“That’s it, my dear. Now if you will take the pen and sign here.” One hand extended the pen while the other pointed with a finger at the spot for her signature.
She smiled confidently as she took the pen. Pastor Nillson gave her a confused look as if he didn’t understand how she could be happy about her marriage. Ignoring it, she signed the certificate, taking care that no ink left blots on the paper.
A noise at the door had her looking in that direction. Fred pulled the resisting groom into the sanctuary.
In a cajoling tone, he urged his brother, “No, get your name down on that paper. It’s part of the game.”
Carl’s face brightened. “I forgot about the game. Do I win if I sign it?”
With a laugh, Fred nodded. “Yep. Looks to me like you’re coming out the winner today.”
With a scowl at his brother, Carl folded his arms mutinously. “Why’re you laughing at me? I don’t like it.”
Placing his hands in front of his chest palms up, Fred soothed his brother. “I was laughing because I’m happy you’re going to win. Stop pouting and sign the paper.”
His face relaxed and Carl moved toward Merrilee. She handed him the pen. “Sign carefully, please, Carl. I want the certificate to look pretty.”
He scowled. “Girls are dumb. It’s just a silly part of the game.” He ended his words with a shrug. Still, she noticed that he took his time and wrote his name with care.
As if they knew that something important had been done, ending the wedding, the four girls rushed toward the couple. Johanna hugged a stunned Merrilee. “I’ve never had an aunt.”
Berta chanted, “Aunt Merrilee! Aunt Merrilee!” As sweet as the girl was, Merrilee appreciated it when the girl’s father told her to hush. Having never been around children, Merrilee found the noisy and enthusiastic girls overwhelming after her nearly sleepless eight-day trip.
Pastor Nillson moved to shake both Holder’s and Fred’s hands. “Well, that ties things up nicely for your family. I do hope you can stay for the Christmas Eve service.”
Holder opened his mouth to answer. His attention quickly left the preacher as Myra groaned loudly from a pew near the front. The sound was quickly lost in the small room. Even so, it had all three brothers hurrying to her side.
In the quiet of the small church, Merrilee heard the woman’s whispered words. “Holder, I think we’re going to have a Christmas baby.”
Chapter 5
“Sorry, pastor. I think we’d better get my wife home.” Holder waited as a contraction passed before he helped his struggling wife to her feet.
With a worried frown, Pastor Nillson nodded his head. “Of course. We will be praying for her. Should I send Mr. Olsen with a message to Doctor Weber?”
Carl looked on, struggling to mask his concern. He cared about Myra, true. His concern was about Merrilee. She had such a knowing look in her eye as if she suspected his behavior was an act. If she could see through his act, did the Olsens?
As if thinking about them conjured them, the couple appeared before him and his wife. Mr. Olsen smacked his lips together and twiddled his thumbs. The man was a gossip. He probably itched to spread news of the wedding to his cronies.
“Welcome to Idyll Wood, Mrs. Sittig.” Olsen held out a hand to Merrilee. She took it awkwardly as if she’d never shaken hands with anyone.
Mrs. Olsen fixed her gaze on Carl as she welcomed his wife. “How nice to have you in our little community. I do hope you settle in well.” Giving Mrs. Olsen his best idiot grin, he crossed his eyes while she spoke.
Merrilee thanked the woman before grabbing his hand. In a commanding tone, Merrilee said, “Please excuse us. Carl, you need to come with me.”
He nodded and followed obediently, hoping Mrs. Olsen was convinced. The woman was shrewd. And dangerous.
His four nieces followed them as they left the church. Outside, Carl hoisted each into the sleigh, making a whooshing sound as he flew each one up into the air before setting her onto the bed of straw.
At his side, Merrilee whispered, “Girls are icky, huh?”
Her dry tone brought a grin to his face. Rather than being angry, she made a joke. What a relief to know she had a sense of humor!
Turning to her, Carl placed his hands at her waist. Temptation won, and he briefly stroked his hands over her curves before lifting her onto the seat of the sleigh.
He watched for her reaction. While she did blush at his touch, she also smiled. This promised much for their future together.
