Dr. Pickens held up a finger and shook his head no.
Alma jumped from her chair. “I don’t understand why you would keep something from me. It must be unpleasant, or you would have told me straight away. This isn’t like you.” She tugged her ear.
“Don’t pull on your ear.”
Her hand dropped to her side. It had taken her years to break that tugging habit, and with one sentence Papa brought back her insecurities.
“You’ll know soon enough. I want to eat and think about how I want to say what I have to say.”
“Eat faster, please, because I’m imagining all kinds of things.” Alma paced the kitchen, which gave her no satisfaction, since it only took four steps to cross the room. She slid back into her chair, propped her elbows on the table, and then rested her chin on her palms. Fine. She’d wait him out by staring at him.
He didn’t look her in the eye or tell her to remove her elbows from the table. Alma refused to change her position. Even if it wasn’t working, it made her feel like she was doing something.
When the last bit of stew disappeared, Alma grabbed the bowl. “Let me put this in the sink.”
Her father squinted at her then frowned. “Why do you have feathers in your hair?”
“I was creating a new hair ornament.”
“Did you glue them in?”
“No, I glued them to a leather strip, but the glue wasn’t quite dry and some of the feathers stuck. I’ll get them out. Like most of the things I attempt to create, this was a failure, but I’m not giving up my creative works. Are you ready to tell me what you mean by ‘what’s done is done’?”
Dr. Pickens wiped his chin with a napkin and scooted his chair away from the table. “I’ve made a decision. I’ve signed up for a surgical course in St. Louis.”
“St. Louis!” Alma clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! It will be a perfect place for us to live. Why, Jewel and I were discussing this on Saturday. When do we have to leave?”
“I’m leaving at the end of the year. You aren’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You can’t go with me. I’m renting a room by the school.”
“How long will you be gone? You don’t need to worry. I can watch over the house.”
“No, you can’t. I’ve rented it out. I’ll be gone a year, and you, my dear, will be getting married before I leave.”
Anger chased fear down her back like a cat running over piano keys. “Married? Who to? Papa! This is so wrong. I don’t want to get married, you know that.”
“So you’ve said. It’s my job as a father to make sure you are taken care of, and that’s what I’ve done.”
“Who did you pick? The man who works at Bassler Brewery and stumbles home at night? The coal miner who coughs so much he’s probably going to die soon? Or the man who beats his dog?”
“Daughter, I listened to you.”
His forehead wrinkled the way it did when he was concerned for her. Could it be he would change his mind? Alma stacked reasons why she needed to go with him to St. Louis, ready to use them all. “Good, then let’s put this leaving me behind business away. There will—”
“Stop. I’m not finished. Yes, your reasons were sound for not picking one of those men. I’ve found a better one. Roy Gibbons. He’s a good family man and goes to church. With Pastor Elrich’s help, I obtained his mother’s address. She wrote back. He’s a good man and moved here to remove himself from memories of his deceased wife. The two of you are well suited. We’ve shaken hands. There will be a marriage.”
Roy had hoped the dishes he’d tossed in to soak after dinner would clean up quick. He was wrong. Dried food seemed to have planted roots in the stoneware. He noticed the kitchen had lost the appetizing appeal it had held after Alma had cleaned it.
He used a knife to scratch the surface of the plate. Marrying Alma would solve quite a few problems. She wasn’t a widow, but she seemed to like Elisbet and Frances. They’d taken to her, too. He could keep his Christmas promise to them. That made him smile. He’d wanted to tell them tonight but decided to wait until after Dr. Pickens talked to Alma.
As far as he was concerned, a quick trip to see the minister after work one day next week would work out well. They’d be married, and Alma could start helping out right away. He’d already been through the courting of a woman and a wedding. He paused his chipping at the dried food. It had been nice the first time, but now it would be a waste of time. He and Alma would get to know each other after they were married.
Unless she expected to be courted. Her father had avoided that question when Roy brought it up. He’d said, “Alma will be happy to get married. She knows the little ones need a mother’s care as soon as possible.”
Seems her mother had died when she was a young’un. He went back to prying off the dried eggs. Roy figured God had sent him to Trenton because He knew Alma was here. That had to be it. A woman as pretty as she should be married by now, with children of her own.
Why wasn’t she? Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she was too picky in whom she wanted to marry? Add that to her father being willing to let her get married without a courting period.
It had been his experience with Janie that women didn’t always say what they wanted. Perhaps this Alma was different? She must be, or her father wouldn’t be so confident in arranging this marriage without talking to her first.
“All you have is the word of his mother? What mother would say anything bad about her son?” Alma sucked in her anger.
“You might have a point about that, but like I said, I’ve seen how he treats his daughters. I figure how he takes care of them is a good indication of what he’ll be like as a husband.”
“So I can go around with dried oatmeal in my hair and the hem of my dress torn and dragging in the streets?”
“Alma, calm down. You’ll fix those things as their mother. What I see is the way he gets them candy at the store, the way the littlest one hangs onto his pants leg and he doesn’t mind. The oldest holds his hand while they walk into church.”
“So as long as I have candy, hang on his pants leg, and hold his hand, I’ll be treated special as his wife?”
