The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection

by Mary Connealy

  Karen smiled and eyed the front of the big brick house, one of the largest in town.

  “Don’t let the size of the place intimidate you. The ladies are always welcoming, but be warned, they’ll most likely bombard you with questions.” Patsy paused at the steps and smiled. “Shall we go in?”

  She nodded and followed her new friend up to the porch, glad she didn’t have to enter alone. Patsy knocked, and Mrs. Willard opened the door quickly, as if she’d been hovering there, waiting for them.

  “Miss Briggs, it’s nice of you to join us today, and it’s always good to see you, Patsy.” She stepped back, allowing them to enter.

  As Karen’s eyes adjusted to the interior lighting, she marveled at the lovely furnishings. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Willard.”

  “Thank you. Emmett does like to spoil me.” She waved her hand to a room on the right. “We’re gathering in the study.”

  Patsy took hold of Karen’s arm and tugged her into the room. Three women were seated on the far side of a colorful wedding ring quilt, while two others had claimed spots on the right. Patsy led Karen around to the left side, where three chairs awaited. They took the farthest two, leaving the one beside Karen empty.

  “I imagine some of you have met Pastor Parsons’s bride-to-be, but in case you haven’t, this is Karen Briggs,” Patsy stated, as if they were lifelong friends.

  Most of the women smiled and eyed Karen with curiosity. She recognized Loraine, who’d helped hold the welcome sign, although she’d forgotten her last name. Karen nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “This here’s Lois Clemmons.” Patsy pointed to the nearest lady and continued down the line and around the corner. “Gertrude Birch, Loraine Bodine, Sue Ellen Smith, and Paulette Davis.”

  Karen tried to put names and faces together. Gertrude and Loraine looked to be about the same age as Mrs. Willard, probably in their late forties or early fifties, while Sue Ellen and Paulette were at least a decade younger.

  Paulette smiled. “Don’t bother trying to learn our names today. We know it will take awhile to remember us all.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Patsy sat, so Karen did, too.

  “This is a lovely quilt. Have you made many together?”

  “This is our seventh one,” Loraine said.

  “Isn’t it our eighth?” Mrs. Willard stood near the study door, tapping her upper lip with her index finger. “Let’s see, we’ve auctioned off three of them to raise money for the church and orphanage, gave one to the Henrys for their fortieth anniversary, one to the Garfields for their twenty-fifth, and one to Spencer and Julia Sloan when he retired as mayor two years ago.”

  “That’s still just seven, Helen, counting this new one.” Loraine lifted her chin.

  A knock at the door sent Mrs. Willard spinning away. Karen had the feeling she was glad not to have to respond to Loraine.

  A pretty young woman entered and claimed the seat next to Karen. She smiled. “I’m Carla Peterson.”

  “Karen Briggs. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “She’s Pastor Parsons’s intended,” Gertrude stated.

  Loraine rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows who she is. She’s the only new woman in town.”

  Soft chuckles wafted around the room then suddenly quieted. All eyes turned toward the entrance. Prudence moseyed in, overdressed in her rust-colored afternoon dress with huge leg o’ mutton sleeves and a bib of ruffles and lace that covered her bodice. She narrowed her eyes at Karen and took the farthest away empty seat. Confused by the woman’s obvious dislike for her, Karen looked down at the quilt. Was it true that Prudence had designs on Clay? That would explain her unwarranted hostility, as well as her suggestion for Karen to return to Arcadia.

  Helen sat next to her daughter. “Thelma won’t be here today. Her three young’uns are ill.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious,” Paulette said.

  Helen shrugged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  All around Karen, baskets clattered as the ladies removed their scissors, needles, and thread. She stared at the beautiful quilt, half afraid to apply her hand. What if her stitches were too large or not uniform?

  Carla leaned over. “Don’t be nervous about stitching. We all had a first day, too. Just jump right in.”

  “If Helen isn’t happy, she’ll redo the stitches anyway,” Patsy whispered in her ear. Several ladies to Patsy’s left nodded their agreement.

