Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

  Natalie’s stomach knotted, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Mama’s words came back. God knows. If someone found out, would they be hurt? “I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything.” She reached her hand over the nearly shoulder-high foundation to him.

  Willum stepped back and into the first beam. “You gave him your hand. You were laughing. Not exactly fitting behavior for a girl who is being courted.”

  It had been wrong. She knew it then and knew it more so now. “It was going to rain.”

  “You love the rain. Probably the only person in town who does. Once upon a time, you came to see me in the pouring rain and four inches of mud.”

  “I’m sorry. It truly meant nothing.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I can guarantee you it meant something to John. A young lady doesn’t accept a buggy ride from a man unless she’s interested in him.”

  “I never should have accepted his offer. I’m sorry. Is that not enough for you?”

  He stared at her for a long moment with hard creases around his eyes. “Three and a half years ago, before I came to Tumwater, I was engaged to be married to a beautiful lady who I loved with all my heart. She was charming and funny, and I was swept away by her.”

  Natalie didn’t want to hear about his love for another woman. Why would he hurt her like this? Had he gone back to this woman? Is that where he went when he left?

  “My friends tried to warn me about her. They didn’t trust her. I wouldn’t listen to them. I stood in the front of a church for half an hour waiting for her to walk down the aisle to me before her parents told me she’d run off with another man.”

  “Oh Willum.” She wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him. “That must have been terrible.”

  “I won’t let it happen to me again.” His words were cold and bitter. “I saw the horrified look on your face when you came to my cabin with your father. I thought you just weren’t feeling well. But when the next day I saw you with John, I knew better.”

  “Willum, you have to understand.”

  He folded his arms. “Understand what?”

  “I was scared. I panicked. I was a little girl again, hungry, cold, and scared. All by myself.”

  “By yourself? You have a good family who loves you.”

  She had to make him understand. “I never knew my father. My mother and I begged for food. She died when I was six. I was put in a horrible orphanage. The older children would lock me in a dark closet. When I was seven, I was put on an orphan train. I was sick with a cough and no one wanted me. Until the Bollens.”

  His features softened. “You’re adopted?”

  “You couldn’t tell? I don’t look like anyone in my family.”

  “I thought you got your dark hair and eyes from a grandparent.”

  “When I saw your cabin, I became that hungry, scared child locked in a dark closet. I didn’t want to go hungry again.”

  “I understand. I’m sure John can provide well for you.”

  “I don’t love John. I love you.”

  He remained impassive. “You best find yourself a man that you know can provide for you in the way you want.”

  “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

  “I’m sorry. How can I trust you not to leave if things get really tough? If we do go hungry?”

  “We won’t. I’m sure of it.” Papa and Mama would always bring them food if it came to that.

  “And if we did, you’d become that frightened little girl and run off. I can’t risk that. I had one woman I loved leave me. I won’t go through that again. I can’t. Go home.” He turned and ducked back under board after board.

  Tears welled up in Natalie’s eyes. He couldn’t mean that. He was just scared like she was. She ran home, wishing she could change the past. Wishing she hadn’t reacted to his cabin. Wishing she hadn’t accepted a ride from John. Wishing.

  Chapter 9

  Three days later, Willum had finally finished placing all the floor beams. Several good men had stopped and offered help. He thanked them but declined. The Lord had been clear that he was the only man to build the church. Then there were the onlookers who whispered about him. Some called him touched in the head and nicknamed him Noah. He’d heard rumors of others who supported his work as long as they weren’t called upon to help or contribute any money for the cause. He didn’t care what people called him, so long as they left him alone to do the work the Lord had unfortunately called him to do. Alone. In a town he wished not to be in.

  And Natalie hadn’t been around either. He’d evidently gotten through to her. He hated to hurt her, but he couldn’t trust her. And that made him saddest of all. He hadn’t thought her flighty, but he understood. She needed a man she could trust fully, and he evidently wasn’t that man.

  He reached down and lifted one end of a floorboard. He would get the floor down then raise the walls and roof. He raised his end up above the foundation to the floor level. He would have to walk along the board, keeping the first end on the foundation wall. When he felt the other end of the board lift, he looked down the length of it. Natalie smiled back at him.

  He dropped his end. He hadn’t meant to, but it pulled the other end out of Natalie’s hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to help.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Yes you do. You don’t want the church to take as long as the house has for you to build alone.”

  That stung. Was she goading him? “I should have the church completed in a few weeks, by Thanksgiving. Working by myself.”

  “I don’t see how. Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “The Lord told me that I was the only man to work on the church.”

  Her smile broadened. “I’m not a man, so I can help.”

  “Ladies don’t work in construction.”

  She picked up a basket by the pile of lumber. “I brought lunch. Your favorite.” She pulled back a red-checkered cloth and lifted out a bowl. “Fried chicken.”

  “I have work to do.” His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. He didn’t want Natalie doing nice things for him. “Go home.” He needed her to go away and leave him alone, so he could build this church and forget about her.

