She giggled, breaking the tension. “Ten might be eight too many for me, especially at my age.”
The mention of her age brought up the letter she’d read that day. “So, you’re almost thirty? We’ve never talked about it.”
Life had been so busy that she’d forgotten her birthday. “I’ll turn thirty next week. And you?”
He chuckled. At the warm sound, she imagined the grin his face wore and wished they’d left a lantern burning so she could see him. “I’ll be twenty-nine this year, so it seems I’ve married an older woman.”
She gently pinched his arm before resting her head again on his shoulder. The verse in Hebrews about faith came back to her and hope for a happy future filled her heart at that moment.
One thing still bothered her. “What will we do about my inheritance?”
Next to her, she felt Holder shrug. “Fred’s sent a telegram to your father’s lawyer so he knows where to find you. It seems to me that we’ll hear about it after you turn thirty. The money doesn’t matter one whit to me.”
The girls mattered to her. Her husband quickly had become the center of her life. Her ill mother-in-law had become dear to Myra also. But money. No, that didn’t matter at all. They had all that they needed.
Myra fell asleep with a smile on her face and her farmer’s whispered “I love you” tickling her ear. Miss McKinley had done well for her.
Epilogue
The candles on the balsam twinkled against the darkness of the winter night outside the window. Holder explained the story behind each decoration once again to the girls. He wasn’t sure why they loved to hear the stories of when his family had purchased or received each glass ornament, but they’d begged each night for the stories.
As tonight was Christmas Eve, they’d lit the candles dotting the side of the Christmas tree facing into the room. Holder had wanted all of them within sight to be sure his house wouldn’t burn. His family had never placed candles on a tree, but Myra convinced him that the girls would love to see the tree this way.
Myra managed often to convince him of things. After all, she’d coaxed him to move into his mother’s house last January. She wanted to be near as Johanna needed help with her grandmother’s care. Good thing too.
Ma had worsened quickly after the new year. Grief from her death would have crippled the family if his wife hadn’t been there. He and the girls clung to her. Carl disappeared more often than before and Holder suspected he found comfort from spending time with his “sister” and Manny.
Both Fred and Carl now lived in the cabin, though Fred stayed in town more often than not. Myra cooked their meals, but the couple appreciated having the house just for their family the rest of the time.
A low groan from upstairs interrupted his reflections. If he didn’t believe his wife had grit enough to see her through this, he’d be in a panic. But Myra had assured him everything would be fine.
That same calm determination had seen her through the trial of Oliver and Trapp. She’d testified with a strong voice even while her brother glared at her and muttered threats. Eventually, the judge had to remove the man from the trial and found him guilty. Both he and Trapp would spend the next five years incarcerated.
Throughout the trial, Oliver refused to reveal the name of the lawyer who delivered the monthly payment for Myra’s care. His silence didn’t stop Myra from receiving her inheritance, though. Miss McKinley had received a visit from a certain Mr. Pettigrew who inquired whether, as a long-time neighbor, she might know where Miss Smithson now resided. She happily gave him the address.
It was too bad that the ten thousand dollars couldn’t go into the bank close to them. He didn’t feel like he could trust Strong. No, the man still told others in town that he would make the sheriff or his family pay one day.
A long and loud moan from upstairs had him racing up the steps. Without knocking he entered the room and went to his wife’s side. She gave him a tired smile and he marveled at her ability to always comfort him.
“What are you doing here, Holder? We don’t have this little one prettied up yet for you.” For the first time he noticed that the doctor held a wet and red little form.
“Prettied up, huh? Sounds like we have our little Holly, just like we expected?” Holder smiled down at his wife before he kissed her forehead.
The doctor laughed. “I wouldn’t call this sturdy fellow Holly. Doesn’t quite fit.”
Shocked, he moved his gaze from Myra to the doctor and then back to his wife. Gripping her hand, he kissed it tenderly. “We have a boy?”
She sighed sleepily and then nodded. “You did tell me more than once to give you a son.”
“It wouldn’t matter. I love the girls. But…a son!” A rush of fear filled him. Was he turning into his father, obsessed with the male line?
In his sudden fear, he must have gripped her hand tighter. His tired wife reached up to stroke his cheek and spoke soothingly, as if comforting one of the girls. “You are pleased to have a helper for the farm. That’s all. You aren’t your father.”
The doctor approached then. “Let’s try this little guy at your breast.”
Holder watched Myra cradle his son. The baby latched on hungrily and brought a chuckle from both him and Doctor Weber.
“What will you call him? I don’t think Holly is the right name for this baby.” The doctor gave a wry grin as he said that.
Lifting her gaze from their son, Myra looked at Holder. “Reinhold the third?”
He shook his head and touched a finger to the downy hair that was now dry on the baby’s head. “No more wise rulers. If you agree, I think Samuel. God has heard my prayers.”
From a Christmas Eve bride to a Christmas Eve son, Holder Sittig counted his blessings.
