New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  James winced, his face tightening around the point of impact, and for a few seconds there was nothing but sheer pain and shock painted across the man’s darkened face. His eyes were shut into tight slits, his mouth open in a cry that Charles was too shocked to hear.

  Then came the torrent of bright red blood. It seemed to pour from everywhere and all at once, streaming down James’s face like sprigs of water trickle down the rocky wall of a waterfall, rolling down his uniform and soaking into the dark fabric.

  James blinked and stared up at Charles, and for a moment the two men were completely still, both frozen in time as they grappled with what had happened, as they both tried to reason and make sense of what had just transpired.

  And then… then Charles ran.

  He turned on his heel, the old spurs on his boots—still there from his stint as a cowboy on the stage—rattling rustically, chiming with each swift step that he took. He dashed, feet hammering against the wooden floorboards, until he burst through the shop door and leapt out onto the dusty earth outside.

  He kept his ear tuned for the sound of footsteps behind him, for the sound of James and his associate running after him to exact revenge. But as he ran and ran, the only footsteps that he heard were his own.

  He didn’t stop running. He ran through San Antonio, then he ran past it, leaving the town in the wake of red dust blown up behind him. He kept running and running…

  When Charles had made the journey into San Antonio the first time, his movements had been slow as syrup. He had been in no rush to depart, and riddled with confliction and hesitation, his body had resisted every step forward.

  Now though, as he dashed back toward the plantation, every muscle in his body twanged with intent. He soared over the desert floor, knowing that each step, each stride, was bringing him closer and closer to Alice.

  His lungs ached in his chest, his heart pounded so heavily that he was certain it would explode. But he kept going… for her.

  He only stopped when he saw a horse galloping toward him. At first, all he saw were the fierce black legs of the stallion kicking through a cloud of dust. He feared the worst. Was it Mr. Bell, coming to exact further revenge? Was it one of Mr. Matthews’s soldier associates, sent to do the man’s bidding on his behalf?

  Charles went suddenly still, his legs planting rigidly into the earth so abruptly that he nearly toppled forward from the sudden loss of momentum.

  His mind was racing with possibilities, but one thing he never contemplated was turning back. Charles was willing and prepared to face whatever was coming his way, whatever stood between him and Alice.

  Whoever it was approaching him on horseback now, he would face them. For Alice, he would face anything.

  Then the dust cleared, settling back down toward the earth the way snowflakes falling from a winter sky come to rest on a snowbank. First, the cleared dust revealed the muscular legs of the stallion, the sleek, velvety black hide, the dark black eyes and look of determination that the creature wore against the harsh elements of the desert.

  And then… then at last, Charles saw the rider who sat atop the steed.

  First, he saw the swing of periwinkle cotton strewn over the horse’s side, then he saw the dainty hands clutching the reins. And finally… finally he saw the golden halo of curls, the soft face… It was Alice!

  She was by his side in no time, drawing up the reins and commanding the horse to a stop right beside the place where Charles stood rooted to the ground. The horse, surprised by the sudden loss of speed, bucked his front legs forward and whinnied in disapproval. Alice held fast, managing to stay atop the horse as his legs collided back down onto the earth.

  “Is it safe to ride in your condition?” was Charles’s first thought, despite the obvious storm of emotion brewing through his mind.

  “You can answer that,” she said. “You’re the doctor.” The warm smile on her face revealed everything. Without saying anything on the matter, Alice had made it perfectly, blissfully clear in that exact moment, she had chosen him.

  But just to confirm what they already both knew, she hopped down from the saddle and landed on her feet. Then she made a few quick strides to close the distance between herself and Charles.

  They were face to face, their lips nearly close enough to touch, but she hesitated. A desert wind whistled through the gap between their faces, but Alice’s breath came in waves of warmth that spread over his lips. He wondered why she had stopped short of kissing him, and then he realized.

  Alice was willing Charles to be the one who made the gesture of initiating their first kiss.

  And so he did. He tilted his face down toward her and their lips collided. And they kissed.

  EPILOGUE

  Five Years Later

  “Stay back!” Alice warned as she wrapped her hand in a thin muslin towel, as she leaned toward the oven. She reached in, clutching the heavy palette handle through the towel and pulling it out of the heat.

  Little Benny watched from his spot at the table, licking his lips hungrily as the aroma of fresh yeast rolls wafted over the kitchen.

  “Don’t get any ideas, you silly boy,” Alice smiled at her son. “These are for our customers, not for us!”

  Benny groaned in defeat, his shoulders slumping as he continued to marvel at the assortment of perfectly golden bread rolls that his mother had extracted from the oven.

  These bread rolls were something of a specialty at the bakery. They had been in high demand ever since Alice and her dear friend, Karen, had opened the shop in Bannack, Montana, some years ago.

  Opening the bakery had been challenging. Alice and Charles were newly married, and they were living in a small apartment in Bannack, all they could afford at the time. Charles had found a second calling in woodworking, and he had opened a small furniture shop in town, right beside the bakery. While he spent his days carving and pounding furniture, Alice wore her newborn babe wrapped to her back while she baked.