“Alma Gail Pickens. Enough. The matter is settled. He’ll be over here tomorrow to discuss the details with you. I’ve given my word that you’ll marry him, and there won’t be a fuss about not having a season of courting.”
“And I have no say in this? I’m to marry him without knowing him? Without being in love?”
“There isn’t time for courting. I’m leaving the day after Christmas, and I want this settled before then.” Dr. Pickens reached across the table for his daughter’s hand. “I promise, you’ll grow to love each other.”
Tears stung her eyes. “But I promised Mama that I’d take care of you.”
“I know, and you have done that longer than you should. Mr. Gibbons is a good man and needs help. You saw that; you even told me about the sad state of his home and how his daughters are taken with you.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s the marrying kind!” She yanked her hand away from him and pushed back her chair. Married by Christmas might be what her father and Mr. Gibbons wanted, but not her.
“You know that’s false, Alma. Think about what you’re saying. He’s been married before, and from what I can tell, still loves his wife. That means a lot to me. I’m glad. I feel good about handing you over to him.”
“Glad? You’re glad about giving me to a man who still loves another?”
“Yes, to me it means he’s wanting to have the same kind of comfort and companionship he had before.”
“Does that mean you didn’t love Mama enough to want to marry again?”
“No, it means I never found someone I could love as much. Roy Gibbons has.”
“I don’t believe that. I won’t do it.” She snatched up the stew pan and scraped the metal spoon against the sides, not caring how much noise it made. She pushed the scraps into the garbage pail. She wasn
’t saving any leftovers. As far as she was concerned, Papa could make his own dinner from now on. See how glad he’d be about that.
Chapter 5
Roy thought it best to meet with Miss Pickens without his daughters. He’d left them with Pete, his farmhand. To their delight, Pete promised to take them out to play with the barn cats. They were so excited they forgot to ask where he was going and why they couldn’t come with him. Even Frances had let go of his leg and attached herself to Pete.
Dr. Pickens’s two-story brick home was much nicer than his. Guess it made sense to be located close to town where most of the people lived, quicker to get to emergencies. He raised his hand to knock on the door and then lowered it. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. It seemed reasonably sound yesterday, but now that he’d slept on it, the idea of marrying so quick felt wrong. His shoulders tightened. He and Miss Pickens would benefit from this arrangement. But would she like living on a farm so far from town? In a house that seemed too small when Frances and Elisbet got to squealing and shrieking? He’d given the doc his word, though, so he best follow through. He and Miss Pickens wouldn’t be the first couple necessity had brought to the altar.
He tapped on the door, deciding a polite knock would be best. He stepped back and waited.
Miss Pickens opened the door. “Mr. Gibbons.”
“Miss Pickens, your father suggested we meet this evening.”
“Yes, he did.”
Wasn’t she going to ask him inside? “May I come in?”
She swung the door wide. “Please do. Papa is in the kitchen.”
He’d remembered her blond hair and that’s about all. When she’d rescued him during Frances’s illness, he hadn’t noticed her dark blue eyes or how the top of her head didn’t come up to his shoulder. “I came to see you, not him.”
“Perhaps you did, but since the two of you have arranged my life for me, you might as well work out the details and fill me in later.” She turned, back straight, and walked away from him like royalty. “Shut the door behind you.”
So this wouldn’t be as easy as the doc suggested. Miss Pickens would be a challenge. He closed the door, and for the first time in quite a while found himself excited about the prospect of winning a woman’s attention.
Alma, still spitting mad, led Mr. Gibbons into the kitchen where her father waited. “Mr. Gibbons is here. I think you two should chat and then let me know when I’m to leave the house.”
“Alma, that’s not how this is going to work. I know you’re angry, but sit and get to know him before you stomp upstairs.” Dr. Pickens pulled out a chair for her. “Evening, Roy.”
“Doc.” Roy stooped his shoulders to get though the doorway.
Alma hadn’t noticed before how tall he stood or the width of his chest. The man and his dimples took her breath away. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being married to him. At least she’d have something worth looking at every day. She found her way to the chair her father stood behind, and sat. “Thank you. How are the girls?”
Roy sat across the table from her. “They’re fine. Pete’s letting them play with the barn cats while I’m here.”
“What do they think of you getting married?” She heard the terse tone in her voice and didn’t like it. She’d been taught better than this. “Love your neighbor as yourself” came to mind.
Dr. Pickens slid a cup of coffee onto the table in front of Mr. Gibbons and gave Alma a look she knew too well as he handed her one. She had taken this as far as she could.
“I know they are anticipating a mother for Christmas, so I wondered about their excitement at the news.” There, that was better.
“I haven’t told them. Thought I ought to talk to the woman I was marrying first and make sure there would be a wedding.” He gave her a slow grin then took a sip of his drink.
He’d considered her feelings? Her heart fluttered. She hadn’t expected that. “I don’t understand. I thought …”
“Well, I agreed to marry you, but not until after I decided you would be interested. I can’t be bringing home just anyone to be a mother to my daughters. There’s enough fairy tales out there to scare them without getting them their own wicked stepmother.”
