Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

  Sassy put her front paws up on the edge of the bed. He patted her head.

  Natalie picked up a glass of water from the floor and held it to his lips.

  He drank with some running out the side of his mouth. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She stood. “I’ll go get Mama.”

  He gripped her hand. “Don’t leave me.” He didn’t want to let her go.

  She smiled at him then turned her head toward the door. “Mama!”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Ow.”

  “I’m sorry. Mama wanted to know when you woke up. I need to get her.”

  “I’m sure she heard you.”

  She bit her bottom lip and sat back in the chair.

  Two hours later, after Mrs. Bollen had examined him and deemed he would live, Willum dressed and climbed down the stairs with much help and support of the walls, railing, and Natalie.

  Natalie shook her head. “Mama, tell him he shouldn’t be up.”

  Mrs. Bollen shook her head as well but had a look of resignation on her face. “You should be in bed resting.”

  Willum smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but we both know you can’t stop me. I need to survey the damage. The Christmas Eve service is five days away.”

  Mrs. Bollen exchanged a look with Natalie. “It’s three days. You were unconscious for a day and half.”

  How would he ever make the repairs in time for the congregation to use the church Christmas Eve?

  Mrs. Bollen pointed to a chair. “You sit while Natalie and I hitch up the buggy.”

  Now he was the one to shake his head. “That’s not for women to be doing.”

  Natalie put her hands on her hips. “You sit and wait, or I will be stopping you.”

  Mrs. Bollen smiled. “My daughter can be quite stubborn. You best do as you are told.”

  He obliged and was soon sitting next to Natalie on the seat of the buggy. He reached for the reins with his good arm.

  She pulled them away. “I’m driving. You rest.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so bossy.”

  “When it comes to your well-being, I am.” She snapped the reins, and the buggy lurched into motion.

  He gripped his arm around her waist to catch his balance then left it there. “I’m sorry I missed going to the Whitworth party with you. Did you have fun?”

  She turned to him. “I didn’t go without you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I never could have had fun with you lying in a bed half dead.” She turned back to the road.

  And he realized the depth of her love. “You never left my side, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  He saw tears rim her eyes.

  “I was afraid if I left you, you would—” She blinked several times. “I was willing you to live, begging you. I didn’t want you to slip away.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her cheek.

  When Natalie reined in the horse at the church, the four Bollen men and his three best friends were pounding away, repairing the damage.

  No! He was commissioned to build the church.

  “You fulfilled your call.”

  He had built the church with Natalie’s help. A peace that could only be from the Lord washed over him, letting him know that this was the way it was supposed to be. He’d been set free of the burden of working alone. The repairs belonged to others.

  He turned to Natalie in the seat next to him. “Did you do this?”

  “I didn’t do much. I asked Papa if he could help. Papa asked your friends.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned closer and kissed her. He’d missed her.

  Chapter 12

  The day of Christmas Eve, the repairs to the church were complete. Natalie stood happily with Willum’s arm around her, holding him up. Willum’s mother stood on the other side of him. One of Willum’s friends had telegraphed his folks in Seattle about his accident, and they had arrived yesterday. Willum’s father, along with Papa, her brothers, and Willum’s friends unloaded another set of pews from a wagon. Apparently, in the evenings when Willum couldn’t work on the church building, he’d been constructing pews and carving designs on the endcaps. Each end showed an event in Christ’s life, either from the Christmas or the Easter story. The congregation could all worship together at the Christmas Eve service in the church this evening.

  Willum was healing well and feeling much stronger, though he still walked with a limp. Did he really need to lean on her, or was he just using his injuries as an excuse to so boldly put his arm around her in public? She didn’t mind. Part of her liked him needing to lean on her, but for that to continue he wouldn’t be healing. She wanted him to heal but didn’t want to lose his arm around her. He hadn’t kissed her again since the day he’d woken up, but seemed content with her at his side, almost happy with her again.

  Willum’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “Take a walk with me.”

  “Are you sure you should be walking?” She worried about his bruised leg. “Maybe you should rest. You’ve already done too much today.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be fine with you next to me.” He took limping steps, Sassy following along beside them.

  Why would he want to walk in his condition? But as long as he was willing to let her be with him, she wasn’t going to question him. As they made their way down the street, she could feel the tension within him, like he had a huge decision to make. What if he was thinking of telling her it would never work between them? That he couldn’t get past her doubt? Her stomach knotted.

  Please don’t let this be good-bye. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. “Willum?”

  “Hmm?”

  She seemed to have pulled him out of his thoughts. “Before, you said that you were only staying in town until you rebuilt the church. You aren’t going to leave now, are you?”

  He was silent for a moment then pointed to some steps. “Can we sit? I’m tired.”

  She led him over to the steps and realized it was the house he had been building for a year and a half. Did he realize it, too?

  He used his good leg to lower himself to the steps. “I need to ask you a question.”

  She sat and folded her arms for warmth. Was this a good question or bad? “You haven’t answered mine.”