  And that had been how their first year of blissful, perfect marriage had transpired.

  Things weren’t easy, especially without her parents’ blessing or financial support, but Alice and Charles were in love… so even the darkest hardship was brightened by the flames of happiness that burned whenever they were together.

  Within one year’s time, both the bakery and the furniture shop had become great successes. The people in town became loyal customers, and soon Alice and Charles were able to afford a proper home of their own. Charles filled it with beautiful furniture, and Alice ensured that the kitchen always smelled like fresh baked bread. And together, they were perfectly happy.

  “I suppose you can have one,” Alice relented now, eyeing the disappointment in her son’s face. She slipped a hot roll carefully from the board and placed it on the table in front of Benny.

  “Careful,” she warned. “It’s still hot!”

  The small boy’s entire face lit up with glee and his great violet eyes grew wide with awe. He had his mother’s eyes.

  Benjamin Elliot Douglas shared many traits with his mother. Besides her soft candy eyes, he had the same milky white complexion. He had soft tufts of golden curls that sprung from his head and formed fierce, tight little ringlets, prompting Alice to tease the boy, “If we ever fall short of money, we’ll have to sell your curls—they’re pure gold, after all!”

  While Benny was the spitting image of his mother, he had somehow inherited the personality traits of Charles Douglas. He was eccentric, courageous, loud, and, most of all, imaginative.

  After long days at the bakery, Benny would urge his parents to sit in the parlor. Then he’d transform the hearth into his own personal stage, and he’d put on performances: one man shows involving magic tricks and monologues and songs—as he got older, little bits of poetry and Bible verses that he had memorized.

  Alice and Charles would clap and coo proudly over their son, and then they’d steal a glance at each other, a private, congratulatory glance at the marvelous son that they h
ad raised together.

  Of course Benny knew the truth. He knew that the man who, for all intents and purposes, was every bit his father, wasn’t truthfully his flesh-and-blood father. Alice had told Benny everything, as soon as she determined he was old enough to understand it. The boy, incredibly cunning and gifted, had accepted the truth easily. He seemed to possess an emotional maturity well beyond his years, and he understood the difference between James Matthews—the man who had abandoned him—and Charles Douglas—the man who had loved him as a son from the moment he was born.

  Alice watched her son carefully bite into the hot bread roll, and she felt a stray hand land on her stomach. She spun around and saw Charles standing behind her, his palm resting on the small bump forming under the fabric of her dress.

  “No bread for me?” he inquired, smiling teasingly at his beautiful wife.

  “Your bun is still in the oven,” Alice teased back, placing her hands on top of his. Together, they felt the baby growing inside of her. The baby was due to be born in the spring, and Alice had already decided—purely on instinct—that it would be a little girl.

  It was news of the baby that had reunited Alice with her parents. After the mess that had happened at the Bell plantation years earlier, all communication had ceased. Alice knew this wasn’t entirely her parents’ fault. When she moved to Montana with Charles, she hadn’t provided them with an address… which meant they would have been unable to contact her, even if they wanted to.

  Without her parents blessing or support, Alice felt finally liberated to pursue the life she had always dreamed of. She married the love of her life, Charles, and they raised a beautiful son together. And by opening the bakery and furniture shop on their own, Alice and Charles proved that they didn’t need help. They were more than capable themselves.

  Of course, over the years, Alice had wondered about her parents… how they were doing, what they were up to. She had considered reaching out, but she had always hesitated.

  Then she had learned that they were expecting another baby, and her heart had softened.

  She wrote a letter to her mother. She hadn’t been sure what to expect… but she certainly hadn’t expected the reply that came a few weeks later.

  Mr. and Mrs. Bell had both apologized profusely. Apparently, after the war had ended in defeat for the Confederacy, they had had a miraculous change of heart. They had wanted to make amends with their estranged daughter, and had even made a great effort to locate her in Montana.

  Alice sensed the genuine apology in her parents’ letter, and she forgave them instantly. In time, Charles had as well.

  That first letter began a string of other letters, months of correspondence, that would eventually culminate in Alice’s parents coming to Montana to pay them all a visit, once the baby was born.

  Alice knew there would always be some tension in their relationship, but she felt at peace about it. Everything was exactly right, exactly as it should be. And she couldn’t have been any happier.

  THE END

  11. THE BAKER’S Bride

  Copyright © Hope Sinclair 2018

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  For queries, comments or feedback please use the following contact details:

  hopesinclair.cleanandwholesomeromance.com

  info@cleanandwholesomeromance.com

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  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ONE

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. Thomas said, staring down at the tray of freshly baked buns in front of her. “These simply will not do.” She picked up a bun and examined it for a moment, then shook her head from side to side and tossed it back down with the others.

  “These buns didn’t rise enough,” she added. “And they’re too hard around the edges… I can’t put them on my shelves. It’d destroy my reputation, if not my entire business!”

