Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (12 page)

Worse, he acknowledged as the countryside rolled by, she was tearing him apart.

The house came into view on the knoll just outside of town. The windows glowed golden with lamplight, drawing him like a candle in the darkness, the only light by which to see. He rode close enough to spy a figure pass in front of the kitchen window and linger.

Mercy.
She must be preparing supper,
he reasoned, noticing the way she leaned slightly forward, intent on a task before her. Light gleamed on her blond hair, polished the lovely curve of her cheek, highlighted her soft full bottom lip as she turned to smile at someone else in the room. Likely his daughter. Mercy’s face lit, radiating a mother’s love. Nothing could be more beautiful. His pulse stammered, affected, and his heart vibrated with agonizing pain.

It was too much. He tore his gaze away, dismounted and led Frosty into the barn. The horses, who’d retreated to their stalls for shelter from the storm, poked their heads over their gates to welcome him with neighs and nickers and curious eyes. Howie looked especially dapper, his brown gaze shining with happiness. Cole didn’t need to guess why. Clearly George had spent part of the day with him.

As he put up Frosty and closed the rest of the horses into the barn, he held himself as still as he could, letting his broken heart rest. No thinking of Mercy, or the wedding or the decision he had to make. He shook his head, bit his lip. How could he marry her like this? He could not be what she wanted, and he was sorry. Very sorry. He didn’t even know how to be the man of deep feeling he’d once been, when he’d been whole, when wife and baby hadn’t taken the best part of him with them. He was left with the shell of the man he used to be, and it was no good for anyone. Not Amelia, not George and especially not Mercy.

He’d wanted a wife to step in and be the parent he could not be, caring and involved, emotionally there for Amelia. At her age and with the changes of womanhood coming, she needed that. But he couldn’t endure a wife who reminded him of the emptiness within him, the hollow place that remained where his heart used to be. Where his love used to be.

He couldn’t endure the knowledge of what that would do to Mercy.

The minute he stepped foot outside the barn, closing the doors behind him, her light drew him through the storm. He tried not to look up; he tried not to be moved by her. The anguish inside him strengthened until it felt as if every bone he owned was breaking. Snow tapped against his hat, brushed his cheek, clung to his coat as he marched up the hill toward the house. The minister’s words stayed with him, too.
She is a gift from God. A much-needed blessing for your life.

A blessing shouldn’t hurt,
he thought, his mind reaching upward as if in prayer. The God he still believed in would not lead him to more pain.

He stepped into the fall of light from the front window. Standing on the steps, ready to knock the snow from his boots, he saw into the house. A green spruce tree stood proudly in the drawing room, grandly holding up paper chains and popcorn strings on its evergreen boughs. George went up on tiptoe to hang a paper snowflake by a yarn loop. The boy bit his bottom lip, button face scrunched up in thought, before choosing the exact spot he wanted for the decoration.

Amelia breezed into view, bubbly and bouncing, happier than he’d ever seen her. Relaxed, delighted, somehow more mature and elegant as she handed George another snowflake to hang. The boy took it gladly and the two of them contemplated where to place it. At their feet lay brightly wrapped presents tied up with ribbons and adorned with bows. The scene looked like something out of a Christmas dream.

This was Mercy’s doing, Cole thought, hand to his chest, grimacing at the soul-breaking crack of his heart. She was changing everything with her love and gentle kindness. Bringing life back to his house, bringing Amelia to her better self, making a home for her son.

Mercy waltzed into sight, resplendent in a new dress, obviously from Cora’s shop. The finely tailored garment, as red as a holly berry, skimmed her slender shape and brought out lustrous red tones in her blond hair. She looked taller somehow, as if no longer bowed down by hardship, her beauty more radiant. Joy polished her with a rare luster.

The sight of her changed him. The faint, muffled lilt of her laughter penetrated the walls and seemed to burrow within him, touching his agonized heart. He swore he felt a hand on his shoulder, a touch of reassurance, but when he looked there was no one there, nothing but the snow.

