Would-Be Mistletoe Wife

by Christine Johnson

  “I’m sure you’re equally capable in other subjects. There must be a public schoolhouse here.”

  “There is, and my friend, Pearl, is the teacher.”

  That eliminated the best option. Jesse could see only one other solution, but it wasn’t one he much liked. Still, he must think of Louise, not his own selfish desire to continue their friendship. After all, he expected to receive answers to his advertisements for a wife in the near future.

  “You could go to the city,” he reluctantly suggested. “Chicago. Or New York.”

  Her spine stiffened, and he wondered why.

  “You don’t like the city?” he asked.

  “I prefer it here.” She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind an ear, a gesture that made him long to see her hair undone from its severe bun. “I’ve come to love the fresh breezes and simpler life. Moreover, I can examine specimens here. That’s impossible from the inside of a city school.”

  He loved her practicality, but even more so the sudden burst of longing that danced in her eyes. She truly did love exploring the flora of the area. How much more would she enjoy seeing the unique specimens in other climes. Though her departure would hurt, she deserved every happiness.

  “You should travel, see other parts of this country and then the world.”

  Her expression clouded. “That is not possible, even for a daring woman, without the support of great wealth.”

  Jesse could have kicked himself. Naturally she did not have the funds for such adventures. If she had, she would not be worried about losing her teaching position. Nor could he help her, even if he wanted to do so. He had no store of riches to draw upon. No inheritance awaited. Neither did he have more than a pittance in savings. He could sympathize, but he could not help.

  “It’s nice to dream, though,” he said.

  She nodded. “Sometimes dreams are all we have.”

  There was meaning behind that, meaning that he desperately wanted to decipher, but she quickly moved on.

  “Do you need to borrow Captain Elder’s book? I brought it with me.”

  Only then did he notice she carried the tome in the crook of her arm.

  “Thank you, but I think I have all that I need.”

  She nodded. “Well, then. I should let you get back to your work.”

  The sadness in her voice touched him. He wanted to bring back the smile and the hope. He wanted her to be able to dream of one day finding a new species or even becoming a scientist. But what could he say to change the fact that her livelihood hung by a thread?

  “Goodbye,” she said.

  He began to wave when the answer came. They had begun the conversation last night, but he’d never finished.

  “If the hotel thrives, so will the school,” he blurted out.

  She halted and turned back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night you said that the hotel was too fancy for its current clientele, and I suggested getting different clientele.”

  She stepped back to the fence. “So you did, and an idea came to me, but I forgot, what with the Benningtons’ arrival and all.”

  “Can you tell me your idea?”

  That delightful smile returned to her lips. “A way to bring people like the Benningtons to Singapore.” She hugged the book to her chest. “It just might work.”

  “What will?”

  She shook her head with a tinkling laugh. “I have to talk to Fiona first. If she agrees, then you will be the next to know about it.”

  With that she hurried off, a lilt in her step. Jesse looked down at the fence, which he was transforming from dingy gray to sparkling white. He dipped his brush and resumed painting, this time whistling as he worked.

  * * *

  The following Monday morning, Louise watched Jesse from the back of the classroom. He paced nervously from side to side, completely ignoring the podium and the copious notes he’d brought to his first lecture. Few of those words ended up being spoken. His sentences were brief and to the point. After describing each type of cloud with little elaboration, he moved on to precipitation.

  “Cirrus clouds don’t bring rain. Nimbus clouds do.”

  Louise’s attention drifted back to her talk with Fiona last Tuesday. After taking in Louise’s idea to promote the hotel, Fiona had initially turned down the suggestion. A day later, she asked several questions and then agreed that a Christmas Festival was just the thing this town needed.

  “It’s never been done before,” Fiona had said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t be the first to try. It won’t cost much, and it will benefit the other businesses as well as the hotel. I can’t see any reason they wouldn’t want to join the effort.”

  Fiona’s enthusiasm had sparked dozens more ideas in the next couple days. Louise had grown more and more excited until Fiona’s last suggestion.

  “You should be in charge of making the wreaths and garlands,” Fiona had declared. “Your knowledge of plants makes you the perfect choice to lead that part of the festivities. You’ll know which ones will work best. We will want to decorate the hotel and the other businesses.”

  Though Louise had held her tongue, she wondered if it was possible to find that much greenery within a ready distance. The last nearby timber stand had been leveled. Young pines had shot up past Saugatuck, the nearest town, but that was quite a hike from Singapore. She would have trouble dragging back more than a few small boughs without assistance and a cart or, if the snow fell, a sleigh.

  Fiona must have thought of that objection, because her next suggestion married the festival preparations to her matchmaking efforts. “Ask Mr. Hammond to help you gather what you need.”

  Louise had been too stunned to counter the suggestion at the time. A night of thinking had given her a viable alternative, but Fiona had shot down the suggestion of sending word up to the lumber camps to send boughs downriver on the mail boat. Her objections made sense. Too expensive to pay for transport. Too difficult to get word to the camps. Too risky to rely on rough lumberjacks to save the right types of boughs.

