The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels

by Sandee Keegan

  “Illness happens out here on the prairie, and not everyone is able to pull through without a doctor. I did everything I knew how to do, but it wasn’t any good. Hope became an orphan twice in just the first six months of her life. Of course, I couldn’t risk something else happening to her, so I took her in myself. You know how the rest goes.”

  Belinda felt her chest tighten. She was trying to piece things together, but she needed to know more.

  “Did this couple… the Tempels… did they ever say where Hope came from?” She gasped out the words, and Thomas thought for a moment.

  “I guess it was considered a scandal. Hope came from a young girl who was betrothed to some rich man. I don’t know the full circumstance, I just know the girl’s mother wasn’t happy with the situation and passed them the little girl quickly.” He looked away, and Belinda felt her eyes brim over with tears.

  “Thomas… what… when is Hope’s birthday?” Belinda knew the tears were spilling down her cheeks, and Thomas looked at her with questioning eyes.

  “November twenty-seventh of last year. She was born at Brookside Hospital.” Thomas continued to watch her, and Belinda completely lost control of herself. Sobbing, she held Hope close to her, covering her with kisses.

  “Belinda, what is going on?” Thomas asked, looking at her as though she had lost her mind.

  “Thomas… Hope… she’s mine. She’s my child.” Belinda said the words through her tears, a smile spreading over her face. Thomas looked at her with utter shock and asked how it was possible.

  “My mother. I was supposed to marry a young man by the name of Mr. Buckley.” Belinda suddenly couldn’t stop talking and related the entire story to him. Thomas stood for a moment in utter shock, looking first from one to the other.

  “You know,” he said at last, and Belinda looked at him questioningly, “I always thought the two of you looked alike.”

  She laughed, and he held out his arms, engulfing them both. Belinda couldn’t stop kissing Hope, then she looked up, and Thomas’ lips met hers. She gasped and pulled back, looking embarrassed by what had just happened.

  “Belinda, I love you.” Thomas said suddenly, not waiting for her to respond. Belinda set Hope back down in her cradle, then allowed Thomas to draw her close into his arms.

  Their lips met, and she kissed him passionately. Finally, their lips parted, and she laughed through her tears.

  “Thomas, I love you, too.” She said, and they kissed again.

  Belinda finally pulled away and enjoyed the comfort and security she felt cradled in his arms. She couldn’t believe it. She had found the love of her life, she had found her daughter, and she was happier than she had ever been.

  Never had she realized life could be so good.

  She looked up at him with a joyful sparkle in her eyes.

  “Merry Christmas, my love,” she said, and he pulled her close.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  THE END

  Stephen’s Thanksgiving Bride

  1.

  Emmaline looked out of the carriage window as the driver called out to the horses and they whinnied to a stop. The big plantation house was as beautiful as she remembered, set against a backdrop of weeping cherry trees, large green lawns, and the small lake she’d paddled all over in a canoe as a child. The green was a startling contrast to the bare autumn trees she had left behind, and it was strange to think that in a few short days, a Thanksgiving festival would begin.

  It was a far cry from the cold grey and black blur of the funeral, where scores of people she did not know, and more she did not care for, shuffled by in a seemingly endless procession to offer their condolences for the loss of her mother. The only color to break up the sea of black, had been the red rose her father placed on the casket.

  Her father had been scant of conversation before he relinquished her to the custody of the train conductor for the long ride south. Emmaline desperately wanted to be happy about the change of scenery and the chance to finally get out from under the disappointed glare of her neglectful father. But, the loss of her mother, her best and most ardent champion and friend, made her heart ache and kept her awake at night. She couldn’t imagine ever getting to sleep properly ever again.

  Aunt Rebecca ran out from the front door and bolted down the steps, skidding to a stop as she reached Emmaline. She wrapped her arms around the thin girl and squeezed her tight. Emma knew that the autumn social season was important to her aunt, and had loved it when she was a little girl and she and her mother had visited. Now, though, the perpetual springtime of her aunt’s plantation gave little respite to the bleak November weather in New York.

