The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection

by Mary Connealy

  Determined to prove his affection, he made sure they were alone then swooped in for a quick kiss.

  “Clay!” Karen hastily looked around. “What would people say if they saw the pastor spooning?”

  He chuckled. “I doubt they’d say anything unless I was spooning with someone other than you.”

  She playfully smacked his arm. “You’d better not be.”

  He gently pulled her close again. “Karen, how can I prove to you that there’s no one on God’s earth that I care to marry other than you?”

  She nibbled her lip and ducked her head. “I’ve wondered if one day you’ll regret marrying me.”

  “I wish you could peek into my heart and see your name written there. I know you still struggle because your pa left you, but I will never leave you like that. I care too much for you.”

  “I believe you. I suppose I’m just nervous.”

  “Even if your aunt hadn’t died suddenly, I would have asked you to marry me. It just wouldn’t have been for a few more months.”

  “Truly?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Give your concerns to God, and everything will work out.” He squeezed her hand and stepped back. Karen had always suffered with self-doubt, but she was a kindhearted person—the woman he’d grown to love. He would just have to prove to her that he meant what he said. “Let me put away my tools and wash up. Then we can eat.”

  Karen nodded and looked around. “What about under that tree? It’s warmer today, but do you think it’s too cool to sit outside?”

  “Let’s give it a try since there’s no wind. If you get too chilly, we can go in the church.”

  After returning the tools and ladder to the shed behind the building, Clay found Karen on the side of the church that faced town and watched her arranging the food on a bench. He’d wanted to marry since before he went to college, and now that their wedding was close, the days until Christmas Eve seemed to be dragging by at half the speed of a normal day. If only she seemed less worried and more excited.

  He plopped down on the bench next to her, and she handed him a plate with a ham sandwich, a thick slice of cheese, a pickle, and an apple. Clay smiled. “It looks wonderful. Shall we pray?”

  She nodded and bowed her head while he thanked God for the food and for bringing Karen to Bakerstown. He took a bite of the pickle first, since it was making his mouth water. “Mmm … delicious. So, what do you think of Bakerstown?”

  “It’s smaller than Arcadia, but it seems nice. Things were quiet last night, so I had no trouble getting to sleep.”

  “I imagine you were exhausted after the long trip here, meeting some of the church folk, and spending time with me.”

  “I was tired, but not from being with you.”

  He winked at her and took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Do you have services on Sunday night?”

  “No, just in the morning. Some of the ranchers and farmers have a ways to travel, so they head back afterward. On the first Sunday of each month, we have a potluck dinner after the service, and most folks stay for that.”

  “What a wonderful idea! That gives everyone time to socialize with friends whom they don’t often see.”

  “That’s true.”

  Karen stared out toward the open prairie. “Are you happy here? Do the people treat you nicely?”

  Clay took hold of Karen’s hand. “The people here are very kind. As in all towns, there are those who think they should be treated more special, but I can handle them.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I was a bit concerned about the two women who carried the welcome sign after hearing how they chided one another.”

  “Helen Willard and Loraine Bodine are sisters who tend to snap at each other, especially when things go wrong.”

  “Sisters? Well, it helps to know that.”

  Clay finished his food, enjoying the view Karen made. Even with a hat on, her honey-blond hair glistened in the sunlight. He loved the way her brown eyes sparkled whenever she laughed or teased him, although she hadn’t done much of that since her arrival. He’d been attracted to her since the day Karen first showed up in school, looking sad and frightened. Before long they became friends. He’d never considered marrying any other woman, and he hadn’t regretted that decision.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Clay flashed a mischievous grin. “I’m not sure you want me to answer that question.”

  An embarrassed smile danced on her lips; then she ducked her head.

  He shouldn’t tease her like that, but he couldn’t resist. “How would you like to see the parsonage?”

  Her head jerked up. “Do you think it’s proper for us to be there together since we’re not yet married?”

  “I don’t see why it’s a problem. We’ll just leave the door open and make a quick pass through so you can see the house and be thinking about what you might want to change.”

  “I’d love to as long as you’re sure it’s all right. I don’t want to do anything to get you in trouble.”

  “You won’t.” He handed her the plate. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. It was a wonderful surprise.”

  “I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing you until this evening.”

  He smiled and helped her to her feet. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

  After Karen packed the basket, Clay took it and escorted her the one block to the parsonage. He watched her face as her gaze landed on the small clapboard house painted a pale yellow with white trim.

  “Oh Clay, it’s lovely. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t anything this nice.”

  He pulled back the screen door and propped it open with the basket then pushed on the main door. “This is the parlor, and as you can see, the kitchen is on the left side. There are two bedrooms at the rear of the house and a small washroom.”

  Karen turned in a circle, taking everything in. Then she spun around to face him, eyes gleaming. “Oh Clay, I love it.”

  Basking in her pleasure, he wasn’t prepared when she threw herself into his arms. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, but he stumbled backward until he bumped into the wall. Karen kissed him soundly, and his arms tightened as he enjoyed her closeness.

  A loud gasp from the porch made him realize they were no longer alone. Karen jumped away, and he straightened to look into the shocked eyes of Helen Willard and her daughter.