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A Shadowed Groom for Christmas
Spinster Mail-Order Brides #6
Chapter 1
Charleston, South Carolina, October 1886
Father is dead. What do I do now? This thought and the question it created repeatedly hammered its way through Kitty Donaldson’s mind. How would she maintain this modest home without being forced out into the world to find some means to support herself?
Standing in front of the oak hall tree, she gazed into the almost full-length mirror built into that piece of furniture. She saw a trim form garbed in unbroken black, as she was once again wearing the mourning clothes purchased after her mother’s sudden death two years before. Lifting her arms, Kitty placed a broad-brimmed black hat on her sable brown hair. The hat’s large crown was trimmed with black silk roses and netting.
As she pulled at the netting down over her face, Kitty stopped and intently studied her face—something she typically avoided doing. The rich ruby red of the port wine stain caused her stomach to clench. The mark stretched from the inside of her left eye down her nose and almost all the way to her left ear. How could she force herself to spend day in and day out amongst others when she looked like this?
With determination, she covered her face with the netting affixed to the hat and moved to the front door. With the Lord’s blessing, perhaps her father’s lawyer would have an idea of what Kitty should do.
This thought started anew the mantra in her head. Father is dead. What do I do now?
With her head held high and her carriage straight, Kitty began the ten-block walk to the lawyer’s office. Staring ahead of her, she studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone, neighbors included. Kitty knew what was said about her by them. She was considered unfriendly and odd. Still, she remembered the unkind remarks and taunts hurled at her during childhood by so many of neighborhood children. Though she might forgive them, forgetting was something she’d yet to do.
After five blocks, the heat of the
brilliantly shining sun began to take its toll of her. Her skin inside the dark and heavy garments was slick with perspiration. Her mother had passed away during January so the mourning dress was made out of heavy wool rather than a linen material more appropriate for an unusually warm fall day.
She longed to raise the netting and feel and hint of cooling breeze against her face. Fear and her own self-loathing prevented her from doing so entirely. Resting for a moment on a bench placed in front of the dress shop, Kitty did, however, raise the edge of the netting and roll it so that her chin and mouth were exposed.
Though she felt nervous being out amongst people, Kitty nonetheless relished the freedom to walk along the street. For the last year, her father’s deteriorating health had kept her confined with him in their home. Much of her life, her father had been distant and always occupied with his business. The last year had allowed the two of them to grow closer. She had needed to be with him constantly since his first debilitating fit of apoplexy. As the doctor had predicted, he eventually suffered another attack so severe that he passed on.
That memory triggered her worry. Father is dead. What do I do now?
Self-absorbed as she worried, Kitty almost walked past Mr. McKinley’s office. Composing her thoughts, she entered the front door of the building and ascended the steps to the man’s second-floor office.
Seated behind her desk, the secretary’s blonde head was bent over her typewriter. After hitting a few more keys and then pressing the foot treadle to return the carriage to the next line, she raised her face and greeted Kitty with an impersonal smile. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”
After explaining in a soft and low voice that she had an appointment with Mr. McKinley, Kitty took the seat indicated for her. The woman rose and lightly tapped on the inner-office door. Kitty assumed Mr. McKinley invited her in since the woman she opened it.
Only a moment passed before Mr. McKinley, himself, came out and, greeting her, invited her into the inner office. Once seated before his desk, Kitty waited expectantly for him to read her father’s will.
Though the lawyer had seated himself, he made no move to pick up the will. Instead he fixed her with a speculative gaze before asking, “What do you plan to do now that your father has passed?”
Quietly clearing her throat, Kitty forced herself to speak loudly enough to be heard. “I’d rather hoped you might have an idea about that.”
The man nodded. “Yes, I do have a few suggestions. Whether you act on them is up to you.” He paused and Kitty wondered why. Then he shocked her with his suggestions.
“You’ll need to sell the house. It’s left to you in your father’s will. As was the business.” At this he shook his head, “But of course that’s already gone.”
This surprised her as much as his advice to sell her home. “Gone? I was sure Father’s partner was still running it.”
Giving a tsk tsk the lawyer explained, “Your father had to sell his share to his partner under their contract when he was unable to carry his share of the load to run it. The money from the sale is what sustained you for the last year. With the cost of his burial the sum is nearly exhausted.”
After another pause, Mr. McKinley asked, “How old are you Miss Donaldson?”
When Kitty gasped at his question, he immediately apologized. “Forgive my impertinence, but I have a reason for asking.”
Uncomfortable with the question, Kitty frostily answered him. “I will be twenty-eight next month.” Then she waited for him to explain the reason for his odd question.
“You are still of an age to marry and have a family. I encourage you to do so quickly.”
Stunned at his idea, Kitty felt her mouth hang open. Jutting forward her chin, she challenged his suggestion, “Do you really believe it is such a simple thing to accomplish, sir? And just consider my deformity.”
He hurriedly explained, “My sister arranges such things for couples. She arranges for them to correspond before the woman travels to meet her groom.” Mr. McKinley nervously pulled at his right ear. “Such things have become so much more common since the war between the states. Widows left behind, you know, and fewer marriageable men. Though you aren’t a widow, you could benefit too.”
