Western Christmas Brides

by Lauri Robinson

  It was their home, but their arrival saddened her because it meant Teddy would leave soon. Which was what happened, but long afterward, while lying in bed, she relived the evening over and over, concluding that it had been the best night of her life. Her life was the best it had ever been. There was only one thing that could make it better.

  * * *

  Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling overhead, a plethora of things raced across Teddy’s mind. Hannah was front and center, and the reason other things came to mind. He hadn’t mentioned his father’s stories to anyone. Not even he and Abigail discussed them. Those stories had been his memories, his alone, and had kept him connected to his family all these years. Yet it felt good to share them with Hannah. His father had been a good man, a fair and honest man, and that had sent Teddy’s thoughts to Hannah’s father, and the things she’d said about him. He also thought about Eric, and wondered if he’d ever confronted Hannah’s father.

  Whether the man was the size of Brett or as short and pudgy as the mayor, nothing would have stopped Teddy from telling Hannah’s father just what he thought of how she’d been treated. How could a man tell his daughter—his own flesh and blood—that she wasn’t welcome in his house?

  His mind twisted and turned and made its way back to something he’d done a couple of weeks ago. The letter he’d written. He hoped it had arrived, and that he’d soon get a response, because he wanted to make Hannah’s Christmas very special.

  Chapter Ten

  A week later, Teddy discovered his letter had been received and his request had been fulfilled when Wayne Stevens stopped by. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and he’d started to worry.

  “Hey, Ted,” Wayne said, walking into the Gazette office. “Thought you’d like to know a crate arrived for you on the train today.”

  Teddy set aside the bottle of ink he’d been about to pour into a tray. “That’s great news,” he said, removing the apron he wore to protect his clothes.

  His plan had been to give it to Hannah on Christmas Day but, anxious to see the surprise and pleasure on her face when she opened it, he said to Abigail, “I’ll be gone for a while.”

  “I’ll finish filling the ink trays,” she said. “So they’ll be ready whenever you return.”

  Nodding her way, he collected his coat and asked Wayne, “Can you help me deliver it?”

  “Sure. We’ll need to get a wagon if we have to go too far,” Wayne answered. “It’s big.”

  Even though Brett’s house wasn’t far from the depot, he nodded. “I’ll go rent a wagon and meet you at the depot.”

  The anticipation of seeing Hannah always thrilled him, but the excitement building inside him went beyond anything he’d felt before. She was going to love his gift. Love it almost as much as he loved her. He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d finally admitted that to himself, but he was now absolutely certain he loved Hannah with all his heart. And wanted to marry her. He was going to ask her, too. Not right away, because she might not be ready yet. But she was bound to like her present.

  They’d spent a lot of time together recently—however not nearly enough time alone together. Other than a few evenings, when Fiona and Brett went visiting, someone was always around. But even then, he and Hannah talked a lot. She spoke of her grandparents mostly, often mentioning how much she missed them. Each time he’d think of the letter he’d written, and hoped they’d respond with his request prior to Christmas. His hope was that Hannah would see that despite the feuding, there were people in her family who loved her. Had always loved her and always would. Surely that would heal her heart enough to consider loving again?

  His wish had been granted, the gift had arrived in time, which proved this truly was the season of wishes and miracles.

  Optimistic that he was making the right choice, he entered the livery in the best mood possible.

  * * *

  Hannah opened the door to the Gazette office and tried to contain her disappointment when Teddy was nowhere to be seen. “Hello,” she said to Abigail. “I decided a walk was in order today, so thought I’d drop these etchings off.”

  “Hello and thank you.” Abigail nodded toward the far side of the office. “You can set them on the desk. I was filling the ink trays and spilled one. I can’t believe the mess I made.”

  Setting down the etchings, Hannah asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Actually, would you mind bringing me some newspapers from the box under the desk?” She held up two ink-covered hands. “Teddy keeps the misprinted copies just to clean up ink spills. This has to be the worst one ever.”

  Hannah had to grin, mainly because Abigail was. “Oh, goodness.”

  “This is worse than ‘oh, goodness,’” Abigail said, still smiling despite the ink mess.

  Hannah pulled out the chair and used the edge of the desk to help her kneel down. Such simple tasks were getting harder each day, and the ache that had settled in her back made it worse. Which was why she’d decided a walk was in order. Of course it was also a chance to see Teddy. She’d thought of little else lately. Seeing him was what she woke up looking forward to each morning, and she fell asleep each night thinking about how wonderful a time they’d had each day.

  “I can’t believe I’ve made such a mess,” Abigail said. “I was being so careful.”

  “That’s why they’re called accidents,” Hannah said. “Things happen, no matter how careful we are.” She flipped a handful of papers onto the desk, and then pulled herself upright again.

  “I suspect so,” Abigail said.

  Hannah shuffled the papers into a stack and then carried them to the counter. As she set them down, the ache in her back formed a sharp pang. Startled, she inadvertently scattered the stack of papers.