  “Mine first. Don’t answer too quickly. Think about it.” He turned and looked her in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” The word shot out of her mouth, and she realized she did and deeply so. Her doubt completely banished.

  “Do you trust that I can provide for you?”

  “I believe that you will work hard and do everything in your power to provide. That’s all one person can ask of another person.”

  He smiled. “Then to answer your question, I’m not leaving.”

  So there was hope for them. “Do you trust me?”

  He tucked his good hand inside his coat pocket. “I have one more question.”

  “That’s not fair. I asked you a question.”

  He chuckled. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t stay.”

  She leaned into him and tipped her head onto his shoulder. “Okay, you can ask another question.”

  “Do you mind if I give you your Christmas present tonight instead of tomorrow?”

  She sat up straight. “A lot of people exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. But I don’t have your present with me. So let’s wait.”

  “I don’t know if I can. You can give me mine tomorrow. I don’t mind.”

  “I want to exchange them at the same time.” He let out a heavy sigh and frowned.

  She wound both her arms around his good arm. “I love you.” She wanted to bring back his good mood.

  “I love you, too, and that’s why I’m giving you your present right now. I’m sorry. I can’t wait.” He pulled his arm free of hers and his hand out of his pocket. In his hand sat a small, wooden box with a pair of connected hearts carved on the lid.

  She took it and trac
ed the carving, knowing his hands did the delicate work. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Better than any fancy hair comb.

  “Open it.”

  She shook the box, and something inside rattled. She tried to lift the lid but it wouldn’t come off.

  He put his thumb on the top and rotated the lid sideways.

  She looked up at him. “How clever.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Your gift is in the box.”

  She stared at the ring lying in the box.

  He plucked it out and held it up. Between his thumb and index finger sparkled a diamond ring, two smaller diamonds beside a larger one. “Will you be my wife?”

  She squeaked. “Oh yes. Yes, I will. Yes.” She yanked off her mitten and held out her hand to him.

  “I don’t know. You said you didn’t want this until tomorrow.”

  She wiggled her fingers. “No, I want it now.”

  He slipped it on her ring finger. A perfect fit. She tilted it in the fading afternoon light. “This is the best Christmas present. I’m afraid my gift to you isn’t nearly so grand. Just a silly scarf I knitted.”

  “Your ‘yes’ is the only present I need.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her.

  She pulled away. “You asked Papa, didn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  She stood. “I want to go show Mama.”

  He thumbed to the door behind him. “Can I show you what I’ve done inside?”

  So he did know where they were. She nodded.

  He stood and opened the door.

  The interior was dark but warm. Maybe Willum kept it warm while he worked nights on it. Soon a glow showed the room. She gasped. “Oh Willum, it’s beautiful.”

  The floor was swept and polished to a deep shine. All the carved moldings were up, the walls painted, and lights glowed on the walls. She turned to him. “Gas lights?”

  “All the modern conveniences.”

  “Indoor plumbing?”

  He nodded. “A water closet and hot water upstairs.”

  “You can’t have hot water upstairs. Is there a stove up there or something?”

  “The kitchen stove has a tank behind it, and the hot water is pumped upstairs. Let me show you.” He toured her through the empty downstairs first—library, sitting room, living room, dining room, kitchen, a large pantry, and a water closet. Upstairs there were six bedrooms and a water closet with a claw-footed tub.

  “This is so beautiful.” She would love to take a long, hot bath in that.

  After showing her the smaller bedrooms, he opened the door to the master bedroom. The only piece of furniture in the entire house, a four-poster bed, stood in the middle of the room, with delicate carvings in the headboard and footboard, and slats where the mattress would eventually go.

  She went to it and traced a flower. “Are these …?”

  “Rhododendrons? Yes.”

  Her favorite. “You carved this?”

  “I carved it for you.”

  She jerked her head around to him. “Me? But—What? How?”

  He stretched out his good arm. “I built this whole house for you.”

  “What? How? You live—I don’t understand.”

  “Just because a man lives modestly, doesn’t mean he can’t provide for the woman he loves.”

  “But how can you afford this?”

  “I’m not a pauper.”

  “But your cabin.”

  “Was a place to hide when I first came to town. Then merely a place to lay my head. Then a place to stay while I built our house.”

  “But you’ve been building it for a year and a half, and we only just started courting this summer.”

  “I asked your father to court you when you turned seventeen.”

  “He let you?” That didn’t make sense. He hadn’t courted her.

  “No, but I knew. I wanted to build you the most special house I could.”

  She looked around. She couldn’t believe this was all hers. Or would be when they married. Then she realized it was just a thing. It held no real security or happiness. “All I need and want is you.”

  He covered her hand with his. “It’s not quite finished. I still have some interior work to do and that wraparound porch, but I’ve put a lot of work into this house. I plan on living here. With you.”

  “When will we get married?”

  “Whenever you want. Do you need to know everything at once?”

  She just had so many questions.

