Mail Order Bride: Holly

by Vivi Holt

  “It’s very pretty.” She frowned, running her hand over it. “But if you’re thinking about a shirt for yourself, it really wouldn’t suit. This cloth is for gowns.”

  “I know.” He grinned. “I thought you might like to make a dress for yourself.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “For me?”

  “Yes. Really, I’d like to buy fabric for everyone – we all need winter clothes, and the children are likely to have grown out of theirs from last winter. They’ll need new boots as well. So what do you think of this? I think it would look just about perfect on you.”

  She sounded stunned. “You’re buying us all new clothes and boots?”

  He nodded, his hands on his hips. “You’d best choose. Otherwise I’ll have to pick for you – and I’m not known for my fashion sense,” he chuckled

  She threw her arms around him with a cry, knocking him off balance. “Thank you!” she mumbled against his vest.

  He caught her with one arm and steadied them both against the counter with the other, his heart skipping a beat. “You’re welcome.” When she pulled away, he straightened his vest, his cheeks burning.

  Holly was in her element – she examined every fabric in the store, picking out a different one for each child. Then they all tried on boots, and she selected a pair for each of them, allowing some room to grow. She even selected cloth for a winter shirt and coat for Kurt himself, and insisted he get new boots to replace the worn ones with a hole in the left toe that he’d worn every day the past three years.

  When they finally made their way back to the wagon with all their purchases, Kurt couldn’t help but feel satisfied at how excited Holly and the children were over their new things. It brought a smile to his face. “All aboard,” he called, donning his hat again. Holly returned his smile, and he offered her his arm as she climbed into the wagon. Her touch on his shirtsleeve made his skin tingle beneath the fabric and his heart sing.

  It wasn’t far to Angus’ house – a spacious two-story structure just two blocks from the mercantile. The front yard was built around a large oak, and a rope swing hung from one of its branches over the straggly grass below. Holly studied it as her heart hammered against her ribs and internally she chastised herself. There was nothing for her to worry about – Kurt had told her as much. But she couldn’t help feeling jittery.

  Kurt parked the wagon and came around to the other side to help her and Tripp down. She gathered the children around her, and Eleanor and Edward, the youngest, clung to her skirts. “Now children, please mind your manners, and whatever you do, don’t break anything,” she murmured so only they could hear. They nodded, staring up at her.

  Tripp, however, was watching the house, his brow furrowed. She hoped he wouldn’t create mischief while they were there. She couldn’t imagine why they were all so anxious – or why she was. Back in New York they’d rubbed shoulders with the richest residents and most well-respected families all the time. But this small town was mostly unknown to her, and that made her nerves twitchy.

  Angus answered the door after the first knock and invited them in with a warm welcome. They followed him into the living room and he introduced his wife Beatrice. She sat in an armchair, her feet resting on a hassock, her enormous belly protruding like the prow of a ship on her diminutive frame. “I’m so sorry I can’t get up, but we’re so glad you could come. I do hope you’ll join us for lunch. We’ve been so looking forward to seeing you all. My children are upstairs – Angus Jr. and Katherine, called Kate. With another on the way, as you can see.”

  Then she smiled up at Holly and held out her hand. “Please, come here, Holly.” She patted the seat beside her. “Do sit down. I want to know everything there is to know about you. After all, we are sisters now.”

  Holly’s cheeks flushed and she sat compliantly beside Beatrice, tucking her skirts around her legs and crossing her ankles modestly. “What would you like to know?”

  Beatrice laughed, a warm, pleasant sound. “How about starting with where you grew up?”

  Holly grimaced inwardly and cleared her throat. “I was raised in Morgantown, Virginia. West Virginia now, near the Pennsylvania border.”

  “Oh … that’s coal country, isn’t it?” asked Beatrice.

