“I’m sure we can figure it out,” Edward said. “After all, it’s not like we’re carrying a lot.”
She laughed a little, and he thought about the negotiations that had gone into that. Initially, Denise had wanted to bring half her wardrobe, along with a variety of other things that would have been completely impractical.
They’d gone back and forth about it for some time, but finally his mother had acquiesced. He could tell she understood to at least some extent now, and Edward knew their lighter load would make things a lot more manageable.
“How about over there?” he asked, pointing to a rock outcropping he’d just spotted. “It looks like it would give us some shelter for the wind.”
“It does,” his mother said, nodding. “But you’re the expert in all this, so I’ll leave it to you to choose a place.”
Edward laughed. “Well, I’m hardly an expert,” he said. “I’ve just done it a lot. More than I’d care to remember, to be honest.”
She shifted her horse toward the outcropping, and Edward did the same, happy that she was being so flexible in all this. It certainly wasn’t the way his mother usually did things, but Denise seemed different now in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m about to get married, he said to himself. After all, she’s wanted to see that happen for a long time.
Whatever the reason, though, Edward wasn’t about to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. The fact that they’d made it this far was a major accomplishment, but it was definitely time for a break.
He kept thinking about how odd it was to be doing this with his mother, but once they got to the outcropping Edward forgot about all that. There was simply too much to do, and the snow flurries had given him a new sense of urgency.
When he made camp, though, Edward felt a different kind of intimacy growing between them. For the first time it really hit him that he was moving his mother to be with him, most likely, and become a part of his new life.
She was still a vital woman, but Edward could see that the years had taken their toll. Little things, the way Denise moved now, the times when she clutched at her back while bending over.
“So what do you think about all this?” he asked when he had dinner made and they were done.
Denise smiled. Edward had wondered if she was aware of the extra things he was doing for her, to lighten her load, and her smile told him she was.
“I think you’re getting married,” Denise said, looking around. “It does seem like a bit of a miracle now that we’re into our journey.”
He nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?” Edward said, wanting to keep the focus on the small things that were at hand. “We should get to Last Chance by tomorrow afternoon. And then we’ll have some time before Christmas.”
“That’s good,” his mother replied, nodding. “I’m glad I’ll have time to get settled in.”
The weather the next day reminded Edward that he’d made a good decision in leaving early. The cold was a harbinger, not frigid enough to be uncomfortable, but there was no doubt about the directions in which the seasons were headed.
As they got closer to town his thoughts turned to Clara. He wondered once again about her reaction to all this—would she even talk to him? And how would she greet his mother?
He was about to find out. The wind kicked up during the final leg of their trip into town, and Edward wondered if this, too, wasn’t a harbinger.
It was one of those chaotic, swirling winds, and Edward had to lift the collar of his oilskin coat to keep it from penetrating him.
His mother’s reaction, though, was completely different. She seemed awestruck by everything; Denise kept turning her face into the wind and testing the strength of it with her hand, as if it was so new to her that she could change it with a mere touch.
As they came to Main Street, Edward felt a new sensation. It was a warm, familiar feeling that he hadn’t known since he’d left Texas—the feeling that he was in a place where he belonged.
I’m home now, he said to himself, amazed at how familiar the buildings felt as they came in to focus. Now all I have to do is set things right with my bride so I can get married.
While Edward’s gaze was full of hope bordering on optimism, Clara was crying.
She couldn’t help it. Clara had done everything she could to handle Edward’s disappearance, and initially some of it had worked.
Conversations with Blossom Holloway, then more conversations with Owen Standard. It reached the point where Clara actually considered talking to strangers, to tell them of her plight.
When that seemed like a reasonable option, Clara knew that all of this had to end. She had to turn inward to handle her sadness, even as the tears continued to flow, every day and certainly in the evenings.
Their arrival was as unpredictable as the wind. Clara did her best to preoccupy herself with normal, trivial things, especially with her work at the hotel, which she knew was vital to Blossom.
But the tears had no such schedule. Once they came when she was sweeping out a room; another time she burst into wailing just as she approached Owen Standard for consolation.
This is just ridiculous, Clara said to herself, and finally she turned to God.
She talked to Pastor Robertson, who offered consoling thoughts that weren’t all that dissimilar from those she’d heard from the mayor and the hotel manager.
But Clara kept talking to him anyway, even through the tears. Sometimes she was able to make it through her conversations with the pastor without her eyes leaking like a pair of sieves, but other times the water came from out of nowhere.
“I think I know what I need to do,” Clara finally said after the fourth or fifth time this happened.
“Tell me,” the parson said, tipping his head slightly.
“I need to be in church every day,” she said firmly. “It’s the only place I know of that will allow me to get through this.”
Parson Robertson blinked. “Every day?” he said, and Clara couldn’t help but hear doubt in his voice.
“Yes,” she said, nodding firmly. “Do you mind?’
