The Holiday Mail Order Bride (Holiday Mail Order Brides Book 9)

by Kit Morgan

  Ammy glanced between the two with an amused smile. “Christmas pageant?”

  “Yes, dear,” said Mercy. “We put on a small play, sing carols, and several of our townspeople perform in a talent show of sorts.”

  “Sounds like fun,” said Ammy.

  “Sounds like torture,” countered Garrett.

  “Sounds to me like you both would love to volunteer!” Mercy finished with a laugh. “I'll put you down on my list. Rehearsals start tomorrow at the church. Be there at ten o’clock sharp.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Vander?”

  Mercy turned into the face of Eunice Brubauk. “Oh heavens, I didn't know you were standing there.”

  Miss Brubauk gave her a pinched-lip smile. “I thought I heard you say you needed volunteers for your Christmas pageant. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it is, our rehearsals start tomorrow at ten o'clock in the morning.”

  Miss. Brubauk turned, grabbed Bernice by the arm, and shoved her in front of Mrs. Vander. “Young Miss Caulder would love to volunteer.”

  “That's wonderful!” Mercy exclaimed. “You didn't get a chance to help out last year.”

  “That's because she was smarter than the rest of us,” muttered Garrett.

  Mercy ignored his remark. “You can help Garrett and Miss Winters here,” she said then glanced between Ammy and Bernice. “Or… maybe not. It depends on what needs to be done you see.”

  “I think Miss Caulder and your son could get things done in a timely manner, given the chance,” said Miss Brubauk.

  Garrett's eyes widened. “I can partner with Miss Winters just as well,” he said.

  “Oh I don't mind working with the both of you,” Bernice told them.

  “Good, it's settled then. I'll put all three on my list… oh, but Miss Brubauk?”

  The pinched-faced spinster arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

  “What about you? Would you like to volunteer?”

  “Me? Volunteer for your… Christmas thing?”

  “Of course, we need all the help we can get,” said Mercy.

  Garrett cringed. It was bad enough hearing the tales of the infamous Miss Brubauk from Morgan, but to have to deal with her himself…

  “I'd be happy to,” she told his mother.

  Oh no… Garrett thought to himself.

  “This will be fun!” chirped Bernice with a clap of her hands.

  “Indeed,” drawled Miss Brubauk.

  Garrett looked between the three women and Ammy, then let go a heavy sigh. “Let’s just hope this year's pageant isn't like last year's.” In more ways than one. Not only would he have to try and woo and win Ammy, but now he'd have Morgan Tindle’s cantankerous aunt and the clinging Bernice Caulder to deal with. What a day this was turning out to be.

  * * *

  The next day Ammy got up, had her breakfast, and then prepared to meet Garrett to go help with the Christmas pageant. At least this would give her a chance to spend more time with him and get to know him better. Besides, she'd be able to see him interact with some of the other townspeople, and would be able to gauge his character better. If they were to marry, she wanted to make sure he wasn't as indecisive as she first thought. True, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, it wasn't every day a bride was sprung on a man the way she’d been, (unless of course you were one of his friends) and she knew he probably needed a day or two to adjust.

  The problem was she didn't have many days left if Mr. Van Cleet had indeed sent men after them. She'd have to marry, and soon, or be dragged back to Boston. She began to think if she should go to the sheriff in town and warn him. But if Mr. Van Cleet’s men didn't return with her, what would he do to her father? She pondered the question as she descended the stairs for the second time that morning.

  She’d decided to change her clothes after breakfast and donned the powder-blue day dress she purchased the day before. She knew well how it would bring out the color of her eyes and contrast with her dark hair.

  Downstairs, as she waited for Garrett to arrive, she tried to think of something besides Mr. Van Cleet and his vile threats. She instead thought of the time she’d spent with Garrett at the café after his mother left, and the woman and her young counterpart returned to their table to finish their lunch. Garrett became unsettled and she wondered if he was upset to have been volunteered by his mother to help with the pageant. When she asked about last year's pageant, he cringed. “Was it really that bad?”

