Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  “Irina,” John whispered, looking down at his beautiful, exotic new wife in veneration. “Irina.”

  John spun Irina around, still holding her waist tightly. He felt the curves of her body, and he sighed as he imagined the moments to come. John reached for Irina’s long dark hair and tucked it behind her ear, leaning in to kiss her neck with a tenderness Irina had never experienced. He kissed the lower parts of her neck all the way up to the side of her face, and then back down again. He went even lower than her neck this time, and his lips rested on Irina’s delicate clavicle. He felt Irina shiver, and John pulled her even closer to him. He could feel her heart beating in her chest, and he could see her face growing red.

  Irina turned her head and gazed up at John, lazily blinking her eyes and biting her lower lip.

  “Billy,” Irina whispered back.

  John dropped his arms from Irina’s hips and stepped back. Irina immediately realized her misstep, and she placed a hand over her mouth.

  “John! I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it. I am so sorry! I had just been writing to Billy when I was back in New York, and his name slipped out. I prayed for him for so long, and the changes are just taking some time to get used to!”

  John stared at Irina, folding his arms across his broad, muscled chest.

  “You know that Billy never wrote to you,” John spat at Irina. “He couldn’t write! He was blind, Irina! Someone had to do everything for him. I wrote all of those letters to you, and I read all of your letters to him. I know all about you, and you ain’t know nothing about me. Nobody ain’t know nothing about me. I am just Billy’s brother, even now, as your husband! You just wish I was him, don’t you?”

  John glared down at Irina, the desire he had felt on moments ago now replaced with fury. He saw tears spilling from Irina’s dark eyes. For an instant, his heart softened, but the sound of his wife whispering his brother’s name echoed in his mind.

  “Billy,” Irina had said with such longing. John knew it was a mistake. Their intimate moment together had felt so natural, and John could sense the attraction between he and his wife. He just could not forget the sound of his brother’s name on Irina’s lips, and John turned on his heel and walked out of the house, once again leaving his new wife alone.

  Irina watched as her husband slammed the door to the small house. She sank to her knees. She had been so close to winning John’s heart. The moment they had shared together had been exciting and passionate, and now, Irina began to sob as she remembered what she had said.

  “Billy,” Irina had whispered lustfully. She had not meant to utter Billy’s name. She had been caught up in the moment with John, and after so many days of fantasizing about being Billy’s wife, she had let his name slip from her lips as Billy’s brother, her husband, held her close. Her face burned with embarrassment as she cradled her head in her hands.

  “How could I say that? How could I? He will never love me now!” Irina cried to herself as she knelt on the hard wooden floor of her husband’s house.

  Irina was overcome with emotions. She was lonely, she was heartbroken, and she was fearful for her future. What would happen to her if John continued to despise her? Her marriage was unconsummated, which meant John could easily send her away, if he chose! Would John send Irina back to New York, alone and penniless? Would he ever look at her with love, or at least with kindness?

  She had felt so comfortable in his embrace. The kisses they had exchanged had been hard and long, and Irina knew in her heart that her body was yearning for more of John’s touch. When his arms had slid around her narrow waist, she had felt a spark in her lower belly that grew as their hips met, and as she felt John’s urgency, Irina felt a longing in her own body and soul for the husband she now had.

  “Irina,” John had whispered to her, his green eyes dancing as he looked down at her, licking his lips as though she were the most delicious thing his eyes had ever gazed upon.

  Irina recounted the scene in her mind over and over, shuddering each time she remembered murmuring Billy’s name. John had looked so hurt and so angry with her, and Irina felt nauseated as she recalled his departure from the house.

  “Lord, please help him to forgive me,” Irina prayed as she lay on the floor. “Please, Lord. We were so close to getting to know each other, and I ruined things! Please let him give me another chance. Let him trust in the vows we made before You and help his heart open to me!”

  Suddenly, Irina heard a loud crack and an accompanying clap of thunder. Rain began to fall, and she felt as though the skies were crying along with her.

  As John marched away from his house and his wife, he felt the humid air grow cool. A sharp, violent wind began to blow, and John watched as the leaves were clumsily pulled from the trees. A loud booming noise nearly knocked John to his knees, and as the skies opened up and rain began to pour, John scowled.

  “This ain’t my day,” John grumbled as he shielded his eyes from the heavy raindrops. “A storm now, too? This is real bad.”

  John fought through the storm, struggling to take small steps as the thick, unpredictable winds blew leaves and debris through the air. The dark night skies were intermittently bright as lightning crackled across the fields, and John did his best to move quickly. As he unsteadily clamored along the dirt road in the direction of his parents’ house, he felt a hard thud on his back.

  “A rock?” John wondered aloud, wiping the rain from his face as he struggled to see. He leaned down and retrieved the item that had hit him. It was a large, chunky block of ice.

  “A hailstorm!” John said, quickening his pace. The gray pieces of ice fell from the sky, slow at first, but then faster and faster, and John covered his head with his hands. The ground was littered with hail, and John could barely move as he fought to maintain his slowing pace.

