by Leah Atwood
“I’m not a young pup, unsure of which path to take. I want to marry you, Cora. I’d drag you to the preacher’s tonight, except my sister would have my hide if I got married without her present.” That garnered a small giggle from Cora. “Please say you’ll marry me. Let’s spend our Christmas together, as man and wife.”
For a long time, she remained silent, and he held his breath, waiting for an answer. Finally, she gave a barely perceptible nod. “Yes.”
“You mean it?” he asked, refraining from shouting with glee.
“Yes, I’ll marry you tomorrow.”
He stood, grabbing her hand again and bringing her up with him. “May I kiss you?”
She nodded in slow motion. Not wasting any more time, he cupped her cheeks with his palms and tilted her head upward. Lowering his mouth, their lips met in a kiss to seal their promise of forever. Feelings of warmth and home and family and love—everything in this world that was good—coursed through him. After all this time, he’d found his forever bride.
Chapter Eight
Sitting on a wooden pew, Cora looked around the small church. Several months ago, she would have never thought it possible to be so blissfully happy, but here she was, one-week married, sitting in church for a special Christmas service. Eli sat beside her, holding her hand with a proud grin on his face. Such a wonderful husband, he was. Loving, attentive, caring and generous.
She owed Aunt Patricia a debt of gratitude for helping her see the truth about this man she married. He cared for her. Not her past, not what she could do for him, but just her. Each day, her insecurities faded away as she gained confidence in her new role.
The preacher instructed everyone to stand for the next song. Someone in the congregation began singing the first line of “Joy to the World” and soon everyone in the room joined in. This year, she stopped to really listen to the lyrics. For the first time in a long time, she felt happy. How fitting, she thought, that this newfound joy would come at a time when the Savior’s birth is celebrated. In a way, it was a new birth for her. She was saying goodbye to the past and hello to the future.
Suddenly, a cold gust swept through the church, followed by a horrendous stench she would know anywhere. All voices ceased singing and Cora knew heads were turning to face the rear of the church. She couldn’t bring herself to look. It couldn’t be. Not when everything was going so well. She squeezed Eli’s hand and bit her bottom lip. Closing her eyes, she pleaded in a quick prayer that there was someone else in this world who could own a stench that foul.
“I know you’re in here, Cora. You sneaky, unappreciative wench.” Pa’s slurred words cut through her with a knife.
The townsfolk parted ways, slinking to the side walls, unsure of what was happening. Eli must have figured it out because his jaw clenched and his muscles tightened.
She stepped boldly into the aisle, pulling Eli with her. “What do you want, Pa?” Somehow, she managed to keep her voice even.
“For you to come home where you belong, gal. You’ve gotten too uppity for your own good.”
Eli stepped forward, his hand jerking away from hers. She put an arm out to stop him, sending him a pleading look. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m married now and this is my husband, Eli Farley.”
Pa sneered. “I’ve heard all about your husband while I was over at the saloon. Forget whatever fanciful notions you have of love. All he wants you for is to warm his bed.”
A collective gasp rang through the congregation. There was no holding Eli back. He stomped forward, quickly followed by the preacher and several other men who were present. Together, they escorted Pa out of the church.
But Pa’s removal from the building wouldn’t resolve the issue, so she followed the men, all while hot tears pooled in her eyes.
“Ask him, Cora. Ask your husband about the other women he was gonna marry. Two others he tried to marry, but they escaped. He doesn’t care about you none, you’re just the first one to finally follow through with the marrying part.”
Outside the church, the men released her Pa and backed away, but stayed near in case needed again. Eli looked at her, a tormented expression marring his handsome face.
“Is it true, Eli? Did you have two other fiancées this year?” She looked him straight in the eye, feeling oddly confident whereas several weeks ago she would have fallen apart.
He came closer, standing near but not touching her. “Yes it’s true, but now I know why neither of them worked out. I was waiting for you all along, but I didn’t know it. You’re the most wonderful bride of the year, of my life. I love you, Cora, please believe that.”
She looked at him, then looked at Pa. One man had made the choice to neglect her, feed her lies about her worth, and never show her love. The other man had willingly made a choice to love her, to support her, to be there beside her. She loved Pa, because he was her Pa, but she would not give him power over her anymore.
Taking a step forward, she slid her arms around her husband’s waist. “I love you too, Eli.” Then she stepped back again and walked to her father. “You don’t have to live like this, Pa. There are better things in this world waiting for you if you’d only reach for them.”
Something akin to shame passed over her Pa’s eyes. “It’s too late for me, gal.”
Eli came to her side. “This is Christmas, Mr. Barnett, a time we celebrate miracles. I love your daughter and we will have a good life. It’s not too late for you to sober up, change your ways and be a part of that life.”
Cora watched the struggle in her father’s eyes. “You’re so much like your Ma, ‘cept you’re stronger than she ever was.” With those final words, he turned and walked away.
