“Mr. Avery, I wasn’t expecting you back for another hour,” The girl of about eleven or twelve said.
“Sorry about that, Missy. My appointments ran early today.” Avery jumped down, then held out his hand to Margaret. “Meg, I’d like you to meet one of our next door neighbor, Missy Sanders. Missy keeps Rose when I have to go into town. Missy, this is Margaret Waldwin, my wife.”
The girl’s eyes widened into saucers. “I didn’t know you were getting married.”
Avery clasped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground, his cheeks ruddy even in the dim sunlight. Was he embarrassed of her or of the circumstances leading to their married? Whatever it was, Margaret had always found honesty to be the best policy. “Missy, Mr. Avery didn’t know he was getting married today either.
The girl’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“Margaret is one of the mail order brides Mr. Jake sent for from his hometown in Maine.” He glanced at her then, his gaze tender, and she smiled. “I saw her at the mercantile and knew I had to make her my wife.”
Margaret lowered her gaze to a row of bushes planted along the front of the cabin. If only Avery had really felt that way. It would have made this day so different, special.
The girl sighed, her hands clutched into a fist at her chest. “That’s sounds like one of those plays Mama has been reading to us. So romantic.”
Margaret wasn’t sure about that, but she wouldn’t ruin the moment for the girl. Might as well let her dream. She glanced up at Avery. His expression gave her no clues as to how he felt about this conversation, but she sensed his discomfort. She turned back toward the young girl and smiled. “It was nice to meet you. Missy, but I’d better get inside and start supper.”
“You’re going to cook on your wedding day?”
“Oh course, I am,” Margaret said in as gentle a tone as she could. “Making a meal for my family is part of being a wife, isn’t it?”
“Well, I guess.”
Avery snorted softly behind her, causing her lips to twitch. What was it about the man that had her smiling more than she had in her entire life?
“It’s time I got you home, Missy,” Avery said, throwing her a glance, his eyes twinkling. He reach into his pocket, pulled out some coins and held them out to the girl. “Your mama will have dinner on the table before you know it.”
“Yes, sir,” Missy answered, pocketing the money.
Avery turned back to her, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry about this, but Missy’s family lives just over the ridge and I don’t feel comfortable letting her walk it at this time of the evening.”
How had she managed to marry such a thoughtful man? “Of course, you need to take her home. And while you’re gone, I’ll have time to see what I can fix for supper.”
“But Rose. . .”
Without thinking, she pressed her hand against the corded muscle of his chest, then snatched it back. “I can take care of her until you get back.”
“It won’t take longer than twenty minutes.” He stepped forward, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then hurried down the steps.
Margaret was still pressing her hand to her cheek when he disappeared from her view.
Chapter Five
Margaret stepped into the cabin and glanced around. The living room was small, about the size of Papa’s study but homey with it’s thick hooked rugs gracing the hardwood floor and soft quilts draped across the back of a love seat and matching rockers. The stone fireplace took up almost one side of the room, the low hearth the perfect place to brush out a little girl’s hair or popcorn on a snowy winter day.
Her new home.
She walked across the room to an open doorway that lead to the kitchen. No dirty dishes in the wash pan, all the cups, saucers and plates stacked in neat rows on sturdy wooden planks fixed to the wall. In the corner she found Avery had the same kind of stove she’d used back home.
Might as well get start on that dinner she’d promised. Undoing her ribbons, she pulled off her bonnet and laid it on the table.
A tiny gasp behind her sent her skirts whirling as she turned toward the living room. There, peeking around the door, a moppet of a girl stared up at her, her hair a next of jet black curls, her thumb firmly planted between her bowed lips.
As different from Avery as night was to day.
Maybe Rose favored her mother. Margaret took a step then stopped. Last thing she wanted to do was scare the girl. “You must be Rose.”
The girl’s thumb made a wet popping noise as she pulled it from her mouth. “Where’s Missy?”
“Your papa took her home.”
Rose moved into the opening. “You know my papa?”
Oh, dear. How much should she tell the child? That she had married her papa this afternoon? Margaret decided to keep it simple, at least until Avery got back. “Your papa and I are good friends. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Rose’s dark brown eyes widened as she took another step toward her. “You have?”
“Of course!” Margaret slid to her knees then lowered herself to the floor, her skirts piled around her. “Your papa couldn’t stop talking about you the whole way home.”
The child rushed toward her, dropping down in front of her. “Did Papa tell you I’m getting a puppy?”
Margaret smiled. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
“Really?” Rose scooted closer, her sweet face alive with excitement. “The Sander’s mama dog had six puppies and I got to pick mine out first. He’s brown with white little paws and his fur is so soft. I can’t have him yet because he still needs his mama but you know what I’m going to call him? Brownie, because he’s so sweet.”
“That sounds like the perfect name, sweetheart,” Margaret answered, leaning forward to push an errant curl out of Rose’s eyes. Why hadn’t Avery told her Rose was such a darling little magpie? This child would be so easy to love, but could she love Margaret back?
