The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection

by Mary Connealy

  The delicate stitches made each small picture a work of art. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  Now that she knew how to open the one back, Melanie set to work on another and found it didn’t work. The back had to come out, but not in the same way as the first. An idea sparked to life as surely as a match touched to a kerosene wick. An idea she knew was straight from God.

  There would be something in each of these drawers. Almost certainly there would.

  And finding them would be an activity to keep her … or better yet, an overactive little boy … occupied for hours.

  A little boy who loved carpentry.

  With a sudden smile, she set the box aside and went to her reticule and found a copper penny and put it in the hidden space. She closed it up, packed the box in her satchel and made plans to lure her unmanageable little student into a quest.

  As she lay down, she realized the next day was December 1. The beginning of the Christmas month. One of the first days in the season of Advent.

  How many more drawers were there?

  She’d have to find them before he did, and—judging by the size of the one drawer she’d found—she’d have to seek out tiny gifts to put in each.

  Maybe Melanie could do more than bribe her little rapscallion into good behavior. Maybe with this Advent box, she could begin a journey to Bethlehem, to the Christ child, to a new, happier time for a sad and neglected little boy.

  That was a lot to ask of an old, homely wooden box, but she couldn’t help but believe that God was guiding her, and He would use her to guide Simon.

  They’d do it together. One secret drawer at a time.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday, December 1

  The Fourth Day of Advent

  Hank felt a chill slide up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold December evening. His son, sitting right next to Melanie Douglas, their heads bent over … something. Hank wasn’t sure what.

  Just as he stepped in, they looked at each other and shared the friendliest smile. It terrified him.

  Melanie looked up, but he could tell she was reluctant. Whatever they were looking for had them both lassoed tight.

  Her eyes focused on him, and that jolt hit. “Come on in, Hank.”

  Then she gave him that same friendly smile she’d shared with Simon. Up to now, she’d never been real friendly to him. This was the first time she’d called him Hank without an argument. The pleasure of it curved up his lips. They smiled at each other for too long, and Hank forgot all about his chilly backbone.

  “You got here just in time, Pa.” Simon sounded happier than he had since before Greta died.

  “Just in time for what?” Hank decided then and there that whatever Melanie had done to make his boy this happy, he was going to encourage it.

  “Look at this, Pa.” Simon held up some dark thing about the size of a man’s head. “I found a secret drawer.”

  Hank came toward the teacher’s desk, trying to see what his son had.

  Finally, when he got up close, he saw a stack of small wooden objects beside Simon. The knobs on them helped Hank figure out what he was looking at.

  “Those are drawers you took out of this thing?”

  “Yep, it’s an Advent box, Pa.”

  “An Advent box? I’ve never heard of that.”

  “I just named it that because there are more drawers, maybe enough to last until Christmas. Simon will search for one each day after school.” Melanie turned to Simon, and with mock severity waggled her finger under his nose. “If his school work is done.”

  Hank knew how curious Simon was and how much he liked working with his hands. He’d taken to whittling like he was born to it.

  “And there was a present in the drawer I found, Pa.” Simon held up a penny. “Miss Douglas said it’s a Christmas present for me. This box is full of secret drawers. And I have to stop disrupting class, too. Then I can spend the after-school time searching for another secret drawer.”

  Hank met those green eyes again. He was the one who’d challenged her to manage his son better. And she had come up with the perfect way.

  “Can I see the box?” Hank grinned, unable to stop it. He wanted to search for hidden drawers, too. Melanie could probably make him behave and study with this box.

  Simon and Melanie shared a conspiratorial smile.

  Simon snapped something inside what looked like the opening for one of the drawers. “You try and find it, Pa.”

  Hank took the box before he noticed it was full dark. “I want to, but we’ve got to go home. We’ll be late for supper as it is.”

  “Maybe you could try and get here a bit earlier tomorrow night, Hank.” The asperity caught his attention; then he saw the sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

  It widened his grin. “Maybe I can think of a way to get here. I wouldn’t mind helping with the hunt.” His hands tightened on the box, and he was surprised at how badly he wanted to sit down and search or maybe run off with the box and spend the evening with it.

  Melanie snatched it from his hand. “I see that look. Simon had it, too. No, you may not take the box. The only way for Simon to spend time with it is to study and behave. And the only way for you to spend time with it, Hank, is to get here earlier. The rest of the time, this box is mine alone.”

  She tucked the box into a satchel that stood open on the desktop. “Well, it is time to close up for the day, gentlemen. I will see you early tomorrow morning, Simon. And you, Hank, I’ll see perhaps late tomorrow afternoon.”

  Hank tugged on the brim of his Stetson. She had him caught just like a spider with a web. He’d work faster tomorrow, and he’d be here closer to school closing than he had been. And spend a bit of time with his son.

  Chapter 8

  Thursday, December 2

  The Fifth Day of Advent

  Melanie woke up exhausted the next morning. She’d stayed up terribly late last night. It took forever to find the rest of the drawers, and she had to do it before Simon did.

  She’d managed to finagle each of the backs of the eight drawers open—none of them worked the same way—and she hoped the bright little boy didn’t find a drawer she hadn’t, because there’d be no gift.