  Wonderful. Now she had to worry about her sewing pleasing Mrs. Willard when they’d already gotten off to a rough start. Determined to do her best, Karen pulled out a small container and removed a quilting needle. Patsy handed her a piece of thread, and she pushed the end through the eye and found a spot to begin stitching.

  “So, Miss Briggs. Where did you and Pastor meet?”

  Karen glanced up, not quite sure which lady had asked the question, but by the gazes pointed at her, she suspected everyone was interested in her answer. “After my mother died, when I was eight, I went to live in Arcadia with my widowed aunt. Clay was in the school I started attending.”

  A smile softened Loraine’s expression. “Was it love at first sight?”

  Prudy looked as if she were sucking on an unsweetened lemon drop.

  “No, not at all.” Karen shook her head. “I felt so out of place and was missing my parents so badly that I hardly looked up from my desk for weeks. At first, Clay was one of the boys who pestered me, but I think he was just trying to pull me out of my shell.”

  Gasps filled the room.

  “Our pastor was a hooligan?” Lois fanned her face.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Prudy said. “Pastor Clay is so kindhearted and courteous.”

  “He wasn’t ever mean—just tugged on my braids and tried to get me to laugh. But at the time, I thought he was being a pest.” She smiled, remembering the day she realized he wanted to be her friend. “Clay lived only a few houses from my aunt’s home, so we eventually started walking to school together and became friends.”

  “And did he help you get over the loss of your mother?” Carla asked.

  Karen thought for a moment. “I suspect he did indirectly. Becoming friends with Clay opened the door for me to be friends with the young people he knew, and that helped me to adjust to my new life in Arcadia.” Still, she never forgot how her pa had deposited her at Aunt Alice’s home shortly after her mother’s death and never returned. She didn’t even know if he was alive.

  “So, you’ve known Pastor quite a long time. Why have you not married before now?” Loraine peeked up then glanced back down.

  Karen eyed her own stitches, not liking how uneven they were. “Once Clay felt God calling him to the ministry, he left to go to college and then seminary. Afterward, he wanted to get established in his church.” She hadn’t realized what he meant to her until he was gone. For so long, she’d thought of him as a big brother, but as they grew older, at some point, her feelings for him shifted to something deeper. Yet until her aunt died suddenly, he had never asked her to marry him. She hadn’t even known his thoughts drifted in that direction.

  Patsy looked her way. “That’s a long time to wait on a man. Were there no others who attempted to woo you?”

  Karen shook her head. No man ever compared to Clay.

  Prudy cleared her throat, drawing Karen’s gaze. “But what about Clay? How do you know his feelings remained loyal after such a long separation?”

  “Prudence! What an awful thing to say?” Helen turned ten shades of red.

  In spite of her mother’s reprimand, there was a challenge in Prudy’s eyes that gave Karen pause. Had Clay merely asked her to marry him out of some sense of noble duty? There were the flashes of admiration in his gaze, and he’d even kissed her, so he must care for her. Clay wasn’t the kind of man to fake his feelings. He was too honest—too good. Karen lifted her chin and aimed it at Prudy like a weapon, although she forced her tone to be civil. “Clay would never have asked me t
o marry him if he didn’t care for me.”

  Prudy ducked her head, lips puckered, as if studying her stitches. Karen didn’t want to hurt the young woman’s feelings, but Prudy needed to know that her infatuation with Clay could lead nowhere.

  Karen continued stitching and answering questions. Though the ladies were gracious, they were a curious lot. She was glad when they turned to the topic of Christmas and the annual auction supporting a Dallas orphanage.

  Two hours later, Mrs. Willard pushed her chair back, signaling an end to the sewing bee. “Shall we stop and enjoy the delicious cookies Sue Ellen brought?”

  Heads nodded and murmurs filled the room as the women tied off their stitches and put their supplies away. Prudy made a quick escape. Karen studied her stitches. They resembled the path a staggering drunkard might take. Patsy and Carla had done an excellent job with their handwork. Karen had little doubt Helen would be redoing hers before next session. She watched the ladies on the end and far side of the table leave the room, happily chatting. Karen missed her Arcadia friends, but in time she’d make new ones here.

