The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels

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by Sandee Keegan


  Jack smiled at her and shook his head.

  “God always takes care of us, and that is why I am thankful. So many things could have happened that didn’t, and I am going to thank Him for that. At the same time, he has provided me with so much, even with the hardship, and I am going to thank Him for that as well. You can’t go through your life thinking that anyone owes you anything, that is not what life is about. It’s not what you can get, it’s what you can give. Always be thankful, Jane.” He spoke with such conviction, she didn’t see any room for argument.

  For the first time in her life, she was truly able to see what it meant to be grateful, and she felt ashamed that she had taken so much for granted. Instead of being miserable for moving to the West, she should have been grateful that she didn’t end up on the streets. She should have been grateful for the kindness he has shown her, and she should have been grateful that nothing worse had happened.

  There were so many things she had to be thankful for in her life, and they were things she never realized were important before. With tears in her eyes, she walked over and sat down next to Jack, putting her hands over his.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Jack. I have taken so much for granted here. I love you, and I have treated you more terribly than anyone else I know. You deserve so much more, and from now on, I want to be there to make sure you are treated that way.” She looked into his eyes and spoke with such conviction, she knew she looked serious.

  He looked at her with clear surprise in his eyes. “I thought you wanted to go back home?”

  “You are my home. I have never been loved like you love me, nor have I ever had anyone care about my happiness like you care about mine. You really would give me anything, and I know that is because of your love. Jack, I want to spend the rest of my life with you—for better or worse, for richer or poorer. I love you.” She could hardly believe the words were coming out of her mouth, but Jane knew that she meant every word that she said.

  She had finally learned how to be thankful for the life she had been given, and she realized what was important. She didn’t want to lose her husband as she had always lost everything else. No matter what, nothing could replace the love that they had for each other—and no money or other kind of wealth could even compare.

  “Jane, I know you are feeling sorry about what happened, but I can’t let you throw away your happiness because of that. I am most likely going to be living on the streets. I am going to have to start all over again, and I am okay with that.” Jack looked at her with the most serious expression on his face and she sighed. She knew he was right, if she was making this decision, she was going to have to be happy with it.

  It wasn’t fair to her, and it certainly wasn’t fair to him to go back on her word a second time. But when she thought about leaving—when she thought about having a big empty mansion married to a man who only cared about appearances and money—she couldn’t imagine why she would go through with it.

  Although she hadn’t realized it before, when she was with Jack, she was happy. He had shown her what life was really about, and she wanted to live that with him. She didn’t care about money any longer. All she wanted was to be together—no matter what life threw their way. On a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  They shared a long, passionate kiss, and when she finally pulled back, she looked at him with the most serious look in her eyes she could muster. “I love you, Jack, and I choose to be with you.”

  A slow smile spread over his face, and he drew her in for another kiss. As soon as their lips met, all doubts were erased from her mind. This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with—for richer or poorer.

  Chapter 15

  “Well, I guess this is it,” Jack said as he looked around the kitchen. Neither he nor Jane wanted to leave, but they hadn’t been able to find anything to sell, and because of that they hadn’t been able to get nearly the money they needed to save the farm. They would have to turn it over to the bank, and decide what they were going to do next.

  Although in the pit of her stomach, Jane didn’t know how she was going to enjoy living out of a hotel—or even worse, living at the church or on the streets—she knew she was going to have to be willing to go through with it. She had promised Jack that she would, and she owed it to him to stick with that promise.

  “Is this really it?” Jane asked as she looked around the room. In the month she had been living there, she had never really taken the time to look at everything as it was. Her eyes had always been too critical to be loving before, but now, she didn’t want to leave any of it. She could see the hard work that had gone into each piece of furniture or kink in the wall, and she admired it all. Jack looked emotional himself, but he nodded, not wanting to show any sad emotions to her.

  It was hard enough that they were leaving, he didn’t want her to feel any more responsible for the situation than she already did. He put his arm around her, and they turned to go to the door when there was suddenly a knock that startled them both.

  “Who do you think that is?” Jack asked as he smiled at her. She knew it was going to be Mr. Rook, but she just shook her head. Jack walked over to the door and threw it open, ready to have a comment for the man who was about to take their home. However, it wasn’t Mr. Rook, but Mrs. Patmyre, a woman from church.

  “Hello, hello!” she said as she walked in. In her hands, she was holding a pot of soup. Without waiting to tell them what was happening, she walked in and set it on the table. Shortly after, Mrs. Jordan also arrived with a casserole. She set it next to the soup. After her came Mrs. Briggs, then Mrs. Hammit. Each woman who came in set more food on the table, and though they all said hello to Jack and Jane, they were more focused on talking to each other.

  “Look!” Jane said as she pointed out the window. Jack looked out and gasped. All the husbands to these women were in the barnyard tending to all the things Jane hadn’t been able to do herself. It was a magnificent sight, with each one working together to make the job go smoothly. More couples arrived, and soon the kitchen was filled with many of their neighbors.

  Both Jack and Jane were doing their best to get an explanation out of someone, but no one was answering. Finally, Pastor Davis stood and raised his glass, holding up his hands and quieting the room.

