Mail-Order Bride

by Debbie Macomber

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  “It’s a long story. Too long and complicated for right now.”

  “And you think my involvement with Larry wasn’t long and complicated?”

  Paul sighed and closed the lid of her suitcase. “The two aren’t comparable.”

  “Then there’s your family…”

  Paul went tense. “Who told you about my family?”

  “We’re married,” she said sadly, “and yet you hide your life from me.”

  “I have no family, Caroline. I was raised in a series of foster homes.”

  “So you’re willing to tell me about your childhood, but not Diane. I think I know why.”

  Irritated, Paul shook his head, his mouth pinched and white. “I love you.”

  “Then let me go back to Seattle,” she said.

  “Please, don’t ask me that again. Give this—us—a chance.”

  “Yes, master,” she said dully.

  Paul groaned and slammed the door.

  —

  If Paul thought Caroline would forget her quest to return to Seattle, he was wrong. For two days, she sat in the cabin, listless and lethargic, gazing into space. She never spoke unless spoken to and answered his questions with as few words as possible. She wore her unhappiness like a cloak that smothered her natural exuberance.

  He tried to draw her out, tried reasoning with her. Nothing helped. By the time they climbed into bed at night, he was so frustrated with her that any desire for lovemaking was destroyed. He longed to hold her, yearned to feel her body close to his, but each time he reached for her, she froze.

  She didn’t talk about Seattle again. But her suitcase remained packed and ready, a constant reminder of how eager she was to leave him. He placed it back under the bed once, but she immediately pulled it out and set it by the front door. He didn’t move it after that.

  Every morning Paul promised himself that Caroline would be better, but nothing seemed to change. He had to find a way to reach her and was quickly running out of ideas.

  But today, he vowed, would be different. He had a plan.

  After dinner that evening, Paul sat in his recliner, reading the Fairbanks paper. His mind whirled with thoughts of seduction; he missed Caroline; he missed having his warm, loving wife in his arms. It had been nearly two weeks since they’d made love, and if anything could shatter the barriers she’d built against him, it was their lovemaking. He smiled, content for the first time in days.

  “Caroline.”

  She turned to him, her eyes blank. “Yes?”

  “Dinner was very good tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you come here a minute, please?”

  She walked toward him with small, measured steps, refusing to meet his eyes, and paused directly in front of his chair.

  “Sit on my lap.”

  Caroline hesitated, but she did as he requested.

  His hand massaged the tense muscles of her back. “Relax,” he whispered.

  Caroline found it impossible to do so but said nothing.

  “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders.”

  She did that, too, with a fair amount of reluctance.

  “Now kiss me.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she recognized his game.

  “You’re so fond of calling me ‘master,’ I thought you might need a little direction.”

  She didn’t move. “Just one kiss, love?”

  Lightly, she rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward.

  “Now kiss me…”

  Caroline stared at him blankly, then touched her mouth to his.

  “No, a real kiss.”

  She brushed her closed mouth over his in the briefest of contacts.

  “Come on, Caroline. It’ll be Christmas soon, and even a grinch could do better than that.”

  With the tip of her tongue, she moistened her lips and slanted her head to press her mouth over his. She felt as if this was all a dream, as if it wasn’t really happening.

  The kiss was routine. Paul wove her hair around his fingers, placing his hand against the back of her head, holding her to him. His warmth seemed to reach her heart, and Caroline felt herself soften.

  “I’ve missed your kisses, my love.” His eyes held hers. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

  Caroline couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his.

  “Kiss me again—oh Caroline, you taste so good.”

  He tasted wonderful, too. She settled her mouth over his, and with a sigh, she surrendered.

  He continued to kiss her with an urgency that quickly became an all-consuming passion. She felt weak, spent. Her arms clung to Paul, and when he ran his hand along the inside of her thigh, she squirmed, craving more and more of him. Her fingers shook almost uncontrollably as she pulled the shirttail from his waistband and rubbed her palms over his chest.