What had she expected? She started to go after him. It didn’t seem right to let him wander off, alone and drunk, into the frigid night air—especially on Christmas, of all days.
“Stay put dear.” Aunt Patricia had come outside. “It’s about time my brother and I have another heart-to-heart.”
Aunt Patricia followed her brother into the darkness and the other men returned inside. Strains of “O Come All Ye Faithful,” came from the church.
“Thank you for believing in me.” Eli looked at her, his expression so sincere, his affection for her shining brightly. “I love you, Cora. With all my heart, I love you.”
“I love you too, for so many reasons.”
“Merry Christmas, my love.” He lowered his head to kiss her, just as the first snowflake of a flurry drifted down and rested on his eyelashes.
“It’s a merry Christmas, indeed.”
Epilogue
One year later
A small crowd gathered in the parlor. Everyone had been eager to meet the town’s newest resident. Eli smiled at his wife, then looked down at his one-day-old daughter, Eva, who was contentedly snuggled in her Ma’s arms. Pride burst through him. God had blessed him with such a beautiful family. Little had he known a year ago that his first anniversary would be spent with his wife in labor, giving birth to their beautiful little girl.
Christmas was only a few days away, but he’d already received his gifts, one of which looked up and smiled when she caught his gaze. “I love you,” he whispered.
“Everyone out now,” Aunt Patricia, which he now called her, instructed to the people in the room. “The new parents need their rest.”
Leave it to her to take charge, but he was grateful. Without it, he may never have met Cora and that would be an utter shame.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone had gone home, except Aunt Patricia, who was staying over for several days as Cora adjusted to motherhood. He went into the kitchen to prepare a cup of hot tea for his wife when there was a knock at the door. Groaning, he walked over to answer it. He was glad the town loved Cora so much, but he would love some time alone with her.
When the door was opened, he saw a man who looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place him. He looked to be around fifty years of age, give or take a few years, and wore simple denim pa
nts and a cotton shirt. The clothes looked to be worn and thin, but clean. “Can I help you, sir?” Eli asked.
“I’ve come to see my daughter. If she’ll see me.” The man’s voice shook as he spoke.
Eli was rendered speechless. Looking at the man again, he saw it now. This was Cora’s dad, cleaned up and presumably sober. “Come in, Mr. Barnett.”
“Who was at the door?” Aunt Patricia asked, walking into the room. She froze when she saw her brother. “Jed?”
“It’s me, Patty.”
“Pa?” Cora shuffled into the room now as well.
“Hi, Cora,” he greeted his daughter while shifting his feet, his nervousness showing.
“What are you doing here, Pa?” Cora asked, hope tinging her tone.
“I’ve come to ask forgiveness of you and Patty. I’ve done turned my life around.” Sadness and regret filled his eyes as he looked around. “I can’t go undoing what I’ve done, but I’m really sorry for how I’ve treated you both. I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for another chance to be in your life.”
Cora handed Eva to Eli before walking to her father and embracing him. Eli saw the tears streaming down her face and wasn’t so sure he didn’t have some also after watching the touching scene. After several moments, father and daughter separated.
Eli went to her. With Eva secure in one arm, he slid the other arm around his wife’s waist. His family was growing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. For the second year in a row, Christmas had come early, and he looked forward to many more.
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” Luke 2:14 (KJV)
Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
I hope you have enjoyed this little Christmas tale, of being open to the gift’s God gives us. There are so many times he places them directly in front of us, but we’re too blinded by our own pride or insecurities to see. Recently, I read a quote (questionably attributed to Mother Theresa) that says, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love,” It made me stop and think of Eli, buying the dresses for Cora. Then I thought, how can I apply this to my life? With Christmas approaching, it’s the perfect time to think of others and show God’s love through our actions. Maybe it’s just a card to the recently widowed woman on your street, or dropping dinner off to the mom with a new baby. Let’s fill the world with those small things done with a great love.
I wish you the merriest of Christmases and a holiday full of joy! If you would like to keep up with the latest releases, including next releases in The Brides of Weatherton and Come to Me series, please sign up for my newsletter here.
Until next time,
Leah
Website: www.leahatwood.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/leahatwoodauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/leahawrites
Other Titles from Leah Atwood
Mail Order Matches: Short stories and novelettes
The Ultimatum Bride
A Man to Be Proud Of
Their First Noelle
The Not Quite Mail-Order Bride
The Mail-Order Bride’s Quilt
Riches of the Heart
Unlikely Substitute
Brides of Weatherton: Novellas and short novels
After the Rain
Fire and Ice
Full Length Contemporary Novels
Come to Me Alive
Excerpt from Fire and Ice- Brides of Weatherton Two
“You want me to do what?” On the threshold of losing his temper, Sam Holden gritted his teeth immediately after his outburst.
“All I’m asking is for you to meet her when she gets off the train. It’s not that big of a deal.” Patrick’s flippant response pushed him over the edge.
His boots thumped against the dirt as he stomped down the three steps from the porch, leaving his brother behind. There was no way he’d partake in this. It wasn’t right. He stopped in his tracks then turned back to Patrick, his indignation taking over.
