[2016] Widow Finds Love

by Christian Michael

  “You don’t have to yell,” she said, stepping onto the platform, little Bernd nestled against her shoulder. “I can hear you just fine.”

  Bernd breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the sight of the woman who’d taken him by surprise and completely undone his guarded heart. “I’m sorry,” Bernd said, stumbling. “I’m sorry that I let you think for one minute that I didn’t care about you. I don’t do well with emotions, especially inside myself. That’s not an excuse, I’m just saying so you’d know. I never saw myself as the marrying type. I figured that if marriage had been for me it would have come much sooner in my life. I didn’t stop to think that perhaps God was saving me for a woman who’d need me. I wouldn’t blame you for leaving, Sarah, but I’m be much obliged if you’d reconsider.”

  “Have you changed your mind then, on not having anything to offer me?”

  “I don’t see it as much, not when I think about you and that sweet baby. I think of all the things I’d like to give you and what I have just doesn’t seem like much. However, I’d be willing to give you everything I have, everything I ever will have, if you’d stay.”

  “I need that said in clearer terms, Mr. Blindow.”

  “If you’ll have me, Sarah Dickerson, I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and Bernd. Finding a way to provide you with the life I think you deserve and living the life God has blessed us with.”

  “Are you asking me to marry you then?” Sarah asked, a grin growing on her face. Bernd smiled too and dropping to one knee held his arms open.

  “I’m begging you to stay and fill in all the gaps I never even knew I had in my life, until I found you.”

  “Alright,” Sarah smiled. “Then I guess for starters we had better get some adoption papers made so this little man can be Bernd Benjamin Dickerson-Blindow. After all, his name should match that of his parents.”

  The adoption papers took less than two weeks to go through once Sarah and Bernd were married. Sarah had to provide Ben’s death certificate and a part of her heart hurt for the man she’d loved who would never see his son on this side of heaven. Still, she knew she’d always remember him when she looked at her son and that would always put a smile on her face.

  THE END.

  Runaway Love

  Mail Order Bride

  CHRISTIAN MICHAEL

  Chapter 1

  New York

  “What a bore,” the girl said, fanning herself and searching the room for yet another young gentleman to flirt with over the top of her fan.

  “Isabel, he’s a nice man,” Lucy Castle said, pushing a dark brown curl back into place and allowing her gaze to rest on the couples dancing in front of her. Some days, like this one, she dreamed of a different life. A life where she wasn’t required to attend balls and where she didn’t have to listen to friends defame one of the only, truly nice men in the room.

  “You must be joking,” Isabel said, her laugh brash for such a delicate frame.

  “Not at all. I find his conversation fascinating.”

  “Maybe because you think more of politics and the topics of horses than you do truly interesting things.”

  Lucy sighed. “I may not enjoy common gossip like you do, but that doesn’t mean my interest are boring.”

  Isabel rolled her eyes and pushed away from the settee she had been leaning against. “I see Lord Grandle eyeing me from across the room. I think I prefer his company to yours right now.”

  Lucy watched as Isabel left, feeling no regret at her leaving. Her eyes trailed the room and came to rest on a new face. One she didn't recognize immediately. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him immediately. Then she remembered. Her father had introduced him as the son of one of his wealthy counter parts from the Chicago area. Charles…something.

  She couldn’t remember and pulled her gaze from him, looking to the other side of the room. It was warm, as it always was during heavily packed balls, and she wished she could be upstairs reading or out in the woods on her father’s country estate. What she wouldn’t give to be riding a horse right—

  “Excuse me, but aren’t you Miss Castle?”

  She turned to the voice, startled to see the man she’d been observing. “Yes. Um, Mr.—?”

  “Benning. Charles Benning. My father is Langston Benning. I'm sure you’ve heard of him.”

  The touch of arrogance in his voice irked her immediately. “Yes. I suppose I have,” she replied, going for an air of indifference. Maybe he would take the hint and leave.

  “I dare say you should have. He nearly owns half of Chicago.” Charles laughed, the sound like nails grating on a chalkboard to Lucy.

  She tried to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Money. That was all anyone ever talked about during these balls.

  “Well, how nice for him.”

  Charles narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem thrilled to meet me.”

  She almost laughed. How was she supposed to respond to that?

  He saved her the trouble. “I mean, I thought you would be, seeing as how we’re practically engaged.”

  Lucy had the misfortune to be in the middle of a sip of punch when he delivered this information and, before she could stop herself, she’d spewed half the liquid out.

  “What?”

  Charles stepped back, appalled at her lack of decorum. “There’s an arrangement between our fathers. I was just made privy to it a few weeks ago. Your father must not have told you yet.”

  She wanted to refute him, to tell him he was mistaken, but she couldn’t. The sad truth was that her father would do something exactly like this. He only saw her—and everyone else in his life—as a pawn to be used in whatever way benefited him best.

  Marriage to Charles had to be his next, strategic move. It made her furious. She may not be a man, or in a position to refute her father, but she wasn’t about to sit by and let him marry her off to whomever he wanted.

