I am too afraid to even speak the words, Diary. Too afraid that if I even breathe them, it will all disappear and he will become only a memory that I will need to tuck aside with the others and cry over when I am alone.
Betsy
****
"Merry Christmas, Betsy!"
I smiled and waved at Hannah as she rushed out of the front door to the hotel to greet me. Her face was even more radiant than usual and as she reached out to take me into a tight embrace I noticed she smelled of gingerbread and peppermint. I breathed the smell in deeply, allowing it to fill me with the type of beautiful memories of my childhood that I would always cherish and could look back on with a smile rather than a tear.
"Good morning, Hannah," I replied. "Merry Christmas."
"Please," she said, stepping toward the front of the hotel, "come in. Breakfast is ready and we are going to read the Christmas story."
I followed after her and as soon as I stepped into the lobby, I gasped. They had managed to fill the already lovely hotel with the magic and beauty of Christmas in just the two days since I had been there last. Garlands draped across the front desk and wove through the railing of the stairwell. Crystal ornaments hung from greenery and sparkled from the wall sconces, making them dance like fairy light against the floor. And in the far corner, tucked away like the perfect miniature in a dollhouse was a lush, gorgeous Christmas tree.
"It is amazing," I told Hannah, crossing to the tree and touching it gently. "I do not even have so much as a sprig of holly in my house."
Though I tried to laugh, I knew a hint of sadness had come into my voice. Christmas had once been my favorite time of the year, but just like last year I was not feeling the holiday spirit this year. This made me even more glad for the invitation Hannah extended to me to join her, Aaron, and a few select members of the town for Christmas morning festivities.
I had just settled in front of a tremendous plate of pancakes when I looked around and noticed that Emmet wasn't there.
"Have you seen Emmet this morning?" I asked Hannah.
"I did," she said, tilting her head as if thinking back to when she had seen him. "I spoke to him a few hours ago. He said that he might miss breakfast this morning because he had a very important errand that he needed to run."
"On Christmas morning?" I asked.
Hannah shrugged.
"He was carrying a wrapped package. I can only guess that he was bringing it to someone."
I felt my stomach drop slightly at this admission. It suddenly seemed clear that everything I thought had been building between Emmet and me was just crafted in my mind. He was a friendly man who agreed to help repair a house for a lonely woman who had been left on a train platform, nothing more.
I finished the rest of my breakfast in silence and listened to Aaron's animatedly retelling of the Christmas story with only partial attention. The rest of my mind was wandering elsewhere and as soon as I could, I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself again, thanked Hannah and Aaron for having me, and left for home.
I was so distracted as I walked through the snow that I almost didn't notice the glow of candlelight washing from the windows of my house out onto the sparkling ground, the light evident even in the morning hour because of the thick white clouds that blotted out much of the sunlight. I stopped and stared at the house for a moment, wondering if I had somehow forgotten to extinguish the flames before leaving that morning.
Walking cautiously toward the house, I caught the scent of gingerbread. I had left a tray of cookies out with the plan of baking them that afternoon, but now I could smell them distinctly. Filled with curiosity, I opened the door and stepped into my home.
The interior that I had left bare that morning was now bursting with red and green. Ribbons hung along the walls, garland and holly covered nearly every surface, and on the far wall stood a tree even larger and more beautiful than the one in the hotel. I walked up to it and reached out to touch the needles. A moment later I noticed a reflection appear in a shimmering ornament above my shoulder and turned around to see Emmet standing a few feet away.
"Emmet!" I gasped.
"Do you like it?" he asked, stepping toward me.
"It's incredible," I said, "but I don’t understand."
From behind him, Emmet withdrew a wrapped package and held it out to me.
"You had mentioned to me that when you were younger you loved Christmas and now that you were away from home you wondered if you would ever have a real Christmas again. I wanted to give you that Christmas."
My heart soared and I could feel tears forming in my eyes.
"Thank you, Emmet," I said softly, not feeling like the words could even begin to express what I was feeling.
"I made this for you," he said, still holding the package out to me.
I took the gift from his hands and looked up at him.
"Oh, Emmet, you already did so much. You didn't need to give me a gift."
"Please," he said, "open it."
I carefully removed the twine and unfolded the paper. Inside was a thin box. I opened it and discovered a stunning stained glass ornament in the shape of a heart. My hand came up to cover my mouth and I lifted my eyes to him again.
"You asked me a few days ago why you thought that you were the only woman on the bride train that no one chose, why you were left alone there on the train platform. I know why."
"You do?"
"Yes," he said, stepping closer again and resting his hand over mine. "No one chose you because I was not there, and you were intended for me."
"Do you really believe that?"
Emmet took his hand from mine and reached into the box to withdraw the beautiful ornament. I was stunned that he was able to create something so intricate and exquisite.
"You were like these pieces of glass," he said, touching the front of the ornament gingerly. "Broken and scattered. When I put all of the pieces together into this heart, they were made strong again. I believe that I was meant to do the same for you."
"I do, too."