  “I want you,” he whispered.

  Somehow those words permeated the fog of desire when the others hadn’t. With a soft moan, she lifted her head to stare at him with tear-filled eyes.

  “Love?” He reached for her and she moved away as though he held a gun in his hand.

  “Paul, I can’t live here anymore. It hurts too much. Please don’t make me stay.”

  His face lost all color. He could see it was pointless to reason with her and shook his head in defeat. “Alaska is my home.”

  “But it isn’t mine.”

  “You’ll get over this,” he told her.

  “I can’t…I won’t. I tried, Paul, I honestly tried.”

  He was silent for so long that she wondered if he was going to speak again. “I won’t come after you, Caroline. I didn’t with Diane and I won’t with you.”

  She nodded numbly. “I understand.”

  He clenched his fists at his sides. “I give up. I won’t keep you against your will.”

  Tears streaked her face, and when she spoke, her voice was low and hoarse. “Thank you.”

  “Shall I arrange for the divorce, or would you rather do it yourself?”

  Chapter 10

  “Oh Sister,” Ethel Myers said with a worried frown, “I don’t think the brew will help dear Caroline this time.”

  “We must deliberate on this, and you know as well as I do that we do it so much better with Father’s brew.” Mabel Myers carefully poured two steaming cups of the spiked tea and handed one to her younger sister. Soft Christmas music was punctuated by the clinking of china.

  “Poor Caroline.”

  Mabel placed the dainty cup to her lips, paused, and sighed. “She sounded so happy in her letters.”

  “And she tries so hard to hide her unhappiness now.”

  “Paul Trevor must be a terrible beast to have treated her so—”

  “He isn’t, Aunt Mabel,” Caroline said from the archway of her aunts’ parlor. “He’s a wonderful man. Good, kind, generous.”

  Ethel reached for another porcelain cup. “Tea, dear?”

  “Not me,” Caroline said with a grin, recalling the last time she’d sampled her great-grandfather’s brew. Before she’d known it, she’d ended up married to Paul Trevor—and in his bed.

  “If he wasn’t a beast, dear, why did you leave him?”

  Caroline took a seat on the thick brocade sofa and shrugged. “For the wrong reasons, I suppose.”

  “The wrong reasons?” Ethel echoed, and the two older women exchanged meaningful glances.

  “Then, dear, perhaps you should go back.”

  Caroline dropped her gaze to her lap. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t?” Mabel repeated. “Whyever not?”

  “There was another woman…”

  “With him?” Ethel sounded shocked. “Why, that’s indecent. He is a beast.”

  “He loved a woman named Diane a long time ago,” Caroline corrected hurriedly. “He never actually told me about her, but when he gave me the ticket home, he said he didn’t go after Diane and he wasn’t coming after me.”

  Mab
el put her hand on Caroline’s in a comforting gesture. “Do you love him, dear?”

  Caroline nodded again. “Very much.”

  “Then you must go to him.”

  Her two aunts made it sound so easy. Every day since she got home, Caroline had thought of Paul. He’d been right. Time had healed her, and she’d reconciled herself to the shock of losing her friends to the fever. She’d been distraught; the people who’d died were more than patients. They’d been friends—part of her Alaskan family. Each one had touched her in a special way.

  “Go to him?” Caroline repeated. “No, I can’t.”

  “No?” both sisters exclaimed.

  “If he loved me enough, he’d come to me. I need that, although I don’t expect anyone else to understand the reasons.”

  The doorbell chimed and Caroline stood. “That must be Larry. We’re going to a movie.”

  “Have a good time, dear.”

  “Oh yes, dear, have a good time.”

  No sooner had the front door closed than Ethel glanced at her sister, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Shall I get the stationery, or will you?”

  —

  “Hi.” Larry kissed Caroline lightly on the forehead. “At least you’ve got some color in your face tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she said and laughed. Leave it to Larry to remind her that she’d been pale and sickly for weeks. “And you’re looking handsome, as usual.” It frightened her now to think that they’d almost married. Larry would make some woman a wonderful husband, but Caroline wasn’t that woman.