If only he could be a man instead of a boy. They only had a future if he stayed alive.
Fred was speaking with Holder. Carl looked their way, listening.
“Town’s quiet so I’ll get my horse and come out to the farm. I’ll make the evening a celebration for the girls while you take care of Myra.”
The groaning woman held up a hand. “I’m not that close to birthing. I’ll be in the parlor with my daughters to listen to the Christmas story.”
Looking at her doubtfully, Fred nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I never argue with a mama bear.”
Myra harrumphed. Wrapping her arms around her belly, she began to rock. The change in Myra surprised Merrilee. The good-natured woman had become angry and sullen. Did all laboring women experience a change in personality?
A man standing in front of the sheriff’s office called to Fred. “Hold up a minute.”
Holder looked even more grim if that was possible. “Wonder what Fred’s deputy wants with him.”
Before Fred took more than a couple of steps from the wagon, the deputy and another man had almost reached it.
The stranger stuck his hand out. “Good to meet you, Sheriff Sittig. I’m Matt Brandt. You wrote to me.”
Confusion quickly left Fred’s face. “Yeah, the Indian agent, right? Hang on a bit, will you?”
Turning to his brother, Fred gave a crooked grin. “I have to speak to him. Be out for Christmas Eve quick as I can but don’t wait on supper for me.”
Worry added grim lines to Holder’s face. He barked, “Carl, get in!” before jumping onto the seat and lifting the leathers. With a slap against the team’s back, the horses headed north, out of town and back home.
No matter that the laboring woman sitting next to her groaned occasionally, Merrilee enjoyed the ride. She had never seen so much snow and commented on it.
In response, Carl piped up. “We usually have more by now. It gets so high you have to climb a ladder to get over the drifts to use the outhouse.”
Holder snorted. “Don’t listen to him. Next month is when we often get the heavier snows. And I shovel a path to the privy.”
Merrilee giggled and waved a finger at Carl. “I’ll remember to laugh at your silliness in the future.”
He gave her his idiot grin. She only arched an eyebrow in response before turning back around on the seat.
The team had left the road and was headed down a tree-lined lane. Snow frosted the trees. Cedars, maybe, she thought. Red bows gave the branches a festive touch. Merrilee wanted to laugh aloud in relief. This home and family would welcome her. How silly her fears of the last week seemed now.
Holder stopped the team in front of a wood-framed two-story house. It’s white paint blended with the snow-packed ground. A crude evergreen wreath hung on the door. She loved its homey touch.
A short distance away, she saw a white-washed barn. Another building, perhaps a cabin, sat just beyond it.
Hands reached up and tenderly gripped her waist. She pulled her gaze from the buildings and looked down into enticing blue eyes.
Carl slowly lowered her, not breaking eye contact with her. As soon as she felt the ground beneath her feet, she stepped away.
Or, she tried to step away. He kept his hands around her and then rubbed a slow circle on her lower back. Delicious shivers darted through her at the touch.
“See that cabin over yonder. We can set up there if you want a place for us to live.”
No, this definitely wasn’t a man
with the mind of a young boy. Why was he suddenly revealing himself to her?
She looked around and found them alone in the yard. He must know that she didn’t believe his act. It explained this sudden change.
Giving him what she hoped was a flirty grin, she pulled back. “We’ll see if I want to be alone with you, sir.” Then she tapped his chest. “I’ll let you know.”
With a giggle, she raced up the stairs and through the front door. Warmth and the faint smell of woodsmoke met her as she walked into a short hallway. Peeking into a door on the right, she saw comfortable chairs and a sofa. A pump organ drew her eyes. She loved playing the piano, spending hours every day practicing.
Later, she promised herself. She’d see how different from her piano that pump organ was. Now, she sought out Myra.
The older girls ran down the stairs and Merrilee welcomed the sight of them. “Girls, where is your mother? In bed?”
Johanna shook her head solemnly. “No, she won’t listen to Daddy.” Taking Merrilee’s hand, the girl led her. Once through the door, the light surprised her. The hallway had been dark while three oil lamps lit this room.