  “Are you all right?” Abigail asked.

  The pain disappeared as quickly as it had hit, but the ache remained. “I must have twisted wrong when I got up,” Hannah answered, gathering up the papers. One caught her attention. It wasn’t a copy of the Gazette, but another paper she’d seen before. Her heart began to race as she slipped it away from the others. The newspaper had been ripped in half—a couple of times—but she knew it was one that contained the article about Eric’s death. A sheet of writing paper that had also been ripped in half fell out as she lifted up the newspaper. Her stomach knotted as she read one handwritten line.

  Eric Olson was not married at the time of his death.

  Abigail snatched the paper out of her hand, and without a word used it to wipe ink from her fingers.

  Hannah had read all she’d needed to. Her entire being shook, yet she held her stance, and the stare she’d settled on Abigail was steady.

  Grabbing for another sheet of paper, Abigail said, “There is ink everywhere—”

  “How long have you known?” Hannah asked.

  Abigail didn’t look up.

  It might have been fear or perhaps anger that flared inside her. “How long?” Hannah asked.

  Slapping a sheet of paper atop the ink, Abigail let out a groan. “Last fall, but Teddy—”

  “So he knows, too.”

  Abigail nodded, then shook her head. “It was me, all me. He almost married a pregnant woman once before and I thought it was happening all over—”

  Hannah’s hands went to her stomach as a buzzing sound filled her ears. She spun around, knowing she had to leave.

  “Hannah, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

  She didn’t wait. She walked faster than she had in months. Out the door and down the street. Tears burned her cheeks as severely as the cold wind stung them as she crossed the field to Brett’s house.

  She should have known someone would investigate her story. That they’d want to know more. Abigail was a reporter, so it was reasonable that she’d be the one to do it. But knowing all of that
didn’t make the hurt any less severe. Neither did the fact that Teddy knew the truth, too, yet had never said anything. Not about Eric nor about...

  She opened the door to the house, and seeing him sitting at the table sickened her.

  He jumped to his feet and rushed forward. “Hannah? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “That other woman you were going to marry was pregnant?”

  He stopped and glanced around as if looking for an escape.

  “Is that why you didn’t marry her? Because she was pregnant and you didn’t want to raise another man’s child?”

  “No, hell, no.” He shook his head. “How? How do you know about that?”

  Getting her emotions under control, at least partially, she pointed to the door. “Goodbye, Teddy.”

  “Hannah—”

  “Just leave, Teddy.” Tears fell faster than she could swipe them aside. “Please, just leave.” The pain filling her insides had nothing to do with the baby, yet she grabbed her stomach and dropped into the closest chair.

  * * *

  “No, not until—” Fear shot through Teddy. He’d never seen such anguish in someone’s eyes. Such pain on their face. He wrenched open the door and shouted across the field. “Fiona!” As soon as he saw the other woman run out of Brett’s blacksmith shop, he turned to Hannah. “I’m going to get Doc Graham.”

  He ran out the door. “It’s Hannah,” he told Fiona as they crossed paths, both running. “I’ll be right back with Doc.”

  All sorts of terrible thoughts crossed his mind as he collected the doctor, raced back to the house and then paced the floor, while Hannah, Dr. Graham and Fiona were upstairs.

  Hearing footsteps, he ran to the bottom of the stairs. “What’s wrong? Is she in labor? How’s she doing? Can I see her?”

  “She’s not in labor,” Fiona said. “But she doesn’t want to see you. Not right now.”

  “But she’s all right? Both her and the baby?” he asked.

  “Yes. They’re fine. Dr. Graham is giving her a thorough examination. He’ll be a while.”

  That news relieved him, yet anger still roiled inside him. “Tell her I’ll be back,” he said, grabbing his coat.

  Hours later, after talking with Abigail, he was back at Brett’s house, standing on the back porch. “I have to talk to her. It won’t take long.”

  Brett shook his head. “It won’t matter what I tell her, Teddy. She doesn’t want to see you. You’re better off, and so is she, if you just stay away for a while. She needs to rest right now.”

  The pain inside him was real, and miserable, yet he couldn’t deny she needed rest. “Will you make sure she opens the crate? It might help her feel better.”

  “I’ll mention it,” Brett said.

  Teddy left, and after a sleepless night, during which he did nothing but think of Hannah, of his life with and without her, he was back at Brett’s door the following morning.

  “She still doesn’t want to see you,” Brett said sympathetically.

  “Did she open the crate?” Teddy asked.

  Brett shook his head. “Go home, Teddy. Maybe in time—”

  “No,” Teddy interrupted. “I won’t go home.” A compilation of anger and worry roiled inside him. All he needed was a chance. An opportunity to let Hannah know how much he cared about her. How much he loved her. “What if that was Fiona, Brett? Would you simply walk away? Go home and wait?”

  Brett opened his mouth, but then closed it and shook his head. “Wait here.”