  “Lord, how can you do this to me?” John screamed, lowering his hands from his head and waving his fists. “You take my brother from me, You send me a wife who wants him, not me, and You ain’t got the decency to send me off with good weather. This is mighty terrible!”

  Two claps of thunder boomed within seconds of each other, and John fell to the ground. He rose quickly, and as the rain and hail mixed together in an icy combination, he mustered his strength and began to sprint.

  “John? What has happened to you?” Betha cried out when John finally reached his parents’ cabin. She rose from her place by the fire and embraced her son. “You was out in this terrible storm? Oh, John! Are Irina and the baby alone? Shame on you! You left them alone on your first night back home? They must be real scared!”

  John glowered at his mother. His face was bruised from the hail, and his shirt was torn from when he had fallen. He was in no mood to be chastised by his mother, and he stalked off, throwing himself up the ladder and laying down on the bed where he had slept throughout his childhood.

  “Lord, I ain’t got the strength for this,” John thought aloud as he listened to the clatter of raindrops hitting the tin roof. “Just let them leave me alone. I can’t stand them giving me trouble, and I just spent the last half-hour in the rain. Just let me be.”

  John turned and rested on his side. He was thankful for the hard, noisy drops of rain hitting the roof so he could not hear the sound of his parents discussing his actions over the storm, and despite his arduous journey to the house, he reveled in the nasty weather.

  “This is what my heart feels like,” John murmured as he heard the crackle of lightning. “I feel like a mighty storm inside.”

  John tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep as the wind and rain pummeled his parents’ cabin. After a few hours, the glow from the downstairs fireplace vanished, and he knew his parents had retreated to their bed. John rose from his own bed and stretched.

  “I just want to sleep,” he muttered, irritated that he could not peacefully sink into slumber after a difficult evening.

  John sat upon the bed. He thought about his childhood in the loft, and the nights he spent
whispering with Billy. The boys had never been close. John had always been angry and resentful toward his older brother, but despite John’s bitterness, Billy was consistently kind and gentle.

  “You are my best friend, John,” Billy would whisper each night as the boys fell asleep in the loft.

  John’s heart sank at the memories of his older brother. He was so conflicted now that Billy was gone. He was filled with guilt and shame for ever wishing ill upon his older brother, and he felt even more ashamed that he was neglecting the woman who had traveled to California because of Billy. John felt angry and cheated too. Why was he always expected to make up for Billy’s inadequacies? John’s entire life had been spent looking after his brother, helping his brother, and working more than his brother, and now, as a man, John would forever be stuck with a wife and child that he had never bargained for.

  Irina. John thought about his wife. She was probably terrified. The storm was the worst that Pinecone had seen in years, and a city girl like Irina was likely not used to such conditions. John’s face reddened as he thought about their encounter earlier in the evening. Irina had looked so lovely in the glow of the fireplace, with her flushed skin, long, dark hair, and full, sensual lips. John’s desire for his wife had shocked him. As he had held Irina’s body against his, he ached for more of her touch, and now, as he recalled their embrace, he felt a warmth in his belly.

  “What do I do, Lord?” John muttered. “What do I do? She said his name in our moment. She wanted him, not me.”

  John rose from the bed and began to pace around the room. In the corner, he noticed several wooden crates that had not been there in previous days. Squinting to see in the darkness, John kneeled to examine their contents.

  “Billy,” John whispered. The crates were filled with Billy’s things. He had perished so unexpectedly, and already, a new family had moved into town and bought Billy’s house from Betha and Charles. They had quickly removed his few belongings from the house, and now, John held his brother’s things.

  “Oh, Billy,” John murmured, holding up one of his brother’s dark woolen shirts to his face and breathing in the familiar Earthy musk. John carefully folded the shirt and placed it gently back in the crate. He moved to the next crate, and after placing a pair of torn trousers aside, he lifted a leather-bound writing book from the crate.

  “What is this?” John wondered aloud. He gently touched the leather-bound book. It looked to be expensive, and John imagined it was a remnant from Billy’s time away at the school in San Francisco. He traced the cover with his fingertips, and then he opened the book. The bound pages were blank, but several pieces of yellowed paper fell out as Billy held the book open. He held the paper close to his eyes, and as he read, he felt his stomach churn. It was dated back several years, and the handwriting was unfamiliar, but as he read, John knew that it was surely the Lord who had brought this correspondence to his attention.

  Dear John,

  I am writing this to you from school. My dear friend, Oliver, is writing these words as I dictate to him, and I am afraid that Oliver will see tears from me today as I compose this letter. I have not decided yet if I shall send it to you, but I thought it might quiet my heart to have these thoughts written down and out of my mind.

  John, you are nearly seventeen years old now. You are on the verge of manhood, and I could not be more proud of you. John, you are a good boy. You have always been there for me, and you have always helped me. I know that my condition is not an easy one to navigate; you have helped be my eyes for so many years, and I hope you know how grateful I am for your help. I praise the Lord for you daily, and I pray that someday, you will understand how much you mean to me.