  “My apologies for the intrusion, Jack, but I didn’t think you would mind. With all that has happened, we didn’t think that you had the time to make a dinner, Mrs. Franklin.” He smiled at Jane who blushed and shook her head.

  “This is very kind of you, but we can’t stay,” she said. He held up his hand, stopping her from saying anything else.

  “Hold on there, and let me finish,” he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, then held it up for the room to see.

  “As you have all heard, this couple has had their fair share of struggles. But, I must say, through it all, it has been amazing to see how the two of them have worked through them all. When I heard from the doctor what happened with Mr. Rook, I knew that we had to act. I am thankful that you have chosen to stay, Mrs. Franklin, and I have to say, we are pleased to provide you with this.” He held out the envelope and Jack took it, but instead of opening it himself, he handed it to Jane.

  She looked at him for a moment, then she slid her finger under the wax and broke the seal, opening the flap on the front of the paper. Inside, there was more than enough money to keep the house and pay for Jack’s medical bills.

  “We took a collection, and we hope that you are willing to accept. I know that this is all sudden, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we are all happy to have you hear. You have both endured hardship, but when we work together, I think we can overcome anything,” Pastor Davis said. Jane was speechless.

  “You didn’t have to,” Jack said, answering for her. His voice cracked as he spoke, and Jane knew he was just as emotional as her. They were both very much cared for by the people in town, and though they had had their hardships a
s well, it was clear they were going to come through for the family.

  “I know you were supposed to have that yesterday, but let me assure you, Mr. Rook has agreed to take what we have collected. I told him that we were going to give this to you today, and we are grateful to him that he allowed us to do so.” Pastor Davis raised his glass, and at that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Rook walked in.

  “We hope we aren’t too late. I know this might seem a bit awkward, but no hard feelings,” Mr. Rook said as he looked at Jack. Jack laughed and held up his hand.

  “You’re welcome here if you cannot take my house!” he cried out. Mr. Rook pointed to Jane.

  “If you want to say something about that, look no further than that wife of yours. She is the one who convinced me to give you more time anyway.” He laughed and Jack put his arm around his wife.

  “Well, I think we are all in agreement that we have plenty to be thankful for!” Pastor Davis said, and a series of agreement ran through the room as each person shouted an amen. Even Jane yelled out her agreement, and Jack held her closer than he had before.

  “Everyone, I want to thank you all for coming, and please, make yourselves at home!” Jack called, and after a cheer ran through the crowd, everyone started helping themselves to the food and eagerly chatting with each other. Jack, however, turned his attention to Jane.

  “You are amazing, and I want you to know that throughout all of this, you are the one thing I thank God for every day of my life.” A slow smile spread over her face, and she nodded.

  “There was a time I couldn’t say the same, but now, I want you to know that you, too, are the biggest thing that I am grateful for, and always will be. Happy Thanksgiving, my love.” She looked into his eyes as she spoke, and he laughed.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he replied. He didn’t wait for her to say anything else, but bent forward and pressed his lips against her. In the midst of the crowd, the couple shared a kiss, and Jane knew, without any doubts in her mind, she had made the right decision.

  And she was thankful.

  THE END

  Bonus Books

  (SCROLL TO THE NEXT PAGE Top Seller found in Table of Contents)

  Miss. Jenkins’s Unmasked Journey

  Chapter 1

  Running West

  Freedom was all I ever wanted. Being a black slave in Virginia was no good for the heart of soul. Of course, being a slave was all I ever knew, so what did I know? I was a foolish young girl who worked in the main house of her slave owner, cooking, washing clothes, scrubbing floors, and other chores that seemed normal enough in the daylight. I could scrub the hardwood floors in the main house and make those floors shine so pretty, yes, sir, I sure could. My meals brought folks from all around and had the surrounding womenfolk mighty jealous. I sure didn’t like washing clothes—sheets were the worst, especially in the winter time, when the icy winds bit at your hands while you stood outside in the snow hanging sheets on a washing line. I also hated taking care of my slave owners bratty wife, who bossed me around all the time while she sat in her fancy parlor entertaining womenfolk who just didn’t seem much alive in their hearts. But I was a slave, and I did what I was told to do. Besides, my slave owner treated me decent enough. Not like a princess, but a human being, and that was enough for me.

  The day came, though, when my slave owner died when I was twenty years old. A grand old funeral was held for the old man and after the funeral was over his son, Fredrick took over the main house and the tobacco fields. Fredrick was a cruel man who never liked me much. His mind was on money and power. Old Fredrick planted an idea in his mind that was he was going to be the next Governor of Virginia and then move on up the ladder and climb into the position of president; at least that’s how I saw the situation. Needless to say, he became a very hard and mean man who began working his slaves from sunlight to sundown. I was no exception. I was ordered out of the main house and forced to go tend to the tobacco fields. I didn’t mind. My folks worked the tobacco fields, and it was sure good being near them. Then came the day when a slave named Jones killed my pa for no reason at all. Jones was a hateful man who the other slaves stayed away from; I didn’t blame them. You can imagine how upset I was. I was even more upset when Jones managed to escape before Fredrick could find a rope and a tree.

