Mountain Man's Mail Order Bride

by Kelsey King

“You must do very well,” I say, looking up at the vaulted ceilings with their beautifully stained exposed beams.

  He shrugs modestly. “I suppose,” he says. “Before I moved up here, I was working in an office. Lived in a studio apartment and saved almost every penny I made, so it gave me a good start on buying the land.”

  He stares up at the beams as well, though I’m thinking this may be a way to avoid looking at me. I take the opportunity to study him again.

  He’s so attractive, far more so than in the picture he sent, where his expression came out more of a grimace than a smile. His natural expression—when he’s not posing for a camera—is soft, peaceful, and content.

  “Come on,” he says, and then cringes, as if realizing this is the same tone he uses with Cocoa. “I mean, want to see the upstairs?”

  I can’t help but smile. I imagine he’s like that with everyone, and know living up here, he doesn’t have human contact every day, as I did in Dublin. I need to remember not to take offense to it.

  I follow him up the stairs and stop at the top and look at my surroundings. The area is just as bright and well cared for as the rest of the house. I follow him as he shows me all the rooms.

  “This is my office,” he opens the door and steps aside. It’s got one of the biggest windows in the house. It’s tidy, his phone and computer and all the necessities in perfect order on his desk. There’s a dog bed in the corner, which is more worn than the rest of the house, covered in fur with an indent in the middle where Cocoa must habitually curl.

  Hunter opens the door to a bedroom. There’s no television in here either—in fact, I haven’t seen one in the house at all. The room is lit by the large window, and enough furniture to make the room feel lived in. On the bed is a large watercolor quilt in many shades of blue, in a pattern rippling like waves. I’m startled to realize I haven’t seen curtains—or blinds, drapes, or shades—on any of the windows in the house, not even in his bedroom.

  “This is my room,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. I’m relieved he didn’t say our room, as I’m not prepared to jump into bed with the man the first day we’ve met. I almost want to laugh at the thought considering I came here hoping to get married to him within the month, so I can’t exactly insist we take it slow. There’s no time for that. But I’m still relieved when he opens a door across the hall.

  “This is your room,” he says, dropping my luggage.

  The room is bright with a large queen size bed. Across the top lays an intricate patched quilt. Though the headboard is beautiful—more natural wood still in the bending shapes of the original branches. There’s a nightstand and a dresser, but the walls are bare.

  “Do you have many guests?” I ask.

  He laughs, and it’s a good sound—gentle and warm—and I look up and meet his eyes.

  He immediately looks away and shakes his head.

  “No,” he says. “Never any guests. But I thought you’d prefer this to nights on the couch, at first anyway.”

  I smile, and he looks at me again, sheepishly. Our eyes meet, and there’s a moment where I feel something pass between us, a current that seems to buzz, invisible but undeniably there.

  Maybe this plan hasn’t been as crazy as I initially thought.

  Hunter clears his throat. “Well, I have some work to do. Help yourself in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Eat anything you like, and if I don’t have what you want, make a list. We can go into town tomorrow and pick up whatever you need.”

  He takes a step away, and I stare at the bedroom, not sure what I’m going to do with myself. Panic rises in my throat—he can’t take one day off for my arrival?

  I’m not sure if he sees my panic or what, but he seems to change his mind about something and reaches out for my hand, taking it and squeezing it.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

  Then he ducks into his office, waits for a moment to see if Cocoa will follow, and when she stays with me—looking as bewildered as I am—he closes the door.

  6

  Hunter

  Over the next several days, Sophia drifts around the house like a ghost, and I have about as much success interacting with her as I might a departed spirit. I try to talk to her over meals and such, but I’ve never been any good at small talk with women, and she’s proving to be no exception. There are lots of awkward pauses, during which she fidgets and clears her throat and looks for more questions to ask me. I swear we’ve talked about the origin of every item in my house right down to the cast iron pots, but we’re not connecting.

  And why should we?

  We’re total strangers.

  Sophia is beautiful—and she traveled overseas to marry someone she doesn’t even know, who can’t even talk to her. Several times I’ve almost asked her if she wants to go home, but I’ve stopped short.

  I don’t want her to go home. I kinda like having her here.

  I don’t expect her to marry me, but I don’t want to suggest she return either.

  After lunch, we go our separate ways. Time passes, and soon it’s late in the afternoon. I’m working at my computer when I look out the window and see Sophia below throwing a stick for Cocoa. It’s more of a branch, but Cocoa leaps into the air, catching it in her mouth. The forked ends scrape on the ground as she bounds proudly back to Sophia.

  I smile. I miss having Cocoa here with me while I work, but she mostly seems to prefer to follow Sophia around. It’s better for her because she needs the exercise, and it’s probably better for Sophia as well. She must be lonely here, but she hasn’t complained.

  Sophia throws the stick again, and Cocoa goes enthusiastically after it. I find myself envying them. And so, even though I still have a lot of work to do, I get up, change into some jeans and my work boots, and go out to join them.

  Cocoa stumbles over her branch and drops it to race circles around me, and Sophia looks up at me in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” she says in her thick Irish accent that I’ve grown to love each day she’s been here. “I just thought it’d do us some good to get out of the house, and—”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “Looked like fun, so I thought I’d join you.”

