Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20)

by Cindy Caldwell

Mattie held out a small pitcher and scooted a plate of butter in her direction. “They’re better with these.”

  The butter melted quickly and trickled down the sides of the flapjacks as Michelle slathered it on and poured what smelled like maple syrup on top of them.

  “These are delicious,” she said as she took her first bite. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had flapjacks, and she closed her eyes, savoring every bite.

  “They’re Uncle Anthony’s favorite,” Mattie said as she took the last bite from her own plate, scrambled down from her chair and handed Mable her dishes.

  “Thank you, young lady. I’m glad you like them. But Mr. Anthony only got porridge this morning.” Mable leaned over the sink and peered out the window. “Wish I’d given him a little more coffee before he set out. It was barely dawn and so cold.”

  Michelle’s ears perked up and she looked over toward Mable as Missy got down and handed her plate to Mable. “Here, Mable. He can have mine. They’re his favorite,” she said as she grabbed Missy’s hand. “We’ll be upstairs getting ready to go.”

  “Go?” Michelle said, her eyebrows raised as she took a sip of the warm coffee Mable had set out for her.

  “Mr. Anthony thought you might like to take the girls out in the buggy, maybe to the park. He got up before the sun to take care of the horses and hitch the buggy up for you. Only had time for porridge before he had to get dressed and set out for work.”

  “Oh,” Michelle said as she looked out the window of the back door toward the barn. Dry leaves spiraled in the howling wind and the horses stamped their feet. It seemed awfully cold to her for a buggy ride, but he’d gone to an awful lot of trouble.

  “You don’t have to go. I can light a fire in the parlor and you can stay in and read, if you’d like. The girls are pretty good at entertaining themselves.” Mable placed the last dish on a towel on the counter and wiped her hands, nodding at the clean kitchen.

  Michelle tapped her finger on her chin as she rested her forehead on the window of the back door. “I think maybe there’s something we could do that would be equally fun, and wouldn’t require us going out until the weather changes, maybe.”

  She turned and pointed toward the basket of mending. “You may not be aware, but I worked as a seamstress before I came here to Mississippi.”

  Her face heated as Mable lifted one of her eyebrows, her hands folded across her chest as she leaned against the counter. “Did you, now? I hadn’t heard that.”

  Michelle walked to the basket and held up what was at the top of the pile. “Yes, and I could make quick work of this if you’d let me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at Mable’s rich laugh. “Mrs. Michelle, I can find my way around a kitchen blindfolded, but I can’t thread a needle to save my life. I’d be ever so happy to let you take on that chore--if you’re certain. It wasn’t Mr. Anthony’s intention that you’d do anything but take care of and teach the girls.”

  The corners of Michelle’s mouth twitched up into a grin and she lifted an eyebrow of her own. “Well, what better thing could I teach them than to make use of their hands, thread a needle and make sure that the things they have last as long as possible. Even with all the money in the world, it makes no sense to throw away perfectly good clothing--or curtains or furniture, for that matter.”

  Mable smiled and shook her head. “I like the way you look at things. And I think Mr. Anthony will, too.”

  Michelle smiled as she picked up the basket full of clothes and other things that needed mending, and she nodded as she headed out into the parlor.

  Chapter 16

  Michelle stamped her feet as she threw open the back door of the Robbins’ Nest. She clapped her hands together, blowing into her laced fingers to warm them. When blood began to return to her nose, she unwrapped her scarf and hung it next to Mable’s apron.

  “I’ve never seen anybody unhitch a buggy so fast, or put horses in the barn in such a hurry,” Mable said from behind her.

  She laughed and turned around. “It isn’t exactly weather I want to spend a great deal of time in. I did it as fast as I could.”

  Mable reached for a pan over her head and placed it on the stove, opening the side and shoving in an extra piece of wood. “I think that act of heroism calls for some hot chocolate.”

  “Hot chocolate?” the twins asked in unison as they skidded through the door, their pigtails flying behind them.