“But …”
“Sorry, Miss Pickens, I didn’t mean to imply that you would be like that. I think it best for both parties to be agreeable to marriage.” He set his cup down. “What about you?”
Alma’s tongue-twisted words couldn’t make it past her lips. He had to be the most beautiful man she’d ever been this close to. She wrenched herself out of an imaginary embrace and felt the loss. “I—I think … yes.”
Mr. Gibbons slapped his hands together, making her jump. “Then we have a deal. You’re right, Doc, she did say yes.”
Alma gasped.
“I talked to the reverend, and we can get married Sunday, Miss Pickens.”
“No!” Alma’s stomach contents slid and jerked, bumping into her throat. “Not Sunday. I have a few things to say about this wedding, and the first thing is—it won’t be this weekend.”
Roy couldn’t be more confused. The woman had said she’d marry him. Why would she want to delay? Her father had said courting her wasn’t necessary.
“Mr. Gibbons, I will marry you on Christmas Eve.”
“Why wait? Four weeks isn’t going to change anything, and I need a wife now.”
“I refuse to be a replacement for your wife. I know you still love her, and I think that’s admirable.”
He felt his head nodding and wondered where this would go.
“Here are my demands. If I’m to be thrown into a marriage by my father’s wishes, you will have to court me until we get married. It’s the only wedding I intend to have, and I’m not going to walk into this one on Sunday, get up on Monday and make your breakfast and clean your house without some kind of happy memory to cling to.”
“Demands?” He shoved his chair away from the table. “I don’t—”
“Alma, I told you to give it time, and you’ll fall in love with each other.”
“You told her that, Doc? How can you promise her that?”
“Papa, it may or may not happen, and that’s the way life is. Mr. Gibbons needs a mother for his girls more than he needs a wife, so I’m willing to do that. Before that happens, though, I want to be treated special. Right now, I feel like Mr. Gibbons ordered me from a catalog. He knows nothing about me or I him. It’s only fair that I get to know him before we get married. I’m not asking for a year, only four weeks.”
Miss Pickens had a good point. Roy settled his back against the chair. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll make a list and give it to you when you pick me up for our first outing. You can choose where to take me.” She rose from her chair and nodded. “This time tomorrow would be fine, unless you care to provide dinner?”
Roy’s lips moved, though his mind couldn’t grasp what he was saying. “Dinner. Yes, we have to eat.”
“Tomorrow, then. Let me walk you to the door. I know you’re needed at home, and I must work on my list.”
Before he knew what had happened, Roy found himself escorted out by the pretty and spirited woman and left standing on the porch. How had she done that? Small as she was, he’d been moved to the door and hadn’t felt a thing.
Chapter 6
Alma checked the mirror again for stray hairs that may be out of place. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she was excited to be seeing Mr. Gibbons. Her cheeks couldn’t hide that, flushed as they were against her pale skin.
Should she be waiting for him when he arrived or make him wait a little bit? She missed her mother. Her papa did his best, but when it came to being a female, he was lost.
Making him wait didn’t feel comfortable. She should have asked Jewel what to do. She picked up the list, folded it, and stuck it in her dress pocket.
Her dress. Was it all right? She didn’t put on her fanciest one but picked the blue wool one. It kept her warm, and Papa said it made her eyes
bright as a July sky.
In the parlor, she settled on a chair. Papa had started a fire. He’d come home early to see her off. Most likely to make sure she would go with Mr. Gibbons.
“You look nice, my dear.” Papa walked across the room and stoked the fire. “Mr. Gibbons should be here soon.”
“Are you sure about this marriage, Papa? It’s not too late. We haven’t told anyone.”
“I am.”
“I understand you don’t want me to come with you to St. Louis and you rented out my home, but I could stay with Jewel and her husband. Or perhaps one of the widows from church? It’s only for a year.”
“No. I considered those things, but it’s not fair to you. Suppose I find a wife in St. Louis. Then what will you do? You need your own home and family. A place where you can paint the furniture if you want to.”
“I don’t have to change things,” Alma whispered.
“I want the best for you.” He dabbed his eye and turned back to the fire.
Footsteps landed heavy on the wooden porch. There was a pause, then a knock. He was here. Why did her heart flip like a griddle cake? Goodness, she would need to get this emotion controlled before she faced him.
“That’s your intended. I’ll get the door, you wait here. A little bit of mystery is a good thing. Your mother told me that. Guess I should have mentioned a few of those bits of wisdom to you sooner.”
“There’s still time, Papa.”
“I love you, Little Bit. Don’t forget that ever.” He gave her a quick hug and released her.
“I won’t. You’re making me cry. My face will be all red.”
“You’re beautiful, like your mother.” He stepped out of the room.
Alma blinked and looked at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling. She turned to see Mr. Gibbons standing in front of her father. He smiled. She caught the schoolgirl sigh before it escaped.
Roy had cleaned the carriage the best he could in the cold weather. He didn’t think Miss Pickens would notice, but she sure would if it were a mess. “I hope you don’t mind. We’ll be dining at my house tonight. The girls are excited that you’ll be eating with us.” More than that, they’d been collecting pinecones after school and arranging them multiple ways across the tabletop.
The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection Page 3