  “Is there any movie you’d like to see?” he asked.

  “You choose.” Their tastes were so different that anything she suggested would only be grounds for a lively discussion.

  “There’s a new musical comedy at the Fifth Avenue. Some kind of Christmas story.”

  His choice surprised Caroline. He wasn’t really interested in musicals, preferring action movies, the more violent the better.

  “Is that okay?”

  Caroline looked up at him and had to blink back tears. She hadn’t cried since she’d returned to Seattle. Tears were useless now. She was home and everything was supposed to be good. Only it wasn’t, because Paul wasn’t there to share it with her. They might have begun their marriage at a disadvantage but she’d grown to love him. And she loved his small Alaskan town, more than she would ever have believed. She’d been a fool to leave him and even more of one not to acknowledge her mistake and go back.

  “I’ve said something to upset you?” Larry asked anxiously. “I’m sorry.” His kindness only made her weep louder.

  “Caroline?”

  “Paul liked musicals,” she explained, sniffling. “He can’t sing, but that didn’t stop him from belting out songs at top volume.”

  “You really liked this guy, didn’t you?”

  “He was the only man I ever met who could beat me at Scrabble.”

  “He beat you at Scrabble?” Even Larry sounded impressed. “As far as I can see, you two were meant for each other. Now, when are you going to admit it?”

  “Never,” she said, and an incredible sadness came over her.

  —

  Ethel Myers sat in front of the ancient typewriter—no computers for them!—and glanced at her sibling. “Pour me another cup of tea, will you, Sister?”

  “Certainly, Sister.”

  They looked at each other and giggled like schoolgirls.

  “Caroline must never know.”

  “Oh no. Caroline would definitely not approve.”

  “Read the letter again, Sister.”

  Ethel picked up the single sheet of paper and sighed. “My darling Paul,” she said in a breathless whisper, as though she were an actress practicing her lines. “I feel you should know that I find myself with child. Your loving wife, Caroline.”

  “Excellent. Excellent.”

  “We’ll put it in the mail first thing tomorrow.”

  “More tea, Sister?”

  Ethel giggled and held out her cup. “Indeed.”

  —

  A few days later, Caroline lay on her bed and finally admitted there was no hope. Paul wasn’t coming for her. He’d told her he wouldn’t, so it shouldn’t be any great shock, but despite that, she’d hoped he would. If he loved her, he would have forsaken his pride and come to Seattle. So much for dreams.

  She turned onto her side. Surely he realized she was waiting for him. She needed proof of his love—proof that she was more important to him than Diane had ever been. More important than his pride. She was his wife, his love. He’d told her so countless times.

  Caroline sighed and closed her eyes. She missed baby Carl and Tanana and their long talks. She missed the women of the village, missed knitting the “authentic” sweaters for tourists. She missed the dusk at noon and the nonstop snow and even the unrelenting cold.

  Most of all she missed Paul. He might have been able to live without her, but she was wilting away for lack of him.

  With the realization that Paul’s pride would keep him in Alaska came an unpleasant insight; it was up to her to swallow her own pride and go to him.

  Within twenty minutes, her luggage was packed. She’d waited long enough; another day was intolerable. She’d go to him. She hated the thought of not being here to share Christmas with her aunts, but her love for Paul was too strong to give her peace.

  “Are you going someplace, dear?” Aunt Mabel asked as Caroline descended the stairs, a suitcase in each hand.

  “Alaska.”

  “Alaska?” Mabel cried, as though Caroline had said outer space.

  Immediately Ethel appeared, and Mabel cast a stricken gaze toward her sister. “Caroline says she’s going to Alaska!”

  “But she can’t!”

  “I can’t?” Perplexed, Caroline glanced from one addled face to the other. Only last week they’d suggested she return.

  “Oh dear, this is a problem.”

  Ethel looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps we should tell her, Sister.”

  “Perhaps we should.”

