His Most Suitable Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Pleased he could play his part, small as it might be, Reese unlatched the wrought-iron gate and strode up the front walk.

  Marc Dupree exited the house. Dark-haired and clean-shaven, the owner of Charity House wore a gold brocade vest and matching tie, the kind a banker or even Reese himself would wear for a day at the office.

  Laney Dupree joined her husband a moment later. Petite and fine-boned, she was as beautiful as her home. She wore a simple pale blue dress with a high lace collar today. Her mahogany-colored hair hung loose, framing her stunning face with long wavy curls.

  The couple clasped hands and approached Reese as a single unit. A gnawing ache twisted in his stomach. Reese and Miranda had never had that close, unspoken connection. He’d loved his wife desperately, with the unbridled passion of youth, but now, he wondered.

  Would they have settled into a mature marriage, one full of contentment, comfort and peace? Or would they have continued living on the edge, all but laughing at danger and taking unnecessary risks with their lives?

  He would never know.

  The couple separated and Laney pushed slightly ahead of her husband, her smile radiant and full of welcome. “Good morning, Reese.”

  “Laney. Marc.” He nodded to both individually, then dug into his coat pocket and produced the bank draft he’d brought with him. “For Charity House.”

  Laney reached out before her husband could and took the money. She looked down at the amount. “Oh, Reese, this is especially generous.”

  “It’s from my father and me.”

  “Still...” She trailed off, her gaze full of silent gratitude.

  “You do good work here, Laney, important work, work for the Lord.” Reese didn’t always understand God’s ways, but he didn’t deny that the Lord’s hand was on Charity House. “I wish I could contribute more.”

  “You do plenty, not only with your money, but with your time.” She folded the bank draft and handed it to her husband. “Thank you, Reese. And, please, pass on my gratitude to your father, as well.”

  “I will.” Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he turned to Marc. “It’s a beautiful day. What do you say we put together an impromptu baseball game?”

  The other man’s smile came quickly and easily. “Great minds think alike. I already sent most of the children outside. They’re in the backyard picking teams as we speak.”

  On cue, Reese heard laughter floating on the light breeze.

  “Come on.” Marc gestured for Reese to follow him and Laney up the porch steps. “We’ll take a shortcut through the house.”

  They entered through the main parlor. Everywhere Reese looked he saw order and charm, comfort and beauty. He found the attention to detail admirable. But it was the smells of home that tugged at his heart.

  The tangy aroma of soot from the fireplace mingled with lemon wax from the floors and furniture. That sweet, homey bouquet, as well as the scent of baking pies, transported him back to his childhood, when his mother was still alive.

  An unexpected bout of longing captured him, longing for a home and a family of his own, for a comfortable, settled life with a good woman by his side. The sensation came fast and hard, digging deep, slowing his steps. For a painful moment, the loneliness in his soul spilled into his heart.

  His gut roiled.

  Then he heard a familiar female voice, followed by a soft, throaty laugh.

  The storm brewing in him calmed.

  His senses unnaturally heightened, Reese became aware of additional chattering and giggles from young, girlish voices. The sound of family. He breathed in slowly, the scent of apples and cinnamon filling his nose.

  The smell of home.

  A sense of inevitability pushed him forward. When he stepped into the Charity House kitchen, his gaze sought and found Callie. He had one coherent thought—her.

  She’s the one.

  He shoved the disturbing notion aside before it could take root.

  * * *

  The moment Reese’s gaze locked with hers, Callie’s lungs forgot how to breathe. The ability to communicate failed her, as well, though she couldn’t think why. She knew Reese spent time at Charity House, she’d seen him here before.

  Yet, somehow, his presence today felt different. New and special.

  Life-altering.

  There was so much emotion in his eyes, eyes still locked with hers. She recognized that haunted look, the hint of vulnerability in his stance.

  How she wanted to go to him, to comfort and to soothe, as one kindred soul to another.

  She didn’t have that right.

  Regardless of their budding friendship, they were barely more than acquaintances. And as of last night, Callie was tasked with the job of finding him the perfect woman to marry. A woman who would have the sole honor of loving him into eternity, who would provide him with the children he wanted and create a home for them all.

  The massive kitchen suddenly felt too small, too hot. Callie shoved a strand of hair off her face with the back of her hand.

  Reese shifted to his left, splintering the tense moment, and their disturbing connection.

  A moment later, Marc Dupree moved into view. Laney pushed past both men and moved to stand next to Callie. The other woman’s presence gave her the strength to battle the rest of her control back into place.

  She forced a smile. “Hello, Reese.”

  “Hello, Callie.”

  She could think of nothing more so say.

  Reese wasn’t exactly verbose himself. In the fractured silence that hung between them, he studied the chaos she and the half-dozen girls surrounding her had managed to create since she’d arrived.

  “We are making pies,” she said unnecessarily and perhaps a little defensively, as well. She’d always been a messy cook.

  Until now, she hadn’t realized just how messy.