  Louise would have to ask Jesse for help. Naturally, Fiona had refused to handle that part, insisting that teaching classes, watching over the girls and attending to the Benningtons during their stay had kept her busy. Louise had looked for Jesse at yesterday’s church service, but he had tended the lighthouse, allowing the entire Blackthorn family to go to church. That left this morning.

  Louise drew her attention back to Jesse’s lecture.

  He had stopped pacing and now faced the girls. “Any questions?”

  Other than an audible sigh, not one girl moved.

  Seconds passed.

  Jesse started shuffling from foot to foot, his neck growing redder by the moment.

  Then Priscilla raised her hand. “Can a whirlwind strike here?”

  “Th-that’s an excellent question,” Jesse stammered, clearly uncertain of the answer.

  Louise felt for him. Every instinct told her to rise and give the answer Captain Elder had given her when she asked the very same question, but to do so would undermine Jesse’s authority and do nothing to raise Louise in Priscilla’s esteem.

  Yet, as the seconds ticked on in silence, she must do something to rescue him. “I believe a waterspout was once spotted offshore.”

  His gaze shot to her. Was that a look of relief?

  A couple of the girls glanced back at her, but most kept their attention riveted to Jesse’s every move.

  “Waterspouts are whirlwinds over water,” he said, his confidence growing with each word. “They can come ashore. Then they would be whirlwinds.”

  Esther’s hand shot up. “What do we do if we see one?”

  Jesse was visibly relieved, and the rest of the class proceeded smoothly. To Louise’s
surprise, the girls listened to everything he said, and they asked good questions. Jesse relaxed to the point that he sat atop her desk, one foot on the seat of her chair, while he answered them. Louise wondered how much sand and grime she’d have to clean off her chair once the class ended, but it was good to see Jesse so animated. He even smiled at her, probably in gratitude, but it sent her pulse racing.

  After the class ended, and the girls left—albeit reluctantly and with a great many personal exclamations of gratitude—Louise gave him a nod of approval.

  “That went well.”

  He blew out his breath. “It was terrifying.”

  She chuckled at the memory of his frightened look when he first entered the classroom. “At least there are only five of them.”

  “Five girls.”

  Though Louise saw no reason why girls should be more difficult than boys, she couldn’t help but be delighted that he’d used a term that highlighted their tender years rather than extolling them as young women or ladies. “Five attentive girls. I will give you credit. You held their attention.” Better than he’d held hers, alas.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I wish I hadn’t agreed to the other five lectures. I’m not sure I’ll survive.”

  “You will.”

  “As long as you’re there.”

  His gaze met hers, and those sparkling blue eyes drew her in the same way that a brilliant blue sky made her spirits soar. No sunny day could compare to the humble gratitude and approval he’d just showered on her. She swallowed, all too aware of everything about him. From the sandy blond curls to the strong cut of his jaw to the dimple in the center of his chin, she saw it all. His breath. The rise and fall of his chest. The bit of whiskers that had escaped the blade at the corner of jaw.

  “I will be here,” she managed to breathe out.

  “Good.”

  His smile warmed her to her toes and muddled her mind.

  “I, uh,” she began. There was something she wanted to tell him, but couldn’t remember what it was.

  “You what?”

  My stars, she was acting worse than the girls. Except that she should know better. She’d been married and widowed. That marriage had brought pain and heartache. Why should she think marriage to anyone else, even a man like Jesse, would be any better?

  She licked her parched lips. “I seem to have forgotten what I was going to say.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Why would that be?”

  Was he jesting with her? “My mind was elsewhere, like yours was the other day while painting the fence.”

  He stiffened slightly.

  Oh, dear. She should have known better. He’d been defensive about it then. Memories of Warren flooded in. Whenever she asked about something he’d done, he would accuse her of trying to control his life or not trusting him, as if the problem was hers. But it wasn’t. She hadn’t seen it at the time. She’d foolishly believed him, but now that she was removed from his influence she could see how he had manipulated her.

  The thrill of Jesse’s regard vanished before the harsh memories of her late husband.

  “Don’t feel badly,” Jesse was saying. “It’s easy for the mind to drift. If you later recall what you wanted to tell me, you can stop by the lighthouse.”

  “Or talk to you after church one Sunday.”

  “I keep watch so the Blackthorns can attend as a family.”

  That explained why she hadn’t seen him there. Her relief was great. “That’s kind of you.”

  “I study the Bible during that time.”

  That news quickened her heart, even though he had made it clear they were to be no more than friends.

  “I might be able to attend on Christmas,” Jesse added. “Mr. Blackthorn tells me that shipping is pretty much over by then.”

  “Christmas! That’s it! That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

  “About Christmas?” He looked so uncomfortable that she almost burst out laughing.

  “No, what I was trying to remember. It’s about Christmas, in a way. I need your help.” She then explained what she and Fiona had decided to attempt for the Christmas Festival. “We need to locate evergreen boughs that will make long-lasting wreaths and garlands. Yews are out of the question, but we might find some willow for the framework.”

