She closed her eyes tight and pressed her face against her son’s head. She could not make herself feel guilty over murdering someone like Peter—someone who was going to kill the best man in Elle’s life. All she could feel in that moment was relief and love as she inhaled deeply.
Duncan lowered himself, placing her on top of their bed. She was so tired; she was practically limp as her husband situated the pillows behind her head. Her eyes wandered over her son—the warm little bundled that meant everything to her. She cried and smiled. “I love you,” she said to the child. “I love you so much.”
Duncan situated himself beside her and peered down at the baby. “What’s his name?” he asked her.
Elle hadn’t even thought of that—not in that moment, at least. Through all the months she considered various names, none of them sounded ideal to her any longer. She shook her head, her eyes still glued to the infant. “I don’t know. Nothing seems right.”
Duncan placed a kiss against her temple. “What was his father’s name?”
She nearly sobbed. The question itself, and the tender tone it was asked in, was too much. “S-Sam.”
“Samuel. That’s a good name. Strong. Biblical.”
She had considered it earlier, but she hadn’t been sure if Duncan would have appreciated being reminded of her husband. But by the way he was speaking now—by the way he was pressed so closely to her and protecting her—she nodded. Then a surge of determination shot through her. “Samuel Duncan Aster,” she said. “It’s perfect.” Torn between so many emotions, she turned to Duncan.
He backed away a little, revealing his wide and glazed eyes. God, he was perfect, too.
Elle smiled at him. Not caring if it was right or wrong any longer, she said, “I love you, Duncan.”
His breath hitched. He stared at her intently, like he wasn’t sure if she was delusional or not. Before she could repeat it—louder and firmer this time—he whispered, “I love you, too. Both of you.” He shifted his wonder-filled gaze to the baby. To Sam.
Elle laughed, joyous. She also turned back to their son and felt Duncan’s head press against hers a moment later.
Epilogue
Duncan woke to the sound of Sam’s wails in the crib at the end of the bed. The child was over four months old now, and his lungs seemed to be stronger than ever.
Groaning, Duncan turned to encircle his arms around his wife, only to discover she was no longer in bed. Tired as he was, he forced his eyelids apart and allowed his vision to adjust to the darkness. Then he turned toward the crib.
Elle stood over it, her hand no doubt skimming over the baby’s head. She whispered soft nothings, but that wasn’t calming Sam down in the slightest.
Duncan stretched before releasing a long sigh. “Did you feed him?”
“Yes,” Elle said grouchily.
“Clean him?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s he crying then?”
She turned, and though it was too dark to be certain, Duncan could swear that she was glaring at him. “How the hell should I know?”
He smirked. Both of them loved to sleep as often as they could, and little Sam had been forcing them to cut back. It was tough, his fatigue heaviest within his skull. Stretching one more time, Duncan forced himself to get out of bed and assist his wife.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said over Sam’s wails. She leaned against Duncan when he wrapped a languid arm around her. “I’ve tried everything.”
Duncan peered down at his son and thought. “Ma used to give me whiskey when I was fussy.”
Elle reeled in his arms. “Really?”
He had to laugh. “You never heard of doing that?”
“No. That sounds dreadful!”
Duncan hummed at that, and let his mind drift for a bit. The piercing sounds of Sam’s cries were aggravating things he had actually started to get used to. He rubbed his jaw and yawned. “Well, I don’t know. You want to rock him?”
“I did that for hours.”
Duncan reached in the crib and ran his fingers over the baby’s arm. Sam was shaking his fists in the air as if the world had done him a great injustice, but before Duncan knew it, the baby was moving his little arms and grabbing Duncan’s finger. Duncan watched, mesmerized, as Sam slowly tugged his finger until it was inside the infant’s mouth.
Silence fell upon the house.
“Thank the Lord,” Elle breathed. “He just needed something to suck on.”
Duncan smiled down at his quiet boy. The moment was calm, affection warming Duncan’s heart and soothing him.
But then his back started to ache.
“Am I supposed to stay like this all night?” he whispered into Elle’s hair.
She snorted. “I guess so.”
He tightened his grip on her and pulled him to his chest. “You’re staying with me,” he said, grinning with a sense of triumphant.
She chortled softly before a big yawn got the better of her. Smacking her lips together, she rested her head beneath his chin. “Okay,” she said sleepily.
Duncan’s smile softened. The two most important, precious beings to him were within arm’s lengths. Just being near them…it was all that mattered. As uncomfortable and exhausted as he was, there was no other place he would rather be.
*****
THE END.
Kidnapped Bride
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter 1
New York
Alta Bishop felt every nerve in her body zinging with excitement. She could hardly believe that she was leaving New York, let alone the fact that she would marry Simon Lynch, a pastor in the West.