  Mrs. Thomas’s bakery was renowned for selling the most well-prepared, delicious baked goods in Baltimore. Some said it was the best bake shop in the region; and some even boasted it was the best in all of Maryland. Regardless, on this day, Mrs. Thomas was very disappointed by what had come out of her oven. The buns before her did not meet her exacting standards.

  “Take these to the church,” she went on, turning to her daughter, Daisy. “The minister will set them out for the town’s vagabonds and impoverished. May they be nourished by them, and may their hunger be sated. And may you, my daughter, learn a lesson. You’re too careless with your work here, and you need to give it more attention.”

  Daisy took a deep breath and sighed. She bowed her head and started loading the buns into a paper sack, to do with them as her mother had instructed.

  “Really, child,” Mrs. Thomas clucked, looking down at the buns again, “when it comes to baking, you lack both skill and talent. Perhaps you should spend less time running around town giggling with your girlfriends, and more time here in my kitchen… And perhaps, rather than having your head in the clouds, you should focus your attention on Hannah. She’s been with us for only three months, but already, she’s proven herself to be a far better baker.”

  With that, Mrs. Thomas walked away from her daughter and set out to begin preparing a new batch of dough. Daisy muttered something under her breath, then finished loading the buns into the sack.

  Just as she was about to leave the kitchen and head off to the church, Daisy caught sight of her coworker, Hannah Howell, in the front room of the bakery. Hannah was waiting on a customer, and Daisy decided to stand by and watch.

  Hannah carefully tied a string around a large box containing a generous order of various baked goods. The customer—a much older woman dressed to the hilt in very fine attire—stood by patiently, making small talk.

  “Baltimore is such a lovely city,” the woman said. “It’s a shame my husband and I could only be here a short while. We just arrived two days ago, and we’re departing on a train bound for New York tonight. That’s not nearly enough time to spend in such a lovely city, if you ask me.”

  Hannah smiled and nodded. “Indeed it’s not,” she replied. “Our city has a lot to offer—and it would take much longer than a few days to experience it all in full. But rest assured that, in coming here today, to this neighborhood and this bakery, you’ve found your way to some of the best this town has to offer.

  “We at this bakery take great pride in our products. Our customers, who come from near and far, are always very pleased. And once you taste the treats in this box, you will be, too, and you’ll long to come back for more.”

  Daisy stood silently in the doorway, listening. She remained still, but for her eyes, which rolled disparagingly in her head. In addition to being a better baker than Daisy, Hannah also exhibited better salesmanship and had a much more pleasant personality in general—but rather than looking up to Hannah for these things, Daisy was jealous of her.

  “I’m sure I will,” the woman smiled. “And I am quite glad I came to this part of the city today. It’s bustling with activity and has a great number of stores. But, alas, I have so little time. I simply don’t know which store I should visit next!”

  “Have you been to Mrs. Leonard’s specialty shop?” Hannah asked the woman.

  “I don’t believe so,” the woman replied, cocking her head curiously.

  “Oh, you’d know for certain if you did,” Hannah laughed. “Mrs. Leonard’s store is quite remarkable. She sells clothing accessories, s
uch as hats, scarves, gloves, purses, and the like. All of her products are made from the finest fabrics and linens, and they mimic some of the more modern styles that I hear are very popular in Europe.”

  “Ooooh,” the woman purred. “That shop sounds wonderful. I will definitely visit it before leaving… Tell me, does the shop cater to women only? Or do they sell items for men, as well? My husband is in dire need of a new hat. He brought only one with him on our trip, and just yesterday, it was trampled by a horse.”

  “Hmmm,” Hannah mused. “To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what Mrs. Leonard’s store sells these days. I’ve never really shopped there, per se, as the products are a bit too expensive for my budget… I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, my dear,” the woman replied. “If anything, you should feel quite proud of yourself. Your service has been exceptional, and you’ve given me firm shopping advice.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah smiled. She moved over to the register and tallied up the woman’s order, then told her the amount due. The woman placed some cash down on the counter. Hannah picked it up and counted through it, then reached into the register to extract the woman’s change.

  “Just keep the change, honey,” the customer told her, turning to leave. “Add it to your savings, so that one day you, too, can buy something from Mrs. Leonard’s shop.”

  Daisy’s blood boiled. She’d worked in her mother’s bakery for nearly two years now. But not once in that entire time had anyone ever given her a gratuity of any kind or otherwise praised her for her service. In fact, few people ever praised her for anything, and, whenever Hannah was around, Daisy seldom got the attention she felt she deserved.

  Daisy and Hannah were the same age, twenty-two, and were of similar body type and weight. But, beyond that, the girls were completely opposite in just about every way. Daisy had blonde hair and blue eyes, while both Hannah’s hair and eyes were a deep chestnut-brown. Daisy didn’t give much effort to her work and was frequently late, but Hannah put her heart and soul into everything she did and was always on time.