  She looks taken aback at first, and I wonder if she’d rather be alone. But then her expression softens. “That’d be nice. I’d like that. We’d like that,” she says with a sweet smile.

  I gesture toward the trees. “I promised you a walk in the woods, didn’t I? Are you up for it?”

  She looks down at her shoes—they’re boots, but the kind people wear for fashion, without a good grip.

  “It’ll be fine. We’re not going to climb the mountain or anything.” I let out a chuckle.

  She smiles and offers me her hand, and I gladly accept it. Her hand is smooth and warm in mine, and I like the way it feels.

  “Come on,” I say to Cocoa, and she charges through the brush, barking frantically.

  “Does she ever run off?” Sophia asks.

  “Nah,” I say. “She likes to stay where she can see me, but even if she gets carried away, she never goes out of shouting distance.”

  “It’s nice that you don’t have to keep her on a leash.”

  I give her a nod and continue forward. It’s one of the things I love most about living up here, Cocoa has free reign.

  There’s no trail out here besides Cocoa’s favorite paths, and I lead Sophia along one of those. She tightens her hold of my hand, even though we have to walk single file past some thick underbrush, but I don’t let go either. It’s the first time we’ve touched each other, and it shoots electricity through my body.

  “I saw some deer this morning. I counted twelve of them, starting on the north side of the house. I watched them until they were all gone as I was washing dishes after breakfast,” she says. I glance over my shoulder and see she’s smiling excitedly.

  “No deer where you come from, I take it?”

  “Not in the city. So what other kinds of animals do you see here?” she asks.r />
  Cocoa doubles back toward us, a pine cone in her mouth. “Besides this Queen of the forest, of course.”

  “Rabbits. Squirrels. Raccoons. I’ve seen a fox a few times too, and coyotes. And a possum or two. “

  The brush thins, and we return to walking side by side. Her nose wrinkles. “Those look like rats, yes?”

  “Yeah. Really large rats. They like to get into the garbage, too.”

  Sophia nods. “Yes, I tried to take out your trash, but I couldn’t figure out how to get it open. I’d never thought about it, but I don’t suppose a rubbish collector comes all the way up here. What do you do with it?”

  “Have to take it to the dump myself. I try to do it whenever I go into town, so it doesn’t pile up too bad. In the winter I go less often, but it’s cold, so the trash doesn’t stink.”

  I fight to keep from rolling my eyes at how this is the most unromantic conversation I’ve ever had. I picture Sophia heading back to Ireland, laughing about the man whose longest conversation with her was about where he disposes of his trash through various seasons of the year.

  “No dangerous animals, then?” she asks. “Or do the possums swarm and carry them off in the night?”

  I laugh. “No, not the possums. I do see the occasional bear, though generally not from too close. You can smell them coming, they stink so bad.”

  Sophia raises her eyebrows. “You mean you don’t cuddle up to them like a great big teddy?”

  I shake my head. “The ones you really need to watch out for are the moose.”

  “Moose,” she says as if I might be joking. “Really?”

  “It’s true. A spooked moose will charge as soon as it looks at you, and those antlers hit like a semi when they get going. They’re big, but they’re quiet, so if you’re out here and you don’t see them, it’s easy to step between a momma and her babies accidentally. And then…” I whistle. “Watch out.”

  Sophia looks around as if I’ve just told her the woods are haunted. “So what do you do if you run into a moose?”

  “Get behind a tree. A big, sturdy one. They have to charge in a straight line, and if there’s a tree between you and it, you’re safe. Then you kind of skip from tree to tree, moving away.”

  Cocoa charges off through the underbrush.

  “And just hope Cocoa doesn’t get it into her head to defend you. She’s got the good sense to steer clear unless she thinks someone might be threatening her pack. One time, she got between a moose and me and barked up a storm, while the moose lowered its antlers and just about charged. I was long clear before Cocoa realized it and left that beast alone, and it didn’t matter how much I yelled at her.”

  “Do you think she’s accepted me into her pack already?” Sophia asks with a grin.

  I’m pretty sure she has, though it’s not like there’s a lot of competition. Cocoa’s been stuck up here so long with no one but me, it’s no wonder she’s latched onto the first person to come along who’ll scratch behind her ears. “Given how happy she was to bring you that branch, I think she’s happy you’re here.”

  Sophia looks at me sideways as she steps over a large fern. “And her owner?”

  My breath catches. I don’t want to say anything stupid, but I can’t keep putting her off. I invited her here, after all. I paid for her to come. What did I do that for, if not to spend time with her, to be honest about my intentions? “I’m glad you’re here, too,” I admit.

  Sophia smiles like she’s happy to hear it, and I realize she’s probably been wondering these last few days if I think I’ve made a mistake because I’ve been in my own world. What I think remains to be seen, but I don’t have any regrets so far.

  “What made you decide to apply with the agency?” she asks.

  I wonder if she’s intentionally not using the words mail order bride. It seems so crass and outdated, and yet it’s precisely what I’ve done.