Simon…
Just the thought of him made her feel weak in the knees and excited beyond belief. They had found one another through the matrimonial journal and began writing letters months ago. Despite her station, her mother had made sure she was educated, and now Alta couldn’t be happier that her mother had made her slave away writing her letters over and over again. If she hadn’t, she never could have met Simon. Never would have fallen in love with Simon.
“Right this way miss,” a train attendant said.
Still reeling from the fact that she would be traveling to the West today, she acknowledged the man with a nod as she’d seen the women of wealth do and followed him on to the train.
Once seated, she smoothed her hands over her dress and looked out the window. This was it, her ticket to a new world. A smile overtook her as she watched men and women go about their daily routine. She wouldn’t miss the hustle and bustle of the city at all. From Simon’s detailed descriptions of life in the West, everything would be different and yet wonderful.
The train’s whistle startled her but they began to move and her excitement renewed. When the familiar buildings surrounding the track finally disappeared, she settled back and pulled out Simon’s latest letter.
Running her hands over the outside, she gently pulled it out, smoothed it open, and read. Coming to her favorite part she whispered it out loud:
I cannot tell you the extent of my excitement as I await your arrival!
She had responded in kind, but wasn’t sure if he would even get the response before she arrived. The post wasn’t fast, but she couldn’t contain her excitement. A reply had been necessary.
But now…now all she could do was wait.
Wait and pray for her safe arrival and upcoming marriage.
***
Colorado
Simon Lynch walked out of the post office, his shoulders drooping. This was at once the happiest and the saddest day of his life. The urge to dwell on the news he’d just gotten was strong, but the sound of the train whistle drew his thoughts away.
She was coming—almost here in fact—and he couldn’t wait to see her.
If he’d been told not but a year ago that he would be so in love today, he would have laughed. He was a contented preacher who loved his small flock and sharing the Lord’s word to a
ll. But then he’d got it in his head that maybe marriage was something worth considering.
That’s when he’d picked up the matrimonial journal and sought out a wife. He’d read through many advertisements but Alta’s had been the only one to mention her devotion to the Lord. It had struck him, popping out in the bold, black ink. After her first letter, he just knew that she was the one he would marry. It was a wonderful and glorious thing to know that God had hand chosen Alta for him and he for her. Like two matching pieces—a pair.
And now he was going to meet her.
His excitement bubbled over into a brilliant smile and he nodded hellos to those he passed. Some he recognized from church, which gave him a pang of sadness. But he couldn’t think about that now.
Reaching the train depot, he stood anxiously near the main area where the train would pull up. It was there, just in the distance, the lights blurry in the heat rising up off of the tracks. He bounced on his toes in anticipation.
“Someone’s excited for the train to get here.”
Simon looked to the side to see an older man he recognized from town but not from church. “I am.”
“Meeting someone special?” he asked.
“Yes, my fiancé.” He beamed, unable to help the pride in his voice.
“Well, congratulations. I’m surprised you found a woman willing to come out West. It’s a dangerous place, you know.”
“I know,” Simon said, nodding. “But God will protect her, I firmly believe that.”
“Say you’re the preacher over at the church aren’t you?”
Simon opened his mouth to respond but the train whistle mercifully cut him off. “Good day sir,” he said with a grin, and walked up closer to the train.
He had envisioned Alta many times, taking from her descriptions of herself, which were modest and not very detailed. He knew she had blonde hair and blue eyes, that she was short and slight, but other than that he had no idea.
There weren’t likely to be many women getting off of the train though, so he had a feeling he would recognize her right away.
Then, one door down from where he was standing, the flicker of a blue dress, and the back of a blond head appeared. His heart leapt and, as the woman turned, Simon’s he knew in an instant it was her. It was Alta.
Walking as if drawn to her, he stopped a few feet away and asked, “Miss Alta Bishop?”
She broke into a smile that rivaled the sun’s radiance and took the last step down to sand on the platform in front of him.
“Yes, I’m Alta. Are you Simon?”
Her voice was smooth as honey and her blue eyes drew him into their depths that reminded him of a deep, refreshing pool in the summer. Her golden hair was drawn back and twisted up, and her slender build was petite but not weak looking. She was stunning and for a moment he couldn’t breathe let alone respond to her.
“Simon?” she asked again.
“Yes,” he finally said, and then blinked, “I mean, yes, I’m Simon. I’m…your fiancé.”
Chapter 2
Alta couldn’t stop from smiling. Simon was adorable. No, that was too soft and childish of a description, but the way he was staring at her—wide eyed with a foolish grin on his face—was absolutely endearing. She wanted to fall into his arms and plant a kiss on his cheek, but she held back. They still had to get past the awkwardness of this first meeting.
“I—I’m so glad you’re here,” he blurted.
“Me too.” She blushed under his intense gaze. His dark brown eyes bored into hers, as if they could see into her soul. His light brown hair was mussed as he’d pulled off a black bowler hat, but it all made him look more handsome with a touch of boyishness.