  “Worse,” he said. “Please, let's not talk about it. I don't want to have nightmares.”

  Good heavens! What could have possibly happened? She never got the chance to ask. Once Clara brought their coffee, she and Garrett bantered back and forth about Betsy, his friend Morgan's marriage to Daisy, and his other friend Julian Smythe, who, like Morgan and Garrett, had returned from school back east. He'd then escorted her home in relative silence, as if he didn't know what to say. Just as well. Ammy didn't know how she would answer if he did talk about marriage again, or the lack thereof.

  She hadn’t been waiting long when Garrett finally arrived. “Are you ready to go?” He asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  She looked at him and smiled. “Yes, as well as can be expected.”

  He didn't say anything and instead offered her his arm. They left the boarding house and headed for the church. It wasn't far, only a couple of blocks. But then, Independence wasn't very big to begin with. When they reached their destination Garrett stopped at the bottom of the church steps. “Ammy, did you think about what I said yesterday?”

  “Which part? That you're going to marry me, or that you're not going to marry me, but then you’re going to marry me again, and now you're not going to marry me but just wish to court?” Ouch. She always did have a way with words.

  “All of it,” he said. “But mainly the part about courting you before I marry you.”

  “Before? What about the part that asks; what if we don't suit?”

  “I have a gut feeling we will.”

  Ammy took a step back as her heart beat harder in her chest. She'd spent half the night convincing herself that she felt nothing for him. But she was wrong. A tiny spark had ignited and he was the one to fan the flame. “What are you saying?”

  He gazed into her eyes and closed the distance between them. “I'm not saying, I'm asking. Give me a chance, Ammy. A fresh start.”

  “Fresh start?”

  He nodded. “Let's pretend I sent away for you and that you’re my mail-order bride,” he explained.

  She cocked her head in curiosity. What was he talking about?

  “What if you arrived on the stage, today, and I just fetched you from it? Now I've brought you here to help out with this pageant.”

  “I'd say the pageant was more important to you than marriage. Wouldn't a man take his mail-order bride directly to the preacher?”

  “Not necessarily. There are lots of mail-order brides that spend a few days with their groom first so they can get to know one another. Just as I'd like to do with you.” He took her hands in his and looked down at her. “So I've picked you up, I've brought you here, and now we’re going to go into that church and I’ll introduce you to folks.”

  She swallowed as she gazed up into his eyes. “Introduce me as what, Garrett?”

  He closed his eyes, almost as if he were bracing himself. He then opened them. “As my mail-order bride.”

  She stifled sob. She would not cry! She hadn't realized until last night how much she wanted to get married. She hadn't considered it in Boston, probably because she was surrounded by her father's wealth or what there was of it. He and the company of servants kept her busy and satisfied. No, she hadn’t thought much about getting a husband until she’d met the handsome Garrett Vander. “Do you mean it?”

  He nodded. “You may have slept well enough last night, but I didn't sleep a wink. My father's right. I do have to marry eventually, and I'm not one to pass up a good thing when
I see it.”

  “So, I take it that you see a good thing now, Mr. Vander?” she asked softly.

  He gave her hands a squeeze and drew her closer. “Yes I do, Miss. Winters, very much so. Now if you'll give me a chance, you can see what you're getting into when you marry me. I think it's only fair don't you?”

  “What do you mean, fair?”

  “I have my faults, as I'm sure you do too.”

  “Are a few days really going to matter when it comes to your… say, snoring? Or that you never put anything back in its place?”

  Garrett smiled. “No, I'm afraid those things you'll find out after we’re married.”

  “Then what's the difference?”

  “For one, I'm not working yet. My father was also right in the fact that we’ll have to live under his roof for a time. “You don't mind, do you?”

  “No, I don't.” She pulled her hands out of his and took a step back. “Either you want to marry me or you don't, Mr. Vander. To me, for whatever reason, you’re stalling, and that tells me you aren't sure yet.”