Here he paused as gazed at her as if trying to see past the netting that covered her face. “Perhaps you’d raise your veil.” He left the half-question hanging in the air. Kitty raised a trembling hand and lifted the netting, waiting for a gasp or other reaction from him since the man had never seen her without the covering.
Tipping his head to the side, the lawyer put his hand to his chin and studied her. After a long moment he sighed. “I really don’t think it is an impossibility that you will find a husband, regardless of the mark. You’ve a lovely face and should see my sister.”
Picking up an envelope, he handed it across the desk to her. “Her address and business flyer are in this. Now if you will sign the papers, I will begin the probate of the house. That will give you a month to consider what I’ve advised in regards to selling.”
Over the next few days, Kitty pondered the lawyer’s advice. As she cleaned drawers and the armoire in her father’s bedroom, she became all that much more aware of her situation. Both of her parents were dead. She had no siblings and no relatives in the United States as both of her parents immigrated as adults to this country.
The quiet of the house pressed in on her. She had no one to chat with and nothing but the chiming of the parlor clock to break the oppressive silence.
Maybe I should get another dog? Even while she thought that, she cringed. When she was seven, her mother had brought home a small Spitz to keep Kitty company. She’d adored the little dog she named Tipper. But it too had died, soon after Kitty’s mother. She wasn’t sure she could bear giving her love to another creature only to have it die.
As she walked through her lifeless home, Kitty’s eyes were drawn to her small desk set in a corner of the front room. The envelope Mr. McKinley had given her lay waiting there. Perhaps she did need to contact his sister.
With that thought in mind, she took out a clean sheet of stationary and composed a letter to the woman asking for a day and time that would be convenient for the other woman so that Kitty might visit her. Steadying her hand to prevent it from betraying onto the paper how very nervous she was, she explained her reasons for seeking a mail-order marriage.
Opening the envelope given her by the lawyer, the anxious girl stared at the contact information a moment before addressing the envelope. Then it was quickly stamped and mailed. She’d made a decision for her future. For the first time in her life, she’d made a decision about herself for herself.
In less than a week, Kitty sat in Miss McKinley small parlor sipping tea while listening to the small bird-like woman chirp on about the matches she’d arranged. Kitty smiled and periodically nodded her head in response to the woman. Truthfully, the older woman was quite likeable and it was a pleasure to visit with another person after the quiet of her house.
What most impressed Kitty was Miss McKinley’s reaction to her face. Shortly after the matchmaker had welcomed her into her parlor, she had asked Kitty to raise her veil. With shaking hands, Kitty had hesitantly done so.
Not even a hint of revulsion had been evident on the woman’s face. Instead she smiled and hummed softly. “You have lovely eyes, my dear. And such luxurious hair. You are a lucky girl,” she’d said admiringly.
Kitty could only stare at her, mouth agape. How was this woman able to look past her birthmark? Then, she thanked her before ducking her head while drinking her tea.
“I believe I have a most blessed arrangement for you. Just a moment and I’ll retrieve the letter for you to consider.” At that the woman winged her way out of the room only to return in mere moments.
Whatever she sought must have been right at hand? A letter? The perfect groom for me? That seems impossible.
Setting her tea cup carefully and soundlessly on the piecrust table nearby, Kitty took the o
ffered sheet of stationary. Immediately she noted the monogram on the thick cream paper—the letter K along with the image of a cat. Considering her name, no wonder Miss McKinley believed this might be the perfect match for me.
That woman began an explanation so Kitty forced her attention away from the letter and back to her hostess. “Of course, there was another letter. An inquiry regarding my services and such. That one isn’t important to you.” Here her thin lips took on an almost teasing smile as she leaned forward. “You only need to read this letter to know this is the match for you.”
Since that was just what Kitty wanted to do, she nodded her head before bending it over the paper she held.
My Dear Lady,
As you are reading this, I feel sure that Miss McKinley has selected you as a potential wife for me. That being the case, let me be completely honest with you. I am a man confined to the shadows.
By that I mean that I have suffered an accident to my face which keeps me away from most people. In fact, I rarely see anyone other than my servants, my mother, and a close friend. With such a small circle of people around me, I hope you can imagine my loneliness.
Because of that loneliness, I am trusting Miss McKinley to find a wife who is both understanding and content to live in the shadows with me. I need a wife who will not shy away from a touch by my scarred hands. Perhaps, might you be that wife?
I assure you that I can provide a comfortable, if isolated, life for you and any family we may have. Beyond that, I will make no other promises and hope that will be enough for you to consider joining me at my home in Wisconsin.
Most sincerely yours,
Kit Randolph
As intrigued as she had been by the letter, his name shocked her. Was the similarity in their first names merely coincidence or was this a heaven-ordained match as Miss McKinley hinted? Kitty didn’t think long over it before lifting her head to change her life by saying, “I will marry him.”
A Farmer For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 4) Page 7