The Godmother (Everland Ever After Book 11)

by Caroline Lee

  If she allowed herself to feel hopeful about the future with Andrew, she’d be giving up her goal of becoming a godmother. She’d come to Everland to join the guild, and despite the strangeness of the group—and the ladies—she was finding she considered all of them her friends. Even Doc.

  She wanted to be a godmother; she wanted to be a part of their group.

  But you want Andrew more.

  In that moment, buried under a pile of holiday pine boughs, Christa realized the truth.

  If there was a chance of a future with Andrew, she’d take it, even if it meant giving up her spot as a godmother.

  But before she left, she’d ensure Sibyl Miller and Max DeVille received their Happily Ever After.

  “Well, Christa—” Bashful began, but Dorcas interrupted her.

  “Oh good, we’re here. Cheerio, everyone!” she called, stomping up the steps to the church and pushing open the door.

  Beside Christa, Bashful sighed, then clomped up the steps, leaving Christa to navigate the steps, porch and door alone. But truthfully, she didn’t mind. She was thrilled to not have to explain herself—or her thoughts—to Bashful.

  When she pushed her way inside, Bashful exclaimed, “Oh, there you are!” and began pulling pine boughs off the pile. “Here you go, Snow. Where should we put them?”

  As the pile shrunk, Christa was able to see the pastor’s wife, a beautiful dark-skinned woman wearing a head wrap, point to a table in the corner. “If you’ll set them over there, the ladies will be here tomorrow to hang them up.”

  Bashful began to ferry the boughs over to the table, as Dorcas set down her plate.

  “And I brought cake! But I’m certain you’ll want to sample it before the twenty-fourth!” She waggled her finger at Snow. “I know how you pregnant ladies get!” Then she burst into titters at her rather improper joke. “How are you feeling? Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

  Snow was beaming as she cradled her abdomen and glanced over her shoulder, where her husband, the reverend, was muttering to himself as he paced back and forth in front of the pulpit, obviously practicing a sermon. “We’re both very excited. My sister Rose is returning for a visit with her husband, Bear.”

  “Oh, yes, the traveling journalist—”

  “Author,” Snow corrected proudly. “I can’t wait to see her again; she doesn’t visit nearly often enough. But she’s staying a while, and I think they’re ready to settle down and start a family. It’ll be nice if the cousins were close to—” She blinked, then looked around. “Rose will be—” She hummed, peering toward where Dorcas was standing, as if she couldn’t see the round godmother. “Christmas is very…”

  From the pulpit, her husband called out, “Who are you talking to, dear?”

  Snow blinked, shook her head, then blinked again. Christa was standing right in front of her, arms now empty, but Snow was looking right through her.

  The pastor’s wife shook her head once more, hummed, then called out, “No one, Hunter,” as she picked up the cake. “Oh, look! Someone dropped off a cake for Christmas Eve celebrations. I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long before I sample it!”

  As she hurried to place the cake with the other treats for the evening of the twenty-fourth, Dorcas saw Christa’s incredulous expression, and winked. “Comes in handy sometimes.”

  “What was that?” Christa hissed, keeping her voice low, even though Dorcas hadn’t bothered.

  Bashful joined them, wiping her hands against her skirts, her bracelets loud enough to alert the Woodses, if nothing else. “That was a bit of…well, we don’t call it magic, per se, but we’ve found that when godmothers don’t want to be noticed, people just don’t notice us.”

  “That explains the house,” Christa murmured.

  “Oh yes. Can you think of any other reason for a three-story purple building being so thoroughly ignored?”

  Dorcas winked again. “It comes in handy,” she repeated, “like when you want to get a look at the men having baths—”

  “Dorcas!” Bashful snapped, smacking her friend with the back of her hand. “Don’t give her ideas!”

  “What? I was just going to say—”

  “I know what you were going to say!”

  The two women pushed open the door and stepped outside, still bickering. Christa glanced up the aisle toward the pastor, who apparently hadn’t heard any of the entire conversation.