  “But I am sure…”

  “Then why aren’t we going into this church to get married instead of helping out with a Christmas pageant?”

  Garrett's hands fisted and he took a deep breath. “Blast it woman! Don't you want to be romanced?”

  Ammy stared at him in shock. “Romanced?” She hadn't thought of that before.

  “Yes, romanced! Don't you think it would be nice to have a little before we’re married?”

  “Oh, I see. Is that what this is about?”

  Garrett slapped his forehead with a hand. “I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you.”

  “Yes, well, apparently you were wrong and so was I. I'm sorry I didn't understand what you were saying.”

  He looked at her, smiled, and then laughed. “Aren't we a fine pair?”

  Amy couldn't help but let loose a giggle. “Let's hope we’re not as confusing to each other on our wedding day.”

  Garret closed the distance between them and took her hands once more. “Miss Winters, by the time I'm done with you, you won't be.”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Vander?”

  “A promise,” he said with a wink.

  Ammy shivered at the determined gleam in his eye. “I see. Perhaps we should go in now.”

  Garrett squeezed her hands then held them in front of him. He kissed each one before he released them and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  Ammy stared at him in shock. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing, nor that it would thrill her to her core. She nodded, speechless, and hooked her arm through his. Together, they entered the church.

  Inside Pastor Adams and his wife Winnie were organizing the townspeople into groups. “Has anyone seen the town nominations for the Snow Queen?” He asked above the din of everyone’s chatter.

  Mahulda Brock stepped forward. “I have the nominations in my reticule. We'd best check that all have been turned in.”

  “Quite right,” agreed Winnie. “Are all the nominations for Snow Queen with Mrs. Brock?” she called out.

  “No, I have one more!” yelled Garrett from the back of the church.

  Everyone went silent. Like his father, Garrett Vander had a booming voice when he needed one. “Well, let's have it,” said Mrs. Brock.

  Garrett unwrapped Ammy's arm from his and took in the curious faces staring at them. “Do you have some paper and something to write with?” he asked no one in particular.

  “Here, Garrett,” said Winnie. “I do.” She tore off a piece of paper from one she had in her hand, and gave him a pencil she had tucked behind her ear.

  Garrett scribbled down a name, folded the paper, and gave it to Mrs. Brock. She took it and turned to Pastor Luke. “We need something to draw from.”

  Jonathan Smythe, the undertaker, stepped forward and took off his hat. “Here you go, Mrs. Brock. Use this.”

  Mrs. Brock eyed the hat a second before she started dumping folded pieces of paper into it. Mr. Smythe then shook up the contents and held the hat over his head. “Go ahead, Pastor Adams. Draw a name.”

  Luke reached into the hat, stirred the papers with his fingers a few times, then pulled one out. “Okay then, this year's Snow Queen is…” He unfolded the paper and read the name. “Who on earth is this?” he muttered.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Brock. “Who is it?”

  “Oh, yes, our Snow Queen this year is Miss Ambrosia Winters.” He glanced around the sanctuary. “I don't believe I know this person.”

  Ammy stood in open-mouthed shock and stared at the clergyman. She snapped her mouth shut and eyed Garrett. “What did you do?”

  “Put your name in the hat.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “You're a member of this community aren’t you?”

  “Well… I will be once we’re married I suppose.”

  “What better way to make you feel welcome? Your Highness …” he finished with a bow.

  “But… but…”

  “Miss Winters!” someone squeaked. Bernice shoved her way through the crowd forming around them to stare at Ammy. “How can you be among the nominations? You just got here!”

  Pastor Adams stepped forward. “I don't believe we've met.”

  Garrett straightened and smiled. “Meet Miss Ambrosia Winters. She’s newly arrived from New Orleans. She’s my mail-order bride.”

  “So this is the mail-order bride I've heard about,” said Pastor Adams. “I suppose we’ll need to discuss a wedding.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Garrett. “But Miss Winters and I are going to court a little first before we marry.”

