Christmas Miracles: Mega Mail Order Bride 20-Book Box Set: Multi-Author Box Set

by Jenny Creek Tanner

  “You must be hungry.” He stepped to the small stove and opened the oven. He pulled out a small plate and poured a mug of coffee and brought both to her. The sight of the fluffy biscuit and slice of ham on the plate made her mouth water. “Please, Clara. Have some breakfast.”

  She thought about refusing the food, but her stomach rumbled again and she gave in. He sipped his coffee and waited patiently as she took a few bites.

  “About last night…” The words refused to form in his mouth. That same look of sadness she’d seen for that brief moment filled his eyes. The anger was gone and she was thankful for that. “I lost my temper. I—I almost never do that and I am so sorry. It was wrong of me to... You couldn’t have known…”

  He paused and everything inside her made her want to ask what she couldn’t have known. She still didn’t know the man she just married, and she didn’t want to make him angry again. She took a sip of her coffee and stared into his eyes.

  “I don’t know how best to say this. You must never play music in this house again.”

  “What?” His words hit her heart like a sledgehammer.

  “Please.” She saw tiny flecks of gold in his mellow green eyes, reflected by the morning sunlight that streamed through the window. “I can’t explain, but you must never touch that piano. Not again.”

  Clara tended to be stubborn, even as a child. When she was young, her father teased that she was so stubborn she could make the sun stay up an extra hour if she wanted it to. Something in the way Ezra commanded her not to play the piano lit the flame of her stubbornness.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t—can’t explain.” His eyes widened at her question, but more at his inability to answer her unexpected question. He stared out the window and held his coffee cup between his hands.

  “You’re commanding me to do something without any explanation?” She felt the tips of her ears get warm.

  A look of pain flickered across his face and he looked as if he was almost ready to give in and explain things, but something shifted in his gaze. When he turned back to her, his eyes were not angry but they were stone cold. “No. I can’t give you an explanation. There will be no music in this house.”

  He stood up and his chair scraped across the wooden floor. Every fiber of her being wanted to demand an answer. She wanted to ask if he wanted a wife or just someone he could boss around, but she bit her tongue. He stopped in the doorway put his hands on the door frame.

  “Please, feel free to purchase whatever you need at the general store. You can have the items delivered here.” She turned and watched her husband leave, and she cried as she cleaned up the kitchen.

  Clara’s words echoed in his mind the entire day. You’re commanding me without an explanation? He had commanded Clara, and he felt sick to his stomach. He lived in two worlds. In one he moved on from Grace and got to know the beautiful woman he had married. In the other he still upheld the memory of his beloved wife and was afraid to dishonor the memories of the woman who had lived and breathed music and had filled their home with laughter and song.

  He decided to take a quick walk to the general store, but with his attention focused on Clara he stubbed his toe on a post on the side of the street.

  “Better watch where you’re going, Mr. Boone.” Joseph’s voice and the pain in his toe told him the same thing. He tipped his hat to Joseph and wandered on to the general store. The friendly aroma of oats and cinnamon and leather wafted over him as he stepped into the cool interior of the shop.

  “Ezra Boone, good to see you.” Franz Mueller was the portly German proprietor of the General Store, and he was always glad to see Ezra in his store.

  “Good afternoon to you, Franz.” Ezra stepped up to the counter. “Did my—my wife stop in today?” It had been three years since he’d used those words and the stuck in his throat.

  “No. But I heard of your marriage. Many congratulations to you.”

  “Thank you.” Ezra frowned and wondered why Clara hadn’t come to the store. He looked around for a few minutes. “Is there a bolt or two of fabric you could have sent over to my home? Something nice—maybe Greta could pick something out?”

  “Of course,” Franz said. “Greta loves shopping with other people’s money.” The large man laughed and clapped his hands together.

  “Wonderful.” After saying his goodbyes to Franz and Greta, Ezra left the store and made his toward his home. No, their home.

  He felt the conviction of his selfishness and knew he needed to find a way to bridge the gap between him and Clara, one that she had widened by playing that piano. Or was it his reaction that widened the gap? He decided to try harder that night to introduce Clara to the man he had been before his wife had died, if he was still inside somewhere.

  Kind Deeds

  Ezra opened the front door and Clara looked up from her cross stitching. She tried to read his mood, but she still knew too little about him to do that.

  “Good evening, Clara.”

  She watched him remove his hat and coat and hang them on the rack by the door. The musky scent of his strong soap followed him as he walked into the parlor where Clara sat.

  “Evening,” she said with a smile and turned her attention back to her stitching. He took a few hesitant steps to his favorite chair and sat down across from her.

  “You didn’t make it to the store today.” There was no accusation in his tone, but she immediately felt defensive.

  “I didn’t feel like going out.” It was the truth, but she’d also been afraid to buy things with someone else’s money, even if it was her husband’s.

  “I understand.” His eyes were soft as they took her in. “I asked Franz, the store owner, to send over a few bolts of fabric tomorrow. I hope you’ll like them.”