  With a smile she knew if he found an empty drawer, he’d just have to keep searching for the day anyway, and the gift wasn’t the thing. It was the search. If he found a drawer she hadn’t, he’d probably crow with delight at having bested her.

  Then she had to produce a small gift to put in each one. She had no opportunity to buy anything. She had to be at school by 7:00 a.m. to beat her little friend’s arrival and stay until nearly six at night waiting for Hank to come for him.

  She had to come up with a few tiny gifts before Saturday, when finally she’d have a chance to go to the general store.

  She looked among her own meager things—she hadn’t left the orphanage for this job with many possessions.

  Two things for Thursday and Friday. A little red pin, circular with a white cross painted on it. She’d earned this for perfect Sunday school attendance. She could find only one more thing small enough. A tiny, silver angel that she’d had all her life. At the orphanage, she’d been told it was sewn into the hem of the little dress she’d been wearing when she was found left in a basket on a church doorstep.

  The kind ladies who’d raised her kept it until she was old enough to care for it. It was her most treasured possession. Praying for a generous spirit, she thought of that unruly and loveable little Simon and smiled. It was easy to tuck the angel into the drawer.

  If she thought of anything else to put in, and he didn’t find this first, she might retrieve it. But where better to place an angel than in an Advent box?

  As she left, with Mrs. Rathbone’s nagging still ringing in her ears, she wondered if she should tell the old woman about the secret drawers. There was no question that Mrs. Rathbone had given her the box, but maybe if she knew about the hidden drawers, she’d want it back. After the first
piece of embroidery, Melanie had found nothing in those drawers, and if she did, she would most certainly give anything she found to her landlady.

  She’d spread the handkerchief on a flat surface to be a doily, and it felt as if she’d decorated for Christmas.

  Melanie didn’t ask. Simon was too excited about the box. What if Magda decided she did want it? Then what would happen to Simon and his behavior?

  Melanie decided she’d wait until after Christmas to show Magda the hidden drawers. Though Melanie found herself loving the little chest, she’d return it to Magda if the woman wanted it.

  Monday, December 13

  The Sixteenth Day of Advent

  “Have you found a new one yet?” Hank found himself nearly running during the day to get all his chores done. And he could have stayed longer at the farm and walked a patrol around the town to make sure everyone knew the sheriff was on duty. But he loved helping Simon and Melanie play with that box.

  And each hidden space was harder to find. He had a feeling the hard part was just beginning.

  “Hi, Pa.” Simon lit up. “I’ve been hunting awhile, but we’ve found all the easy ones.”

  “The easy ones?” Hank laughed as he hung up his coat and hat.

  At the sight of his son’s cheerful welcome, Hank kept a smile on his face, but honestly he wanted to kick his own backside. How many times had he been too busy to make sure his son was happy?

  “Those hidden spaces in the backs of the drawers weren’t easy.”

  Simon laughed, and Melanie’s sweet, musical laughter joined in. She was so pretty. Hank pulled a chair up to the desk on Simon’s right while Melanie sat on the boy’s left. He’d brought the chairs over the third day they’d worked together; before that there’d only been Melanie’s teacher’s chair in the schoolhouse.

  Simon turned the box so the side with the drawers lay facedown on the table. “The whole back half is still not open, Pa. The drawers and spaces behind ‘em don’t come close to taking up all the space.” Simon held the box up so it was between them, his eyes intent as he examined the back.

  “These thin slats of wood must open.” Hank wanted to grab the box and push and slide those slats. Instead, he let his son work on it. Hank quietly pointed here and there, making suggestions.

  “Try sliding two at a time. Remember that one hidden compartment that only opened when all the other compartments were closed and the drawers were back in place, except for the one we were working on?” Melanie reached for the box, checked herself, and pulled her hand back. Hank laughed quietly and looked up at her.

  “Hard to be patient, huh?”

  She laughed.

  “Thanks for letting me find them.” Simon looked up. Hanks’s son’s blue eyes gleamed as bright as a guiding star.

  “Get back to work.” Hank jabbed a finger at the box, but he smiled all the way from his heart. A heart that’d felt more dead than alive for the last two years. “It ain’t easy to be so generous.”

  Melanie laughed. Simon joined in then bent his head back to the box, still chuckling. The boy focused intently on the job—but with a smile on his face.

  Melanie brushed a yellow curl off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear in a move so graceful Hank could’ve sworn he heard music. She rested a hand on Simon’s head with an amazingly motherly gesture. Hank looked up and met Melanie’s green gaze. She quietly snickered and smoothed Simon’s unruly black curls.

  Her laughter, the affectionate touch, the change in his boy, the few inches that separated them—all hit Hank in a different way than the usual jolt.

  Something so deep, so strong.

  He cared about her, and not in a way that had anything to do with a good teacher who’d found a way to manage an unruly student. The feeling had nothing to do with Simon at all.

  He cared about her. He knew he could love her.

  Their eyes held. The moment stretched. Hank felt himself lean closer. With Simon here, he couldn’t think of kissing her, but—he was thinking of kissing her.