  “So glad you made it safely, my girl.” Rebecca sighed gustily. “The Towers’ plantation had an escape, and none of us have been able to find hide nor hair of them two, so the roads are being shut down in segments for searches, and men keep going to the marsh land. They’re going to bring in a tracker to find them, he’ll be in town in a couple of days. It’s very upsetting so close to the Thanksgiving Festival”

  Emmaline hugged herself. Her mother had never been comfortable with people owning other people, and despite his reassurances that “those were not people”, she’d always refused to let her husband bring slaves home. She also missed Sukie, her maid and best friend, but her father had refused to let her come. Only now did she realize that he had not been trying to add to her punishment of exile, but to protect her friend as well. Sick to her stomach, the young girl pulled her shawl tight around her and followed her aunt up the blossom lined path to the plantation house.

  Rebecca had her sit on the veranda and a dark-skinned woman with gentle eyes brought her a mint julep to sip while she watched the men come in from the fields, headed toward the slave quarters. Emmaline remembered the grey wood buildings, hardly taller than a man, listing and bowed from years of neglect.

  It was a little village of sorrow and pain, and just thinking of it made Emmaline’s stomach turn to sludge. She hoped the couple that had escaped were too far away to ever be caught. She already hated the foul, loathsome excuse of a man who her uncle and his neighbors were bringing in. Aunt Rebecca sat next to her on the wide porch swing and sipped on a tall, cool glass of sweet tea. She pushed off with one foot and got the swing moving gently, as Emmaline’s feet dangled a little above the wooden plans of the veranda.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Emma.” The tiny woman reached over and patted Emmaline’s knee. “I know how much you miss your mother, and how hard it was for you to leave your home amid all the turmoil, but your father wants only the best for you.” Emmaline stared down at her drink and didn’t answer. “We are glad you are here, young lady, and I hope that we can help you through this trying time.” Emmaline’s aunt set her drink down on the small carved table next to the swing and stood to leave her niece alone for a little while, only to be nearly thrown off balance by the giant hug Emmaline gave her from behind, pressed against her hoopskirt and making them both unsteady on their feet.

  “Thank you, Aunt Becca.” Emmaline whispered through her tears. “I miss mama so much, and Father does not speak to me or even look at me. I have been so alone.” Rebecca turned and held the girl as she sobbed herself dry of tears, silently cursing her fool of a brother for the way he’d hurt his child.

  “Your father loved your mother very, very much. He does not know how to deal with the loss. We are not so old that we feel we should be thinking of death yet, Emma.” Rebecca stroked her hair and gently placed a kiss on her temple. “He will get better, and so will you. But, for now, would you like to rest upstairs? Isabella can help you undress and I will bring up some tea and fresh baked bread. Would you like that?” Emmaline nodded and rubbed her nose with her handkerchief. Her aunt thanked her lucky stars that at least her niece had been graced with a ladylike mother to teach her how to be appropriate. If it had been up to her brother, the poor girl would run around barefoot and wild, like the children of her slaves.

  Rebecca knew Emmaline t
hought they were savages, owning slaves the way that they did. If only she understood how much better life was for the people at their plantation, Shamballa, than it was for hundreds of other slaves all over the colonies. Emmaline didn’t know how the world worked, and Rebecca was concerned that she make her pretty niece the right connections before her Yankee ideals put her on the outside of the best social circles.

  Emmaline had heard her father talking to his steward. She knew she was sent here to be taught how to be marriageable to the right man, one who would only strengthen her family’s standing among those who questioned his choice to marry the blunt and outspoken heiress from the North. Since he couldn’t have the son he wanted, he wanted her to procure for him the connections that would finally erase his ignominious departure to the north from the memories of the social circles he wished to belong to once more.

  “Am I to be schooled here?” Emmaline queried her aunt. “I had to leave college to come down here, and I wished to continue my education, and mother would have wanted me to finish....” Rebecca sighed, a wispy sound of pleasure that startled Emmaline despite the softness of it.