  “Of course, a wise decision,” agreed Pastor Adams. “You'll let me know in the next day or two when you'd like to wed.”

  “How can she have been nominated?” pressed Bernice.

  “Congratulations!” another woman called from the crowd.

  Miss Brubauk glided through the crowd. “Miss Caulder is right. How can Miss Winters have been nominated when she's not one of us?”

  “The same could be said of you,” snapped Mahulda Brock. “You're just a visitor.”

  “Which is why I was not among the nominations,” commented Miss Brubauk.

  “Among other reasons,” Mrs. Brock muttered as she turned away.

  “Miss Winters is marrying Mr. Vander. That's good enough for me,” said Pastor Adams. “Besides, they'll probably be married by the Christmas pageant anyway, right Garrett?”

  Garrett looked down at Ammy and grinned. “Right.”

  “When exactly is this pageant?” she asked.

  “Ten days from now,” said Pastor Adams. “Right before Christmas.”

  Ammy blanched. Ten days! She couldn't wait ten days to get married! For all she knew, ten hours could be too short a time. What was she going to do if Reginald Van Cleet’s men came for her before the Christmas pageant? Oh no! She thought to herself. I need to get married and Garrett wants to romance me first! How ironic…

  Eleven

  It was all Ammy could do to make it through the pageant meeting. Garrett busied himself with making introductions, which in turn kept her busy as well. Bernice Caulder, on the other hand, busied herself whining and moaning over her name not being pulled from the hat and becoming the new Snow Queen. Apparently, anyone could be nominated, so long as you were female of course and able to sit on a makeshift throne in the back of a wagon and paraded through the streets in all kinds of weather. Garrett's mother had won last year's honor, and was blessed with a clear, albeit frightfully cold day. The only other rule involved was that one had to be a part of the community, which meant you had to live there. Miss Brubauk, Bernice’s older companion from the café, didn't qualify as she was just visiting her sister Mrs. Tindle, even if it was an extended stay.

  “I could decline the position,” Ammy told Garrett.

  “Whatever for?” he said. “Don't you want to be queen for a day?”

  She never got the chance to answer. Severa
l women pulled her into the pastor's office to see if the Snow Queen costume would fit, and if it needed alterations. That had taken up the rest of her time.

  “I can escort you back to the boarding house,” offered Garrett. “Or perhaps you'd like something to eat at the café?”

  Ammy's head was throbbing. She still hadn't come up with a solution to her problem. Marry Garrett Vander. Fast.

  She should find her father and tell him what was going on. Garrett obviously didn't want to get married right away and would rather have the chance to, for lack of a better word, woo her. Under normal circumstances she would be thrilled with the idea. What woman doesn't want to be romanced and won by a handsome man? But blast it all; she didn't have time for it! Not if she wanted to protect herself and her father from Reginald Van Cleet.

  She looked at Garrett. He was waiting for an answer. Should she just ask? “What if we were to get married tomorrow?” she blurted.

  “What! Tomorrow! Why would you want to do that? You haven't even given me a chance to get started.”

  “Started?” she said as she rubbed her temple with a few fingers.

  “What's the matter, Ammy?” asked Garrett.

  Oh, so now he was back to calling her by her nickname? If he was going to be that intimate than why not marry her right away?

  “Don't you want to be romanced?” he asked, his voice low.

  She tried to smile at him, but her face went crooked. “What girl doesn't?” she said weakly. “Especially when she has the time for it,” she mumbled.

  Unfortunately, he heard. “But we have all the time in the world. I don't have to start working for Mr. Clarkson right away. I could wait another week or two. I'm sure he'd understand, what with us getting married.”

  “If we got married right away, then he wouldn't have to wait for you at all,” she put in.

  “Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I'm a man of my word. When I say I'm going to romance you, then that means I'm going to romance you.”

  Ammy groaned.

  “What's the matter? Don't you feel well?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really.”

  Garrett hooked her arm through his. “Let's get you back to the boarding house. Maybe you’d better lie down for awhile.”