The rending of his heart deepened. It felt as if he were breaking all the way to the bottom of his soul. He splayed a hand against the siding, holding himself up when the pain became excruciating. Tears burned behind his eyes, and he realized it was not tears, but feeling. Emotion, raw and pure and true. The last stone walls around his heart fell, tumbling and crashing into bits, leaving the broken emptiness within him exposed.

“Cole.” Mercy’s voice, muffled by the wall, drew him, and when he looked up she was crossing toward the door, her loving smile the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Or felt.

The door whisked open, and the warmth and light of home tumbled over him like grace. Mercy smiled up at him. “You’re home.”

“Pa!” two children cried out, turning to run at him, pounding across the room.

But his attention remained on Mercy, her quiet welcome saying so much more. When her hand lit on his sleeve, he felt everything. The gentle weight of her touch, the impact of her caring, the potential of her love. The world was no longer filled with ice and snow, but with merriment and hope, with children running to throw their arms around him and pull him into the house, talking over one another telling him about their day and the tree and the decorations.

The sensation lifted from his shoulder, leaving him alone, his heart whole. He realized the pain had been his heart coming to life, that he was no longer empty. That the pain was gone and Mercy was there, so he took hold of her hand. Her surprised gaze met his and without words, without the need for them, he knew she felt with her heart what he could not say.

Epilogue

Christmas Eve

“L
ook, Ma!” Amelia breathed incredulously at the blaze of lights gleaming through the church’s windows as the sleigh eased to a stop at the hitching post. “Everyone must have come for the wedding, just as I hoped. Oh, it’s gonna be beautiful. Just beautiful.”

“Yes, it is.” Mercy glanced behind her to the two children tucked into the backseat, bundled beneath warm furs to keep out the evening’s chill. “How could it be otherwise? Tonight we become a real family.”

“The best Christmas present ever,” Amelia declared.

George wearing his new suit, nodded enthusiastically, too overcome to speak.

Yes, this was the best Christmas present. Joy warmed her up, chasing away the icy winds and the snow drifting down from the heavens. She smiled at the man seated beside her, who took her hand in his.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his tone rumbling with caring, with the kind of regard she’d never dreamed of finding. He chuckled. “We can delay a few more minutes, if you’re feeling nervous.”

“Not nervous. Not at all.” How did she begin to describe the way she felt? The moment when he’d walked through the door yesterday, his shadows gone, his heart whole and healed and shining in his eyes, she’d felt her world shift. Her soul had come alive as if for the first time. They’d decorated the tree together as a family. They’d laughed, they’d joked, they’d been closer than ever. And still were. “I can’t wait to become your wife.”

“I can’t wait, either.” His hand engulfing hers squeezed gently, letting her know he meant every word. His gaze fastened on hers, full of promise of a future made new. She saw the years roll by, laced with their children’s laughter, with love and togetherness. There would be more babies, happy memories to be made and above all, the devotion and tenderness of a man who loved her with all the depths of his heart.

Just the way she loved him.

“You kids go on inside,” Cole said with a wink. “I want to say a few things to your ma before we go in. There won’t be a chance, what with all those people Amelia invited to our wedding.”

“And they’re all waiting for you, Pa,” Amelia reminded him as she tossed off the robe. “C’mon, George. This will be mushy, anyway. We don’t want to hear it. Besides, there are some boys your age in the church, I’m sure. I’ll introduce you. They like to sled, too.”

“Okay!” George said, bouncing into the snow with her. “I’m hopin’ Santa brings me my own sled.”

“I have a good feeling he will,” Amelia answered, heading off in the snow at his side.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Cole said, rolling his eyes, although he knew Mercy had already chosen a sled from the store for George. It seemed he was going to have to learn to live with the sledding.

But as he gazed upon his remarkable wife-to-be, he didn’t mind. All he could ever want was right here. He folded back the robe and helped her down from the seat. The children ran ahead, leaving them behind in the darkness and snow. It drifted down like grace, like hope, and he could feel the change in his heart, the awareness of the grace he’d been too broken to feel. It was everywhere around him, sweet and saving and renewing. He was thankful it had renewed his heart. So very thankful.

