by Kit Morgan
… and froze. “Morgan?” she cried in surprise.
“Daisy!” he said as he entered, sliding right past her. He closed the door behind him with one hand and held her arm with the other. “Daisy …” he sighed as if he hadn’t seen her in years, then pulled her to him.
She cried out in shock. “Morgan! What are you doing here?”
He held her away from him and looked into her eyes. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You left town without saying a word! I was worried sick!”
She gawked as her jaw went slack. She really hated it when that happened around him, and knew she must look like an idiot. “Who told you I was here?”
“Aunt Eunice did.”
“She did?!”
“Well … once I threatened to defenestrate her.”
Daisy’s brow furrowed. “De … fen …”
“Throw her out a window.”
Daisy’s eyes bulged. “Morgan!” she said, scandalized.
“I admit, I wasn’t quite in my right mind at the time … the thought of losing you … still, I can’t believe she would do such a thing!”
Daisy tried to pull away. “And I can’t believe she actually came up with a logical solution.”
“Solution? She got rid of you!”
Daisy bit her lower lip to keep from crying. The last thing she wanted was for Morgan to know why she’d left town. But wait a minute… “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” he repeated. “Good grief, woman, why do you think I’m here? I’m here because I love you!”
Daisy shook her head in astonishment and stared at him, before limply groping for the nearest chair to sit in. She missed, and dropped to the floor.
“Daisy!” cried Morgan as he grabbed her and picked her up in his arms. “Daisy, sweetheart, speak to me!”
Daisy felt as if every muscle in her body had refused to work. She stared at him as he picked her up and carried her into the parlor to set her gently on the sofa. “Morgan?” she finally squeaked.
“Daisy,” he said as he held her in his arms. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”
“Sweet … heart?” she said in disbelief.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he cupped her face and gazed into her eyes. “So sorry I didn’t make it clear to you.”
She blinked at him a few times and tried to get her mouth to work. “Make … what clear?”
“That I wasn’t pretending anymore. When we started to court, it was real to me. But I forgot to tell you.”
“You … what?”
“I’m so sorry. But it was all real to me, including falling in love with you.”
“Fall in love with me?” Daisy moaned. “But you can’t be in love with me!”
“Crazy in love with you,” he said. “Enough to let Mrs. Vander’s maid arrange a dinner for us in Julian’s basement.”
“Oh, that …”
“I let her pick the location. Another mistake on my part.”
“Oh.”
“But it didn’t matter to me where we were. I fell in love with you that night, Daisy, somewhere between the soup and the quail.”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “It hit me between the quail and the chocolate mousse.”
“Think what would’ve happened if we’d had a second dinner …”
“In a more … suitable location?”
“Quite … but aside from that, what if you had known how I felt?”
“I have no idea,” she said as she stared dreamily up at him.
He lowered his face to hers. “We’d probably be married by now.”
“What makes you say that?”
He shook his head. “Because then I’d be able to do this.” He lowered his face to hers then kissed her with everything he had; leaving no doubt in her mind as to Morgan Tindle’s intentions.
* * *
Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and bright, and Mrs. Vander was beside herself with happiness. She always did get a little giddy when she was about to have a house full of guests. “Betsy, are the pies cooling?”
“Yes, Mrs. Vander, they are.”
“How’s the bird? Does the turkey look all right?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does. It’s a mighty fine looking turkey, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh Betsy, what would I do without you?”
“It don’t bear thinking about, ma’am,” Betsy replied without a trace of irony.
“Seriously, I should give you a raise.”
“I ain’t gonna object,” she affirmed as she opened the oven door and inspected dinner. “Pastor Luke and Winnie ought to be here any time.”
“Yes, yes,” Mercy said as she wrung her hands together. “I do hope they like how we decorated the parlor for the wedding. Do you think Daisy’s dress will fit right?”
Betsy stood and waved a spoon at her. “Mrs. Vander, after what you put that poor woman through to make sure that dress would fit, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’d better go see if anyone’s coming up the walk.” She hurried from the kitchen to the front door. Sure enough, there was a knock just as she reached the foyer.
She opened the door and Martha grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Isn’t this wonderful! This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever!” She hurried past Mercy and rushed into the parlor. “Just look at it!” She was soon followed by Octavius and Morgan, the latter dressed to the nines in a swallowtail coat and breeches from some East Coast haberdashery.
Mercy was so happy, she couldn’t even speak. She looked out at the walk again and saw Pastor Luke and Winnie fast approaching to get in out of the cold.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Vander. Fine day for a wedding, isn’t it?” Pastor Luke asked.