  Holly noticed a young boy, about Tripp’s age, emerge from another room and wave to Tripp – Angus Jr., presumably. He did resemble his father and his Uncle Kurt. Tripp followed him off into the house, and she smiled to herself. “There wasn’t much to it – there isn’t much to it now, from what I’ve heard. As soon as I was old enough, my sister and I moved to New York. She’s still there.”

  “Oh, you have a sister? Kurt didn’t mention that – though I can’t say I’m surprised. The Sawyer boys, you’ll find, are a tight-lipped pair. Getting information out of either of them is like forcing a full horse to drink from a river.”

  Holly chuckled. She knew just what Beatrice meant. She looked over at Kurt, who stood beside an upright piano against the far wall, deep in conversation with his brother. He caught her gaze and winked, making her heart flip. “Yes, her name is Eve.”

  “You must miss her,” Beatrice replied, her eyes compassionate.

  “Every day,” whispered Holly, willing her voice not to break.

  Beatrice set a dainty hand on Holly’s. “Well, then, I’m so glad we have each other. I’ve never had a sister and always wanted one, and you’ve left yours behind, at least for now. Though I’m sure you’ll be reunited. Life is too short to spend it entirely out of the presence of those we love, don’t you think?”

  Holly nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat that always arose when discussing Eve. She’d been all wrong about Beatrice Sawyer – she could tell the two of them would get along just fine.

  When they left Angus and Beatrice’s house, the sun was already low in the west, and Eleanor soon fell fast asleep in Holly’s lap, her golden curls spread out and her hands tucked together beneath one pink cheek. Holly admired her and tucked a strand of hair behind the little girl’s ear. She really was beautiful, and Holly was so grateful for her and her sweet personality.

  In fact, there were so many things she was grateful for in that moment. She hadn’t thought she’d ever feel peace or hope again after Charles’ death. But here she was, riding on a wagon seat beside her new husband with a smile on her face and hope building in her heart that the future might just be better than she’d thought possible.

  Kurt seemed to catch her mood and grinned knowingly. “That went well.”

  She nodded. “It did, better than I’d expected. Thank you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “For reassuring me before we arrived. And for checking on me. I noticed you stayed close and made sure the conversation remained positive. I appreciate it.”

  He nodded. “They’re good people – they wouldn’t have said anything unfair. Still, I wanted to make sure … you know. I want you to be happy.”

  Her heart leaped. That was the second time he’d said those words. He seemed really to care for her, more than she’d believed, much more than she’d dared to hope he would.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He half-stood and pulled a creased envelope out of his back pocket. “Here, this is for you. Mr. Werner the postmaster gave it to me at the mercantile.”

  She took it and read the address in the dimming light. It was from Eve! She bit her lower lip and glanced at Kurt. What she really wanted to do was retreat to a quiet room alone to open it so she could savor every word. But she couldn’t wait until they got home – she had to read it now, had to know what was going on in her sister’s life since she left New York. She’d never been apart from Eve so long before. She’d practically raised her after their parents’ death – and missed her even more than she’d realized she would.

  She gently tore it open and extracted five full pages, written on both sides in her sister’s neat script. The first pages were all about her daily life, Rodney and James and
James’ new doctor. Then she addressed Holly’s situation in the sweet but firm way she always did:

  My darling sister, you never knew what it meant to work at a marriage. Your own dear Charles was so in love with you, he gave you all your heart’s desires and more. You never really argued or had him fuss at you. You aren’t accustomed to marriage being anything other than following your heart. But let me tell you – not every marriage is like that.

  Marriage to Rodney requires that I sometimes put aside my own wants, desires and dreams, for the sake of my family and my husband. Do I wish that I had a husband who catered to my every whim? Yes, of course. But it isn’t so and I mustn’t hold onto false hopes.

  And you mustn’t either. You’re married now and you must try to make it work. Kurt is your husband and you should do everything you can to support him. He needs you as much as you need him, and from what you’ve told me so far he’s a good and kind man. Let that be enough for you.

