t so sore.” Mrs. Darby smiled at her grimace. “Oh, don’t fret, dear, you’ve seen me do it enough times.”

  A long string of drool hung from the baby’s mouth as Angel took the little squirming body in her arms. Hoping this would go better than her first attempt at diaper changing, she carried the baby upstairs and gingerly placed her on the bed. Before she turned back with the clean diaper in her hand, Julia-Rose was off the bed and had crawled under it.

  “No, no, no, come here.” Angel ran around the bed and got down on all fours, thankful her ribs were mostly healed. She couldn’t help but laugh at the child, who was now well out of reach.

  “Look, sweetie. See what I have.” She unclasped the chain hanging from her neck, held the small heart, and waved it at her. Julia-Rose blew bubbles and laughed.

  “I mean it, now. Come out here.” She used her sternest voice. The baby lay her face down on the dusty floor and sneezed.

  “See, you’re going to get sick. You must come out from under the bed. Right now.”

  Julia-Rose let out a huge yawn and, putting her fingers in her mouth, settled in for a nap. Angel stretched her arm as far as she could, but it was not far enough to grab the baby. Damn! Now what do I do?

  She lowered her head so her chin was touching the floor, and worked herself under the bed. Her sore ribs kept her from moving too fast. Finally, she reached Julia-Rose and slowly pulled the sleeping child out. Holding her ribs as she stood, she sneezed repeatedly. “Ow!” She grabbed her side.

  Julia-Rose opened her eyes. “Mama,” she gurgled, holding her chubby arms up.

  Angel eased herself down on the floor alongside the baby, and sighed. The thought of trying to get everything done that needed to be finished in a single day by herself seemed impossible when she couldn’t even diaper one little girl’s bottom.

  Angel’s week of reprieve was nearly at an end. She sat at the table, finishing up a hem on one of Amy’s dresses. Earlier in the week she made up a story about losing one of her trunks that contained her work dresses, and Nate told her to help herself to Amy’s dresses that were packed away in the attic.

  The day Angel made the climb to the attic was the first time she could actually move without pain. She was still sore, but a lot better.

  The attic was dirty with years of accumulated grime. As she raised the platform to enter, rays of sunlight slanted through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air like magical fairy glitter.

  Boxes and barrels and dusty old furniture filled the space. A spinning wheel sat in one corner, along with a dresser, a full-length mirror, and an open chest with colorful feathery items spilling out. She gasped when she spotted a beautiful dollhouse in another corner.

  Walking toward it, Angel exclaimed with delight over the details on the small house.
Someone had spent a great deal of time constructing it. A few of the little rooms had wallpaper, while others were painted bright colors. A pile of tiny, beautifully hand-carved wooden furniture sat alongside the dollhouse. This would be a wonderful toy for Julia-Rose when she got older.

  Memories, of decorating her own dollhouse with her mother years ago, brought tears to her eyes. They had spent hours picking out colors and setting up each room just so. Losing her mother at a young age was painful, but those recollections warmed her and made her feel her mother’s presence.

  She carefully picked her way through the maze to one of several trunks. The first two were filled with men’s clothes, obviously from a long time ago. She laughed when she saw the curled, powdered wig near the bottom. Julia-Rose could use these as dress-up clothes, and they would have a tea party. Suddenly she realized being a mommy to a little girl might be fun.

  Eventually, she located the trunk containing Amy’s clothes against the far wall, under the small window. She blew off the thin layer of dust, and opened the trunk. Near the top were several dresses that most likely had been her work clothes. Further down someone had neatly stacked stockings and shoes. All the stockings were carefully patched. She also pulled out a wool coat and bonnet. Underneath was a pair of Sunday gloves, mended on two fingers, and a small velvet reticule.

  A dark cloud seemed to pass over Angel as she handled the clothing, thinking about a young woman dying and leaving her five children.

  She sat back on her heels, holding the gloves. Amidst all the confusion of her arrival and attempts at learning housekeeping, she’d pushed the idea of a previous Mrs. Hale from her mind. She rubbed her fingers over the gloves. A woman wore these. A woman who birthed five children with the man she was now married to. Then, death claimed her, and she left them all behind. What was she like?