  “I enjoy pie.” Reese sniffed the air. “Especially apple pie.”

  One of the girls giggled into her hand.

  Reese winked at her, whereby her giggles turned into a fit of giddy laughter. This seemed to open the floodgates and the rest of the girls moved in around him, chattering over one another in an effort to gain his attention.

  He was clearly a favorite among the assembled group. Callie understood why. With his wide smile and casual manner, he responded in a way that surely made each girl feel as though she were the most important person in the room.

  Watching him now, in this setting, with the animated girls surrounding him, he was so easy to like.

  He’d be just as easy to love.

  Callie jerked back from the thought.

  “All right, girls, that’s enough.” Laney nudged and pushed until she was in the center of the mayhem. “Let’s give poor Mr. Bennett room to breathe, shall we?”

  “We’re heading outside to supervise a baseball game,” Marc announced, dropping a glance over each girl. “Any of you want to join us?”

  After sharing a brief glance with the others, the oldest spoke up for the rest. “We’re making pies for supper tonight and are only halfway to our goal.”

  Callie smiled at the girl. At barely thirteen, Laurette Dupree was Marc and Laney’s only natural child and already a beauty. With her mother’s thick mahogany-colored hair and her father’s steel-blue eyes, she was bound to break the hearts of many unsuspecting men one day.

  “Since I’m also a fan of apple pie, we’ll leave you to your work.” Marc gestured for Reese to follow him out the back door.

  The two men fell into step with one another.

  Halfway through the kitchen, Reese stopped, turned back around and moved in beside Callie. He stood so close she could smell his spicy masculine scent over the baking pies.

  Lowering his voice for her ears only, he voiced an odd request. “Don�
�t leave until we have a chance to talk.”

  Though his words could be construed as a command, the tone he used was soft and engaging and made her stomach pitch.

  “If that’s what you want,” she practically croaked. “I’ll be sure to find you before I head back to Mrs. Singletary’s.”

  “Splendid.” He stepped back, smiled ruefully, then continued on his way.

  Unable to take her eyes off his broad shoulders, she followed his progress as he retraced his steps. Confused and a little shaky, a sigh worked its way up her throat. The man made her feel things, things she’d never felt before, not even when she’d thought herself in love with Simon.

  The moment he exited the house, several girlish sighs followed in his wake. Clearly, he had female admirers in this house.

  Unable to censure herself a moment longer, her sigh joined the others. A mistake. She could practically feel Laney’s gaze slide over her.

  Callie kept her expression blank, tried to appear nonchalant. But she was hit with a wall of nerves. Had she just given herself away?

  Far too perceptive for her own good, Laney leaned in close to Callie’s ear. “That was certainly interesting.”

  Aware six pairs of eyes had swung in her direction, Callie busied herself with pouring another cup of flour into a large mixing bowl. “Don’t read too much in to what you think you saw,” she warned Laney, as well as herself. “Reese and I have agreed to become friends.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t expand, but rather attempted to change the subject. “How many pies are we short after that last batch?”

  Laney eyed her for a long moment. “We need six more, seven if we want to bring one over to Pastor Beau and his family.”

  “Seven it is.” Callie dug her fingers into the dough, giving her friend a meaningful stare before rolling her gaze over their wide-eyed, attentive audience. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Laney relented with a brief nod.

  The next hour was spent mixing dough, rolling out pie shells and cutting apples into small wedges. The girls giggled and laughed their way through the process.

  Not until the last pie was baking, and her helpers were cleaning up at the sink, did Laney pull Callie aside.

  “You like him,” she said without preamble, keeping her voice low. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I mean.”

  Callie gave a weighty sigh. “Of course I like him. I like all my friends.”

  “Oh, really.” Laney parked her hands on her hips. “So, you and Reese—”

  “There is no me and Reese.”

  “Not from where I was standing. In fact—” Laney’s lips curved upward “—you two looked very comfortable with one another.”

  “Reese and I are friends, Laney, nothing more.”

  “So you already said.” Laney let out a soft chuckle. “And before you reiterate your point yet again, no man looks at a woman he considers a mere friend the way I saw Reese looking at you.”

  Callie swallowed, took a hard inhale. There was no excuse for feeling so dangerously moved by this observation. “You are reading far too much into this.”

  “Am I?”

  “Have you forgotten?” Determined to keep this conversation between the two of them, she spoke the words in a hushed whisper. “He was once engaged to my sister.”

  “He’s no longer engaged to Fanny.”

  “Not by choice.”

  That, Callie realized, was a critical detail she must always remember herself. The broken engagement between Reese and Fanny had not been Reese’s idea. If he’d had his way, he’d be married to Fanny right now.

  Depressing thought.

  “Callie.” Laney took both her hands. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s so wrong with the possibility of you and Reese becoming more than—”

  A spontaneous cheer burst through the opened window.

  “Mother,” Laurette called from the sink. “Is it all right if we went outside and watched the game?”

  “By all means.” Still holding Callie’s hands, Laney smiled at her daughter. “Miss Callie and I will watch the pies.”