  If you returned to New York, you’d find yourself alone and penniless, exactly the state you wanted to escape by marrying Kurt. I’d love to see you, of course, but I don’t wish to watch you fall into the destitution we escaped as children. I don’t think I could bear it.

  Will you promise me you’ll try? Give Kurt a chance. I know you don’t think you can love again, but I believe in love and I believe in you. I do hope you’ll let Kurt into your heart. But, if you decide to return home, I’ll support you and do everything I can to help you and the children …

  Holly let the correspondence rest in her lap and her eyes wandered to the horizon. She ran over Eve’s words in her mind, considering their weight. She knew Eve was right – and she’d already decided in her heart she wanted to stay, at least as long as Kurt allowed her to. She knew that her and her children’s best chance of building a new life was with him. And she’d grown fond of him besides.

  Could she let him into her heart, as Eve’s letter implored her to do? Her stomach clenched at the idea. Vulnerability always resulted in suffering – that much she knew after a lifetime of pain. With her heart still aching from losing Charles, she wasn’t sure she could let down the walls that protected it to allow Kurt in.

  Even as Holly pondered, she realized with sudden clarity that she hadn’t suffered the pang of grief that usually accompanied thoughts of Charles. Her eyes widened in surprise – she felt nostalgic and a little sad, but wasn’t overcome by the urge to collapse on the ground in tears. Something inside her had changed.

  10

  The pelting rain hammered a dull staccato rhythm against the cottage’s shingled roof. Kurt shrugged off his overcoat and hung it on a peg outside the door, then removed his hat, slapped it against his hand to knock some of the water off and set it on another peg. His muddied boots came off too, to be set on the porch near the dripping coat and hat.

  He took a deep breath and let his gaze wander over the ranch. His view was obscured by the driving rain, but he could see the barn, dark and sturdy beside the house. The horses grazed in the distance, their blacks, browns and tans against the green of the sodden grass. He was grateful for the rain, though it made working that much harder. The crops he’d planted would benefit from a good soaking.

  When he opened the front door, it smelled good inside, and the warmth from the fireplace made feel it cozy and snug the moment he entered. Several of the children sat before the fire, playing some game, he couldn’t tell what. But they were quiet and well-occupied.

  Heather glanced up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. “Howdy, Mr. Sawyer!”

  He grinned at her precociousness – where had she picked that word up? “Howdy yourself, Heather.”

  Something was different about the place, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. It smelled like baking and cinnamon and everything good, in a way that reminded him of childhood Christmases. The lantern light and firelight made shadows dance on the walls and furniture. He spied Holly at the kitchen table, a floral-print apron tied tightly around her trim waist, humming while she kneaded dough on a board he’d cut for her use. “Good evening,” he said, wandering over to greet her.

  She smiled warmly, and it lit him up inside. “Good evening, Kurt. Would you like some coffee? I just made a pot.”

  He nodded and sat at the table.

  She poured it at the stove and set in front of him. “Here, that should warm you up. It’s certainly blowing a gale outside.”

  “It sure is. And that rain is really coming down too.” He frowned. Something was different about Holly. She almost seemed to glow as she buzzed around, putting together what looked like a blackberry pie. She must have gathered berries from the bushes over by the creek. He’d shown them to her the previous week, thinking the children would likely enjoy picking the fruit while they played. “Did you have a good day?”

  She reached across the table to lay her hand on his and meet his eyes. “I did. And you?”

  He startled at her touch, tipping his head to one side. The feel of her skin on his sent a buzz up his arm and he took a quick breath. “It’s been well enough, given the wind, rain and a half-dozen runaway steers. And a leaking barn roof, which I’ll have to deal with another time. But the day’s done, and all’s well that ends well.”

  She nodded, noting his use of the same saying she’d offered him when she first arrived. She pulled away to finish the pie’s top crust. “True enough. Supper’s almost ready – we’re having roast veal with cornbread and greens, and blackberry pie for dessert.”

  He ran a hand over his beard. “That sounds delicious.”