  He was drawn to her warmth and heat. She leaned his direction, just an inch, two inches, three. He lifted his hand to rest it on top of hers, still caressing Simon’s hair.

  When he touched that soft, smooth skin, he remembered Greta. They’d been this close, with Simon between them, as she died, their unborn child forever trapped inside her.

  He’d touched her just this way. Simon, her hand, his. And felt the life go out of her. Seen the moment her eyes had lost vitality. Her hand had slid from Simon to the bed, and all Hank’s love couldn’t hold her. As she lay dying in childbirth, he felt as if his love had killed her.

  Pain like he’d never known swept over him. He’d barely survived losing her. In a lot of ways he hadn’t survived—neither had Simon. They’d stayed alive, but there was no life in either of them, no joy, no family, no love.

  And now here he was touching another woman. He would never put himself through that much pain again.

  Only a fool risked that. He didn’t know what went across his face, but right there, with Simon so intent on the Advent box that they might as well have been alone, her spark of laughter died. Her hand slid from between Hank’s hand and Simon’s head, just as Greta’s had.

  She looked down and brushed some bit of nothing off her dress and cleared her throat. “I need to spend a little time getting tomorrow’s lesson together.”

  “No, Miss Douglas.” Simon looked up from the box, wheedling. “Stay and help.”

  “Let me get a few things done for the Christmas program practice for tomorrow. I ask you to do your work before you can work on the Advent box, so it’s only fair I behave by the same rules.” Melanie reached, froze, then almost as if she couldn’t stop herself she brushed Simon’s dark, over-long hair off his forehead. His curls flopped back right where they had been.

  “I’ll come back as soon as I’m finished.” She smiled at Simon, too decent to let the boy see she needed to get away. “In the meantime, you and your pa work together.”

  He’d hurt her to protect himself. A shameful thing for a man to do.

  Simon let her go without an argument. And Simon hadn’t done anything without an argument in two years. His tears had dried after Greta’s funeral and he’d started causing trouble. And Hank had found enough work so that he could avoid dealing with his troublesome son.

  Only since Melanie had Hank been able to see a ray of hope that his son might stop being such an angry youngster. So, he’d thank her for it and thank God for bringing such a good teacher into town, but he would not let any feelings for her take root.

  She moved away, and he focused on this strange box-full-of-secrets. As he studied it, he wondered if he was like this box. Full of hidden places.

  Guarded, impossible to open unless someone worked really hard.

  Hank decided he liked it that way. He would open enough to let his son in, but no more. And just as well, because what woman would work so hard for the doubtful pleasure of finding all the private places in Hank’s heart, especially if he hurt them when they got close?

  With regret, but feeling far less afraid, he went back to working with Simon. They were at it for a long time, completely lost in testing each and every piece of wood in every way they could think of. Then while he held a small slat of wood that sprung back into place whenever they let it go, Simon tipped the box on its side and they heard a faint click. Hank’s eyes rose and met his son’s.

  “Did you hear that, Pa?” Simon almost vibrated with excitement.

  It hit Hank hard that Simon had been sitting still, working hard, showing great patience for a long time. Hank had, too. He remembered how hard it’d been for him to stay in his desk when he was a sprout. One of these days he ought to tell Simon he was a pretty normal child. In looks Hank and Simon were a match, but it appeared that they were a match inside as well.

  For now, Hank smiled at his boy; then the two of them turned back to the box. Simon went right back to his diligent work, but it only took
a couple of seconds for him to slide one of the thin boards on the back. It slid all the way out and revealed a skinny compartment, as tall as the box but less than an inch deep. And inside the little space was—

  “Miss Douglas, it’s a tin soldier.” Simon’s voice shook with excitement. He’d been whittling, and he’d made a little soldier. Hank knew the boy had plans to build his own army. Now he could add this little tin man to it. The soldier shone in the lantern light, and that’s when Hank realized it had gotten dark. Every day was shorter as they closed in on the first day of winter.

  “Miss Douglas, come and see.” Simon lifted up the toy. Hank realized, not for the first time, that Simon didn’t understand where these toys came from. The boy thought they were just there, maybe miraculously, put there by God as Christmas gifts.

  Melanie hadn’t taken credit for the gifts herself.

  She came close, her attention all on Simon, and smiled at the intricately shaped toy. “That’s beautiful. Didn’t you say you were whittling a toy soldier?”

  “Yep and now I’ve got two. By the time I’m done, I’m going to have a big enough army to protect everyone.”

  Hank wanted that, too, a way to protect everyone.

  But first Hank had failed his wife. Then by neglect, he’d failed his son. Now he was busy protecting himself from another broken heart.

  Did that mean for once he was doing right by protecting himself? He looked at Melanie, who’d never spared him a glance, and wondered if instead it meant he was failing again.

  Chapter 9

  “And don’t think I won’t talk to the school board!”

  Melanie could usually remain calm, but the way Hank had looked at her tonight—as if he wanted her as far away from himself as possible—had shredded her normal calm. She’d prayed almost desperately while she tried to find something to do to keep busy until Hank and Simon left.