  His brow had furrowed more and more with each word. “I don’t know how to make wreaths.”

  “I do.” Louise hated remembering the reason. “Back in New York, I made several funeral wreaths for the fallen.”

  He stiffened.

  His reaction made her wonder again if he had served in the war. He was the right age to be a veteran of the conflict. Few of them wanted to talk about what they’d seen. Jesse would be no exception. Fiona had mentioned that Sawyer had fought for the Union. He never talked about the war, preferring to dwell on the present. So would she.

  “This will be a festive, cheerful time. People will want to come here, especially if we make it known in Chicago what is happening here.” Then she made her plea. “Your knowledge of plants will be invaluable.”

  That brought back the smile. “Are you sure you don’t just want me along to carry the boughs?”

  “Oh, dear. You deciphered my real purpose.” Louise immediately regretted the playful jab. He didn’t appear to understand her humor, judging from the look on his face. She braced herself.

  Instead of chastising her, he roared with laughter. “Of course I’ll help. Anything for a friend who speaks her mind.”

  A friend. He’d called her a friend. She should be glad. Yet, in spite of all she’d endured in her marriage to Warren, deep down she wanted more.

  * * *

  The sparkle left Louise’s eyes at the word friend. Jesse regretted causing her dismay, but he had to make sure she understood that there could be nothing more between them. Any day now he could receive an answer to his advertisement. As much as he liked Louise, selecting a wife required far more than a pleasant temperament, comely face and an unnerving ability to capture his attention.

  No, he’d accepted this task of hers for a much more practical reason. Ever since Blackthorn learned Jesse would be talking to the students about the lighthouse service, he’d shown him more of the operation. The keeper still urged Jesse to fit in with the community. Helping with the Christmas Festival would show the man that Jesse wanted to belong. Consequently, Blackthorn would let him take over more and more of the daily duties.

  “Thank you,” Louise said with considerably less animation than a moment before. “We appreciate the help.”

  “We?”

  “Fiona and I.”

  Jesse couldn’t picture the redhead traipsing across the countryside. “Will Mrs. Evans help us cut boughs?”

  That brought a laugh and the smile he regretted stifling. “I doubt it. She will leave that to me. To us.” Louise sobered. “I’m afraid that you will have to do the cutting. I have no experience with a saw.”

  Few women did. Even fewer expected to wield a saw under such circumstances. He couldn’t resist poking fun at her comment. “I can show you how to use one.”

  “You would do that? Thank you.”

  That wasn’t the response he’d expected. For a moment his jaw went slack. He blinked. “You want to learn how to use a saw?”

  “It is a useful skill.”

  Louise Smythe continually amazed him.

  “I’ve never met a woman who wanted to learn how to saw anything.” He raked a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the idea of Louise handling a saw. “Are you sure?”

  “They would be twigs and small branches,” she said, “not entire trees. Promise we won’t cut down whole trees.”

  Jesse recalled her dismay when he reached to pull out the weed she was examining. She’d begged him not to kill it. Now she
didn’t want to harm a tree, even for the sake of the festival that would rescue her friend’s business and her own livelihood.

  He shook his head. “You are a remarkable woman, but you shouldn’t be doing something so dangerous.”

  That lovely shade of pink suffused her cheeks and her jaw jutted out. “If you’d rather not teach me, I can ask Sawyer. He’s Fiona’s husband. He got his name from his skill with saws. He still helps out at the sawmill when the rush is on. He managed it last spring, until Mr. Stockton’s new schooner was launched.”

  Jesse wondered how Evans could run a hotel and work in a sawmill at the same time. Jesse wasn’t opposed to hard work. He’d labored hard himself over the years and already had put in some long days at the lighthouse, but Evans had a family. That changed everything. Jesse thought about Blackthorn. Perhaps there was an advantage to having one’s family at the workplace. They could help out and a man would get to see them throughout the day. Visions of Louise and a handful of children crossed his mind. The idea of a large family was a lot more appealing than the way he’d grown up, motherless from the age of seven and with a father who worked the docks.

  That he’d thought first of Louise was disconcerting. That he’d envisioned her with a houseful of children was even worse. At her age and after a childless marriage, that wasn’t likely.

  “The trouble will be finding enough evergreens within easy walking distance,” she was saying. “Amanda says there’s a large stand upriver from Saugatuck, but we would need a horse and cart to haul them back. I wonder if Roland would loan us the store’s cart. Or maybe Garrett could spare the horse and wagon from the sawmill since there’s not a rush underway.”

  He could see her mind working through the problem. She walked about the classroom while deep in thought, not seeing him or anything else. Some of the names she mentioned were unfamiliar to him, but she clearly knew them well.

  “Once we have the boughs,” she continued, “the girls will help make the wreaths. We can put all sorts of things on them, like ribbon and pinecones and whatever we can find.”

  A thought crossed Jesse’s mind. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the miniature cardinal that he’d almost finished. “Do you think some of these would work?”