A Cozy Mitten Christmas (The Ornamental Match Maker Book 9)

by Christine Sterling

  “We should make some when we get home.”

  “That would be a grand celebration, Emma. We could make cookies to go with our drinking chocolate.”

  “We don’t get it very often,” Forrest said.

  “But today is a special day,” Nathan said as he was strapping the tree to the travois. “We are going to decorate the tree and have a special evening because Molly has to leave us tomorrow night to go home.”

  Molly turned away. He can’t wait to get rid of me, she thought.

  Granted, that was silly. She was only here for a story. Not for anything else.

  They returned to the house, the children chatting away about cookies and chocolate when Molly noticed a horse and carriage by the barn.

  “Whose is that?” she asked.

  “That’s the marshal’s horse. I wonder what he is doing out this way.”

  “Nathan. Children.” Molly saw a man with a star on the outside of his coat leaning against one of the porch rails.

  “Wes, what brings you out here?”

  Wes pointed his thumb towards the woodpile. “I brought out a visitor.”

  “Who is that?” Forrest pointed to the man leaning up against the woodpile.

  “Arthur!” Molly exclaimed. She took Harry off her hip and placed him on the ground. “What are you doing here?”

  

  Who was this man? Nathan thought.

  The man swaggered down the porch over to Molly and pulled her into an embrace. “There she is.”

  Molly returned the quick hug. “What are you doing here, Arthur?”

  “Mr. Davies sent me out here to help you finish the article.”

  Molly looked confused. “Why?”

  “He was concerned that you wouldn’t get it done before Christmas. We will send the article via telegraph tomorrow, so it can be published while we are on the way to New York.”

  Molly didn’t look happy.

  “Molly has done an excellent job working with us on this story,” Nathan said.

  “I’m sure she has, good man. But our readers expect a certain something, and I’m out here to make sure that they get it. Now, Molly, I’ve secured housing in town. Gather your things and we can get back to town.”

  “There isn’t anywhere to stay in town,” Nathan said. “That is why Molly was out here.”

  “Connections. I made connections and once they found out who I was and the purpose of my visit out here they were more than happy to open their house to us.” He turned to Molly. “Why don’t you go gather up your things. I’ll be right here waiting.”

  Molly looked at the children, then Nathan and finally back to Arthur. She nodded and headed towards the house with her head hanging low.

  “Molly,” Nathan said. “Wait.” Molly looked at him. Her eyes glassing over with unshed tears. “You don’t have to go. Can’t you stay here and help the children put up the tree. I know they were looking forward to spending this evening with you.” Molly looked to Arthur. Nathan saw the side glance and his blood started to boil. How dare this man come and take Molly away from him and the children. “Molly,” he demanded, “look at me.”

  Molly looked back to Nathan. “I really should go.”

  “Good decision, Molly.” Arthur piped up, tugging his gloves back on. “Let’s go.”

  

  Molly ran inside the house and disappeared into the girls’ room before anyone could see her tears fall. She quickly packed her bag, gathered her papers and headed back to the kitchen where Nathan and the children were waiting. Susan was silently crying at the table, a muffled sniff and a quivering lip were the signs that gave her away.

  Emma just looked at her, emotionless. The small girl had been through so much in her young lifetime. Molly didn’t want to leave her. Or any of the children for that matter. Forrest turned away when she came in and Harry, realizing something was wrong started wailing.

  They were normally such well-behaved children, that leaving them like this tore at Molly’s heart.

  But now, instead of running out the door with Arthur, she was fantasizing about staying with Nathan. Fantasies of being there for every dinner, hearing about Emma’s school work in the spring, laughing at Susan’s incessant stories, playing blocks with Harry and reading stories to Forrest. She even had a dream about their lives together, if they were a family.

  But nothing could compare to the feelings she was having for Nathan. She never knew that she would ever love someone as much as she was starting to love him. It scared her, because she didn’t know if he returned the feelings. Besides, she had her job to think of in New York. It had always been her dream to have her name on a story in the paper. But perhaps her dream had changed. Or why couldn’t she have both? A family and be a journalist?