  “Oh love, I have a surprise for you. It may not be the ladies’ college you attended, but I too wanted to ensure your education. I have a young professor of our boys’ school that will be tutoring you himself to prepare you for your examinations.” Rebecca paused before continuing in a careful voice. “You needn’t tell your father of this or report to him of your progress. This is simply my gift to you.”

  Emmaline felt the sting of tears again. Oh, how long would it be before she finally cried her eyes dry once and for all? She sniffled and delicately blew her nose into the plain linen in her hand. Rebecca noted with increasing satisfaction that the young woman was much more ready to be presented to high society than she feared. Offering silent thanks to the sister-in-law who had been a great, though imposing, lady herself, Rebecca herded her niece up to her new apartment to be bathed and dressed by the new house-girl, Isabella.

  2.

  Upstairs, Emmaline watched the lovely girl quietly and efficiently moving about the room, laying out fresh underthings and a housedress for her to lounge in bed in. She absently swatted at the thick layer of bubbles that floated atop the cooling bath water. Isabella turned at the splash and stiffened at the cross look on her new mistress’s face.

  “Miss? Are you all right, now?” She murmured, dropping her eyes and bowing at the hip.

  “I was fine until you started that. Straighten up for God’s sake.” Emmaline cursed, angry with her own bad humor, and her aunt and the entire south for the fact that this girl was afraid of her.“I’m not happy that you are here. Do you want to be here?” She asked the question bluntly. “Oh for the love of all… Look at me. I’m certain you’ve seen more than bubbles and a set of shoulders before.” Isabella met her eyes with a startled face.

  “Miss. I ain’t supposed to look at your naked body, miss…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Well, I certainly don’t believe that it’s anyone’s business what you look at. You don’t belong to me. I am not going to treat you like you do. I can’t help that you belong to someone, but that someone will never be me. Have I spoken plainly enough for you?” Isabella nodded, her eyes wide so that Emmaline saw the fear written plainly in them.

  Frustrated, she stood and climbed awkwardly out of the large copper tub, banging her knee hard as she missed the plaited rug and hit the edge. Isabella rushed to her side with a thick cotton sheet to wrap herself in. She strode over to the clothes that were laid out in a neat stack.

  “Miss, please let me. Miss, please, please.” Isabella begged, sobbing. “Please God don’t make them send me back to Mister Towers.” The woman sank into a trembling pile at Emmaline’s feet, as she shrank back in shock and embarrassment.

  “Oh love. You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, okay?” Isabella nodded and Emmaline clutched her dark, rough skinned hands in her own pale smooth ones. The sensation of the work and strength in those efficient, gentle hands made Emmaline ashamed of her softness, her selfishness. “Isabella, I want us to be friends, like we would’ve been back home. You work for my uncle, and I don’t know how to make things better for you, but I will, I promise.”

  “If we’re friends, then I can tell you anything?” Isabella asked, and Emmaline nodded vigorously. “The women you called ‘friends’ back home, weren’t your friends. They were little more than slaves themselves, and wouldn’t tell you the truth if it might get them beaten for it.” Isabella clenched her jaw and Emmaline stepped back from her.

  “I got told off quite a few times, by Sukie. She was never too scared to threaten her ill will on my behind, either, if I stepped out of line with her.” She used the corner of the towel to pat her arms dry as gooseflesh cropped up over her bare skin. “I mean what I say, Izzy. Can I call you Izzy?” Isabella nodded. “Good, and please call me Emma.” Izzy nodded and Emma motioned toward her clothes. “We had best get me in bed before Aunt Rebecca arrives with the tea and gets us both in trouble.”

  By the time her doting aunt appeared, Emma was curled up in the big four poster bed with a book, and Isabella was quickly and silently tidying up the room and putting Emma’s clothes away in the armoire. Rebecca was pleased with the new girl. Her husband had suffered misgivings at the sheer amount of money that their niece had cost them already, but something in young Isabella’s eyes had tugged at her until she begged her husband to buy the girl from that awful man, Towers.