She nodded and let them inside, then saw Miss Brubauk standing at the gate. “Are you coming in, Miss Brubauk? It’s terribly cold outside.”
Miss Brubauk took a deep breath and came down the walk, her head held high. “Fine day for wedding, isn’t it, Miss Brubauk?” Mercy asked.
“If you say so,” she huffed.
Mercy ignored the woman’s tone and quickly closed the door once she’d entered, then ushered her guests into the parlor. “As soon as everyone else gets here, we’ll start!” She hurried back into the kitchen. “Betsy! Everyone is here but Maude and her family …” Another knock at the door. “Oh! Forget what I said, that must be them! Quick, go get the bride!” She turned and ran to the parlor again.
Betsy stood with the spoon in one hand, her other on her hip. “Mm-hmm; just as soon as I baste this bird one more time. Lord have mercy – people would think that woman’s never seen a wedding.”
Once she was done with the turkey, Betsy went upstairs to fetch Daisy while Mercy got everything arranged in the parlor. She sat her guests down in the chairs provided, then took her place next to her husband. Mr. Tindle waited at the end of the makeshift aisle.
When Daisy came down the stairs and into view, he grinned, but Morgan gasped. She was beautiful, and beamed when she saw Morgan standing next to Pastor Luke in front of the fireplace.
“Are you ready for this, my dear?” Octavius asked her as he held out his arm.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Tindle.”
“From now on, you’re to call me ‘Pa’, unless you prefer the more formal ‘Father’.”
“Which would you prefer?”
Mr. Tindle glanced around. “Well,” he said in low voice. “As Morgan already calls me ‘Father’, you can call me ‘Pa,’ if you like.”
Tears welled in Daisy’s eyes. “I’d love to,” she told him, overcome with emotion. To gain a mother, a father and a husband in one day was almost too much for her. Morgan had shown up on Miss Brubauk’s doorstep, professed his love, kissed her senseless and proposed not two days ago. They’d taken the next stage out of Portland and made it back to Independence last night.
Now here she was, on Thanksgiving Day, getting married to the most wonderful – if slightly
thick-headed – man in the world. He didn’t care if she couldn’t read well and could barely write, because he believed in her; believed that she could do it with the proper training and time. And he was willing to take however much time she’d need to learn. For Morgan Tindle wanted her at his side in all aspects: in the mercantile, the home, church, bed … and someday, maybe even in Africa. What a dream come true that would be!
Before she knew it, she was at the end of the aisle and her new papa was putting her hand into his son’s. Pastor Luke was saying things she thought she’d never hear, and soon she was repeating her vows and reciting the words, “I do.” She listened to Morgan do the same as tears streamed down her cheeks and her knees almost gave out.
And then … “You may kiss the bride.”
Morgan gathered Daisy into his arms, bent her back and kissed her hard enough to make Aunt Eunice gasp and flee the room! It was glorious!
Well, glorious for Morgan and Daisy, that is. Not so glorious for Garrett and Julian, who sat in the back scowling, their arms folded across their chests. “That lucky duck,” Garrett remarked in a low voice. “I hate to admit this, but I’m jealous.”
Julian leaned toward him. “You? I’m positively green with envy! How are we ever going to get a woman like that?”
“Yeah, I wish we could get that lucky.”
Betsy’s chuckle caught their attention. They both turned in their seats to see her standing behind them. “What’s so funny?” Garrett asked.
She gave them a wide grin. “You’d best mind what you wish for, Mr. Garrett.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
But Betsy didn’t answer. Just an “Mm-hmm” as she left to check on the turkey.
The End
I hope you enjoyed reading The Thanksgiving Mail-Order Bride, the eighth book in the Holiday Mail-Order Bride Series. Be sure to check out the rest of the series:
The Christmas Mail-Order Bride (Book One)
The New Year’s Bride (Book Two)
His Forever Valentine (Book Three)
Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)
The Springtime Mail-Order Bride (Book Five)
Love in Independence (Book Six)
Love at Harvest Moon (Book Seven)
The Holiday Mail-Order Bride (Book Nine)
His Mail-Order Valentine (Book Ten)
The Easter Mail-Order Bride (Book Eleven – coming March 2015)
About the Author
Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, loves a good Western. Her father loved them as well, and they watched their fair share together over the years. You can keep up-to-date on future books, fun contests and more at Kit Morgan’s Facebook page – https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kit-Morgan/278159182224204?ref=hl# – or by checking out her blog at www.authorkitmorgan.blogspot.com.