  People don’t notice us.

  There was a lot of power there. Being a godmother was a remarkable opportunity, but remembering the way the people of Everland welcomed her, joked with her, and above all, saw her for who she really was, Christa wasn’t certain she wanted it.

  Ducking her head, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her worn coat and followed the other godmothers out into the December evening.

  Chapter 8

  “Thank you so much for a lovely evening,” Christa said, as she hugged Penelope. “I feel as if I know you all so well already from Andrew’s stories.”

  She shot him a teasing grin, which his daughter-in-law quickly mirrored. “And we’re just thrilled Andrew has finally met someone who clearly makes him so happy.”

  Before Andrew could flush, his son nudged him with his shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” he murmured, low enough so the others couldn’t hear. “You deserve all the happiness we’ve found, Father.”

  Turning, Andrew placed his hands on Micah’s upper arms. “You’ve shared so much of that happiness with me over the last years, son, I can’t imagine finding more.”

  When Micah smiled, it tugged at the large scar across one side of his face, given to him years before by a vicious gunslinger who’d been after Rojita. “Well, it’s clear Christa makes you even happier, although I won’t tell the children your heart has a new occupant.”

  “I could never replace them!” Andrew scoffed, as he pulled his son into a hug.

  Although it had been long enough since finding Micah again that these hugs should feel commonplace, Andrew always took the time to inhale his son’s scent, in order to remind himself how unbelievably lucky he’d been to find his boy again.

  And to discover someone had helped him grow into a strong, capable man to be proud of.

  With his arms wrapped around Micah, Andrew murmured, “I owe the Zapatos more than I could ever repay.”

  Micah patted his back and was still smiling when he pulled away. “Funding the orphanage after it was burned down was a good start. I know Abuela and Abuelo would’ve loved to meet you. Not just because you’re the best patron the orphanage ever had, but because of what it would’ve meant to me to have you when I was younger.” He shook his head. “What it means now, I guess. They really were grandparents to me—to all of us. They loved us and taught us how to be good people. I learned much more than leatherwork from Abuelo.”

  “I know.” Andrew patted him once more on the back. “I know he’d be proud of the man you’ve become, how well you’ve kept the orphanage together, and how you are raising the children the way you were raised.” The way Andrew hadn’t had the chance to raise him. “And although I can’t take any credit for it, I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you.”

  “That means a lot to me, Father. And it means a lot to me that you’ve chosen to stay here in Everland and be a part of my family.”

  Andrew shrugged. “How could I not? I was thrilled that you chose a young woman as capable and caring as Penelope, and I love your children.”

  Micah’s smile might’ve been crooked, but it was sincere. “They are mine, aren’t they? And with Mary Contrary back from school for the holiday, it feels right again. Besides, you get credit for me settling down with Pea; you’re the one who sent her to me.”

  He’d done it for the wrong reasons, and he’d caused heartache to two of the people he cared about most in the world, but yes, Andrew had sent Penelope to Micah. “I shall take credit for all of this then.”

  Laughing, Rojita stepped into the foyer, juggli
ng her young son. “I heard that!”

  “And you disagree?” Andrew asked with a raised brow, even though he knew she should.

  “Not at all. Now, someone needs a goodnight kiss from his Papa.”

  He was pleased to take the boy and cuddle him against his shoulder, and drop a kiss to his sweet-smelling forehead. “Goodnight, Freddy. Tell your Daddy night-night when he gets home from work.”

  “Papa!” the little boy called, which made Andrew chuckle.

  “That’s right, little one, I’m Papa. Night-night. Christmas Eve is coming, and I will see you for the big celebration,” he told the boy, as he handed him back to his mother.

  Smiling, he watched Rojita wrap Freddy in his swaddling and blow kisses and cheerful waves as she swept out the door. She and her husband, the town sheriff, lived nearby, although she came to the orphanage daily to help care for the children. Andrew hadn’t met her until he’d chased Micah to Everland, but once here, he’d accepted her as his daughter as easily as he’d accepted the other orphans. She and Hank and Freddy were a part of his family, and he was proud to be a Papa.