  “Pastor, what is the meaning of this?”

  Chapter 3

  Karen wished she were a bird that could fly away and hide in the trees. She and Clay weren’t even married yet, and she was already causing trouble for him. What had gotten into her to kiss him like she had?

  He shifted his feet. “Nothing quite as terrible as you’re imagining happened, Mrs. Willard.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “I know what I saw.”

  Prudence stood behind her mother, arms crossed, looking as if she were ready to do battle, but Karen wasn’t sure whose side the young woman was on. Was she upset with her mother? Or with Clay and her?

  He cleared his throat. “What you saw was Karen expressing her delight at seeing the lovely parsonage we’ll be sharing. I just showed her the parlor and kitchen so she could make plans for when this is her home.”

  Mrs. Willard crossed her arms. “Humph! Looked more like a young couple seeking a private place to spark.”

  Prudy’s face grew red, but she remained quiet.

  “One kiss does not a spark make.” Clay smiled as if trying to lessen the tension.

  The woman narrowed her eyes again. “No matter. It is inappropriate behavior for a pastor and a poor example for my impressionable daughter. You can be certain the church council will hear of this.”

  “Perhaps it would be best for Miss Briggs to return to her hometown and come back here just before the wedding.” Prudence lifted her chin.

  Karen’s mouth opened, but nothing came out at the wo
man’s unexpected suggestion. She thought of all she had to do in the few weeks before the wedding and knew it wouldn’t get done if she were in Arcadia worrying about Clay. And she really had no home to return to since she’d sold her aunt’s furniture and belongings and had listed the house for sale with an agent.

  “I don’t think we need to go to such extremes, Miss Willard.”

  Prudence batted her long lashes at Clay. “I told you to call me Prudy.”

  Her mother elbowed her. “That is inappropriate, Prudence.”

  The young woman scowled at her mother but turned a pout Clay’s way. “I’m sure Clay is able to make up his own mind about that, Mother.”

  “Never mind.” Mrs. Willard swatted her hand at her daughter. “The point is they shouldn’t have been spooning in the parsonage.”

  “I can assure you, ma’am, it won’t happen again.” Clay shuffled his feet.

  “You two should have considered that before making such a spectacle.”

  Karen couldn’t let Clay take the blame for something she initiated. Wringing her hands, she took a step toward the woman. “Mrs. Willard, Clay is right. My joy at finding such a lovely place to call home overwhelmed me, and I expressed my delight by kissing him. Once. I’m the one who bears the blame, not him.”

  Mrs. Willard didn’t seem to be wavering, so she tried another tactic. “Surely you were young and in love not so long ago.”

  Clay snorted but then rubbed his nose, looking chagrined. Prudence rolled her eyes as Karen struggled to maintain an innocent gaze.

  Mrs. Willard looked from Karen to Clay and back, then sighed. “I suppose I was. But you two shouldn’t be alone like this. It’ll set loose lips to talkin’.”

  Clay nodded. Karen stepped out onto the porch, and he followed, closing the door.

  “Well, now that Miss Briggs has seen the house, there’s no reason for her to be in there again until after you’ve said your vows.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

  Mrs. Willard lifted her chin. “I will overlook it this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

  “Thank you.” Clay took hold of Karen’s arm and started toward the steps but paused. “Was there something that brought you two here today?” he asked Mrs. Willard.

  “Prudence made some lovely curtains for your kitchen, but we can return another time to put them up.” She spun, nose in the air, and hurried down the sidewalk.

  Prudence remained where she was, her gaze focused on Karen. “You might want to consider going back”—she waved her hand in the air—“to wherever it is you came from. Clay could benefit from marrying a woman from these parts, not someone who knows nothing about this town.”

  Karen gasped.

  Scowling, Clay stepped in front of her. “Miss Willard, I told you more than once that I am not an eligible man. My heart belongs to Karen and always has. It’s time you face that fact.”

  Hurt engulfed Prudy’s pretty face, and she stomped her foot. She spun around, skirts flying, and followed her mother back to the street.

  Clay took hold of Karen’s hand. “I’m so sorry about that. I thought that if I continued to inform Pru—Miss Willard—of my relationship with you, she’d finally take a hint, but she can be hardheaded.” He escorted her off the porch. “I’d best see you back to the boardinghouse, and then I need to visit several ill parishioners.”

  Karen watched Prudence disappear around the far side of the church; then she turned to Clay. “I’m so sorry for getting you in trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Mrs. Willard is quick to make a mountain out of a molehill.” He frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but it’s the truth, and you need to be aware of it.”

  “Do you really think she’ll keep quiet about seeing us kissing in the parsonage?”

  He shrugged. “Time will tell.”

  “I’m sorry for my rash behavior.”

  Grinning, Clay looped her arm around his. “I’m not in the least.”

  Secretly happy with his declaration, Karen prayed the women would not gossip about what they saw. Prudence was certainly an odd duck. Did she really think she could sway Karen into leaving?

  Karen determined to put the disastrous duo from her mind and enjoy her remaining minutes with Clay. “Would you like me to go with you on your visitations?”