“Um,” he blinked several times as if realizing that they should leave from the platform. “I was thinking we could go on a picnic.” He spoke then grimaced. “That is, if you want to. We don't have to I could—”
“A picnic would be lovely,” she said. She could tell that he wanted everything to be perfect for her but she wasn’t a difficult woman to please. A picnic with time to talk and get to know one another was just right.
“Oh, good,” he said, looking relieved. “Then follow me.”
She did and they wound their way through the crowd. When they were just at the edge of the train depot area a hand grabbed her arm.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to pull free.
“Hold on there, darling,” the low, gravelly voice said. She shuddered at the intimacy with which the man spoke to her, leaning in close so his hot, fowl breath brushed across her cheek.
Frantically, she looked around to where Simon had gone but the man propelled her around a corner and between two buildings, effectively hiding them from view.
“Let me go,” she said in her sternest voice.
“Or what, you’ll tell on me?” He laughed. “Ain’t no one here to listen to you.” His eyes appraised her, making her skin crawl, then he said, “But you’ll do nicely.”
She frowned. What was he saying?
“I'm not going anywhere with you. My fiancé is—”
“There you are,” Simon said, coming around the corner. His eyes grew large when he saw the man’s hand on Alta’s arm. “Let her go.”
“I got just as much right to talk with this pretty lady as you do.”
Simon frowned. “No, actually, you don’t. She is betrothed to me and I’ll kindly ask again—let her go.”
The man did, taking a step back, but his eyes narrowed at her. “Fine. I’ll let her go...for now.” Then he turned and left.
Shaking, Alta fell into Simon’s arms relishing his strong embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t see you were gone immediately.”
“I don’t know what was wrong with that man, but I don’t think he was thinking clearly.” Alta leaned back to look into Simon’s handsome face and offered a shaky smile. “But I’m glad you were here.”
His smile broadened and he held her close for a moment longer before releasing her and taking a step back. “Shall we?”
She nodded and took his arm, thankful that God had provided such a wonderful, strong, and caring man.
***
Simon’s heart was still pounding from the way the man had treated Alta. He was so thankful that he’d noticed she was missing when he did. Then again, he should have been next to her the whole time, something he would remedy for the future. It was proof that this town was in desperate need of the Lord.
He let out a groan, almost not realizing he had until it was too late.
“What’s wrong?” Alta said as they walked toward their picnic spot.
He knew he had to tell her, but he’d hoped to spend a little more time in happiness before he needed to bring down the mood with his news.
“It’s…nothing.”
“I know that it’s not,” she said, her perceptive eyes picking up his emotions despite his mask of calm.
“It’s not good news,” he said.
“It’s all right. I can handle whatever you need to say.” Her chin rose subtly and he loved her even more for her strength.
“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.”
They spread out the picnic supplies and sat in the shade of a large tree, the scent of nature overpowering every other sense. Simon loved it out here in Colorado even if the town of White River was fraught with criminals and lawless men. He’d been called here, of that he was certain. Or at least he had been.
“Simon,” Alta said, her hand resting light on his arm. “Tell me what’s troubling you. I can see it in your eyes.”
He loved that, even though they’d just met in person, he felt comfortable with her—like he knew her. And, I reality, he did know her, through her letters.
“I had some bad news this morning before you came.” He remembered the feel of the letter in his hands, its solid weight feeling heavier than paper with its weighty contents. “I received word from the larger church that had sent me here, the one in Denver. It seems the
y no longer have the finances to support what I do here. Basically, I’m out of a job.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, the weight of what felt like his failure resting solidly on his shoulders. He couldn’t believe that, just like that, his job as pastor was snatched from him.
“Oh, Simon,” she said, resting a cool, soft hand on his cheek and gently turning his head so he would look at her. “I’m so sorry.”
Her vibrant blue eyes had a calming effect on him and he felt some of the pain recede. “I just feel like a failure. And here I’ve brought you out to be my wife and I don’t have a way to provide for us.”
“God will be our provider,” she said without blinking. “He must have something else planned for you. Something even better.”
Her words washed over him and he felt the anxiety in his chest lessen. How could she do that? Just a few words and he was renewed.
“You’re incredible,” he said.
They looked into each other’s gaze and, before he could stop himself, he’d leaned forward and captured her lips under his. It was a quick kiss, her purity in mind, but he couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back he saw surprise and pleasure on her face. The beautiful tinge of pink on her cheeks made her even lovelier.
“I'm sorry,” he said, feeling sheepish now. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not in the least,” was her quick reply. She laughed at her boldness.
“Alta,” he managed, his heart pounding in his ears, “I didn’t write this to you because I wanted to tell you in person.
“Yes?” she said, leaning toward him in anticipation of what he would say.
“I love you.” His words were strong. They came with the weight of forethought and passion from deep within. He hoped she could see that.
[2015] A Love Miracle Page 43