  “Papa! You kissed Freddy?” Antonia barreled into his legs, and he instinctively bent to scoop her up. “He said night-night!”

  “I kissed him night-night,” Andrew agreed with a grin. “Are you excited about Christmas?”

  “St. Nicholas is coming!” she proudly declared. “Mama read us a book!”

  Antonia was the only one of the children who called Micah and Penelope, “Mama and Daddy,” instead of their names. But that was just part of their family dynamic. “Do you think he’ll come visit here?” Andrew asked, pretending shock. “Have you been good?”

  “I have, but Blue is annoying.”

  “Am not,” the handsome little boy, Blue, who’d followed her into the foyer, declared. “Big brothers gotta watch out for little sisters. It’s in the book. The twins are annoying.”

  Andrew glanced over to where the identical girls were chatting animatedly with Penelope and Christa. “They don’t look annoying,” he teased. “They look very sweet and well-meaning.”

  “Doesn’t mean they can’t be annoying,” Blue insisted stubbornly.

  Jack Horner—grown tall enough now to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Micah—stepped up behind Blue and laid his hands on the boy’s shoulder. “Were you the one to teach Antonia the word ‘annoying,’ Blue? That’s—”

  “Annoying?” Tom Tucker broke in with a smirk.

  Jack rolled his eyes, and Andrew had to chuckle when Antonia declared him to be annoying.

  Micah reached out to take Antonia. “You’ve all been good enough for a visit from St. Nicholas, I promise.” He winked at Andrew, reminding him of the argument they’d had yet again, because Andrew wanted to spoil the children rotten, and Micah and Penelope felt it was better to stick with the simple joys. “Now, all of you say goodnight to Papa and Miss Harrington and tell them we’ll see them Christmas Eve!”

  Saying goodbye was always chaotic, with hugs and kisses, and handshakes for the older boys, and more hugs. But now Christa was involved, and there seemed to be twice as much noise.

  Still, by the time Andrew had his arm around her waist and was pulling her out the door, he was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, poking him in the side.

  Still smiling, he settled into a few chuckles, then adjusted their stance, pulling her arm through his, as much for safety as for warmth.

  And just because he enjoyed touching her.

  “I loved seeing you interact with my family,” he finally confessed.

  “I loved meeting them.” She snuggled closer. “They’re a wonderful bunch, but I felt as if I knew them all already. Pea is a real sweetheart.”

  It seemed as if she’d be using Micah’s nickname for Penelope, and Andrew found he didn’t mind. “I hired her in the armory when she was young, and she worked her way up until she became one of my clerks. I was proud of her then, and I’m proud of her now, and I’m very pleased she has made my son so happy.”

  “You should be.” As they strolled down Andersen Avenue, she nudged him. “You know, that makes you a matchmaker.”

  He hummed, still smiling. “It does, doesn’t it? Maybe I should hang my shingle out. Think your organization would let me join?”

  Her chuckle was low and husky. “I think you would definitely be denied, based on certain criteria.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, you’re not a woman.”

  He scoffed. “That’s silly. A man can be just as nurturing and kind and match-makerly as a woman. Haven’t I proven it?”

  “Time and again.”

  Her immediate agreement settled his hackles. “Well, if you ever need any help with your current assignment—I know you’re worried about it—please let me know. I would love to be a bigger part of your life, Christa.”

  She didn’t respond, and when he glanced over at her, she was frowning down at the snowy road as they walked.

  “Christa?”

  “You might be right.”

  “About helping you?”

  When she stopped, he stopped as well, turning to take her hands in his. She tilted her head back to stare up at the stars, her breath puffing in the cold evening air.

  “My assignment is Sibyl Miller,” she finally said, then tilted her head down to meet his eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, but I want you to be part of my life too, and that means sharing trouble. So…Sibyl Miller. That’s the girl.”