  “After we’re married, I think it would be a wonderful idea, unless someone is sick with something that spreads. I’d hate for you to become ill.”

  She bit back a smile, but it broke loose. “Because you don’t want to have to nurse me back to health?”

  With a playful gleam in his gaze, Clay waggled his eyebrows. “That would be my pleasure, ma’am, but I would prefer you not get ill in the first place.”

  Not ready to consider such an intimate situation, Karen studied the spacious yard, a thought percolating. “Do you suppose we could get some chickens?”

  Clay grinned. “That was a quick change of topic. Why chickens?”

  Karen watched a trio of sparrows swoop down and snatch something on the ground and then fly up into the tree again. “I thought it might be nice if I made chicken soup for the church members who are sick or injured.”

  “You’d go through your flock of hens pretty fast.”

  “Well, perhaps I could make potato soup or stew sometimes.”

  “We’ll see. It’s a very kind gesture, but I don’t want you cooking for others all the time.”

  “Oh? Who would you like me cooking for?”

  “Who do you think?” He squeezed her hand then pulled a small, oblong package from his pocket. “That reminds me, here’s a little something I got for you.”

  “I love the bowls you left in my room, by the way.” She smiled. “You don’t need to give me another gift.”

  “I want to give you nice things. I enjoy it.”

  Karen sighed. “I appreciate it, but I want you to know it’s not necessary.”

  He held out the package. “Humor me.”

  She unwrapped the small gift and stared at the odd metal object. “What is it?”

  “Haven’t you ever seen a nutcracker? Now you won’t have to stomp on shells or hit them with a hammer.”

  “I remember how much you enjoy nuts, especially in my fruitcake. Thank you. This will come in handy.” Another odd gift, but the gleam in her fiancé’s eyes made her smile. She saw Mrs. Grady sweeping off the porch and realized they were back at the boardinghouse.

  “I’m glad you like it.” He bent down and placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand. “I’ll see you at supper.”

  With a sigh, Karen watched him stride away, tall and lithe.

  Mrs. Grady leaned against the porch railing. “That pastor is a fine-looking man. I imagine the two of you will have comely young’uns.”

  Karen spun around, stunned by her landlady’s comment. “I … uh … thank you.”

  Mrs. Grady chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s merely the truth. Just watch out for that Prudence Willard. She set her cap for the parson the day he arrived.” Mrs. Grady clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Poor thing didn’t know the pastor’s heart was already spoken for.”

  Heat rising to her cheeks, Karen climbed the steps to the porch. No wonder Prudy had eyed her so maliciously. The woman had hoped to marry Clay. How could Karen blame her? Clay was a wonderful man, and any woman would be happy to have him for a husband. He was quickly winning her over and making her realize that in spite of the circumstances surrounding their upcoming marriage, he was the man for her.

  Her thoughts veered back to Mrs. Grady’s comment about her and Clay’s children. She had on occasion contemplated marrying him when she was younger and wondered what their children might look like, but to hear it expressed out loud was a surprise. Karen glanced to her side to discover the landlady had resumed her sweeping. “Do you need any help with dinner? I seem to have the afternoon free.”

  “Heavens, no! I don’t allow guests to assist with the meals.”r />
  “Please, I’d like to help.”

  Mrs. Grady continued shaking her head. “I’m sure you must have some preparations for your wedding that need to be done.”

  Karen sighed. “I do have some sewing, although it’s not my favorite task.”

  “Best you get it over and done with, then.” She placed the broom in the corner of the porch and scurried toward the door, pausing just inside. “Make sure you know that pastor of yours is welcome to supper. No sense in you two eating at the café when your meals are included with your room and board.”

  “But Clay’s aren’t.”

  “It’s a sad day when there isn’t enough to feed my pastor.” She turned and disappeared inside the house.

  Karen leaned against the porch railing, wishing Clay had let her go with him. The long afternoon stretched out in front of her, and the thought of spending it sewing alone failed to excite her. But she had a new nightgown to finish stitching—the gown she’d wear on her wedding night. Thoughts of that evening brought warmth to her cheeks.

  Karen swallowed back her anxiety as she approached the Willard home. Clay had encouraged her to attend the sewing bee, and although several of the church ladies had invited her, neither Mrs. Willard nor her daughter had mentioned it or sent an invitation. Three days had passed since she’d visited the parsonage with Clay. Would Mrs. Willard use this opportunity to announce to the ladies that she’d seen Karen and the pastor kissing?

  A woman who looked to be around Karen’s age waved. She rushed across the dirt street and made a beeline toward her, smiling and carrying a small basket. “Good morning. You must be the pastor’s intended.” She stopped in front of Karen. “I’m Patricia Mullins, but most folks call me Patsy.”

  “I’m Karen Briggs. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Patsy’s hazel eyes sparkled. “I always enjoy these gatherings. It’s such fun to sit and talk with other women. My husband, Jared, is a quiet man and doesn’t have much to say, and we don’t have children yet.” Her fair complexion turned ruby-red, making her freckles stand out. “I’m glad you came. It’ll help even the odds between the older and younger women.”