  I am writing this in response to something you said when I visited home last spring to surprise ma for her birthday. We were gathered around the kitchen, and I could sense the tension in the room. You had met me at the train station, as planned, but from the time you greeted me, I knew something was wrong. Later, I heard you talking with ma and pa about what a burden it has been to help me throughout your life. I heard you talking about how you think I put on airs now, and how you are angry that I speak like city folk do. John, your words hurt me, but I understand. I know it must be difficult for you, and now, as I am older, I see how much responsibility ma and pa have expected you to have. It has not been fair for you, and I know that.

  You have done so much for me, John, and I hope to someday make it all up to you. You have shouldered great burdens for me, and I promise you that one day, I will make things right. I love you very much, John, and I wish to help give you the world. You are my beloved brother, and I will work my entire life to ensure that you have everything you want.

  Please know that I love you, John. The Lord has blessed you with so many things; you are handsome and strong, but you are also kind and gentle. I know that you are angry, John, and I know that you are not happy that I will be graduating from school and returning home to Pinecone soon. Just know that I will always be here for you, I will always love you, and I will work hard to make sure you are happy someday.

  With love,

  Billy

  John’s hands shook as he read and reread his brother’s words. He remembered the visit Billy had referred to. John had behaved monstrously during Billy’s time at home, and now, as a man, he burned with shame as he recalled his childish behavior. John had never received this letter, and he felt as though the Lord was sending him a sign.

  “Billy,” John said softly, holding the yellowed paper in his hands and clasping the pages to his chest. “My brother.”

  John’s shoulders began to shake, and tears poured from his eyes. He had never felt more convicted. His brother loved him dearly, and John had always been impatient and ungracious to Billy. John bent over, hardly able to contain the sobs that threatened to wake his parents. He stifled his cries, thankful that the rain still fell loudly, but still, John could not stop from moaning and shaking.

  “I was a real terrible brother,” John wept as he held his brother’s letter to his chest. “I helped him, but I did it in a bad spirit. I ain’t a good man. I ain’t a good son. I was a bad brother, and now, my brother is dead.”

  As the rain poured down on the tin roof of the cabin, John continued to sob. When he finally ran out of tears, he folded his hands in prayer.

  “Lord,” John prayed aloud, his heart pounding. “Lord, forgive me for being a real bad brother. Billy loved me, and I loved him. I acted real bad, and he knew that I resented him. Lord, forgive me, and help me to be better. Let me live like Billy did. He was a kind, good man, and I ain’t gonna be a bad man anymore, not when I have read the words of my brother. Lord, I want to be a good, Godly man. Show me what to do.”

  As John finished his prayer, he felt an immense relief. He sighed, exhaling the air from his lungs until it was all gone, feeling his body relax and his mind clear. Thunder boomed in the distance, and the raindrops were fading away, with only the occasional pitter patter of drops hitting the roof.

  “Irina,” John whispered to himself. He knew what he needed to do. He looked up at the ceiling, casting his eyes toward Heaven. “Lord, Billy, I will not let you down,” John said as he rose from his place on the floor. He tucked the yellowed pages of Billy’s letter into the pocket of his trousers and placed all of Billy’s things back in the wooden crates. He nodded, certain of what the Lord was telling him. John walked to the narrow wooden ladder and climbed down from the loft, careful not to jump off the last two rungs as he normally did. He did not want to wake his sleeping parents, and he tiptoed out of the house.

  “Irina,” John whispered again to himself, savoring the way his wife’s exotic name felt upon his lips. With the rain continuing to slow and the sky beginning to lighten, John ran in the direction of his house, eager to take his wife into his arms and do right by his brother in the most important way.

  4

  Irina rolled over in bed, unable to fall asleep after the tumultuous evening with her husband. The rain
had been frightening at first, but now, she felt soothed by the light clatter of raindrops hitting the roof. She pulled the thick quilt up to her chin and snuggled further into the bed. Queralt had not woken up during the noisy thunderstorm, and Irina was thankful to have some quiet time to herself to process what had happened between her and John.

  “Oh, Lord,” Irina prayed as the rain gently fell. “Lord, please let him forgive me for calling him by his brother’s name. I am so ashamed.”

  Irina turned over and adjusted the long, thin white nightgown that was now tangled between her legs. She sighed, wishing that John were here and that they could talk about what had transpired. Feeling defeated, she rose from the bed and quietly walked into the kitchen, avoiding the loose wooden floorboard just outside of the bedroom that creaked each time she stepped on it. She glided into the kitchen and sat down at the thick wooden table. Irina did not light candles or the fireplace, and she sat alone in the darkness as the rain began to pound the roof once more.

  “Irina!”

  Irina heard John’s voice outside of the house.

  “I must be dreaming,” she thought, a smile creeping onto her face. “I must have fallen asleep after all. John is not calling for me!”

  Irina waited in the silence of the house, but once again, she heard John’s voice calling her name.

  “Irina!” she heard in the distance. She stood from the table and moved to the window. The sky was the color of the lake in Central Park, a faded, dark blue that was lightening with every moment. The sun would be up soon, and Irina felt the dull ache of exhaustion from her sleepless night in her head and body.