  “Why? Are my clothes not good enough for you? Not dignified enough, perhaps?” She slammed both hands over her mouth as she realized in horror the honest words she had spoken out loud. She sat terrified and waited for his anger to show itself again. She bit her lip until it hurt and her cheeks flooded with heat.

  “I—no.” There was no trace of anger in his eyes. “No, that’s not it at all.”

  She lowered her hands and crossed them in her lap.

  “Please, Clara.” Ezra looked down at his own hands clasped in his lap before lifted his head and looked into her eyes.. “I’m truly sorry. I—I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression of me.”

  She wanted to make a smart remark that she doubted she’d misjudged him, but she kept her mouth closed and waited for him to continue.

  “I’m not a harsh and controlling man, Clara. It’s just…” he trailed off and looked for the words in the empty space in front of him. “It’s just that I don’t—that is, I can’t bear to hear it…to hear…the music.”

  His words made little sense to her, but she didn’t trust herself to ask for an explanation. She felt she was about to learn something about Ezra Boone that perhaps would help her—help them—so she nodded and sat in silence and listened.

  “Despite what you may have decided about me, I don’t desire to rule over you with an iron fist. I only ask that you respect my wishes about the music.”

  He turned his soulful eyes to her again and a small part of her softened. Ezra appeared repentant and sorry, but she still didn’t understand why.

  “I want to understand, Ezra.”

  “I don’t think I can explain it…yet.” His eyes misted and a tear fell from his cheek to the floor. The word “yet” stood out to her and she felt pity for him. The single tear revealed the depth of a pain she didn’t understand. Yet.

  “Then, thank you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “For the fabric. I look forward to seeing what you picked out for me.”

  The briefest of smiles graced his lips and though only for a moment, she saw a different side of Ezra. He turned his head away from Clara and wiped the tear from his eye. The realization that her feeling of pity might have instead been a
small seed of love made her smile.

  The rest of the week was slow, and Ezra still felt the awkwardness between them. Clara tried to stop her habit of tensing up whenever he entered the room, but she realized it would take some time yet. She took extra care and attention to respond in gentle tones and slow motions, and he noticed the change in her. But he knew it was because she feared him, and he hated the caution that dulled her beautiful blue eyes.

  Ezra rose Saturday morning at his usual time and made coffee. He decided to wait for Clara to get up before making breakfast. He had no plans for the day and he walked out to the porch and sat in his rocking chair to contemplate what to do. After a few minutes of rocking and thinking and rocking some more he had an idea. He stood and walked inside and up the stairs to her room. He knocked, but there was no reply. He turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack to look inside but she was not there. Her bed was made and he feared she had left him until he heard a soft voice humming outside. He walked to the window and saw her kneeling in the garden and picking herbs. A wave of relief washed over him and he bounded down the stairs like a little boy and ran outside to her.

  “Clara,” he said, “May I have a word with you?”

  She stood and wiped that same unruly strand of hair from her eyes with the back of her hand. Ezra stepped forward and raised his hand and she backed away with fear in her eyes. He felt sick at her reaction and rushed to explain. “There’s some dirt on your forehead.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” She blushed and looked away.

  He fought the urge to back up to give her space, but instead stepped forward and raised his hand to her chin and lifted it so he could look in her eyes. The fingers of his other hand grazed her warm skin and brushed away most of the dirt. Then he tucked the strand of her golden blonde hair behind her ear.

  He looked back into her eyes and he was transfixed. Her beauty radiated around her like sunlight streaming through the clouds on a summer day. The urge to kiss her welled up inside him, but he stepped back away and wiped his hands together.

  “I wanted to see if you’d consider joining me for a picnic down by the river. It’s such a lovely day.” He looked around as if to prove to her his motives were genuine.

  She didn’t answer right away, and she brushed at some of the dirt on her apron. The tension was agonizing but Ezra had promised himself not to rush her with anything.

  “I think that would be nice.” She looked back into his sweet, handsome face and smiled.

  He clapped his hands together and she laughed inside at how pleased with himself he seemed to be.

  “Is an hour enough time for you to be ready?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’ll pull together a lunch for us.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He wanted her to know he truly was thankful and he held her gaze for longer than he ever had.

  The Picnic

  The warmth of the sun and the sound of the rushing water created a sense of peace in Clara. She hadn’t felt as relaxed since before she had come to marry and live with Ezra.

  He stood on the river bank with his back to her and she watched him toss rocks into the rippled water. He had been so attentive and kind since the episode with the piano that Clara felt bad for doubting his sincerity. He walked on eggshells around her but she couldn’t blame him. He had frightened her and broken her trust. Enough is enough.

  She stood up and went to stand next to him on the shore. She bent to pick up a stone of her own.

  “A picnic was a good idea, Ezra,” she said. “Thank you. It’s so beautiful here.” She noticed the look of surprise on his face and turned her attention back to the river.

  “It’s one of my favorite spots.” She watched him focus on skipping the smooth, flat stone across the surface of the water, and the look of concentration on his face reminded her of the look on Robert’s face as he practiced his scales. The stone skipped four times and then sank in the clear water.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed and he laughed.