She heard mumbled grumbling. Myra stood at the stove, stirring something. At the sound of the door’s hinges, Myra whirled from the stove too quickly. She reached behind herself and put a hand on the counter for support.
“Is there any way I can help you?”
Merrilee hesitantly asked Myra the question. She’d never really known the woman. At the moment, she felt even more of an intruder as the woman scowled.
“I was so intent on this I forgot you were here.” Pain reduced the woman’s voice to a whisper. Still, she’d refused to go to bed no matter that her husband urged her to do that.
“I’ve a supper to get on the table. Help me if you want to.” She narrowed her eyes and snapped out the words.
At that moment, Holder stuck his head into the kitchen. He ran shaky hands through his blonde hair and then gripped it. “Get to bed, woman! I’m the one who’s been through this before. You need to listen to me.”
Shaking a towel at him, like the picture Merrilee had once seen of a matador with a bull, Myra chased her husband out of the kitchen. “Don’t come back until supper’s ready,” she snarled after him.
Merrilee stood with her mouth open. The woman had the nerve to talk back to her husband. She would have to learn from her.
After all, Merrilee knew nothing about handling a man. Her own father had died when she was a tot. Her mother had only recently married Reginald Dyer. The two had gone on a month-long honeymoon, and then her mother returned seriously ill. After being home for a few days, Mother had passed.
Remembering it now, unwanted tears ran from Merrilee’s dark blue eyes. Myra reached an arm around her shoulders and apologized. In a tender voice, she crooned, “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. Please, don’t be hurt. I’m not myself right now.”
Shaking her head, Merrilee took a deep breath to calm herself. “No, the memory of my mother’s recent death popped into my head. I’m fine.”
Giving her shoulder one more squeeze, Myra pointed to the stove. “Watch the pot for me. Stir it and watch for little bubbles.”
Glad for a job, Merrilee moved to the stove. “What do I do about the little bubbles?”
Myra smiled, “Take it off the heat and set it on the trivet.” She pointed to the table and Merrilee spied the cast iron trivet shaped like a rooster.
As she stirred, Myra moved around the room. She gathered crackers and cookies before placing them on the table.
Hesitantly, Merrilee decided to ask about Carl. “Myra, what happened to Carl?”
The woman stopped, a bread knife held above a loaf. “You mean, because of how he acts?”
Nodding, Merrilee didn’t say anything but waited for her to explain. Myra sighed before she laid down the knife. With a groan, she lowered herself into the rocker by the stove.
“One night, he was off drinking with his friends. At least that was what I was told. I was still in Charleston at the time.” A pain stopped her. Both women held their breath, waiting for it to pass.
“Anyhow, Carl’s friend, Ralph, was killed. Shot, actually. Why the gang of men didn’t shoot Carl is a mystery? I only know that they beat him badly. Almost to death.”
Lost in the story, Merrilee almost missed the start of the bubbles. She grasped the handles of the pot to lift it and gasped. “Ow!”
At her cry, Holder sprinted into the room. Moving to Myra, he placed a hand on her protruding stomach. “What’s happened?”
Myra shook her head and slipped away from him. Bringing the bowl of butter, she set it near the stove and swiped her fingers along the top of the ball. Bringing her buttered fingers to Merrilee’s hands, she treated the burned palms with the grease.
Holder grumbled, saying something about stubborn women before leaving the kitchen. Myra laughed at him and grabbed for kitchen towels. Wrapping a towel around each handle, she lifted the pot of soup and placed it on the table.
“It’s a tradition here to have oyster soup on Christmas Eve.” She looked over her shoulder to Merrilee. “Did your family have soup for Christmas Eve?”
At the shake of Merrilee’s head, she said, “Mine, either. It must be a farming thing.”
Another pain gripped her, causing her to stop and cradle her stomach. When she could breathe normally, Myra pointed to the bread. “Would you cut that for me?”
Embarrassed, Merrilee admitted that she’d never cut bread before. “I’ve never even seen it done. I’m useless in a kitchen.”