“What’s that?”
She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t heard what Rose was talking about. “What’s what?”
Rose leaned forward, and lifted her hand to Margaret’s face, sliding her chubby fingers against the stain on her cheek. “Did God paint your face too?”
Too? What did Rose mean by that? Margaret swallowed, giving the girl a slight smile. “I don’t understand.”
The child sat back just enough for Margaret to see the seriousness in her dark eyes. “I asked Papa a few weeks ago where freckles come from, and he told me that God paints little dots on our noses so that we can remember the fun we had in the sunshine.”
It sounded like something Avery would say, the sweet response to his daughter’s question making Margaret like him all the more. But her birthmark was something all together different. How did she explain that to Rose? That the mark reminded her of her mother’s tragic loss, her father’s cruelty?
A small warm palm rested against Margaret’s cheek and she lifted her gaze to meet Rose’s dark one. “God must love you a lot to give you such a pretty freckle.”
“Rose.”
They both looked up to find Avery standing in the doorway, his gaze shifting from one to the other, concern clouding his eyes.
“Papa!” Rose jumped up and ran to her father, hurling herself against his legs, wrapping her arms around him. “I told Miss Margaret about Brownie, and do you know she likes dogs too? She’s always wanted one, at least, I think she does. Could she come over and play with me and Brownie once he comes to live with us?”
Avery bent down and scooped up his daughter. “Would you like it if she lived with us forever?”
Rose’s mouth split into a huge smile. “Could she be my mama?”
He glanced down at Margaret and gave her a flirtatious wink. “If you want her to be.”
“Oh, Papa, I do!” Rose wiggled out of her father’s arms and ran back to where Margaret sat. “Would you like to be my mama, Miss Margaret? Then we could play with Brownie and bake cookies a
nd you could read me stories just like all the other mamas do.”
Margaret felt the sting of tears. How could she love this girl so quickly? Was this how a woman felt just after giving birth to her child, this incredible love that gripped her heart and vows to never let go until the day she died? She grabbed Rose’s hand and gently tugged her into her lap, dropping a kiss in her black curls before answering. “Oh, yes, Rosie. I’d love to be your Mama.”
Chapter Six
Avery didn’t believe in love at first sight.
But in those few moments, watching Margaret with his daughter, the tender way she’d brushed Rose’s hair back, the way she sat on the floor to be at her level broke through every reservation he might have had. He was falling fast for his wife, a woman he didn’t even know this morning but everything he’d learned so far about her only made him want to know her more.
For now, they all needed supper. “Rosie, go get washed up while Mama and I look for something to eat.”
“Yes, sir.” The child scrambled to her feet, her chubby legs moving her across the floor. Then she turned, hurried back to where Margaret sat and gave her a wet kiss. She glanced up at her father on her way out of the kitchen. “I had to give Mama a kiss.”
Avery made sure Rose was down the hall before hurrying over to Margaret. “Let me help you up.”
“That’s okay. I can manage.” She sat up on her knees, her skirts a brown puddle around her.
“You don’t have to manage.” He reach down and cupped her elbow, holding her steady as she gained her footing. “Besides, you’re my wife. I find pleasure in helping you.”
“You do?” She looked at him as if the thought had never crossed her mind.
Had no one ever offered to help her before, not even her father? Avery suspected the answer to that. He leaned closer, the light sense of roses flooding his senses. “Yes, I do.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek in his hand, her skin as soft as one of the baby ducklings he and Rose had watched down at the lake. “There’s nothing to apologize for, sweet Meg. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She gave him a weak smile. “That’s the second time you’ve called me Meg. I like it.”
“Then that will be my name for you when it’s just the two of us.” Avery leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “Is that all right?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Goodness, how he wanted to kiss this woman, to touch his lips to hers, to hold her close. No matter what Avery was beginning to feel for her, they’d only known each other a few short hours. He needed to be patient, to give her time to settle into her new life, to figure out if there was a chance she could love him too. Dropping his hand, he stepped away from her.
Meg smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts, a faint shade of pink coloring her cheeks that made his heart do fun things in his chest. She hurried over to the cupboards and opened them. “I need to get supper started if we’re going to eat this evening.”
No woman should have to cook on her wedding day. Avery took a step toward her then stopped. “There’s some biscuits and fried ham left over from this morning, and some oatmeal cookies I bought at the diner in the cookie jar. That’s all we need tonight, unless you’re hungry.”
“No, not really. Just very tired.” She straightened even more if that was possible, her arms tight against her sides. “Where will I sleep tonight?”
With him if he had his way. Please give me patience, Lord. Avery drew in a calming breath. “I thought you might be comfortable in Rosie’s room. There’s a bed big enough for the both of you and a dresser for your clothes. There’s also a pitcher and wash basin though Rosie’s been known to play in the water so make sure you empty it once you’re done or it might end up in your bed.”
A tiny furrow worried the space between her eyes. “And what about you? Where will you sleep?”
“I bunk down in the loft above the living room. It’s warm up there from the fireplace, and I can go out and take care of the livestock without waking Rosie.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze to the floor.
