“Oh, Avery,” her voice caught.
“I wanted to prove I could provide Katie with the life she wanted so when the news of the gold rush reach St. Louis, I caught the first train to Wyoming.” Avery paused, the memories of that time coming faster now. “It wasn’t too long after I’d arrived that Jake mentioned something about an assayer’s job. By then, I was done hoping to strike it big. So I set up an office, and once I made a good living, I wrote to Katie.”
“But she didn’t come.”
Avery shook his head. “No.”
“Avery.” Meg’s voice shook. “Where does Rose come into all this?”
“She’s the only bright spot in the whole mess.” He smiled at the thought of their daughter. “I’d been in town a couple of years, had settled into life here when Katie shows up, heavy with child.”
“Dear Lord,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t send Katie away. She didn’t have any money and even if she did, the trip back would have been too dangerous for her and the baby.” One side of his mouth slid upward. “Only I hadn’t counted on falling in love with Rosie. The first moment I held her in my arms, I knew I was her papa, even if she’s not my flesh and blood child. For Rose, I would do anything.”
Meg cupped his cheek in her palm. “You stayed true to your wedding vows.”
“I knew I was a fool and that Katie wouldn’t change. But I was willing to try to make my marriage work for Rose’s sake.” He lowered his gaze to stare at his boots. “That’s it. That’s the entire story.”
Before he knew what was happening, Meg flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her cheek pressed against his. “What did I ever do to deserve a man as good and decent as you as my husband?”
Avery wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her particular fragrance of rosewater and sweetness. “What about you? You stood up for me when I know how much you hate to draw attention to yourself.” He bent his head and kissed the soft skin behind her ear. “Is it any wonder that I love you?”
Meg leaned back just far enough for their gazes to meet. “You love me?”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Sweetheart, it’s going to take me a lifetime to show you just how much I love you.”
She sunk into him. “I love you too. So very much.”
Avery didn’t hesitate, covering her lips with his, his heart ready to burst when Meg answered his kiss with one of her own. Minutes later, he lifted his head, his lungs thirsty for air, the daze he felt reflected in Meg’s eyes. She was so beautiful, this woman who’d joined her life with his. He was humbled by her gift of love.
Meg ducked her head, patting her hair into place. “I must look a mess.”
“Never.” He pushed a loose strand of silky blond hair behind her ear, drawing one finger along the line of her jaw. “You’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever know.”
Her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue, her soft smile dreamy. “Thank you.”
Something had changed. Meg had never accepted his compliments so easily before. He brushed his thumb against her birthmark. “You usually fight me whenever I say something nice about you.”
“That’s because I’ve never felt good about myself.” She curled her arm around his and leaned against him, her head, a pleasant weight against his shoulder. “Until I fell in love with you.”
He knew there was more to it. He’d seen Becky talking to Meg before services, had watched as she lowered her head to pray. But for the moment, he’d bask in her love. “Ready to go home.”
She smiled up at him. “As long as that home is with you and Rose, yes.”
As Avery released the brake and turned the horses toward home, he lifted up a silent pray of thanks for the woman beside him, and for the family they would build together.
Epilogue
“Mama, wake up!”
The soft whisper buzzed in Margaret’s ear like a honeybee searching for a fresh bloom. She pulled the quilt up over her shoulder and nestled into her pillow, sinking down into the bed’s warmth.
A small hand tapped her shoulder. “Mama?”
Avery’s familiar arms gathered her into a muscular chest, and she snuggled against him, pillowing her head against his neck. He pressed a soft kiss against her cheek, and then another, his beard, a gentle scrap against her tender flesh.
“I thought we locked that door,” he breathed into her ear.
“Obviously not, or she wouldn’t be in here at this time of the morning.” Meg stretched out beside him, rubbing her foot against his leg.
He lifted his head, but not before dropping a kiss on her nose. “At least, we’re not up in the loft anymore.”
She chuckled. They’d never spent a night in the loft, exchanging bedrooms with Rose before she came home from her afternoon with the Sanders girls almost two months ago. Of course, the child had been delighted, pretending that her room was a high tower of a castle.
Her parents were happy with the change too, though for different reasons.
“It’s Christmas, Mama! And my birthday!”
As if either she or Avery would forget. The child had been dancing around the house for days, chattering like a song bird about the puppy her papa had promised or wondering what Santa would leave in her stocking. She turned to look at Rose, a smile tugging at her lips at the excitement in the little girl’s face. “Why don’t you go make up your bed while we get dressed?”
“I already did, and I put on my clothes and set the plates out for breakfast and. . .”
Their daughter was a little magpie and a busy bee this morning. As Rosie continued her list, Margaret pushed back the quilts and sat up, the world suddenly tilting around her. She swayed, her stomach roiling.
“Meg?” Avery caught her and pulled her close, anchoring her against his side. “Rosie, go get your mama some water.”