“Of course not,” the parson said. “But God expects you to go out and live your life. You know that, right?”
“I do,” Clara said, hoping she wouldn’t be interrupted by another onslaught of tears. “But I need to be sheltered in His house for now.”
The parson pursed his lips. Clara could tell he wasn’t entirely happy about her request, but she also knew he wouldn’t be opposed to granting her temporary daily asylum in the church.
“Well, He will welcome you, as you well know,” he said. “As will I.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “But I do want to make it clear that this needs to be a temporary form of solace,” the parson said. “I have a strong belief in Edward, and I’m sure he will return.”
Clara nodded, and she tried to hold her head up. She’d gotten into the habit of looking down whenever anyone talked to her, in large part to hide her tears, and she knew full well that couldn’t continue.
“I wish I could be as sure,” Clara said, eyeing the pew she’d been occupying for the last couple of days.
If it wasn’t so hard, I could probably sleep here, she said to herself. Although I’m sure the parson wouldn’t approve of that at all.
She sighed as she made her way to the pew, and Clara couldn’t help but hear Parson Robertson leaving through the front door of the church. The click of his shoes caught her attention, and she wondered why he was going out that way.
For a moment Clara felt lonely, but then she turned her eyes to God. As soon as she did, she knew she’d done the right thing by committing to spend as much time in church as possible.
At first her praying went as usual. Clara had a routine she’d developed, certain prayers at certain times, depending on her mood, whether she felt enlivened or dispirited.
She also had different Bible quotes she read aloud occasionally. These were largely in
spirational; Clara found they helped her keep going when her spirits were especially low.
And for some reason she needed them on this particular day. Perhaps it was talking to the parson about her plans—in many ways Clara was sick of talking to people, but she also agreed with Parson Robertson’s rejoinder that it wouldn’t be right for her to simply go into a shell.
She kept going, though. Clara was determined to make it through her prayers, despite that fact that praying was starting to feel like work, which was never a good sign.
Finally the tears came. Clara had been through this so many times before that they were hardly a surprise, and she made no effort to overcome them.
That was the point of being in church, to allow them to flow freely, with only God to judge her if He chose to do that for whatever reason.
This time the tears were brief, however. Clara bowed her head as she dried her eyes, and she began to feel the small wave of relief she was seeking. She was truly spent now, and she would be able to go about her business for the rest of the day.
As she lifted her head, though, Clara heard a noise. For a moment she couldn’t tell where it was coming from, until finally she realized it was the front door opening.
She turned suddenly, wondering who it was. Parson Robertson was a decisive man; it wasn’t at all like him to make a choice and then undo it, which made her wonder why he’d returned, if in fact it was him.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” the parson said when Clara spotted him at the edge of the foyer. “But there’s someone you need to talk to.”
Clara frowned. Hadn’t she just talked this out with the parson? Did he not understand her need to be alone here?
She stood up, shaking her head, and slowly Clara walked toward the foyer. She thought about raising her voice, but Clara didn’t want to shout. That was something only the parson was allowed to do, at least in her mind.
“Who is it?” she said to the parson when she was close enough to talk to him directly. Clara tried to disguise her frustration, but it was hard. “There really isn’t anyone I can think of that I’d like to talk to.”
She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “I’ve talked to everyone in the last few days,” Clara said. “You know that.”
Parson Robertson nodded, and for some reason he was smiling a little. Clara couldn’t imagine why after the conversation they’d just had, but there it was.
“I’m sure you haven’t talked to this person,” he said circumspectly. “You at least need to see who it is.”
Clara pursed her lips. She was warm from the fire the parson kept stoked, using the huge fireplace that had been built next to the altar just to keep the church warm in this way.
She really didn’t want to go out in the cold, but something about the parson’s expression told her she should at least peek her head out and have a look.
“Very well, then,” Clara said, deciding not to mention the fact that her prayers hadn’t been going as smoothly as she’d hoped. “But only because you’re the one making the request.”
Clara gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile, and the pastor’s expression brightened. More so than usual, in fact, to the point where the change made her genuinely wonder who it was.
“This will only take a second,” he said as he opened the door a little, and this lent a sense of mystery to the proceedings.
She’d thought he might be talking about someone in town, a person Clara might not have known about, but now Clara realized that wasn’t the case at all.
He took a glimpse outside, then opened the door for her. A small blast of wind rushed in, and for a moment Clara cringed. She simply couldn’t help it.
“There are actually two people,” the parson said as she stuck her head out. “I do think you’ll want to talk to both of them, though.”
Clara turned right, then left. There was no one off to the right, which wasn’t surprising since that was the peak of the hill. Most folks approached the church from the left, and that was when she saw what the parson was talking about.
It was Edward!