Myra gently grabbed her wrist and drew her to the counter where the bread sat. “Lesson one: cutting bread.” She smiled at Merrilee. “It’s not hard. Watch me cut the first few slices and then you can finish the loaf.”
She was right, Merrilee decided. It really wasn’t difficult to cut the bread. One thing learned. “One day soon, will you teach me to make bread?”
Nodding, Myra grinned. “Never fear. You’ll be learning to do a lot around here. That is when you aren’t watching Carl. He runs off, you know.”
Somehow, Merrilee didn’t think that would be much of a problem, now that she was here. Her husband seemed interested in being with her.
The next few minutes were pandemonium. Myra called the family to the table just as liquid gushed from her. Holder yelled, the twins cried, and Fred entered through the back door.
Stunned by the noise, Merrilee didn’t think anything else could shock her at that moment. Then she heard Carl’s high-pitched giggle.
Looking at him, she growled, “Shut up and sit down.” She imitated Myra’s stance when she’d run Holder out of the kitchen, wanting to intimidate her husband. Now wasn’t the time for him to put on his act.
He frowned and growled back. “Merry Christmas to you, too, wife. Is that your holiday spirit?”
Holder stopped and looked at him oddly. Carl ducked his head, a frown identical to his brother’s on his face.
Facing Merrilee, Holder smiled. “Already, you’re good for him.”
She arched an eyebrow at her brother-in-law. “Don’t you think it’s time to help your wife to bed?”
He hurried to lift the woman, wet skirts and all. The toddlers began to cry. Both Fred and Carl moved to lift them. Once each had a girl, they soothed them expertly. She was impressed.
Knowing she had a mess to deal with, Merrilee pulled her gaze away from Carl cuddling the little girl. She wasn’t sure which of the twins he held. Later, she’d learn to tell them apart.
“Johanna, get me rags, please. Then dish up the soup for everyone.” Merrilee tried to not use the same tone that she’d heard her mother employ with the servants. She smiled sweetly at the girl, hoping it made her request less commanding.
Johanna smiled back and quickly brought a stack of faded and ripped garments to her, along with a rag mop. “Here’s what Mama uses to wash the floor.”
“Wonderful.” Merrilee patted the girl’s cheek. I
t amazed her that the child was already on eye level with her. She would be a tall woman someday.
She moved away from Merrilee and ladled soup into earthenware bowls. From her spot on the floor, Merrilee looked up and waited. Would they pray?
To her delight, Fred led the family in a brief prayer. He asked the Lord to bless both the food and Myra as she labored to bring the family a new baby. His words warmed Merrilee. What a blessing! She lived with a Christian family.
Very little was said during the meal. Merrilee had washed her hands and joined the group at the table. Watching them, the girls seemed to play with their food while the men studied their bowls as they mechanically brought the soup to their lips.
A tsk erupted from Merrilee. “No one’s died, you know. Girls, your mama will be fine and soon a new baby will be here. It’s time to be happy and excited, not glum.”
Berta gave her a hopeful look. “You don’t think Mama will die?”
Merrilee reached out and smoothed the girl’s blonde hair. “No, Sweeting, I don’t. I think she’s working hard to add one more beautiful child to this family. I can’t wait to see the baby.”
Grinning, Berta ate her soup happily. Johanna let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders. “We love Mama. Life’s so much better with her here.”
Merrilee nodded. “Of course it is. She loves you. I’m looking forward to her teaching me to cook.”
Carl’s head came up and he glared. “You can’t cook? What kind of wife can’t cook?”
“Your wife.” She calmly reminded him, “I came to be a keeper, not a housekeeper.” Narrowing her eyes, she looked from Carl to Fred. “I’m not sure how badly he really needs a keeper. What do you think, Fred?”
The man gave a short shake of his head as he frowned. She thought he was sending a message to drop the topic. With a small shrug of her shoulders, she turned back to Johanna.
“Your mother had to teach me to cut the bread tonight. I think that’s a good start. After supper, you can show me how to wash dishes.”
A Keeper For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 12) Page 4