  Emmaline looked up at her and managed a wan smile as she set down the tray encumbered with small tea sandwiches, petite fours, and chocolate. Her niece lit up when she saw the chocolate and reached for one immediately, hesitating to wordlessly ask if she were permitted.

  “Oh now, there are no rules for what you can eat in your mourning bed. If you need to eat the chocolate first, then that is exactly what you do.” Emmaline gingerly took the sliver of dark, fragrant candy and bit off a tiny piece. The bittersweet chocolate melted and slid down her throat and she smiled even as her heart broke into a thousand pieces, remembering the first time she and her mother had tried it together. Her mother had taken her from her studies and sworn the staff to secrecy, then the two of them had run away together for the day.

  Looking back, Emmaline realized her mother had been painfully lonely with her father gone so frequently. Many women would have engaged in dalliances to stave off the cold of a lonely bed. Her mother had pretended to run away from home with her daughter and taken her to learn about art, attend a museum, and eaten lunch at a fancy restaurant like a lady. She looked at her aunt, who was watching over her as worried as if Emmaline were her own daughter.

  Loyalty was something the women of the Govern family had in spades. Grateful to her aunt, Emmaline carefully turned the tray so the chocolate was in front of her.

  “Please Aunt Rebecca, I couldn’t possibly eat it all. I would love it if you would share with me.” Her aunt flashed her a smile and took a tiny sliver of the rich, almost crisp, dark chocolate. Emmaline waited, then grinned as the expected sigh of pleasure escaped her aunt’s lips.

  “What is it, dear girl?” Rebecca asked.

  “Thank you for taking me in, and taking such care for my well-being. I did not believe I would ever feel that again when mama got sick. Truly, thank you, Aunt.” Rebecca flushed pink with delight.

  “You are family. We love you, and we will do everything we can to secure you a safe and happy future.” Emma’s moment of light began to fade as she remembered her father’s plan to marry her off. If only there was some way to ruin his plans without breaking his rules. Her aunt patted her closest foot under the coverlet and left her to her luncheon. She promised to come back shortly for the tray, and with a swirl of her skirts, she was gone.

  “Izzy, come here, please.” Emma tacked on the last with hesitation. She didn’t want to have her aunt and uncle take Izzy away because she was too nice to her. “Now, Izzy.” Her handmaid quickly set dow
n her darning kit and rushed to Emma’s side. Emma tapped the edge of the tray.

  “You want me to take it to the kitchen? But, won’t miss Becca be upset if you don’t eat more?” Izzy shuffled from foot to foot, watching the door. Emma shook her head and pointed at the chocolate on the tray.

  “Try some. While it’s just you and me.” Izzy glanced over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door. “Just do it, Izzy. We both know this may be your last chance to taste it. Izzy nodded and tasted the chocolate, and the honey and apple slices that were on the tray.

  “It’s all so good. But, I shouldn’t eat any more. When there’s folks like me around, they start counting the bites to make sure everything adds up. Emma nodded and nibbled on a few of the lovely treats herself. It was nearly dark when her aunt came back for the tray, and to send Izzy out for some proper light, something better for reading than the guttering light of the single, old, lamp currently sitting on the table next to the bed.

  Emmaline spent the rest of the evening resting in her bed, away from the bustle of the servants and the watchful eyes of her aunt and uncle, and when she had tired of reading and her eyes were heavy with sleep, she drifted into her dream world to the sound of music that floated in her window from the grey and dilapidated nest of shacks on the river, under the cypress trees.

  3.

  Izzy and Emma sat on the veranda in silence. Emma was lying in the swing, her book closed in her folded hands, as she contemplated the insides of her eyelids, while Izzy deftly repaired the small tears and loose threads that had become rampant in Emma’s wardrobe since her mother was no longer there to notice such things.

  With a start, Izzy realized she recognized one of the two men approaching the plantation house as her old owner. She pricked herself with a needle her hands were shaking so fiercely.