  Sighing, she lifted her arm to reach for her basket, but not only her arm moved, the quilt rack did, too. Suspended from the ceiling by four ropes, it swung her direction. She instantly straightened, forcing the rack in the opposite direction. Patsy reached to steady it and missed. Karen watched horrified, as the rack knocked both Gurdy and Lois sideways. The two older women struggled to stay on their feet, but both toppled sideways onto vacant chairs. After taking a moment to regain their composure, the women gaped at Karen.

  “I’m so sorry.” She glanced at the quilt, her cheeks blazing hot. “It seems that I somehow basted the lace on my cuff to the quilt.” She peered sideways at Patsy, who was struggling to keep a smile off her face. The other women were already filing out of the room, engrossed in their conversations, oblivious to what had happened.

  “Well,” Gurdy said, “the first time we attempted a quilt, Helen stitched her skirt to the bottom of it. We had to help her out of the garment in order to cut it loose.”

  Lois nodded in agreement, a glimmer in her pale blue eyes. The humor of the situation set Karen to giggling, and soon the other ladies were chuckling, too.

  “As much as I hate to ask, I need help getting my sleeve free.”

  Patsy and Carla quieted, although both obviously struggled to hold back their laughter.

  “I guess I know where Helen will be tonight,” Karen mumbled.

  Patsy snorted a laugh.

  Gurdy helped Lois up. “We’ll see you ladies in the parlor, and our lips are sealed.”

  As the two left the room, Patsy mumbled, “That’ll be a first.”

  Carla giggled so hard she could barely hold her scissors still enough to clip the threads. “There. Try it now.”

  Karen lifted her arm, and this time her sleeve broke free. She tugged out the loose threads and stood. “Thank you, Carla.”

  “Too bad the quilt rack is tied to the ceiling, otherwise we could turn it so Helen wouldn’t notice.” Patsy gave Karen a gentle nudge.

  The three women giggled again as they made their way out of the room. In spite of her embarrassing mistake, Karen knew she’d made several new friends.

  Chapter 4

  On Sunday afternoon, Clay drove his buggy out of town. Karen sat next to him with a blanket covering their legs, glad to have him to herself on the cool but sunny day. “I enjoyed your sermon. You have such a lovely speaking voice.”

  He glanced at her, eyes twinkling. “You really think so—about the message, I mean.”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t tease about something that important. You’ve matured since leaving Arcadia. Your sermons have more depth than when you were a youth, practicing in the field behind my aunt’s home, but I’ll always remember the passion you had then.”

  “Do you think I’ve lost some of that zeal?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Contemplating what to say next, Karen studied the wintry landscape as they traveled past farm after farm. Come spring, the rolling hills would blossom with wildflowers and be lovely. “You know how naive young men can be. They think they can conquer every dragon that dares to pop up its head.”

  “That’s true. I certainly would have battled any behemoth that threatened you, my fair maiden.”

  He surprised Karen when he shifted the reins to his other hand and lifted his right arm, dropping it around her shoulders. “So, you’re saying I’ve mellowed in my old age?”

  “Yes, the ripe old age of twenty-three.” Karen giggled and dared to lean against him, enjoying the closeness. But the memory of Prudy’s snide comments and sneers threatened to ruin the lovely day. Karen had seen no special interest in Clay’s eyes when he glanced at Prudy, but she obviously was smitten with him. Not that Karen could blame her.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t forget, ma’am, you’re only a year behind me.”

  “We’re positively ancient,” she said, trying to regain her levity.

  “Good thing we’re getting married soon. If we waited much longer, I might have to carve you a cane for a wedding gift.”

  “You’re funny.” Karen smiled as she considered his most recent gift—a lovely quartet of teacups and saucers with a pretty violet design and a matching pot. “Speaking of gifts, I adored the tea set, but you know you don’t have to keep giving me presents, don’t you?”

  He shrugged and tightened his grip as the buggy dipped into a rut and back out. “I enjoy it. I’ve never had much money—not that I have a lot now—but when I was younger and in seminary, I rarely had any. I want to make up for the times I was unable to get you a birthday gift.”