  “Why?” I cried to my mother standing in the middle of a hot tobacco field. Tears were streaming down my face and falling onto my pa’s worn-out body. Each tear felt consumed with pain and rage.

  My mother put her arm around me and spoke in a sad voice. “Your pa is with Jesus now,” she said and looked down at my pa’s body and then raised her eyes up toward the clear blue sky resting over our heads. “We’ll see you soon,” she whispered.

  Fredrick came busting through the fields wearing his fancy gray suit and came to a stop at my Pa’s body. He looked at me with hard eyes and then focused on my mother. “What happened here?” he demanded in a hard voice.

  “Old Jones took himself a stick and beat my husband to death,” my mother told Fredrick in a calm voice. “You got eyes. Look at him.”

  Fredrick lowered his eyes down to my Pa. He gritted his teeth. As mean and cruel as Fredrick was, he always had a liking for my Pa—and maybe that’s why Jones killed him? “Where is Jones?”

  “He ran off,” my mother told Fredrick. “Ain’t likely you’re gonna catch him.”

  Fredrick kept his eyes on my Pa, and for a minute I actually thought I saw remorse and sorrow enter the man’s cold eyes. “I’m sorry,” he told my mother.

  “I want to give my husband a decent sort of burial,” my mother told Fredrick.

  Fredrick raised his eyes and focused on me. “I’ll see to it that Charlie gets a Christian burial,” he promised and then walked away yelling at the other slaves standing nearby: “Round up by the tobacco barn. We’re going for a hunt.” And with those words, Fredrick stormed away.

  I wiped at my tears and pushed my black hair away from my face. Sure, I was a pretty young woman—one of the prettiest around people said—and there was a lot of slave men who wanted me as his wife, too. But my heart was for God. I wasn’t interested in marrying a man just for the sake of marrying. I wanted—desired—love and had faith that God would bring me into the arms of a man who would love me as a real husband; a husband whose heart loved God more than me. But as I stood in that hot tobacco field staring down at my Pa, I didn’t feel pretty or lady like at all. Instead, I felt a hideous, sour, poison grip my heart and rage consume my soul. “I’m going to kill him,” I promised my mother.

  My mother shook her head. “Let God deal with the wicked,” she said and looked at the brown work dress I was wearing. “Wear your pretty blue dress to the funeral. Your pa always liked how you looked in that dress.”

  I didn’t hear my mother’s voice. All I heard was the rage burning in my heart. I wiped at my tears with angry fists and then ran away sobbing madly. Four days later, after my Pa’s funeral, while my mother and I sat on the back porch of the slave cabin watching a heavy rainfall, a slave named Benjamin appeared in the rain, looked around with careful eyes and then hurried up onto the porch: “Jones went west to Nevada,” he whispered in a cautious voice. “Ain’t no justice ever coming to that man unless one of us goes and gets him.”

  I felt a lightning bolt shoot through my heart. “I’ll go get him,” I said in a furious tone and stood up from an old rocking chair.

  Benjamin glanced around and then studied the rain. “Okay, Miss Beth,” he whispered, “Old Man Calman will have a hay wagon outside his barn tonight. At midnight he’s moving the wagon south.” Benjamin looked at me. “Miss Beth, don’t be late,” he said and ran off into the rain.

  I looked down at my mother. My mother didn’t say a word. Instead, she focused on the pouring rain and began praying. For the first time in my life, I didn’t pray. The rage burning in my heart was too hot.

  <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

  I wasn’t thrilled being a runaway slave. But what choice did I have?
If Fredrick wanted me he would send a man to track me down and bring me back to his tobacco fields. Deep inside my heart, though, I felt Fredrick understood my reasoning for running away; the man knew I had run away in order to track Jones down and kill him. Still, my nerves were tight and my heart tense as I rode into a hot, worn down, town on the back of a worn-down hay wagon. The trip west had been long and exhausting, and I was sure glad to have finally arrived in the town Jones. I was also sure glad many wonderful Christian people had formed a human road that paved my way into Nevada; each Christian man or woman had risked his or her life by helping me but did so anyway without any concern for personal safety. Sadly, I didn’t show much appreciation to those wonderful people. Instead, I focused on the rage burning inside of my heart. My mission was to kill Jones and that’s what my entire being was focused on doing and nothing more.

  “Here you are, Miss Beth,” an old man told me pulling his hay wagon up to a livery stable. The old man was a simple ranch hand for a nearby Ranch. He had spotted me walking along a blistering hot back trail that, unknown to me, many folks traveled as a short cut into town instead of using the main dirt road. Fear gripped my heart when I saw the old man pull the hay wagon up to me. Who was he? What did he want? Was he a slave hunter? My fears were quickly destroyed when I saw the old man drop a kind and sincere smile down at me. I saw kindness and humility in his old green eyes.

  I jumped off the back of the hay wagon, brushed some hay off the dark green dress I was wearing, quickly tied my long black hair into a tight ponytail, and hurried up to the old man. “Thank you, Joe,” I said in a grateful voice. I threw my right hand over my eyes and looked up into Joe’s wrinkled face. Joe smiled down at me. “You’re very kind.”

 

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