Just the thought of swallowing anything made her stomach pitch. “How about a wet clothe instead?”
“Yes, Mama.” She grabbed the clean washcloth on the nightstand, tossed it into the washbasin and poured water from the pitcher over it.
With Rose occupied, Avery lifted a hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel like you’ve got a fever. Maybe it was something you ate at the church social though I don’t remember seeing you eat very much.” He pushed the covers back and grabbed his pants. “I’ll run to town and get the doctor, just to be on the safe side.”
“Don’t do that.” Margaret sucked in a deep breath, the world righting itself slightly. “I already know what’s making me feel this way.”
Avery sat down beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his, his forehead lined with worry. “What is it?”
Margaret sighed, emotions knotting in her throat. Common for women in her condition, the doctor had told her. It’s just she had pictured telling Avery so differently. “Nothing that won’t right itself in time.”
“You’re not ill?”
She shook her head. Poor man. He really was sick with worry. No sense waiting now, though she had hoped to share her news with him before they told Rose together. “You know that school you and the men have been taking about building? Well, we’re going to need it soon rather than later.”
Avery blinked, then settled his warm hand over her flat belly. “We’re having a baby?”
She nodded, her heart bursting at the joy she saw radiating in Avery’s gaze.
“When?” His voice a whisper, as if he couldn’t fully believe the news yet.
“Sometime next August.”
“What about you?” He pulled her on to his lap and cradled her against him, his body rocking slightly. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
Such a sweet man. The next seven months were going to be difficult for him, what with his worrying about her and all. Meg palmed his cheek in her hand. “Love me.”
Avery turned and pressed a kiss to her palm. “With all my heart.”
“Here, Mama.” Rosie handed her the dripping wet washcloth, her pinafore soaked f
rom neck to hem.
What a wonderful big sister Rose was going to be! Meg stood, then sat down beside Avery, leaving just enough room for Rose between them. “Sweetheart, Papa and I have something to tell you.”
“A surprise?” She asked, her expression hopeful.
“A very big surprise.” Avery dropped a kiss in their daughter’s curls. He was such a good father. Meg couldn’t have asked for a better man to raise her children with than this man God had given her.
“What is it?”
“Well,” he started, meeting Meg’s gaze over their daughter’s head. “Maybe, I should let your mama tell you.”
“Mama?” Rose looked up at her expectantly.
Margaret bent down and kissed her little girl’s head. “How would you feel if I told you you’re going to have a little brother or sister next summer?”
“Really?” Rose’s dark eyes sparked with excitement. “Just like Missy?”
Avery nodded. “Just like Missy.”
The girl stood and wrapped her arms around both of her parents. “This is the best Christmas ever!”
Rose’s parents couldn’t agree more.
Dear Readers,
I always loved Christmas books—there are bookshelves in my office loaded down with favorite stories from years gone by. To me, nothing is better than curling up in a blanket with a plate of Christmas cookies and reading a Christmas novel or novella.
So when Darlene Franklin asked me to be a part of this lovely collection, I jumped at the chance! Sharing Avery and Margaret’s journey to their Happily-Ever-After put me in the holiday spirit long before the Christmas tree went up this year!
My prayer for you this holiday season is to find a joy in our Savior that will lighten your heart throughout the years to come.
Merry Christmas!
Patty
Books by Patty Smith Hall
Bell Bomber Brides Series
Hearts in Flight
Hearts in Hiding
Hearts Rekindled
The Baby Barter
A Town Called New Hope Series
New Hope Sweethearts(Book One)
Christmas Traditions Series
Books in the Christmas Mail Order Angels Series
Jacob’s Christmas Dream by Darlene Frankin
Christmas Gold by Cynthia Hickey
Christmas Fire by Jennifer Allee
The Evergreen Wreath by Tanya Stowe
The Reliable Cowboy by Susan Page Davis
Cooking Up Christmas by Teresa Ives Lilly
A Christmas Rose by Brandi Boddie
A Christmas Belle by Anne Greene
A CHRISTMAS BELLE
BY
ANNE GREENE
©2015
A Christmas Belle: Christmas Mail-Order Angels
By Anne Greene
Published by Emerald Publishers
Copyright 2015 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, electrical, chemical, mechanical, optical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Cynthia Hickey
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
(Luke 2:9-10-11)
I heard the bells on Christmas Day, Their old, familiar carols play, and wild and sweet the words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men. …Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; the Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
CHAPTER ONE
October 1877, Wyoming
Was this really what it took to find a husband?
Amanda Geoffrey heaved a deep sigh and brushed dust from her traveling gown. She turned to one of the other mail-order brides jouncing on the buckwagon’s wooden seat beside her. “Yes, from my earliest memories people esteemed me as a mind-reader. I do possess a knack for reading people’s fleeting involuntary expressions.” She smiled. “People immediately erase those swift reactions hoping to mask their true thoughts.”