  His heart had leapt—not because of the name she’d given him, because he barely knew the Millers—but because she was trusting him.

  Trying to be nonchalant, trying not to show how much the name had meant to him, he cleared his throat. “Isn’t she out of town? I remember someone saying she’d gone to Denver.”

  “To visit her sister, yeah.” Christa blew out a breath. “Everyone was expecting me to find a match for her by Christmas, but how can I, if she’s not home?” A yawn interrupted her. “Excuse me, I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Worrying, no doubt?”

  She huffed in agreement. “I haven’t even seen Sibyl and Max together, so I can’t move forward. I don’t even know if he knows her.”

  Absolutely thrilled she was discussing her concerns with him, Andrew hummed thoughtfully, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again, and began walking down Andersen Avenue once more. “Presumably, he knows her, since his brother is married to her sister. But you’re right; until you know how he feels about her, you can’t begin your scheme.”

  “Scheme, eh?” She chuckled once. “I like it. You’re part of my scheme now too.”

  The reminder made his chest feel lighter. “I am indeed, and I’m happy to help you. If Sibyl isn’t here in Everland, and you’re interested in finding her a beau…” Now he was just thinking out loud. “I think the thing to do would be to find out how Max—the potential beau—feels about her. If he’s already half in love with her or something, that would certainly make things easier, wouldn’t it?”

  “It sure would,” she agreed with a little yawn. “But I can’t ask him directly.”

  “Hmm. Goes against the rules, eh?”

  She rolled her eyes, her features lit by the moon. “Who would’ve thought there’d be so many rules to matchmaking? Yeah, I can’t come right out and ask because that would clue him into the plan.”

  This organization she was a part of seemed to believe in excessive secretiveness.

  “Could I ask him?”

  She thought for a moment, and he got the impression she was going over the rules in her head. “I guess you could. But if I were there with you, it’s probably a gray area, so you’d have to remember every detail to tell me later.”

  An idea was coming to Andrew. “This matchmaking organization…they know you as Christa and Christmas Harrington, right?”

  “Uh…yes?”

  “So if Christmas Harrington grilled Max on his feelings for Sibyl, th
at would be breaking the rules. Or if Christa stood by while I grilled him, that would also be a no-no.”

  “A no-no?” she repeated, smiling. “You’re hanging out with the children too much. But yes,” she quickly said, before he could react to her teasing, “you’re right about both. I thought we’d covered that already.”

  They had, but he was making sure. “So…could Chris O’Hare ask Max?”

  The way she sucked in a sharp breath and stopped still told him she hadn’t considered that option.

  “Brilliant,” she whispered, the word fogging the air in front of her. Then she repeated, louder, whirling to face him, “Brilliant, Andrew!”

  “Well, I—”

  That was as far as he got before she threw her arms around his neck. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted, twirling her around in a circle, right there in the middle of the snow-covered road, acting like children again.

  But that’s what she did for him; she made him feel like anything was possible, as if he could do anything.

  Slowly, he lowered her to her toes, and they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “Brilliant,” she whispered a third time.

  He wanted to kiss her. And from the way she was looking up at him, she wanted to kiss him too.

  But he hadn’t won her, not yet, so the timing wasn’t right. If he could help her with this assignment, help her win the position she wanted, the position which would keep her here in Everland, then the timing would be right.

  So he cleared his throat. “Would you like my help introducing Mr. O’Hare to Max?”

  The besotted look in her eyes slowly turned to all-business as she blinked, then blinked again. “Yes,” she said, settling back on her heels, then clearing her throat and loosening her hold on him. “But they’ve met before, remember?”

  Andrew reached up and pulled her arms from around his neck, cupping her hands in his. “Then I shall invite them both back to The Gingerbread House tomorrow evening. It should be relatively empty on December twenty-third, so we should have the table to ourselves.”

  December twenty-third was two days before Christmas, and the day before her birthday.