  Michelle held up her hands and braced herself as they plowed into her skirts, hugging her legs. She laughed and looked up at Mable, who winked in return.

  She pried their hands from her skirts and bent down. “Hot chocolate, yes, thanks to Mable. That’s the good news.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Missy asked as she stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  Mattie frowned. “There’s always bad news when grown-ups say that.”

  “It’s actually all good news. It’s so very cold outside that we’ve decided it’s best to stay home. It will definitely rain--maybe even snow--and my experience is that it’s much nicer to stay inside, warm and cozy. With hot chocolate.”

  The girls’ eyes brightened as they hurried toward Mable. Mattie clapped her hands as Missy turned back to Michelle. “What are you going to do all day if we can’t go outside? Nanny was teaching us our letters, but it wasn’t very much fun.”

  Michelle glanced at Mable, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Did Nanny leave any learning books with you? I could do that while we have our hot chocolate, and when we’re finished, we can do something--well, something more fun.”

  Michelle had spent her fair share of time learning her letters, and reading and writing. She’d loved learning about the United States and always wanted to see all of it--and laughed at the thought that she was now in Mississippi.

  “Okay, but do we have to do it all day? It’s boring,” Mattie said as she grabbed Missy’s hand and pulled her into the parlor, holding the door open as she waited for an answer.

  “How about this? We can do letters until lunch time, and after that I have a surprise for you. Something I want to teach you.”

  The girls burst into bright smiles and squealed as they raced upstairs to fetch the books their nanny had left, and Michelle’s stomach flipped for a moment at the thought she would be a real--well, what? Wife? Mother? No, none of those, really. She settled on the word nanny. That would do for now.

  She nodded at Mable as she passed through to the parlor, glancing at the pile of mending and her purple embroidered bag sitting on top with her thimble, needles and thread. When she’d looked at it yesterday, she’d even found a small pair of scissors that she’d remembered from long ago--mother of pearl handles, a set her grandmother also had given her.

  She rummaged through the basket as she waited for the girls, sitting in the wing-backed chair that had been hers the evening before--when Anthony had sat opposite her and the fire had outlined his handsome features. She shook her head and shoved the basket behind her as the girls almost tumbled down the stairs, both of them with a stack of books in their arms.

  They set down to work, Michelle helping the girls in their primers and small chalkboards, holding their little hands and helping them form letters. She was pretty sure they were all ready for a break when Mable came in with the silver tea service and the smell of chocolate whooshed in behind her.

  “Oh, cookies, too!” Mattie grabbed for one as Missy scowled at her. “What?” she said as she looked at her sister.

  “It’s polite to at least wait until the tray is placed on the table.”

  Mable and Michelle exchanged a glance, Michelle hiding her smile behind her hand.

  “It’s all right, Mattie. I don’t mind.” Michele smiled gratefully at Mable and lifted the pitcher of hot chocolate, ready to pour into the beautiful cups set on the saucers she and Anthony had sipped from the previous evening.

  “At least sit down before you have your hot chocolate,” Missy said
as she tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “These are the special cups. Uncle Anthony’s favorite. He said they’re the last ones, and if we break these--”

  “You two just sit down and don’t worry so much,” Mable cut in, shooting a glance at Michelle. “You know how to sip like ladies. Just do that, and everything will be fine.”

  Mable smiled and nodded as she headed back into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

  “The last ones?” Michelle couldn’t help but ask. Certainly a house of this size had many tea sets, and lots of china.

  “Mama used to talk about all of the silver in the cabinet and the different kinds of beautiful cups that Grandmama had. But we haven’t seen any. When we came, the china cabinet in the corner, where she said they were, was empty.”

  Michelle frowned and leaned forward, peering into the dining room. She remembered from earlier that the hutch had been empty but had not thought much of it. Maybe it was stored somewhere else--possibly in the root cellar and she just hadn’t seen it.