  “You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock before?”

  “No.” She blinked the direction the stone had gone. “That is fascinating. How do you do it?”

  He smiled down at her and enjoyed that she asked him a question. “It takes skill. Here,” he selected another stone and showed her the shape. “These are the best ones. Flat and smooth.”

  “Like this?” Clara dropped the chunky rock she’d picked up and chose another one similar to the one he held.

  “Perfect. Now turn this way.” His hands rested gently on her shoulders and he turned her so her left shoulder faced toward the river. “Good. Now you want to remember that it’s all in the flick of your wrist.” He imitated the motion again for her and then stepped behind her to give her space to throw her rock.

  Her heart beat with excitement and she flicked her wrist back to toss the stone but she lost the grip and it flew out of her hand behind her. She let out a cry and whipped around to see Ezra on the ground with a hand over his eye.

  “Ezra! Oh my goodness,” she rushed to his side and knelt beside him. “I am so sorry. Are you all right?”

  He let out a light groan and sat up. She pulled his hand away and saw his eye was swelling shut. She put her arm on his shoulder and sat back on her heels and waited for his anger to show again.

  “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good aim.” He forced a smile and looked at his hand to see if he was bleeding.

  “Oh I am so sorry, Ezra.” She lowered her head and he saw tears dripping from her eyes onto her dress.

  “Clara, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He lifted her chin and the crystal blue of her moist eyes took his breath away.

  “I’m so sorry. So—so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her tears became sobs, and in one quick motion he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. The musky scent of his soap filled her nostrils as his hand rubbed gentle circles on her back.

  “It’s all right, Clara,” he said in a soothing tone. “I know it was an accident. I’m not mad. A little wounded but not mad at all.”

  A laugh started deep in his chest and it sounded like far-away thunder to her. For the first time since meeting Ezra, Clara felt something from him that felt like something like love, and it was the most glorious feeling in the world.

  Ezra held Clara in his arms for what seemed an eternity. His eye smarted but it actually was a laughable accident. The look of shock and fear on her face was burned into his memory, but the warmth of her in his arms made that all disappear.

  This was how he wanted their life together, filled with laughter and understanding, not fear and terror. Yet his actions had sown the very thing he wanted to avoid. Grace would never have even picked up a rock.

  Grace. Wife. The thought of her still caused his heart to grieve. But was it right for him to think of her when he held his new wife in his arms? Clara was here, and Grace was not.

  Ralphs words came back to him in an instant. Why are you acting like you joined her in the grave as well?

  Clara sniffled against him, and he broke their embrace. The last of her tears glistened in her eyes and he reached up and brushed them away.

  “I’m not angry, Clara.”

  Her face was inches away, and he wanted to kiss her. Before he could act she raised her hand and touched the growing black eye. “Ouch!” he said.

  “I’m sorry!” Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand back as if she’d touched a hot stove.

  “It will be fine.” He smiled and took her hand and held it to his swollen eye as if to show her that everything would be fine.

  “Maybe I should work on skipping rocks another time.”

  “I think that may be wise.” Ezra didn’t want to let her go. He enjoyed holding her close to him. He didn’t want the picnic to end.

  “Should we be getting back before the sun sets?”

  “Yes.” He could still feel that there was a wall there—in her and in him.

  He stood up and brushed of
f his pants and helped Clara to her feet. Her hand was still soft and light and he held it as they walked back to the blanket where they had picnicked earlier.

  She didn’t pull away and Ezra felt the small victory. He couldn’t have music in the house, but maybe he could find a way for her to love him all the same.

  A Compromise

  Clara still felt the touch of Ezra’s gentle fingers as they brushed away her tears. It was hard to believe the man who had been furious with her for playing a piano had laughed off getting hit with a rock she’d thrown.

  Every other aspect of his character appeared to be sound, and he hadn’t said a harsh word or acted in anger since that terrible first day. Her father had always taught her that someone’s actions would tell you more than their words.

  Would that change? Would he snap at her again? And what about music? Every day she walked past the piano and longed to play it again. One day Ezra caught her seated there writing a list of supplies she needed from the general store, but he brushed past her without a word. The short memory of Valse Romantique lilted through her mind and she held her hand on the cover as if she was playing what she heard in her mind.

  Today they’d arrived at church after the first hymn and left before the benediction hymn, and he could tell something was on her mind when they arrived home. She changed and sat in the parlor and worked on her cross-stitch. Ezra had changed his clothes and stood in the doorway of the parlor.

  “What are you thinking about?” He sat across from her in his favorite chair.

  She shot a furtive glance at the piano and then darted back down to her sewing. His silence drew her gaze upward and his soft green eyes shone below his creased brow. It wasn’t anger as much as it was pure concentration and deliberate thought.

  “I’ve been thinking.” The look faded from his face and was replaced with a kind, peaceful smile. His question hung in the air and he was afraid she wouldn’t respond.