  She hummed a tune while he watched her wipe her flour-covered hands on her apron, then slide the pie into the cast-iron oven. He saw the flash of glowing coals before she closed the door, using her apron to protect her fingers from the heat.

  “I’m going to work on your garden tomorrow,” he began, tapping the tabletop. “If it’s not still pouring rain, that is. It’s time to harvest the pumpkins and gourds, so I thought I’d do that for you and dig up the potatoes and carrots. I want to expand the space, but I’ll probably wait until spring. There’s not much point now, with the planting season passed.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it. You know, that might be something the boys can help you with. Tripp needs something to do – it’s time he started helping around here with the men’s work. And Edward’s only five, but he loves to dig.” She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a trace of flour on her fair skin.

  Tripp’s ears had perked up at the suggestion he could do “men’s work.” “I don’t mind,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Kurt smiled. “That sounds fine.” But all his attention was on Holly. She really was beautiful, and though he’d noticed that the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, there was something about her now that drew him in. She made his heart feel warm and full. Once, facing his new family at the end of a workday filled him with anxiety, and a few times he’d even found extra chores to keep him away. Now he realized he couldn’t wait to come inside and see her. Even the children’s noisy play and hearty bickering brought a smile to his face.

  Kurt turned his head around to look over his shoulder at the boys. Tripp tugged at a pumpkin still on the vine, and Edward was shoving a trowel two-handed into the earth, a pile of dirt growing beside him.

  Kurt grinned, cut a small yellow gourd free from the vine and dropped it into a string bag he’d looped around his shoulders. The garden was overgrown with weeds, making it difficult to locate the actual vegetables. Some had begun to rot where they were hidden, and he chastised himself over the waste. He hoped Holly would be a more conscientious gardener than he’d been.

  He stepped deeper into the tangle of foliage, foraging through it in search of pumpkins and gourds. They made for good eating – he was looking forward to pumpkin pies and roast gourds with butter and brown sugar – and he smiled in anticipation.

  A sharp pain in his hand made him draw it back with a furrowed brow. What was that? He ki
cked one boot at the weeds and saw a small thick snake pull back into a loop, its beady eyes watching him closely. He reached for his shovel close by on the ground, raised it high and brought it down hard on the snake’s neck, severing its head in one swift movement. Then he hurried to the edge of the garden and slumped to the ground.

  Tripp was stacking pumpkins into a neat pile, Edward having ducked back into the cottage. “What’s wrong?” asked Tripp, coming over to Kurt and studying him with hooded eyes.

  “Snake bit me,” replied Kurt, holding his wounded hand in the other.

  Tripp gasped. “What kind? Did you see it?”

  “Copperhead, I think.” Kurt’s nostrils flared and he closed his eyes. Of all the thoughtless things … he knew not to poke around in undergrowth like that. He’d been distracted and should have been more careful.

  “I’ll get Ma!”

  Kurt stopped him. “No. You can help me.”

  Tripp squatted beside him. “Yes, sir. What do I do?”

  “Take my knife.” Kurt leaned to one side, exposing the knife he wore in a sheath on his belt.

  Tripp unclipped the sheath and carefully extracted the knife. The blade shone in the morning light.

  “Now, you need to cut the bite like so.” Kurt, teeth clenched, drew an X across the cut with his finger. He hoped the boy was up to it.

  Tripp’s face paled and he took a quick breath. “Yes, sir.” He brought the knife toward Kurt’s hand and hesitated, his hand shaking.

  Kurt met Tripp’s gaze with a forced smile. “I’m glad you’re here, buddy. Wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this.”

  Tripp swallowed, nodded, then gently drew the knife across the bite wounds, then again across them.

  Kurt watched thin lines of blood appear. “That’s it. Well done.” He gritted his teeth, brought his hand to his mouth, sucked out the poison and spat it onto the ground. “Thanks, buddy. Could you trouble your Ma for some water?”