It didn’t take her telling him to know what she was thinking. Avery crossed the room, stopping in front of her, his fingers under her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. “Before you get any wild ideas in that pretty little head of yours, you’re sleeping with Rosie because I want us to get to know each other better before. . .” The words trailed off, heat flooding his face. Discussing the marriage bed may be a delicate subject, but Margaret needed to hear what he had to say. “It’s not because I don’t want you.”
Her eyelids fell shut, her cheeks an even brighter shade of pink, the slender muscles in her throat rippled as she swallowed. “You want me that way?”
“Of course, I want you.” Avery dropped his hand down to his side and stepped back. “But a marriage should be based on more than attraction. If we want this to become a real marriage, we need to take things slow, get to know each other a bit.”
“You’re right.” Was that a note of disappointment in her voice? “I want to know more about you too.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Then lets get supper on the table because I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” Margaret’s smile returned, causing his heart to bang out a rapid beat in his chest. “How about I fry up some eggs with those biscuits? That is if we have any.”
“I’ll go get them.” Avery opened the back door, then closed it behind him, drawing a deep breath of cool air. Yes, he was falling in love and fast. He could only hope that this time spent getting to know each other would give Meg time to fall in love with him too.
Chapter Seven
Avery kicked off the dirt from his boots then opened the front door to the cabin, the scent of fried bacon and strong coffee making his mouth water. He quickly shucked off his coat and hung it on a nearby nail, then followed the aromas into the kitchen.
At the doorway, he paused to study his wife
It had been almost a week since their spontaneous marriage, and Meg seemed more beautiful today than she had yesterday if that was possible. Her hair was pulled back into a soft knot at her neck, a few strands curling around her face from the heat in the kitchen. Her cheeks rosy, she smiled more often than not, her blue eyes bright with laughter and hope.
The last few days had been exactly what Avery had always wanted from a marriage. He’d closed up his office in town after two days without any business. Not that he blamed the miners. If the other men were half as enraptured by their wives as he was, he wouldn’t be mining a cold, damp cave either.
Since then, he’d been wooing his wife. Every day brought a new adventure; a family picnic by the lake or picking ripened pears for preserves. He’d learned Meg was an only child and that she’d worked as a companion for a Miss Humphrey who had brought the pamphlet about the mail-order brides to her attention. And he’d shared how he’d come to Angel Vale as a new widower, ready to make a new life for himself and his baby girl.
Yet, he hadn’t told her the whole truth about Katie. Avery sighed to himself. Meg had to have questions, had to wonder why Rosie looked so different from himself. But how was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that he’d been a fool? That his wife had broken their vows? That the child he loved with every breath in his body wasn’t truly his?
“Well, are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in and join me?”
“Something smells mighty good in here.” He walked over to where Meg stood, put his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers, glancing down at the frying pan on the stove. “How did you know I’d be as hungry as a horse?”
He felt her cheeks bloom into a smile. “Considering you’ve been as ‘hungry as a horse’ since the day we got married, I thought I’d risk it.”
Avery chuckled. “No risk to it, ma’am.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Rose?”
Meg forked a piece of bacon over. “I sent her to her roo
m to get dressed.”
“Good. We’re going to have to hurry as it is if we want to get to church on time.” Avery reluctantly let go of her, the walked over to the shelves and pulled down three plates as well as two coffee cups and a tin cup for Rose.
The bacon popped and hissed. “I thought the pastor wasn’t coming back to town until the week of Thanksgiving.”
Avery set the plates on the table, then grabbed the crock of butter and jar of pear preserves from the counter. “He isn’t. But Jake fills in for him.”
“The owner of the mercantile?”
Avery nodded as he grabbed forks and knives from jar of utensils. “Some of the men have talked about asking him to become our preacher.”
Meg cracked open an egg over the hot grease. “Is he qualified?”
“If you mean has Jake studied to be a pastor, then no? He stuck it big in the early days of the gold rush and used most of the money to build his store.” Avery picked up the plate of bacon and sat it on the table. “But he’s a humble man, and when he preaches, you hear the power of the Lord in every word.”
She chuckled.
Had he said something funny? “What?”
Meg shook her head, though she shook with laughter. “Nothing.”
Avery moved to her side. “It’s got to be something to tickle your funny bone so much.”
Grabbing a towel, she lifted the frying pan off the stove, set it on a nearby potholder, then turned to face him, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Isn’t Jake the one who’s been sending Becky letters?”
“Yes, but what’s funny about that?”
Her lips twitched. “Because Becky’s papa is the pastor of the church Jake contacted. She’s helped her father with the congregation since her mother passed a few years ago. In other words. . .”
“She’s been trained to be a pastor’s wife!” Avery joined in the laughter.
“Exactly!” She pressed her lips together but still managed a muffled giggle.
Avery circled her waist with his hands and pulled her close, her arms ringing his neck, her infectious smile all he need to light his day. “God certainly does work in mysterious ways!”
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 47