  It was time for a plan she had long thought to implement. One that took daring and no small amount of courage. If she wanted to live the life of adventure she longed for she would have to accept the risks and hope they would reap far greater rewards.

  She was going to become a mail order bride.

  ***

  Montana

  Ben Epps folded his hands over his flat stomach, gazing down the length of the empty table. It was nights like these that he felt the extent of his loneliness. Perhaps his mother was right. In her last letter to him she had espoused the benefits of marriage, not so subtly hinting that it was in his best interest to take a wife and settle down.

  He laughed into the growing darkness of the dining room. In his best interests, or hers? She had wanted grandchildren for years, assurance their line would continue, but she was stuck with a son who valued hard work and the life of a rancher over the finer things like high society and dinner parties.

  Not that he minded that lifestyle. In fact, over the past few months he’d missed the business of coming home after working in an office and getting ready to go to a party. He missed the social life that Boston had offered.

  “Mr. Ben,” a man said, stepping into the dining room, “Did you want dessert now?”

  Ben smiled. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Ben if you want to, Carl?”

  “Nah,” the older man said, nodding his head. “Can’t do that, Mr. Ben.”

  Ben sighed, giving in to the older man whom he’d hired mainly to give him a job more than out of necessity. The man was an excellent cook and had been given a raw deal at the local hotel. At least here on the ranch Carl was treated well and had a place to sleep.

  “Bring on the dessert then, Mr. Carl.”

  Carl laughed at that and disappeared, coming back with a plate holding a large slice of apple pie. “Your favorite, Mr. Ben.”

  He accepted the plate and motioned for Carl to sit down. “Join me. It’s too quite in here.”

  Carl did and watched as Ben took his first bite. It was heavenly.

&n
bsp; “Mmm,” he said, licking the fork, “This is the best pie I’ve ever had.”

  “Glad to hear it. Was my wife’s recipe.”

  Ben blinked. “Your wife?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, nodding slowly. His eyes glazed over in memory. “She was the prettiest little thing there ever was. Like a ray of sunshine came down to earth and became a woman. I would have married her on sight, but I was only ten years old.” Carl let out a rough laugh, slapping the table.

  “Oh my,” Ben said, enjoying the man’s enthusiasm.

  “I waited until we were seventeen the up and married her.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

  Ben hated to ask, but he hated to know. “What happened to her?”

  “The fever,” Carl said, looking down at his weathered hands clasped in front of him on the table. “She took sick at age twenty and died in late fall.”

  Ben felt the loss as if he’d known the woman. “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

  “The Good Lord blessed us with many happy years. I can’t complain.” He shook his head then met Ben’s eyes. “What about you, Mr. Ben? Got any plans to marry?”

  Ben smiled, surprised where the conversation had taken them. Was this God’s prompting?

  “I'm not sure, but maybe,” he admitted.

  Carl nodded, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Sir, I’d recommend the Matrimonial Journal. You won’t find suitable young women in this town—believe me—but there’s some fine young women back East. Though you probably already know that.”

  Ben considered the man’s words, savoring the last bite of his pie. He’d heard many men in town tell of their efforts to find a wife through advertisements and mail order brides. Some had even had great success.

  Surely his mother would approve of a woman from a larger city and good standing.

  Ben nodded, his thoughts turning as sweet as the pie he’d just had. Maybe it was time he settled down.

  “You may just have something there, Carl,” he said.

  Tomorrow he’d put plans in motion to place and advertisement in the better-known and more expensive matrimonial journals in New York and Boston. If the Lord saw fit, maybe he’d find himself a wife that even his mother couldn’t find fault with.

  Chapter 2

  Lucy clutched Ben’s last letter in her hand like it was a lifeline to her future, and in some ways it was. She had told her father she was going out to a party that night but it was only a ruse to get out of the house. Telling the driver to wait, she rushed to the side of the house where her maid, one of the most loyal girls Lucy knew, had hidden her bags and all of the things she’d be taking West with her.

  Then, instructing the driver to take her to the train station, she tried in vain to calm her frayed nerves. This was the right thing to do, she knew it, but it was also the most difficult. Her mother would be devastated when she found the note inscribed personally to her. Her father, on the other hand, would be livid.

  It was the price she had to pay—or rather, he had to pay—for attempting to control her life. She was proving to him that she could make up her own mind and plan the steps of her own future.

  Not to mention the fact that she rather enjoyed her letters to Mr. Epps. She bit her lip trying to tame her smile. He was charming, wrote in a strong hand, and had a good sense of humor. From what he had told her, he lived on a cattle ranch, loved horses, and enjoyed being outdoors. He also seemed to be well-read, which made her very happy as well.

  Lucy could see it now. They would live in a small cabin somewhere, enjoying one another’s company. He would work during the day as she did household duties, whatever was required in West, and at night they would read. And, if she wanted, she could ride to her hearts content and be out doors in the wilderness.

  The thought nearly made her explode in anticipation but she calmed herself down with the reality she had to make it to Montana first.