  “I’m sure there’s more. We’ll just be careful with what we have. It never serves to think of things as just disposable, anyway. You never know when you might run out of something, or not have enough.”

  Missy frowned and looked at Mattie, as if willing her to speak. Mattie looked down at her shoes and then back up at Michelle.

  “That’s what Mama always said. That there were people everywhere who didn’t have enough, and it was something special that we could do to help them.”

  Michelle’s heart swelled at her words, cupping Missy’s chin in her hand as her eyes misted. “That’s lovely, girls. Your mama must have been very, very special to want to help so many people.”

  “Yes, she was very special. And everybody loved her,” Missy said before she shoved her thumb in her mouth.

  Michelle thought again how hard it must be for this family. The two girls had lost not only their parents, but their grandparents, and still, they wanted to help other people. She silently admired Adelaide and her heart pinched at the thought that she’d never get to meet her. Her husband’s twin. The person who had created and loved these generous souls in front of her.

  Chapter 17

  After lunch they put away the primers and chalkboards, and Michelle rubbed her hands together, excited to teach the girls what she’d learned at their age. She’d watched for years at her mother’s knee as she mended and sewed everything from men’s coats to teddy bears, and she was excited to pass that skill along to Mattie and Missy. They were still a little young, but she knew that they would at least be interested, with their helping hearts.

  Before the girls came back downstairs from putting away their primers, Michelle tugged the basket of mending out from behind her wing-backed chair. She rummaged through it, moving past pants and socks and dresses. Her hand rested on something very soft, and her fingers gripped it, pulling out a stuffed monkey that had clearly been lovingly worn. Its eyes--which had likely been buttons at some time--had disappeared and the stuffing was inching out from a tip in its side.

  She inspected it for a moment and smiled, knowing that she could put it back to rights, and hid it behind her back as the girls ran back down the stairs.

  The twins watched with rapt attention as she showed them how to thread a needle, helping them hold the mother of pearl handles of the scissors correctly so as to get a clean cut on the thread. Mattie, as Michelle expected, impatiently cut the thread several times, and Michelle patiently showed her why that made it more difficult to the thread the needle, sloppy cuts making for frayed thread ends.

  Even so, Mattie sat on the carpet across the coffee table from Michelle and Missy. Missy had moved next to Michelle immediately when she’d relocated from the wing-backed chair, moving everything from the coffee table so they could spread out their projects.

  Again as expected, Missy watched Michelle’s every move while Mattie, across from them, learned by trial and error, several times throwing her needle and thread on the table and taking a walk around the room.

  They’d spent a few hours darning socks, mending shirts cuffs and towels. Mable had come in several times to add wood to the fireplace, nodding and smiling and had kept the fire burning when the clock on the mantle struck four. Michelle stood and rubbed her lower back, leaning forward as she’d been sitting for the better part of the afternoon.

  Missy squeaked, her needle in mid-air as the door on the north side of the parlor blew open, leaves pouring through with the strong breeze. Michelle crossed to the window, her arm over her forehead as the rain blew in with the leaves.

  Mable came through from the kitchen, the door swinging behind her. Michelle’s stomach grumbled, and she looked through the window at the dark clouds. It had been raining all day, turning into soft snowflakes a few times throughout the day, but now there was neither rain nor snow--just a brutal wind strong enough to blow the window open.

  “It’s getting dark early today,” Mable said as she looked out the window with Michelle. “Mr. Anthony will certainly enjoy the beef stew and biscuits by the time he gets home. Nice and warm.”

  Michelle shivered and crossed her arms over her. “Oh, he’s walking, isn’t he? Because of us.”

  Mable drew back and looked at her. “Yes, ma’am, but that’s what he chose to do. He’s a gentleman through and through, that one. And besides, he had no choice. Only one buggy now,” she said as she disappeared back through the kitchen door.

  “I think it’s too cold for him to walk home,” Missy said before she stuck her thumb in her mouth as she frowned and looked out the window at the dark clouds.