Mercy had done that, too. He turned toward her, the calm places in his soul filling. She looked beautiful tonight, as a bride should, in a fancy green hat, bundled up warmly in her new gray coat and matching scarf and mittens. She took his breath away. She was his heart.

“What did you need to say to me?” she asked as he shook out Frosty’s blanket and covered him with it. Not one to be idle, she tethered the gelding to the hitching post, granting him several nose pats in the process.

“Oh, the usual thing a man says to the woman he’s about to marry.” He shrugged, bending to secure the buckle beneath Frosty’s belly. “This is a big step we’re about to take.”

“Yes, I’ve been certain about you from your first letter. I saw how much you loved your daughter, how glad you were I had a son.” She looked vulnerable with the snow tumbling all around her, airy and sweet, like little pieces of heaven. “But I never dreamed it would be as good as this.”

“Me, either.” Done with his task, he patted Frosty’s shoulder and turned toward his bride. Emotions—hope, faith, joy—filled him, but one outshone all the others for it was the most important of all. He drew her close, brushed snowflakes out of the wisps of gold framing her dear face. That emotion rushed through him without end, without limits. “I love you, Mercy.”

“I love you.” She gazed up at him, affection deepening her blue eyes, unmistakable and true. “I will always love you.”

“Not more than I will always love you.” He offered her his arm. “Let me escort you to the church. If you’re ready to marry me, that is.”

“I’d run if the walkway wasn’t so icy.” She looped her arm in his and they took off together, marching toward the light and merriment, to friends gathered to celebrate their marriage. Their real marriage. Not one of convenience. Not one of duty.

But of love. That was the best gift of all. Bliss filled her as she climbed up the steps and into the shelter of the church’s foyer, with Cole at her side. How wonderful he was, holding the door for her, helping her with her coat, hanging it up for her, gazing at her as if she was his greatest blessing.

No,
bliss
was too small of a word for what she felt, and for what waited her as his wife.

“What’s that?” Cole asked, gesturing toward the sprig of mistletoe pinned to her dress collar, tied with a thin red ribbon. “It looks like mistletoe.”

“Yes, it is.” She thought of the train conductor, Mr. Blake, and his kind wishes. Wherever he was, she wished him well. And as for the dear friend she’d made on the journey to Montana Territory, she prayed Maeve had found the same kind of unexpected happiness, that God was writing a happy ending for her and her daughter, too.

“Well, if that’s mistletoe, you know what we have to do next.” Mischief flashed in Cole’s blue eyes as he gathered her in his arms. Just the two of them, alone in the vestibule, haloed by lamplight and serenaded by the happy sound of festive conversations ringing in from the sanctuary. He leaned in, his gaze sliding to her mouth. “We have to kiss. It’s a rule.”

“Not more of your rules,” she laughed, already going up on tiptoe.

“From now on,” he said, gazing down at her with love. “I have only one rule. I intend to make you the happiest woman ever.”

“Too late. I already am.” She rested her hand on his chest, felt the thud of his heartbeat, slow and sure. “Merry Christmas, Cole.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.” He cradled her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her.

Her pulse went still as their lips met. His kiss was pure sweetness, the kind of fairy-tale kiss that promised happily-ever-afters and love everlasting. When it ended, she had tears in her eyes and forever in her heart.

* * * * *

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to my third novella with fellow author and good friend, Janet Tronstad. We had such a great time writing our previous mail-order-bride stories, how could we not do it one more time? We met in Missoula, Montana, on a sunny September day to discuss, brainstorm and create the ideas for our stories. What a fun time we had! Once again, our heroines meet on the westbound train and become friends while riding the rails, wondering how their lives will turn out as mail-order brides. My heroine, Mercy, has decided to accept a convenient marriage, one without the chance of love because of her young son, George. He wants a father so badly and Cole Matheson, her husband-to-be, is very much looking forward to having a son. The problem? Cole has no heart to give her, for his has been shattered by grief. Can happily-ever-after prevail? I hope you enjoy this Christmas tale where God’s love heals.

Thank you for choosing
Christmas Hearts.

Wishing you peace, joy and love this holiday season,