  I clear my throat. She knows my mother is dying, but I haven’t exactly given her the specifics. “I gave up on dating a long time ago. And my mom, they say she doesn’t have more than a few months to live. When she got diagnosed with cancer, the only thing she asked of me was to try to find someone. She knew I wasn’t dating, and she’s the only family I have, so I know she’s worried about leaving me alone. Plus, it’s always been a dream of hers to be at my wedding. I think it’s the last thing she wants to see before she dies.”

  Sophia looks sad, and I worry Sophia’s going to feel disappointed that I brought her here essentially for my mother’s dying wish.

  But then she smiles. “That’s sweet, that you want to do that for her.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, well. I haven’t been the best son in the world. Seems like the least I can do.”

  Sophia laughs. “The least you can do is find a wife through an international dating service, fly her to the US, and try to decide if you can marry her on thirty days notice? Yes, well. At least you didn’t have to go far out of your way.”

  I can’t help but smile back at her, and her eyes dance.

  God, she’s beautiful. And sweet, and charming, and funny as hell. I want to convince her to stay with me. I’m starting to get used to her being here.

  It doesn’t seem like her staying would be such a terrible thing.

  “I know what that’s like,” she says. “To watch your mother die.” She climbs over a log, still following after Cocoa, and lets go of my hand to keep her balance.

  “How long ago was it?” I ask.

  She stares down at her boots. “Six months. She had dementia, though so it feels like a lot longer since she was really here, you know?”

  I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure what anyone could say to take that kind of pain away. It’s terrible watching someone you love disappear, even though their body is still here. At least my mother—drugged up as much as she is—still knows who I am.

  “Were you close?”

  “Yes,” she says. “The closest. She’s the only family I had. She was my best friend. My everything.”

  My heart hurts for her. I’m about to be more or less alone in the world, but it bothers me for her than it does myself.

  “Is that why you wanted to leave? Too many memories?”

  She laughs, but it’s bitter. “Too many bills, more like it. We were barely managing as it was before her disease took over.”

  Sophia gives me an alarmed look. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m here. I could’ve figured something out, I’m sure, I just felt so…stuck where I was.”

  I smile. “I know what you mean. And the thought of going back to dating…well…”

  “It’s the worst,” she quickly says, chuckling.

  I stare at her. I can’t believe it would be for someone like her. Someone so easy to get along with, so beautiful, with so much to offer.

  Cocoa tramps back to us, slower this time, and collapses at my feet. She’s starting to wear out, and will probably stay close on the way back. Sophia steps up on a tree stump I cleared out last year after it was struck by lightning. She looks around.

  “It’s beautiful here. Ireland is green, too, but this is different.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say, genuinely.

  She looks over at me, her face even with mine now. “Do you regret moving up here? So far away from everything?”

  I shake my head. “I like the quiet.”

  She laughs. “Yes, I know.”

  “I’m sorry—” I say, but she shakes her head at me. She’s poking fun at me, but it’s good-natured.

  Maybe she doesn’t regret coming here. I can’t help but hope that’s for more reasons than just running away from her debt, that perhaps she was looking for companionship too.

  “Life feels more real up here,” I say. “I work in marketing. It’s all so transient. But up here, there’s so much that needs to be done for the land, for the house, just to keep it up, keep it comfortable during the winter. The road needs maintaining,
and there’s lumber to be cut and hauled, and if I don’t do it, there are consequences. My truck gets stuck. The woods fill up with dead material that’ll burn when lightning strikes. I guess I just feel like I matter up here, so much more than I did in the city. There I was just a cog in a machine, but here, everything depends on me.” I shrug, modestly.

  I glance at Sophia and find her staring at me. She doesn’t look away when I meet her gaze. Her lips are slightly parted, and my heart begins to thump in my chest.

  “That’s the longest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Sophia says, her mouth turning up in a smile. “And also the most beautiful.”

  I reach out an arm, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pulling her into my arms. She turns toward me, and then we’re standing, facing each other, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. Her eyes are even more beautiful up close, seawater glittering in the sun, and I find myself breathless. She smells like wildflowers, and her fingers reach up and brush the side of my cheek.

  And then I lean in and kiss her. When our lips meet, it’s as if lightning has struck again, right there on the tree stump. Her body presses against mine, and she kisses me back, at first softly then more eagerly. I can’t remember the last time kissing a woman felt like this, if ever. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, and she doesn’t pull away.

  Cocoa whines at my feet and I break the kiss and look down at her. “What are you complaining about?” I ask.

  Sophia giggles. “I think she’s jealous. Too bad I didn’t have a boy dog to bring along for her. I’m sorry, Cocoa.”

  Cocoa looks from Sophia to me, like she doesn’t have a clue what we’re doing just standing here in the woods.

  I take Sophia’s hand again. “Come on. Let’s get back to the house.”

  We work our way through the woods, and I point out a few rabbits. Sophia thinks they’re adorable. As we walk back, we share a moment in the woods, and I grab her hand and lead her inside.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, and she nods.

  I grab some chicken from the fridge and begin cooking dinner. We orbit around each other in the kitchen, back to being gawky, awkward, and out of sync. Whatever that moment was out in the woods, it’s definitely passed.