The tears streamed down my cheeks now, but I made no move to brush them away. Emmet reached forward and hung the heart carefully on one of the branches of the tree, our tree. He ducked his head down to rest a gentle kiss to my lips and I felt everything that had been shattered within me become whole again.
THE END
Mail Order Bride Lily
Bath, Maine
June, 1896
Lily squealed in delight and hurried to the drawing room, her mind a jumble of anticipation. A cup of fragrant tea and a plate of honey biscuits lay on the side table, but she ignored the evening ritual. The words of the letter held her rapt attention, and she remained engrossed in the scribbled content.
…Did I tell you the house is done? I have enough space for everyone and I know you will love it here. My father-in-law will put you up for a few days, and I’ll make the trip out as soon as I can; you know I need to care for the boys. But, please come now, Dearest. I miss you.
With love,
Willow
Lily’s heart raced a mile a minute. She longed for a journey and excitement. Something new and thrilling. And now, she held the opportunity in her hands. Thank you, dearest sister.
A frisson of fear replaced anticipation. The letter begged her to come to California in two weeks. Two weeks. Lily’s stomach twisted into knots and the muscles tightened; she’d never traveled alone before, and wondered if the road was safe.
Who knew what dangers lay in the wild expanse engulfed in miles of ever-changing sand? What if highwaymen ambushed the train? Or masked cowboys whipped up a gunfight among unsuspecting passengers? Didn’t wild Indians roam the hills on surefooted horses?
According to Willow, California boasted a vivid landscape full of hope and wonder. Lily felt sure her sister exaggerated the delights, but there might be redeemable attributes. The letter spoke of happiness, and the contentment of a new home. Happily ever after in one lassoed bundle. Could it be true?
She’d planned to attract a handsome suitor with a heart of gold, but knew the chances were slim. No dowry and nigh a penny to the Barrington name enticed few gentlemen. And it meant few party invitations to reputable venues where gentlemen flocked in search of a bride. How could she find Prince Charming if she couldn’t get to the ball? Fairy godmother, where are you?
Lily thought of Willow. It had only been a year since she’d left to become Joshua Wallace’s mail-order bride. The marriage contract brought five orphans with the package, but Willow embraced the change with a full heart. Lily admired the decision and wondered if she could do the same. Dear Lord, please guide my steps.
“Lily! I’m home.”
Rose had arrived. Lily clutched the letter and considered her choices. Stay and die an old maid, or see what surprises California held?
****
“You plan to travel… by yourself?”
Rose’s incredulous tone lashed Lily’s waning courage, but she brushed off the distrustful note and did the best to keep a stiff upper lip. Willow said it helped keep a person’s courage to the fore. “Yes, I am going by myself. Just because you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you’re the only brave one in the family.”
Rose rolled her eyes and made a face, and Lily continued, “The moment I get there, Horton Wallace will pick me up and take me to the house. I am to spend just a couple nights and Willow will come to fetch me later. She’s busy with the orphans, but she said I will be just fine at the Wallace home.”
Rose arched a brow at the breathless timbre and interpreted Lily’s strained face with ease. “Lily, you can’t even walk to the corner without being fearful, and you burst into tears at the sight of a stray dog. I think we’d better make plans to travel together. There is enough money to cover both of our tickets, even though I planned to travel later.”
Lily’s chin took on a stubborn tilt, and she crossed her arms. Despite her intense wish for companionship, she wanted her sibling to see her bravery. “There’s no need to come. I can find my way. Leave me at the station and I will board the train, then Horton Wallace will pick me up when I arrive. It is as simple as a cup of elderberry tea.”
Rose turned to Lily with a wry grin. “Well, if your decision is to go alone, I respect that. You might even meet a handsome beau and get married. Think of happily ever after, dearest sister.”
Lily squealed at the thought. Happily ever after? That only happened in fairytales. The idea held frank appeal, then she sobered at her lack of finances. “I doubt it. No man wants a poor waif with nothing to offer the marriage table—not even in California.”
****
Riverside, California
“When are you going to behave, boy? This is the third time the marshal’s been here. I have told you, this wild behavior must stop.”
Jasper roused from a deep slumber at the sound of his father’s voice. The light of the lamp reached him and he groaned. He rubbed his grit-filled eyes and smothered a colossal yawn. He shifted his muscular frame, semi-covered by a snow-white sheet, and flexed his taut shoulders. What did the old man want? And why did he wake him?
When blurred hazel eyes collided with a heated glare, Jasper sat up and flashed a rakish grin. Better douse the air before things flamed hotter than the desert sand. “Everything good, Pa?”
Horton grunted and shook his head. “No. Everything is not good.”
Jasper scrambled for a good excuse but nothing surfaced. “Pa, whatever they said I done, I didn’t do,” he muttered.
Horton’s eyes glinted and his expression smoldered. “Didn’t you?”
Jasper scratched his head. He tried to organize his thoughts and glanced at the wall clock. Not even the melodious chirp of morning birds stirred, and the sun still dipped below the horizon. Might have to organize his thoughts later. He arranged the feathered pillows against the wooden headboard and winced at the sharp pain that struck his back.