  She spied the letters on the sideboard and went over to pick them up. She couldn’t help but feel jealousy towards these women in the letters. She knew she had no right, but that didn’t stop her mind from wondering. One of these women was going to become Nathan’s wife, and the thought just crushed her.

  She wondered if she had the courage to come out and say that she wanted to stay. That she was the one Nathan should consider. But how would they react? Would they want her? Did they even think of her in that way?

  Instead Molly handed the letters to Nathan. “I’ve put the five letters here, that would be the best match for what you and the children want. They are within the age range and even one of them has children of her own. Promise me you’ll write to them and follow up with me in New York on what they say.”

  “Are you sure, Molly?” Nathan asked.

  Molly nodded, her throat too thick to speak.

  Arthur stuck his head inside. “We really need to be going, Molly. I want to telegraph the article to Mr. Davies by tomorrow morning. They can run it while we are travelling by train.”

  “Goodbye, children,” Molly said, gathering them into an embrace. “It was such a pleasure meeting you and thank you for letting me be a part of your family this week.”

  “Nathan,” she said. Nathan opened his arms and she hugged him, savoring the feeling of his arms around her. He kissed her forehead before releasing her.

  “Save travels, Molly. Don’t forget us.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Molly! Molly!” Emma called. Molly looked to see her running into the room with a package wrapped in butcher paper and red string. She handed the package to Molly. “We made this for you. Since you won’t be here at Christmas, we needed to give it to you now.”

  “Thank you, Emma. Susan. Harry. Forrest. I’ll treasure it and open it when I get home.”

  She gathered her last few items and headed out towards the barn. She climbed into the carriage and stuffed the present from the children in her bag before placing it at her feet. Arthur climbed into the back of the carriage and the Marshal gave a click to the horses and they headed back towards town.

  As they reached the tree line, Molly gave one backwards glance towards the house. The porch was empty. Molly allowed the tears she was holding to finally escape. She didn’t make a sound as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, but she couldn’t do anything about her breaking heart.

  Chapter 10

  Molly dreaded leaving.

  The train was due to arrive in about two hours, so they were sitting at the table in Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s home. They were thrilled to have reporters all the way from New York staying with them and regaled Arthur with tales of the area. Molly didn’t say much.

  The previous evening Arthur went through Molly’s article and completely rewrote it. He sent it off to Mr. Davies as soon as the telegraph office opened this morning. Molly realized that he didn’t even put her name on the byline.

  Then it hit her … it would never change. She would still be regaled to secretary and continue to help Arthur make a name for himself instead of pursuing her dreams.

  As soon as her coffee was done, she excused herself from the table and went into the room she slept
in the night before. There on the top of her bag was the present from the children. Her heart ached when she thought about those four precious children and their father.

  Molly pulled the string on the package and out fell a pair of knitted mittens on her lap. The glove was green with a red cuff. Someone had even sewn a crooked snowflake on the mittens.

  There was something familiar about them, but Molly couldn’t remember what it was. She looked at the note attached to them. “To Molly. From the Parker children. Made with love by Emma.”

  Molly put the gloves on and looked out the window, wondering what she should do.

  Finally, Arthur’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Molly, it’s time. We need to go.”

  Molly shrugged into her coat and grabbed her bag.

  They bid their goodbyes to the Millers and walked across the town to the train station. Molly could see the smoke stack in the distance.

  “I’m going to go wait inside the station,” Molly said to Arthur. He nodded, and she went inside. Molly sat on one of the benches. There was a ticket counter in one corner and several benches for people waiting for the train.

  There were five people waiting in the area. Molly imagined they were going on far away trips… To San Francisco, New Orleans or even New York. One young lady sat alone on the far bench. Molly looked at her. She couldn’t have been much older than Molly was.

  In her hands was an intricately carved wooden box. Molly watched her lift the lid and take out a beautiful ornament.

  The box. That is where she remembered the mittens. She dug inside her satchel until her fingers felt the wooden box that was left on her desk. She pulled it out and looked at it again. Her mouth went dry as she opened the chest and looked at the tiny set of mittens inside. It was a perfect match to the pair Emma had knitted.

  Take a deep breath, she opened the piece of paper to re-read it. She knew she had read it before but couldn’t remember the words.