  The driver pulled up to the station and helped her with her bags then left. She had purchased her ticked the week before and was ready when the train rumbled into the station. She passed the lower class cars and entered the red velvet coaches she was familiar with.

  How had Ben afforded this for her?

  She shook her head in amazement. He had likely saved to bring a wife out West for a long time. A brief thought made her wonder if he was much older than he said, but she pushed it away. Even if he was age wasn’t a factor in loving a person. It was only a number.

  Once she was settled with a book in her lap and tea on the way, she finally began to relax. It would be a long ride with many stops along the way, but the journey excited her. Unlike many of her friends, she didn’t avoid adventure. Instead, she embraced it head on, looking forward to what she would learn along the way.

  And this adventure would certainly be a learning process. That she could be sure of.

  The train slowed to a stop jolting Lucy awake. She tried desperately to wipe sleep from her eyes but she was still groggy when an attendant came up to her, a look of concern on his face.

  “We’re here ma’am. Are you well?”

  “Yes, yes of course,” she said, standing. The days of travel had taken their toll on her, casing her sleep to be fitful at best. The last hour or so she’d dozed off and now she tried desperately to shake off the remints of sleep that clung to her.

  Following the man off the train, she stepped onto the platform and took in a deep breath. The air was crisp and clean. It even tasted clean—not like the air in New York. She blinked, unaccustomed to the brightness from being in the train car for so long.

  Looking around the platform, she searched out the faces surrounding her. How would she know Ben? Would he recognize her from the description she gave? Then again, as she looked around at the crowd surrounding her, she realized they were mostly men. She wouldn’t be hard to spot.

  Then from behind her a deep voice spoke up. “Miss Castle?”

  ***

  When Lucy Castle turned toward him his breath caught. She was stunning with vibrant green eyes, dark brown curly hair that was slightly mussed, and pert lips that curved up at the corners.

  “Yes. Mr. Epps?”

  He nodded, unable to from a coherent word. She was perfect, if he could so boldly call her that. His mother would be hard pressed to find fault with her.

  “I—” he faltered, unsure of what he really wanted to say. So many thoughts flooded his mind.

  “Should we get my bags?”

  Bags. Yes. That would be a safe place to start so he wouldn't pull her into his arms and kiss her right there on the platform. Though he was sure the men milling about would send up a cheer for him.

  As he followed her down the platform he admired her shapely curves and her fluid movement as she glided toward the platform. She showed him, which trunk was hers and he indicated where the men could take it, buying himself another moment without speaking by feigning interest in how they loaded the trunk.

  Then they were seated in his wagon on the way back to his home, the distance between them feeling like a chasm and too close all at the same time.

  “So,” she said, smoothing out a wrinkle in her dress, “Are we going to the church?”

  He glanced at her, confused for a second. The deep blush on her cheeks drew him in and he had to focus on what she was saying. The church? Why would they go—

  Oh! Of course.

  “I’m sorry,” he gave a rueful look, “I should have explained. My mother desperately wanted to be here for the wedding. I hope you don’t mind, but she’s planning to be here next week. Until then I’ve hired someone to stay with us so were…um,” he cleared his throat, “Her name is Kate.”

  Her slight smile showed she noticed his uncomfortable response but she didn’t comment on it. Instead she said, “Oh, I see. Thank you for considering…all of that.”

  They both turned their attention to the road before him and he desperately tried to think of something smart and funny to say. It was unlike him, but he wanted to be d
ebonair. She looked as if she had class and came from a well-off family. Would she think living in the West was beneath her?

  Then again it wasn’t like he was necessarily living as the average man from the West.

  “How was your trip?” he finally asked, unable to think of anything more interesting.

  “It was good…though long.”

  She had to be exhausted. “I’m sure you’d like to rest. I didn’t have anything else planned for us today if you’d like to nap.”

  Part of him wanted her to decline, to prefer sitting and talking to him but she nodded saying, “That would be nice.”

  The large house came into view and he saw her sit up taller. “That’s your home?”

  “It is.”

  “It’s so…large.”

  He smiled with pride, though the funds to purchase the ranch had come from his mother, not from hard work.

  “It’s a little large, but I figure someday there would be a need for more space.” Heat rushed up his neck. He was thinking about children and they weren’t even married yet.

  The pink tinge on her cheeks lingered but he also saw a smile there.

  He pulled back on the reins and before he knew it one of the hands was there to take the horses. Normally he would have done it himself, though the hands usually insisted, but he wanted every minute with his bride-to-be.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Carl said, stepping onto the porch with Kate behind him. The young girl was shy, keeping her head down, but Carl spoke enough for them both. “You must be Miss Castle. Aren’t we lucky to have you here safe and sound? I’m Carl and I’d like to welcome you to Montana. What do you think of the ranch? Better yet, Mr. Ben?”

  Carl let out a laugh as Ben stifled a groan. Leave it to Carl to say whatever was on his mind.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Carl,” she said, gracious and kind as ever, “And I like…all of it.”