  Caroline knew her lovable and eccentric aunts well enough to figure out that they’d been plotting again. “I think you’d better start at the beginning,” she said in a resigned voice.

  —

  Ten minutes later, after hearing all the details, Caroline accepted a cup of the special tea. She needed it. “Paul will come,” she murmured. If he believed she was pregnant, he’d certainly show up.

  “He’ll come here and then you’ll be happy. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Her aunts gave her a look of such innocence, she couldn’t disillusion them. “Right,” Caroline said weakly.

  “You were going back to him,” Ethel pointed out.

  “Yes.” But this was different. At least if she returned to Gold River, Paul would have his pride intact. But now he’d realize he’d been tricked again.

  “You’re not unhappy, are you, dear?” Mabel asked softly.

  “I’m happy,” she replied. “Very happy.”

  Nodding with satisfaction, her aunts brought the teapot back to the kitchen while Caroline remained in the room off the entry that her aunts insisted on calling the parlor. The doorbell gave a musical chime and, still bemused from the tea and her aunts’ schemes, Caroline rose to answer it.

  The man who stood outside was tall and well built. Attractive. Caroline glanced up at him expectantly and blinked, finding him vaguely familiar.

  “Caroline, I know…”

  “Paul?” She widened her eyes and felt her mouth drop open. It was Paul, but without a beard. Good grief, he was handsome! Instinctively, she lifted her hand to his clean-shaven face and ran the tips of her fingers over the lean, square jaw.

  “May I come in?”

  For a moment, Caroline was too shocked to react. “Oh of course. I’m sorry.” Hurriedly, she stepped aside so he could enter the Victorian house, then led him into the parlor with its beautifully decorated Christmas tree. “Please sit down.”
<
br />   He wore gray slacks, the Irish cable-knit sweater she’d made for him, and a thin jacket. Everyone else in Seattle was wearing wool coats and mufflers and claiming it was the coldest winter in fifty years.

  “How are you, Caroline?”

  She was starving for the sight of him and couldn’t take her eyes off his smooth jaw. “Fine,” she said absently. Then she remembered what her aunts had told him and frowned. She’d have to tell him the truth, which would no doubt disappoint him. “How are you?” she asked, stalling for time.

  “Fine.”

  Having forgotten her manners once, Caroline quickly tried to reverse her earlier lack of welcome. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Coffee, if you have it.” He paused to look at the portraits of her aunts on the mantel and added, “Just plain coffee.”

  “But you drank your coffee with cream before.”

  “I meant with cream. It’s the other, uh, additions I’m hoping to avoid.”

  Her bewilderment must have shown in her eyes. “I don’t want any of your aunts’ brew.”

  “Oh of course.”

  Caroline rushed into the kitchen and brought back a cup of coffee for Paul and a glass of milk for herself. Her aunts joined her, and when the three of them entered the room, Paul stood.

  “You must be Ethel and Mabel,” he said politely.

  They nodded in unison.

  “He’s even more handsome in person, don’t you think, Sister?” Mabel trilled.

  “Oh very definitely.”

  “Caroline,” Paul murmured when the two older women showed no signs of leaving the parlor, “could we go someplace and talk?”

  “Oh, do go, dear,” Ethel encouraged with a broad grin.

  “Someplace private,” Mabel whispered, and the way she said it suggested a hotel room. Even Caroline blushed.

  Paul escorted her to the car, a rental, and opened the passenger door for her. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked so different—compelling, forthright, determined.

  Once she was seated, he ran his hand over the side of his face. “I feel naked without it.”

  “Why…why did you shave?”

  He gave her an odd look. “For you.”

  “Me?”

  “You once said you refused to stay married to a man whose face you couldn’t see.”

  Caroline remembered his response, too. He’d told her to get used to his beard because it was nature’s protection from the Alaskan winter. He’d adamantly refused to shave then, but he’d done it now because this pretend pregnancy was so important to him. She should be the happiest woman alive, but unexpectedly Caroline felt like crying.