  Natalie would not be dissuaded. She had made a terrible mistake in a moment of weakness. She would prove to Willum that she was faithful to him. She would be at his side every day while he worked on the church. He would see he could trust her.

  She planted her hands on her slim hips. “I’m not going away, so you might as well give in and let me help you.”

  Willum glared at her.

  She could be just as stubborn as he.

  He finally looked away then pointed to the pile of lumber. “You can sit there. And don’t move.”

  So he was letting her stay but wasn’t going to let her help. Fine. She would sit for now but would keep a watchful eye for an opportunity to help.

  Willum stared at the skeleton of the church building, at the framework for the walls and half the roof trusses. Work on the church had gone slowly. Rain had made it impossible to build. Clear drying nights, and drenching days. If he could get the exterior completed, then it wouldn’t matter if it was raining, he could still work on the inside. The gray sky felt heavy. The damp air sent chills clear through to his bones. He hoped the rain held off. It could rain all night every night if the days would just stay dry. It would be impossible to finish in two weeks for Thanksgiving. Even finishing before the Christmas Eve service was in jeopardy now. One drop hit his nose, another his cheek.

  Lord, I could use a little help here.

  “Hello, Willum.”

  He spun to see Natalie holding the daily lunch basket. Not that kind of help. Less rain and a work crew.

  Natalie glanced up, blinking at the sprinkles hitting her face. “Are you going to be able to work today?”

  “I’m going to have to if I’m going to have any hope of getting this finished by Christmas Eve.”

&n
bsp; “But it’s starting to rain.”

  She wore the same worn work skirt she wore every day when she came to help, not that he’d let her. “Go home, Miss Bollen. Get out of the rain.”

  She made that little pinched face she made when he’d started calling her Miss Bollen again. “I brought you something.”

  “You don’t have to bring me lunch every day. I’m capable of feeding myself.”

  “It’s about the only thing you’ll let me do around here.”

  And he didn’t exactly let her bring lunch. It was more like she forced it on him. She would literally stand between his hammer and the nail until he ate.

  The rain came as only a drop now and then.

  She set the basket down and pulled a blue bundle from inside her coat. She shook out a sweater. “I hope I got the size right. I used David to fit it on.”

  She knit him a sweater?

  “It’s wool and should keep you warm even if it gets wet.”

  “I don’t need a sweater.”

  “You’ve been working in the rain. You’ll get sick.” She held it out. “Put it on.”

  The set of her jaw told him she would not take no for an answer. He took the sweater and pulled it over his head. It was almost like having her arms around him. It warmed him inside as well as out. “Happy?”

  She gave him a triumphant smile. “I was thinking, if you removed both sets of bunk beds, and moved the table and chairs to one wall, there would be room for a bigger bed.” Her cheeks pinked. “Your bookshelf could go at the foot of the bed. A small rocking chair could go in the corner next to the potbelly stove.”

  She was rearranging his cabin? That was kind of cute, but she was trying too hard to prove his small place was fine with her, when they both knew it wasn’t. He folded his arms. “Why would I want to go to all that trouble?” He didn’t plan on staying around.

  “Well, I just thought when …” She tilted her head and looked up at him with a coy smile and her big brown coltish eyes.

  “When what?”

  “You know after …”

  Yeah, he knew. “After what?”

  “After we get married, we’ll need a larger bed, and one won’t fit in that corner.” Her cheeks went from their soft shade of pink to a deep red. “Maybe you could add on a bedroom.”

  “I never proposed.” He didn’t want her to think she had a legitimate hold on him.

  “Well, we’re courting, aren’t we?” Her tone held a note of concern.

  “I never asked for your hand.”

  “You asked Papa to court me.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Well, you want to marry me, don’t you?” The doubt was there in her voice and her eyes.

  He did, but he knew he shouldn’t.

  She seemed nervous with him just staring down at her. She raised her hands and brushed them across his shoulders. “I think it fits rather well.”

  He grabbed her wrists. He didn’t want her touching him. He didn’t want to be touching her either but couldn’t seem to let go. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to keep her always but didn’t know how.

  Natalie’s heart raced at Willum’s touch, even if he did look a little mad. She would take whatever he would give her, so long as he didn’t ignore her. She still had hope. His grip was so gentle that she could have easily pulled away. He hadn’t said he didn’t want to marry her.

  His grip shifted slightly, but neither tightened nor loosened. “You don’t trust me to provide for you.”

  “I most certainly do.”

  “How do I know I can trust you not to get scared and run off?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He didn’t look convinced, but his expression softened. His gaze shifted a shade to the left, and as quick as a whip his features hardened to stone.

  To her right she heard a voice. “Natalie, is everything all right here?”

  She wished he wouldn’t use her first name. She hadn’t given him permission. “We’re fine, Mr. Seymour.”

  Willum released her wrists and walked away.

  She missed his touch. She wheeled around. “Mr. Seymour, I appreciate your gallant offer, but I’m not in need of it.”