  Teddy paced the stoop, planning how he’d convince Hannah he was in love with her. When the door opened and Brett along with Fiona and the boys exited the house, Teddy shot forward, barely nodding when Brett said they’d be at the blacksmith shop.

  His prepared speech vanished as he entered the parlor and saw Hannah sitting on the couch. The way she continued to stare into the fire, not acknowledging that he’d entered the room, said she wasn’t prepared to hear anything he had to say.

  Teddy pulled the hammer out of his coat pocket and walked directly to the crate sitting in the corner. Without a word, he pushed it across the room, until it was in front of her.

  Apologies weren’t what she needed. “I’ll leave, Hannah, and never bother you again, once you open this crate.”

  “I don’t want anything from you, Teddy.”

  Using the hammer claw, he loosened the nails on one edge of the top. “It’s not from me.” He walked around the crate, released the other edge and lifted the top aside. “I only asked someone to send it to you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Hannah had been doing her best to not let anything show. Not how the sight of Teddy increased her heart rate and saddened her at the same time. How could she have been so wrong about him? No, it was herself she was wrong about. She’d been so focused on finding her Christmas miracle, she’d overlooked how he might feel about it. Had never asked him how he’d feel about—The uncomfortable tightening of her stomach that had started a few hours ago hit again, stealing her attention.

  It didn’t last long, and as she opened her eyes, they landed on the opened crate. Her fingers shook as she reached out to touch the top of one finely carved board. “It’s my cradle.”

  “I wrote a letter to your grandparents.” Teddy knelt down beside the crate. “It looks like they sent more than just the cradle.”

  The familiar feel of the wood beneath her fingertips filled her with memories. Good ones. As well as the knowledge that only Teddy would be this thoughtful. Loving him was so easy. That’s why she’d forgotten to ask him how he felt about raising another man’s child.

  “I know how much this cradle means to you, how much you wanted your baby to sleep in it.”

  He would know that. They’d spoken of it, and of how much his family’s printing press meant to him. It had kept him close to his family, even after all these years. He’d told her that just the other night.

  “Go on,” he encouraged. “Look what else they sent.”

  She unpacked quilts, clothes, nappies and various other baby items, as well as some carved wooden toys before reaching the bottom of the cradle, where two envelopes lay. One with her name, one with Teddy’s.

  She handed him his, and opened the other one. Her grandmother’s handwriting made her eyes sting.

  Dearest Hannah,

  The letter from your young man was the miracle Grandpa and I had been praying for. We are so thankful that you are not letting the past rule your future and that you’ve found a man who loves you as much as we do...

  The letter went on, but Hannah stopped reading to look at Teddy. “What did you tell them?”

  He shrugged. “That you were here, safe, and how much you’d like to have the cradle before the baby arrived.”

  “It had to have been more than that.”

  Holding up his envelope, he said, “I also sent them the money to ship the cradle here, but they returned it.”

  “They are too honest to...” Honest. Her grandparents were, but she hadn’t been. “I wanted to tell you that Eric and I had never been married, but I—”

  “I,” he interrupted, “don’t care if you’d been married or not.”

  Her nose started to run, causing her to sniffle. “But you do care about raising another man’s baby.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one. I figured it out. That’s why you didn’t marry the woman you were engaged to and that’s why you didn’t want me to marry any of those men on my list. My father said that’s what would happen. That no one would ever want to marry me, but—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Stop. Your father was wrong about many things. Any man would be proud to marry you.” He put his finger under her chin, forcing her to continue looking at him. “I didn’t marry Becky beca
use the father of her baby returned to town wanting to marry her and raise his family, and I tried to convince you not to marry any of the men on your list because I was jealous of each and every one of them.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Jealous?”

  “Yes, jealous because I was already falling in love with you.”

  Her heart swelled inside her chest. As tears formed, she glanced at the cradle and then back to him. “You were?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “Tell you?” he asked. “Because I didn’t think you were ready for that. You’d burned your list so I thought you didn’t want to marry anyone just yet.”

  She shook her head and blinked back tears as he continued.

  “I love you, Hannah. And I already love your baby.” He laid his other hand on her stomach. “But most of all, I want you to be happy. If that can’t happen here in Oak Grove, then I’m prepared to pack up and move. Anywhere you want to go, anywhere you will be happy.”

  Blinking back the tears, she said, “You can’t move. What about Abigail? The Gazette?”

  “Nothing matters as much as you do, Hannah.” He sat down next to her. “Abigail wishes she had never written that letter, or ever received those newspapers. She swears she won’t tell anyone, but if you are afraid of gossip, we’ll leave. We’ll leave today if you want to.”

  Hannah glanced again at the letter in her hand, at the line about the past ruling her future. She’d already decided that wasn’t going to happen, yet at the first impediment, she’d given in to the heartache rather than stand up to it. “We can’t run from the past. Not forever.”

  “It’s not likely, but I’ll do my damnedest to try if you want.”

  The love inside her spread out so fast, so thoroughly, she laughed. Shaking her head at his frown, she said, “That’s one of the things I love about you—your honesty.”