  As each girl hurried out the back door, Callie tried to think of a reason to abandon the kitchen, as well. None came to mind. She nearly despaired, but then rescue came in a tentative, barely there tug on her skirt.

  “Miss Callie?”

  “Yes, Gabriella?”

  “I don’t want to go outside.” Big, sorrowful brown eyes met hers. “I want to stay here with you.”

  Moved by the request, Callie crouched down to make herself less intimidating. Somewhere between four and five years old, Gabriella Velasquez and her twin brother, Daniel, had only been at Charity House for a few weeks. According to Laney, their mother had recently died of consumption in a Cripple Creek brothel.

  Callie smiled down at the sweet, precious child. She tried not to choose favorites. She tried to give of herself equally to all the children. But something about this reserved little girl, and her equally shy brother, had slipped beneath her guard.

  Perhaps it was their unusual silence. Or the way they flinched when anyone, even other children, came near them.

  “Oh, Gabriella, of course you can stay inside with me.” She picked up the girl and set her on the counter. Callie adored this sweet child with the coal-black hair; sad, dark eyes and overly timid nature. “Want to help me count the pies?”

  “I don’t know how to count.”

  Callie brushed the child’s hair away from her face, resisting the temptation to press a kiss to her forehead. “No time like the present to learn.”

  And so began Gabriella’s first arithmetic lesson. One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Basic, simple math equations every child should know. It was a shame Callie and Reese didn’t add up that smoothly.

  Chapter Ten

  From his position facing home plate, Reese looked up at the darkening sky. Sometime in the past twenty minutes the weather had turned. Black ominous clouds boiled overhead, while a stiff wind carried the earthy scent of approaching rain.

  Marc, in his self-appointed role as umpire, trotted out to where Reese stood on the makeshift pitcher’s mound, which was nothing more than an empty flour bag. “What do you think? Should we call it?”

  Distant thunder punctuated the question.

  Reese looked back up at the sky, the children’s safety foremost in his mind. “No lightning yet, and the first drops of rain haven’t hit. I say we play on a little while longer.”

  “Agreed.” Marc hustled back to his spot behind the catcher and made a circling motion with his hand. “Batter up.”

  A small, thin boy of about five years old approached the plate with slow, tentative steps. His wide, terrified gaze darted around the backyard, eventually landing on Reese. Taking pity on the apprehensive child, he moved forward several steps closer. Until today, Daniel Velasquez had kept himself separate from the other children, choosing to remain on the sidelines as an isolated spectator.

  His willing participation this morning was monumental.

  And deeply moving.

  And Reese wasn’t the only one who recognized the significance of the moment.

  Daniel’s entire team cheered him on, urging him to “swing for the back fence.” Even kids on the opposing team shouted out words of encouragement.

  Marc ruffled the boy’s hair. “Remember how to hold the bat?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Let’s play ball.” Marc settled in behind the catcher.

  Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Daniel slung the wooden bat over his right shoulder then blinked up at Reese with eyes that had grown bigger and rounder.

  Such courage in so tiny a package, Reese thought. Determined to honor this momentous occasion, he lobbed a
slow, easy pitch over home plate.

  Daniel swung with all his might. And missed.

  Clearly dejected, his shoulders slumped forward and his eyes filled with tears.

  “Ball one!” Marc called, then patted the boy on the back. “Try again, and remember to keep your eye on the ball.”

  Daniel’s bottom lip quivered, but he heroically firmed it as he slung the bat over his shoulder a second time.

  Reese tossed the next pitch a little lower and a bit slower. Daniel swung again. The very tip of the bat connected with the ball, sending it to a spot near Reese’s feet. Not a magnificent hit, but a solid enough whack to qualify.

  Cheers erupted from both teams.

  “Head to first base!” Marc nudged the boy in the proper direction.

  Reese made a grand show of fumbling the ball into his glove. He waited until Daniel had a solid head start before tossing the ball high over the head of the first baseman, who was too busy cheering on the little boy to notice.

  Daniel’s foot hit the pad and he headed for second base.

  Wanting to give the boy a fighting chance, Reese hustled over and picked up the rolling ball before anyone else thought to do so.

  With shouts of encouragement from the other children urging him on, Daniel flew over second base and continued on to third.

  This time, Reese threw the ball short.

  The little boy rounded for home, his mouth set in a determined line, his little legs pumping hard. His foot touched home plate seconds before Reese half-heartedly winged the ball into the catcher’s glove.

  Marc made a wide sweep of his arms. “Safe.”

  “You hit a home run.” Caught up in the moment, Reese ran over, swooped Daniel into his arms and spun him around and around in the air.

  The boy giggled and kicked his legs wildly. “I did it. I did it. I did it.”

  “Yeah, you did. It was a great hit, too.” Heart overflowing with something akin to parental pride, Reese set the boy back on the ground and ruffled his hair.

  His teammates immediately surrounded him.

  Daniel soaked up the attention with a big happy smile.