His father’s molten gaze missed nothing, and he nodded.
“Sore, eh? Serves you right. The marshal told me you and the boys tore up the street. Must’ve thought you were wild buckaroos galloping through town. I told you those horses are for auction and not for a stuffed-shirt dandy.”
Jasper gawked and wondered where his father got the term ‘stuffed-shirt dandy;’ must be from those books he loved to read. As Horton continued his reprimand, Jasper’s thoughts trailed to other matters.
He fingered the stubble on his angular jaw and decided a shave might be in order. Daisy May expected him to take her out for dinner in the evening, and she despised a shaded chin—then again, Daisy May despised most things.
When his father stopped talking, Jasper hurried to offer more paltry excuses. “Nothing happened, Pa. There’s no need to get upset. I’ll apologize to the marshal this morning.”
Horton blasted his youngest son with a fiery frown and stepped back. “You’ll do that later. Right now, I need your services at the train. Lily Barrington is coming this morning, and I want you to pick her up at the station.”
Jasper racked the vacuum in his brain. Lily Barrington? The name brought no memories of past dalliances or forbidden sweethearts. “Who’s Lily?”
Horton shook his head and rolled his eyes. “My star’s boy. Your brother Joshua is married to her sister Willow. Don’t you remember her speaking of Lily and Rose? They’re her sisters, from back east.”
Jasper shrugged and examined his low-cut nails. “Nope. Don’t remember a thing. Send a worker to get her. The train is never on time. Besides, I’m going out with Daisy for dinner.”
“The sun has addled your brain and cooked what’s left of your good sense.”
Jasper started in surprise at the implacable steel in his father’s voice. It brooked no disobedience to his plans. “Pa, is there a special reason you want me to pick her up from the train?”
Horton ambled over to the wide-framed window and stared off into the distance. An air of stillness clung to him, and his strong shoulders blocked out the budding light of dawn. “I’ve been thinking it’s time for you to plant roots and start a family.”
Jasper sat up in shock and drew a harsh breath. He swallowed a mountain-sized lump and wondered if he had fallen back asleep. Plant roots and start a family? Heck no!
Thinking his father must have an urgent reason for such harsh words, Jasper asked, “Pa, is Ma sick… or are you?”
The reply mingled with a deep sigh. “No, we’re fine, but here’s the plan son: your days of hard-headed behavior have ended. You’ve had no responsibilities or felt the need, and I let it slip. It’s my fault and I accept that, but there’s still time to fix my mistakes. Do you understand?”
Jasper wondered if he needed to fetch the doctor. “Um, okay Pa. But why do you want me to meet Lily Barrington?”
Horton smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes. Alarm bells raced through Jasper’s mind just before his father said the words he never expected to hear.
“I’ve decided she’ll make the perfect bride.”
****
Daisy May Meriwether blossomed in a layered pink dress with silver ruffles and endless ribbons. Vibrant chestnut waves lay tamed in an elegant bun encircled with fragrant daisies. As she turned, the sunlight created a copper halo that illuminated the curve of her soft cheeks and swanlike neck. Many beaus had lost their heart at her dainty feet.
Daisy May loved Riverside, and her family invested in the citrus trade, which lent a lucrative flair to the Meriwether Empire. The spacious three-story home flourished under the care of Daisy’s parents, who never lost a moment to offer the liveliest entertainment and the tastiest food.
When Jasper appeared at her porch steps, Daisy May’s emerald eyes sparkled. The wraparound clapboard porch with its decorative trim provided a splendid backdrop
as she rushed to embrace him. She planted a butterfly kiss on his cheek and fluttered long lashes. “So nice to see you. Come visit for a spell.”
He returned her affectionate greeting with an absentminded murmur and eased into the open arms of the curved porch swing.
“I’m surprised to see you so soon. I thought you were taking me for dinner this evening.”
At Jasper’s disgruntled expression, Daisy’s delicate brow puckered. “Oh my. Why such a frown?”
“My Pa.”
Daisy started in surprise. She knew Horton was a good father, doting on his sons. Jasper never had cause to complain, but he’d never spoken to her in such a brusque manner. “Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
“My father wants me to marry a girl from the east.”
Daisy stared at Jasper as if he’d plucked a buffalo out of thin air. His words filled her with dread and she scrambled for a witty response. “You must have hit your head yesterday when you rode across town.”
He tossed her a wry glance and shook his head. “I’m not that far gone, and you heard me. A girl by the name of Lily Barrington is coming today, and I have to pick her up at the station.”
Daisy’s mind raced, branching in multiple directions. Jasper belonged to her, and no one, much less a simpleton from the east, could have him.
Careful not to spook the fragile trust she’d earned over the past few months, she calmed her nerves. It took every ounce of control she possessed to keep her tone even. “Your Pa must’ve lost his head in a poker game, but I think have a way to help you with your problem.”
At his raised brow, she hurried to explain. “Go to the station and meet her. Be tender and kind, at first, but then treat her as a leech. Your Pa will have no choice but to send her packing.”
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 83