  Karen laid her head on Clay’s shoulder. “How is it I’m so lucky to have won your affection?”

  He caught her gaze and winked. “My heart has been yours since the day I first saw you.”

  Karen’s heart somersaulted. Had he really cared for her for so long? She’d been hurting so badly back then that she hadn’t noticed. “I don’t know how you could have fallen for that scrawny, insecure girl I used to be.” Although she had filled out to a respectable womanly form, the insecurities still plagued her. She loved Clay, too—and not in a brotherly way. Being with him again was helping her to see that, but it was her ability to be a pastor’s wife that concerned her. Aunt Alice had taught her to cook and the basics of sewing, but her aunt had been a quiet woman who loved reading, so Karen had spent much of her time alone in her room. Large groups still made her anxious.

  “Maybe I was attracted to you because you looked so scared and lonely. You needed a champion.”

  He had no idea how true that was. She was still scared, not so much of marrying him but of failing him. “You must have been desperate for friends.”

  “Don’t say that.” He paused for a long while then sighed and pulled the buggy to a halt. The horse snorted as if not ready to stop, but he obeyed. Clay shifted toward her, bumping his long legs against her skirts. “You’re not having doubts about us, are you? Is my congregation pestering you too much? I know some of the ladies can be difficult.”

  “I won’t lie to you. I had many doubts before coming here, but being with you and seeing how excited you are about our marriage has helped alleviate most of my concerns.” Karen looked past him at several horses grazing in a field.

  “But not all of them?”

  She shook her head. “I worry that I don’t have the skills to be a pastor’s wife.” And about Prudence Willard.

  A red-tailed hawk swooped low, soaring over the horses before it landed on a fence post. Even with most of the foliage dried and yellow and the trees naked of their leaves, the countryside was still beautiful.

  “Look at me, Karen.”

  She turned, giving him her full attention. His blue-green eyes focused on her, making her feel special—loved. “I have no doubt at all that you’ll make a wonderful pastor’s wife. You’re kind and caring, patient—most of the time.” He grinned when she el
bowed his side. “You will have to overlook many things and try hard not to get angry when our church family intrudes on our private time, but I know you can.”

  Karen’s heart warmed at his faith in her. Not since her mother died had anyone believed in her with the passion he did. “You’re a good man, Parson Parsons.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with that. I might be tempted to steal a kiss just to silence you.”

  There had been times in the past when she’d wondered what his kiss would be like. Now that they’d shared a couple of quick, stolen kisses, she wanted to know what a real knee-bending one would be like—and she had it within her power to find out. Sheer delight wove its way through her like warm coffee on a cold morning. “Oh you would—Parson Par—”

  He stopped her with his lips on hers, cold at first but quickly warming. Clay tugged her closer, illustrating his affection and pushing her doubts into the shadows of her mind. Oh how she loved this man—if only she could be enough.

  Too soon, he pulled back. He caressed her cheek with his gloved hand. “I’d love nothing more than to keep kissing you, but it’s not a wise idea, for now. Besides”—he smiled—“I’ve got a surprise. Now close your eyes.”

  Still rattled from his soul-stirring kisses, she blinked. “Another gift?”

  “Not exactly. There’s something special I want you to see, so be a good girl and comply. Eyes shut.”

  “Yes sir.” When he faced forward again, Karen laid her head on his solid shoulder and lowered her eyelids. How could she be so fortunate to be betrothed to such a wonderful man?

  They wound to the left on the country road and then back to the right. Karen listened to the rhythmic clatter of the wheels, the jingle of the harness, and tried to recognize the call of several birds she heard, all the while wondering what Clay wanted her to see. It couldn’t be land for a home, because he would never want to live this far from town. As they wound around another curve, she heard flowing water.

  The buggy creaked to a stop. “All right. You can look now.”

  Karen straightened, peered down the road, and gasped. Before her, a charming wooden bridge spanned a small river. Although there was a roof covering it, the sides rose only about four feet, allowing one to view the water. “A covered bridge?”