  “Please, call me John.”

  She would not encourage his attention. “Mr. Seymour, thank you, but good day.”

  He scooped up her hand. “You deserve better than him.”

  “You’re wrong.” She pulled her hand free. “It is he who deserves better than me.” She was a weak sentimental girl who thought more of her stomach than the man she loved.

  Mr. Seymour tipped his hat. “When you grow tired of him, I’ll be waiting. I’ve always held fond affection for you.”

  Fond affection? How unromantic. Yet if Willum had said that, she might have swooned into his arms. She guessed that was how love colored words. They sounded better coming from the one a person loved.

  “What’s made you smile? I hope it’s me.”

  “Mr. Seymour, I am flattered, but I really must go.” She dipped her head to him and turned in the direction Willum had gone. To the back side of the church, she thought. She caught a glimpse of movement. Had Willum been watching? She hoped so. Then he’d see there was nothing between her and Mr. Seymour.

  Willum crouched near his toolbox, rattling tools. He looked up. “Where’s John?”

  “I sent Mr. Seymour on his way.”

  “You could have gotten a ride home.”

  She smiled. “Are you offering?”

  He thinned his lips. “I have work to do. If this rain will hold off, I can make some progress.”

  “If you’d let me help, it would go faster.”

  “I’m setting trusses. Too dangerous for a girl.”

  She could see several A-frames for the roof lying in the grass. “I see you have some built. How do you get them up there?”

  “With a rope.”

  “It’s starting to rain again.”

  He picked up the end of the rope that wasn’t attached to his scaffolding and tied it around the top of a truss.

  Large raindrops splashed on Natalie’s cheek, her glove, hat, shoulder, then everywhere at once, like a full bucket being dumped over her head.

  Willum pretended not to notice the rain. He was a stubborn man. He looked so silly with rain running off his hat and him trying to tie a knot in the rope.

  A giggle rose up from her tummy and burst out of her mouth.

  He shook his head and let his hands drop to his side. Then he slogged through the wet grass and took her by the elbow, leading her toward the street.

  She snatched the food basket as he ushered her past it. She hoped the food wasn’t ruined. When Willum guided her to the livery, disappointment washed over her.

  “I’d like to rent a rig.”

  She held up the basket. “What about lunch?”

  “You’re soaked through.”

  “So are you.”

  “I’m not cold.”

  “See, I told you that wool sweater would keep you warm even wet.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not so lucky.”

  Mr. Parker hitched a buggy, and Willum helped her up into the seat. He climbed aboard and set the horse into motion, but not fast. A leisurely walk.

  This was nice. She wrapped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense under the sweater, and he looked down at her with his eyebrows pinched together in question.

  “I’m cold.” She was.

  He pulled his arm free of hers and her spirits plummeted then rose higher than the sky when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Is that better?”

  She nodded and laid her head back on his shoulder. This was perfect.

  Chapter 10

  The week leading up to Thanksgiving broke into sunshine. Willum had finished the trusses and shingled the roof. Much to Natalie’s dismay. She had been stuck below, drawing lines in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. She was cu
te to watch … when she didn’t know he was looking. The church looked peculiar with open studwork for walls and a completed roof. But he wanted to get the roof on before more rain. He didn’t need walls to work on the interior.

  Reverend Bollen’s buggy rolled up in front of the church. Natalie wasn’t with him. Wasn’t she coming today? He would miss her. “Hello, Reverend.”

  The reverend pulled on the reins then tipped his hat. “Willum.”

  Willum strode to the side of the buggy. “I hope everything is all right.” He hoped Natalie wasn’t sick.

  “Everything’s right as rain. I promised my daughter I’d stop by.”

  “Is she well?”

  “Other than driving her brothers mad with all her fussing, she’s fine. She wanted me to tell you that she won’t be arriving until lunchtime. Her mama needs her at the house.”

  So he would see her. “Thank you.”

  “She’ll be right along if she gets her work completed sooner. The way she was going at it, I’d say it will be sooner.”

  A smile crept across Willum’s lips.

  The reverend chuckled. “I see you’ve worked things out with my daughter.”

  He wouldn’t say they’d worked things out, but Willum was softening to her. “We’re getting there.”

  The reverend nodded and snapped the reins, putting the buggy into motion.

  If Willum could only figure out how to trust Natalie. How long would it take to trust her again? Years? Would he need a big fat bank account to keep her? He never thought money would have mattered to Natalie—that was one of the things that drew him to her. But if money was what it was going to take for her to trust that he could take care of her, and in return get him to trust her not to get scared off, how much would be enough?

  Throughout the morning, as he worked to finish the porch, these questions went through his mind. He anticipated Natalie’s arrival with both longing and dread. It wasn’t right to let her keep coming if in the end he wasn’t going to be able to commit to a life with her. She could let John Seymour or any number of other men court her. But the idea of Natalie with any other man rankled him. Isn’t that how this whole affair started?

  “What’s got you fretting?”