  “Dearest Molly,

  Your future lies somewhere other than New York. You will go on a grand adventure and find love along the way. Do not let it go once you find it. The ornament is your sign.

  The smallest hands hold the most love.

  Merry Christmas,

  Mrs. Claus”

  I have to go, she thought. I need to get back to the house. She grabbed her bag and ran to the platform. The train was closer now, its dark clouds filling the blue sky.

  “Arthur!” she called to him. “I’m not going back.”

  “What do you mean? The train is almost here.”

  “I know, but I’m not going back to New York. Tell Mr. Davies I resign. He can find another secretary.”

  “You don’t know what you are doing.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not finished writing the story yet.”

  “But Molly…” he called after her. It was no use, she had already jumped off the platform and was headed down the street to the livery.

  

  “I miss Molly,” Susan said, placing a candle on the tree. She nestled it between the branches, so it would stay.

  “I do too, sweetheart,” Nathan said, reaching for the popcorn they threaded the previous evening.

  “I wish she could be our mother,” Emma said.

  “Me too,” Forrest chimed in.

  “Momma,” Harry announced.

  Nathan thought about his children. They needed a mother and although he wasn’t interested in any of the letters that came, he did have someone that captured his heart. Could he even go as far as to say it was love?

  Yes. He could.

  He loved everything about her. Her caring heart, her inquisitive nature. And most of all he loved that she loved the children. He knew she did.

  “Emma, why don’t you get supper started and I’m going to go out and check on the animals.”

  He placed the string on the tree and then went to get his coat and hat.

  The cold walk would do him good.

  As he was walking, he saw the billows from the steam engine as it pulled out of the station. She was gone. He hadn’t felt this alone since his wife died. He wished he had said something to make her stay. To make her see how much she meant to him and the children.

  The door to the barn was slightly ajar. That’s odd, he thought.

  He went inside and there was Molly sitting on one of the bales of straw he used for the animal bedding. Her eyes were red. She had been crying recently. Her lips parted slightly as she saw him come in. He stood at the door, not sure if he was really seeing her or not.

  “Molly.” It came out in a rush. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to come back. I wasn’t finished with the story.”

  “You gave me everything. I would have telegraphed you when I made a choice.”

  “I know you would. But I was thinking that there might be someone else you would consider?”

  Nathan took a deep swallow. “Who?”

  Molly looked nervous. She wiped her hands on her skirt and took a deep breath. “Me,” she said breathlessly.

  Nathan was over to her in a flash, scooping her up in his arms to swing her in a circle. He put her down with a whoop and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Yes. I don’t need anyone but you. I.. I mean we, were miserable that you had gone.”

  “Me too.”

  “Molly Griffith, I know we haven’t know each other long enough, but I love you.”

  “I love you too, Nathan.”

  “Will you consider being my wife and mother to my children?”

  “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Molly let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. “Will you be alright if I write for the paper out here? Mr. Evans owns the newspaper and I could write for him.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t take anything away from you.”

  Molly smiled. “This will give me a chance to write my next story.”

  “What story is that, Molly?” Nathan asked, dipping his head towards hers.

  Molly leaned in for his kiss. “Ours.”

  The End

  If you enjoyed this story, please leave a review! You might help someone find their next holiday read!

  About the Author

  Christine Sterling lives in a pre-civil war Farm House with her husband, three dogs – Morgan, Brandi and Samson, and about a dozen rescued barn cats. She has been writing since she was eight years old when her grandparents gave her a Sears & Roebuck typewriter with a hard-plastic cover for Christmas in 1977.

  She spent her teen years crafting stories to include all her friends and then she discovered her true love -- romance when her beloved grandmother, Gigi, brought home a free promotional book from the Second Chance at Love Collection.

  She was hooked and began to write and read every single romance book she could get her hands on. She has since authored and published many short stories, magazine articles, and the occasional novella. She has also ghost-authored and collaborated as a writing coach on many books.

  She is passionate about writing, cooking, gardening, teaching others to write and publish their first book. She straddles the line between fiction and non-fiction, not only writing historical and contemporary romances, but also personal development books as well.

  One of her big goals is to grow a 150lb pumpkin and feature it in the county fair.

  She loves hearing from her fans and will answer every email personally. You can write her at hello@christinesterling.com.

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