“Your ability sounds like a gift.” Though they’d been riding in the wagon almost eight hours, Henrietta’s eyes sparkled.
“When I concentrate, I can almost mind-read. But, after some awkward experiences, I’ve pretty much learned to keep the knowledge of my gift to myself. I’m trusting you not to tell a soul.”
“You can be certain I’ll keep your secret. I hope we can become friends. Please tell me more about your gift.” Henrietta arched her back and rubbed gloved hands just below where the buckboard’s backrest ended.
“Expressions truly are the window to the soul, and I knew how to peek into that window and discover whatever the owner wants to hide.”
“That is frightening, Amanda. Can you read my thoughts now?” Henrietta turned a pretty face toward her.
“Like me you’re tired, hungry, thirsty, and frightened at what we shall find at the end of our long journey. These are not the fleeting expressions I’m speaking of. What I do is hard to explain. I study the emotions people try to hide. The emotion appears for less than a second and then the expression is hidden.”
“I see.”
But Henrietta didn’t, of course. She, like most people, never glimpsed those swiftly hidden feelings. Amanda so wanted her new friend to understand. “When we reach Angel Vale I’ll concentrate as if my life depends on what I see in my groom-to-be’s face.” Amanda gripped the tapestry purse jiggling in her lap until her knuckles whitened. Because her future did depend on what she identified in his expression.
Henrietta nodded and then leaned against the hard wooden backboard and closed her eyes. “I’m so glad we’ll be friends.”
Amanda pulled in a deep breath. Her heart beat fast. If only she could relax. After upending her life, she faced a fork in the road. And she’d use her gift to discover the best path to her new life.
She straightened her shoulders, stiffened her back against the wagon’s wooden seat, and planted her pointy-toed boots on the floorboard. Her gift gave her an advantage, but she needed every ounce of help she could secure. She had this one chance. So much could sour with this bridal agreement. So much could go wrong.
A headache pounded behind her eyes.
She rubbed her neck, trying to relax her rigid muscles. The wagon’s hard ride scrambled her insides. She dug her hankie out of the large handbag on her lap and wiped dust from her face. “Such a long, dirty trip from Merville, Maine. I won’t miss that smelly fishing village.”
Without opening her eyes, Henrietta murmured, “Oh, I’m sure I will.”
Amanda’s pulse raced faster than the rugged western countryside moving beneath the long wagon. After the punishing eight-hour ride from the train station in Cheyenne, the other mail-order brides jammed in with her looked as fatigued as she felt. But exhaustion couldn’t dull her foreboding, which grew greater the closer they rode to Angel Vale.
She so dreaded meeting the cowboy. Neither Aunt Bessie Mae, when she lived in Atlanta, nor Uncle Stephan, when she lived in Merville, had wanted her. She had never been good enough for either of them. What if she wasn’t good enough for the cowboy either?
Lolled by the creak of wagon wheels and the cradle-rocking sway, a memory stabbed as if the rude awakening with uncle happened yesterday.
“You’re not a burden.” Uncle Stephan said.
Tears had pricked the back of Amanda’s eyes. She’d wiped her flour-covered h
ands down the front of her over-large pink apron, and picked up the cinnamon shaker to sprinkle the six dozen breakfast rolls. Uncle Stephan hadn’t been able to hide the instant furrows and lines crossing his forehead, nor the impatient thinning of his lips, before he turned his back and hurried to the front of the bakery to wait on a couple who carried a whisk of early autumn air inside with them.
She forced the tears away. Uncle Stephan yearned to get rid of her.
Reading people was a gift, but that day, as it often turned out, her knowledge led to despair.
She’d been right to send the Letter of Agreement to Angel Vale, Wyoming. Her heart had raced, and the shaker almost slipped from her clammy hands. Wyoming sounded even more like falling off the edge of the world than Merville had before she arrived from Atlanta eleven years ago. No longer a spindly-legged, pig-tailed girl of eleven fleeing the Yankees burning her home, and with no control of her future, this time with the letter, she’d taken steps. She sprinkled cinnamon on the buns, set the shaker in its place near the huge ovens, and tugged the door open to a blast of heat. She slid the rolls into the hot oven and noted the time on the bakery’s banjo wall clock.
Uncle Stephan had been elated when both of them thought Beau Pettigrew of The Pettigrews, who had been leaders in Atlanta society and also refugeed to Merville, had been about to ask for her hand in marriage. Though Uncle struggled to mask his feelings at finally getting her out of his hair, he beamed happiness. Since Beau starting calling regularly, Uncle hadn’t grumped about his potatoes being cold, or his lobster too hot to handle, or his coffee too weak.
But she’d experienced too much heart ache in her life to count her crabs before she trapped them in her pots. And the night Beau came huffing to the door, his handsome face red and taut and his gray eyes darting everywhere but at her, her heart dropped to her laced-up boots. Beau would never offer that engagement ring.
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