  His gaze shifted to her lips, and he leaned closer. His warm breath fanned her mouth, and she breathed it in.

  “Mama!” She straightened. “We have so many plans to make.”

  He cupped his good hand around the back of her head and kissed her soundly then deepened the kiss.

  All her questions floated away.

  Epilogue

  Willum stood at the front of the church dressed in a new suit, his father and Sassy at his side. His gut tightened a little with each passing moment. He could hear his heart thumping against his ribs. The last time he stood at the front of a church, waiting for his bride to appear, he’d waited … and left alone.

  He wished she’d hurry. He pulled out his pocket watch. It was time. Where was she? She hadn’t changed her mind, had she? All this was rather sudden. Natalie had wanted to marry that night—Christmas Eve—when they had arrived back at her home and told her family. When she was convinced to wait, she begged for Christmas Day. Finally, she was granted the day after Christmas by her parents and his.

  What if she reconsidered? What if she realized this was all too fast? What if someone had talked her out of marrying him? What if …?

  No, this was Natalie, not Wanda. Natalie would come. He was sure of it, but he still could not dislodge the rocks in his gut.

  Natalie stood outside the sanctuary doors on Papa’s arm. She fluffed out the skirt of her pink dress with thin green plaid lines crisscrossing through it. She had begun making it when she was sixteen and had put it in her hope chest. Mama helped her finish it last night. It had small sleeves that didn’t do much more than cover her shoulders. She’d always thought she’d get married in June or the summer, and the dress would be perfect. She wanted to marry Willum, and he wanted to marry her. No sense in waiting till summer because of a dress.

  “Papa, Willum is at the front of the church, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, darling.” Papa pulled her veil down over her face.

  “Did you see him? Not just heard someone else say it, but you saw him.”

  “See for yourself.” He opened the door.

  Her breath caught.

  Willum stood, dignified and straight in his suit, with his hair tied at the nape of his neck, and his arm in a sling.

  My, but he was handsome.

  His expression was one of pure love and adoration … with a little relief mixed in.

  She wanted to run down the aisle to Willum but forced her feet into submission then took her first step toward her future and the man she loved.

  She was getting her carpenter for Christmas.

  Thank You, Lord, for making this little orphan girl’s Christmas dreams come true.

  Mary Davis is an award-winning author of over a dozen novels in both historical and contemporary themes, four novellas, two compilations, and three short stories, as well as being included in various collections. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and is active in two critique groups.

  Mary lives in the Colorado Rocky Mountains with her husband of over thirty years and two cats. She has three adult children and one grandchild. She enjoys playing board and card games, rain, and cats. She would enjoy gardening if she didn’t have a black thumb. Her hobbies include quilting, porcelain doll making, sewing, crafts, crocheting, and knitting. http://marydavisbooks.com https://www.facebook.com/mary.davis.73932

  Fires of Love

  by Tamela Hancock Murray

  Dedication

  To John, my hero who braves all the elements.

  F
or thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.

  PSALM 86:5

  Chapter 1

  Denver

  Early December, 1913

  Thalia Bloom watched white flakes drift to the hard ground in front of the Denver home she shared with her aunt. Feeling a chill seep through the drawing room window framed by heavy green draperies, she rubbed her hands together. “The snow is so pretty. I wonder if there will be enough to build a snowman.”

  Viewing the precipitation for herself, Dorcas Bloom shook her head, although too gently for her graying hair to fall out of place. “Not at the rate it’s falling. I don’t imagine we’ll have more than an inch or two. Besides, snowmen are the least of your worries. Tonight’s party should be your main concern.”

  Thalia turned to her aunt. “I’ll admit I’m a bit nervous to be hosting the first Christmas party of the season.”

  “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Everybody on the guest list is congenial.”

  As long as Maximilian Newbolt stays away.

  “Do you have everything set for music and parlor games?” Aunt Dorcas asked.

  “Yes, I believe so. But the entertainment doesn’t hold a candle to the food.” Sugary smells of Cook’s pastries mingled with robust aromas of spiced beef and country ham. If Thalia hadn’t just eaten a light meal, the scents would have influenced her appetite. “Cook will be getting a good Christmas bonus from us this year.”

  “I agree. And Eliza, too.”

  “That’s for sure.” Their maid had been instrumental in the party preparations.

  “But you can take all the credit for the decorations,” Aunt Dorcas pointed out.

  Thalia gave a contented sigh and noticed with renewed satisfaction the fresh scent and soothing look of the pine tree decorated with dried wildflowers. On the mantle and tables, cream-colored beeswax candles flickered in silver candlesticks adorned with red ribbons, adding mellow light sure to flatter everyone’s complexion.

  “You can credit others, but I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” Wistful, she drew closer and took hold of her aunt’s hands. “In my whole adult life, I couldn’t have done much without you. I remember all the times you wrote to me in boarding school. I wanted to quit sometimes, but you kept me going. And since I’ve been home, you have been so kind. If I ever lost your affections, my heart would break.”