She nearly fell getting out the door, and parson had to grab her by the elbow to keep Clara from falling. As grateful as she was for the help, she nearly couldn’t hide her annoyance; she had to get to him as quickly as possible so she could leap into his arms.
It was only when he released her and Clara reached the bottom of the steps that the true weight of the parson’s words hit her. Who was this other person with Edward, and why was she smiling so?
Clara tried to process all this, and she took in the fact that it was another woman who was with Edward.
It was only when she saw that the woman was older that the knot of fear left her stomach and Clara was able to function again.
“Edward!” she yelled, embarrassed that the sound that came out was more a shriek than anything else. “Where have you been?”
Clara caught herself after she hit the bottom step wrong, just as she was about to trip and fall. She had to accelerate to stay upright, and that launched her into Edward’s arms even faster.
Somehow she managed to ignore the older woman; for a moment Clara was able to avoid even thinking about her. Being back in his arms felt like home again, and it felt like he’d been away forever.
“I missed you so,” she said, knowing her words would be muffled and nearly inaudible as she spoke into his jacket. “You were gone for so long.”
Clara knew this wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. The time she’d spent crying had felt endless to her, and this made her statement feel like less of a falsehood.
“It’s alright,” Edward said, holding her close and stroking her hair. “I’m here now.”
She managed to nod slightly, but Clara was unable to speak. But words were unnecessary now; she had the warmth of his body and the gentleness of his touch, and those two things were more than enough for the moment.
Then, finally, Clara remembered the woman, and suddenly she realized what this was about.
She was his mother!
Somehow she managed to disengage herself, completely embarrassed now. She eyed the woman and saw the family resemblance, and Clara managed a small smile.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, curtsying slightly. “I’m Clara Bellweather. . . I am soon to be your son’s bride.”
“I’m Edward’s mother, Denise . . . there’s no need to apologize,” Denise said, shaking her head. “I was able to figure that out on my own.”
Clara looked down, blushing as she did. “I suppose it is rather obvious.”
Denise laughed, and slowly she opened her arms. Clara realized that this was the best way to get to know her new mother-in-law, and she wasn’t the least bit surprised by how warm Denise’s hug was.
Their hug lasted nearly as long as the one Clara had shared with Edward, although the implications were completely different, of course. Clara wondered what was supposed to happen next, but Denise quickly made it clear what she wanted.
“Well then,” Denise said, speaking softly into Clara’s ears but loud enough for Edward to hear as well. “I believe we have a Christmas wedding to begin preparing for. Shall we get to it?”
2
The Christmas Baby
Betsy James gently rubbed her hands over her beige skirt, watching the wrinkles disappear as she did.
The waiting room was quiet, and she was the only patient. She couldn’t help but get nervous about her concerns, and Betsy began fidgeting, looking around even though there was really nothing to see.
Finally she wedged her hands beneath her legs to keep them still. Then she looked up once more, wondering if this was a good idea.
When Betsy had asked Rachel Jessup to set aside some time to talk to her, she’d had a version of how it would go in her mind. Now, however, with the reality before her, that version seemed to have vanished.
Finally she began to tap her feet against the floor, and Betsy laughed to herself. She’d trapped her hands, so now her feet had taken over
.
“Betsy?”
Rachel’s voice startled her, and Betsy stood up too suddenly. For a moment she lost her equilibrium, and she smiled to cover up what she was certain was a blush.
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said, returning her smile with one that was equally soft. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just cleaning up in back, in the receiving rooms for the patients.”
Betsy shook her head, knowing that Rachel probably shouldn’t be here doing this at all. Rachel placed her hand on the swell of her stomach. She was six months along now, with Christmas coming fast, and Betsy grimaced nervously.
This is why I’m here, she thought. Because I can’t seem to do this simple thing.
“I hope you didn’t exert yourself too much,” she said. “Aaron would be beside himself.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “He’s always beside himself about something now that I’m with child,” she replied. “He treats me like a porcelain doll these days.”
Betsy said nothing, not knowing how to respond to that.
“Why don’t we go in the back office,” Rachel said, smiling at her silence. “It’s easier to talk back there. More comfortable.”
She rolled her eyes a second time, shaking her head at the size of the child growing inside her. Rachel had become used to having to change the way she moved and navigated. But she still felt large and awkward, and she knew that wouldn’t change any time soon.
Her size issues seemed to change every few days, and there were times when she wondered how much longer she could do this. Would it really be three more months before she would bring this infant into the world?
“So how are you feeling?” Rachel asked when they were comfortable in the office. “I am sorry it’s taken so long for me to make the time to talk to you.”
Betsy grinned. “It’s all right,” she said, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy when she looked at Rachel’s swollen belly. “You are going through a big change.”
Rachel laughed, a sharp but musical sound that startled Betsy a bit. “Tell me about it,” she said, shaking her head again. Aaron keeps insisting the baby be born on Christmas day.”
The Mail Order Brides of Last Chance Page 4