“No big deal? You send away for a bride, decide you don’t really want one and then ask me to go get her. What next, Patrick? What will happen to this poor girl you’ve brought all the way to Wyoming. Did you think about that?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he squinted his eyes, daring his brother to argue. He could count on his hands how many times he’d stood up to his brother, but when he did, Patrick knew lines had been crossed. “Of course not, because you never think of anyone but yourself.”
Patrick took several steps forward, stopping when he was within an arm’s reach. “I didn’t say I didn’t want her,” he hissed.
The front door to the house swung open and Ma stepped out. She didn’t say a word but gave him and Patrick a pointed glare. Her fatigued eyes held a clear message—stop the fighting. Clucking her tongue, she shook her head and then returned inside.
Grabbing Patrick’s elbow, Sam dragged him toward the barn. “We’ll finish this conversation away from the house. Ma doesn’t need any more worries, though I have a feeling you’ve just added a trough full.”
“Always so dramatic.” Patrick jerked his arm free and sauntered away as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
After his brother had entered the barn, Sam remained outside a minute to take a deep breath and cool his rattled nerves. He’d just about succeeded when his gaze landed on a portion of the barn that needed repairs. Frustration mounted again as he thought how there never seemed to be time to accomplish all the tasks. The barn had needed repairs since winter’s thaw, but he’d kept putting it off in favor of other tasks deemed more necessary. By the looks of it now, if he didn’t fix it soon, even more damage would occur. If Patrick would stick around and pull his weight, life would be much easier.
Only the bond of blood kept Sam from a complete dislike of Patrick. How could two children, twins at that, be so different? He’d wondered that many times over the years. There was nothing similar between them, not even in appearance. Patrick took after their maternal grandfather in looks, with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Quite the contrast against Sam’s own fairer features which mimicked those of their late Pa. Whenever they met someone new, inevitably, the person would look back and forth with surprise, disbelieving the brothers were twins.
Women were instantly drawn to Patrick’s swarthy looks but, unfortunately, didn’t realize until too late that his moral compass which guided his life had long ago been lost. There existed a line of broken hearts from Weatherton to Cheyenne, and, far as Sam knew, Patrick didn’t feel a bit of remorse for his behavior.
Sam, on the other hand, believed in doing the right thing. It’s what defined him as a person. Without his integrity, he’d have nothing. It’s why he’d stayed home and took over the ranch when Pa had died, forsaking his dreams of going to a university. Goodness knew Patrick couldn’t be counted upon to help, but Ma couldn’t do it on alone and the other siblings were too young to shoulder the responsibility.
An aggravated sigh escaped. Maybe a wife would be good for Patrick. Perhaps she could entice him to settle down once and for all and take responsibility. But first a marriage would have to occur and it seemed Patrick had no intentions of making that happen, which led back to what he’d asked Sam to do.
Standing outside wasn’t accomplishing anything. Reluctantly, he went inside the barn to finish the conversation.
“Are you going to help me out?” Patrick leaned against the far wall, chewing on a piece of straw.
“Why can’t you meet her?”
“I have other plans.” A raucous gleam in his eyes told more than Sam wanted to know.
Disgusted, he kicked the dirt floor of the barn, sending a puff of dust into the air. “What are your intentions toward this girl?”
“Which one?” Patrick winked.
Cheeks puffed out, Sam didn’t need to look into a mirror to know his face was red with anger. “The one coming on the train. The one you are bringing here to marry.”
“Ah, Maeve. An Irish lass with red hair.” Patrick discarded the piece of straw and crossed his arms casually over his chest. “All the girls around here have become too boring and standard. A red-head will add some variety.”
Huffing in deep breaths, Sam struggled to control his balled fists from shooting out and knocking his brother in the jaw, such was his level of repugnance. “Is marriage a joke to you?”
“You’re such a stick-in-the-mud, Sam. I’m just having some fun before I settle down.” A shoulder lifted in a carefree shrug.
“And when will that be? Your fiancée will be here in three days. What kind of man goes to see another woman in place of meeting his betrothed at the train station?”
Patrick squinted his eyes and the lines on his forehead crinkled. Finally, a chink in his carefree attitude. When he spoke, his voice was low and gruff. “I’m not like you, Sam. Honor and integrity weren’t built into me like they were you. You’re the good son, not me. I know what you think of me and most of it is probably right. But I promise, once I marry that’ll be it. I won’t run around on her, but I need more time.”
Something in his voice gave Sam pause. There was a hint of…humanity? Morality? Maybe there was hope for him yet. Patrick had never come close to baring his soul or discussing his feelings. Not that Sam made a habit of it either, but he knew how to be serious and accept responsibility—something his brother had never shown an inkling of interest in until just now. He didn’t condone Patrick’s behavior, nor did he fully trust anything he said, but he was willing to budge a bit on the chance Patrick was thinking of changing his ways.