  “Me, too.” Mattie laid down the sock she’d been darning, its pinched toe making it stand on end.

  Michelle looked at Mattie’s handiwork and smiled. All in all, it was great for a first effort for such young girls.

  She tugged at her sleeves, glancing from the window to the warm fire and back again. She was more than happy to go get Anthony, help him out of the cold, but she didn’t know where his shop was.

  “I’m going to run outside and hitch the horses to the buggy if you girls think you can show me where Uncle Anthony’s store is.”

  “Oh, of course we can.” Mattie rolled her eyes at her sister. “We’ve been there plenty of times.”

  “That’s wonderful, girls. I’ll bring around the buggy. You get your coats, scarves and hats.”

  “Oh, an adventure,” Mattie squealed as she drug her sister up the stairs.

  Michelle sighed as the wind howled, shivering as it forced its way through the sides of the window. She probably shouldn’t take the girls with her, but there was no other way she’d know where the shop was, and as much as she wanted to stay by the fire and warm her hands, the thought of Anthony walking home in this frigid wind had her heart in her throat.

  She reached for her overcoat on the rack beside the door and pulled her scarf tightly around her neck. Pulling on her gloves, she headed out the door, her arm over her forehead. She fought against the wind as it blew her back toward the house. She only had to travel a few yards to the horses, and she couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Anthony to make it all the way home in this wind, and she said a silent thank you that the covered buggy could bring them all back safely.

  Hitching up the buggy as quickly as she could, she led the horse around to the front of the house and tied the reins to the white metal hitching post. She ran up the stairs and shut the door behind her as the girls were getting ready in the foyer.

  “Are you sure you should go out in this weather, Mrs. Michelle?” Mable asked as she helped Mattie on with her coat. She looked up at the window. “This is pretty nasty weather. Could be dangerous.”

  Michelle peered out the window up at the dark sky. “It’s just wind, for now. And I can’t stand to think of Anthony walking home in it while we sit here all warm and cozy.”

  “Why don’t you leave the girls here, at least.”

  Missy and Mattie both stomped their feet. “No. W
e’re going on an adventure,” Mattie said.

  “And besides, Michelle doesn’t know where Uncle Anthony’s store is. She needs us to tell her,” Missy added.

  Mable reached into the hall closet and pulled out a few blankets. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea, but you may as well take some extra blankets.”

  Michelle helped the girls into the buggy and took the blankets Mable held out to her.

  “Be careful,” Mable said softly to her as she patted her shoulder.

  Michelle smiled and nodded, then walked around the back of the buggy. She untied the horses and pulled herself in, and as soon as she tucked the blankets around the girls, she flicked the reins and headed out to fetch Anthony.

  Chapter 18

  Michelle was careful to keep the horses at a fairly slow pace as she retraced the route that she and Anthony had taken the day before. She knew she could at least get to the church without directions, and maybe to the drug store, but beyond that, she would be no help at all.

  As they pulled up beside the church and she turned to the girls to ask directions, a young woman rushed out, pulling a toddler behind her. She shielded her eyes from the driving wind and turned to pick up the young boy. Michelle and the girls watched as the young woman headed toward the center of town and Michelle’s heart tugged.

  “I think we should see if she needs a ride,” she said as she turned to the girls.

  Missy held up the blanket on her lap. “I can share my blanket. They look cold.”

  “I can scoot over and make room,” Mattie said as she did just that.

  Michelle flicked the reins. The horses moved forward, and she slowed them as they approached the woman.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. This weather’s horrid. We’d be glad to take you home--or wherever you’re heading, that is,” Michelle said.

  The woman turned grateful eyes to Michelle and she nodded. “I wouldn’t except for the baby,” she said as she walked around the back of the buggy, lifting up the toddler and climbing up behind him. She smiled down at Mattie as she scooted over a little more and at Missy when she handed her a blanket.