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Treasured Christmas Brides

Page 31

by Cabot, Amanda; Germany, Rebecca; Hake, Cathy Marie


  Once their trunks had been hauled below to a cabin, Caroline gathered the children and stood at the railing, watching the other passengers come aboard, along with crates and barrels of goods to be sold down the coast. The fog bank had already begun to roll out to sea, allowing sunlight to christen certain sections of town. Like the mission that now gleamed white on the hill in the distance—a beacon of goodness in a city gone mad with debauchery.

  Soon, all was brought aboard, and as passengers and crew milled about the deck, the captain shouted orders to weigh anchor.

  Philippe tugged on her skirts. “Mama.”

  “Yes, Philippe.” Her gaze remained on town, memorizing the streets and homes, the red tile and adobe of some, the wooden walls of others, the pastureland and cattle, the churches with steeples, and the many vineyards lining the hills.

  “Mama!” His voice heightened in excitement.

  No doubt a sea lion had surfaced to play among the waves.

  Abilene plucked out her thumb—having returned to the bad habit after Dante left—and pointed. “It’s Papa’s ship!”

  Caroline snapped her gaze to the sea where the Bounty sped toward them, all sails to the wind. She rubbed her eyes, expecting it to be gone when she opened them again. But the crew had seen it too.

  “Captain, a brig heading our way off the starboard side,” one of them said.

  “Blast it all! What could they want?” the captain replied, scope in hand. “I have a schedule to keep.”

  Within minutes, the Bounty lowered sails and halted expertly alongside the steamer, some twenty yards away. Dante Vega, looking more like a pirate than he ever had, hailed the ship through a speaking cone and requested an audience. Without awaiting a reply, he ordered a boat lowered, climbed down into it, along with a few of his men, and with white flag raised, began rowing toward them.

  “Papa is coming for us!” Abilene squealed with glee.

  “Told you he didn’t leave us.” Philippe crossed arms over his chest.

  The captain, a young, barrel-chested man approached. “Do you know this man?”

  Caroline could hardly find her voice. “He’s my husband,” she mumbled out.

  “Your husband? Well, he’s delaying me! What does he want?”

  A very good question. As she watched him and two of his crew row toward them, a battalion of emotions raged within her: anger, hope, love.

  “This is ludicrous,” the captain said as he marched away. “I must be under way. Raise topsails, Mr. Blaney.”

  “Captain.” Caroline swung about. “Please, just a moment more, I beg you.”

  Whether it was her pleading tone or the look in her eyes, the gruff man finally relented and belayed his last order. “You have one minute, lady.”

  The boat thudded against the hull, and Caroline leaned over the railing to see Dante gazing up at her, his hair flailing around him, and a look of shock on his face. “What are you doing, Caroline?”

  “I’m taking the children home to New Orleans. What else would I be doing?”

  “Why? What about the vineyard?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Hi, Papa!” Abilene waved down at him.

  “Hi, pumpkin. Hi, Philippe.” He waved and smiled.

  “Where did you go?” Caroline demanded.

  “I went to Los Angeles. Did you get my note?”

  “What note?”

  “I left it on the table with a candlestick on top.”

  Caroline shook her head, only then remembering the storm that had come up suddenly the morning Dante had left. Was it possible the paper had blown out the window before she’d closed up the house? “I never saw it.”

  Crewmen and passengers lined the railing with interest.

  Dante raked a hand through his hair. “You must have thought”—his voice trailed off as he shook his head—“and then my ship was gone.”

  “What was I to think when the day after”—she hesitated, heat flooding her cheeks—“the day after you promised to stay, you redeem your ship and sail away?”

  “I didn’t redeem my ship,” he shouted up. “I sold it.”

  “Do you take me for a fool? It is right there!” She pointed behind him.

  “I sold it to my first mate on the condition he let me borrow it for a short trip to Los Angeles.”

  “You expect me to believe you sold the most precious thing in the world to you?”

  “You are the most precious thing in the world to me.”

  One lady at the railing sighed with delight.

  And though Caroline longed to join her, she couldn’t. Not yet. “Why did you go to Los Angeles?”

  His lips flattened. “A surprise. Please, Caroline, I love you. Come with me. Berilo will take us wherever we want.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I meant what I said that night. I won’t ever leave you. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Ah, go with the poor fellow,” one man beside her said.

  A lady passenger brought a handkerchief to her eye.

  “Mama.” Abilene jerked on her skirts again. “I want to go with Papa.”

  “Lady,” the captain said. “Your minute is up. I must be under way.”

  “At least come down here and talk about it,” Dante pleaded.

  But if she went down, she’d never get back up. Her heart said to go, but her heart had been wrong more often than not.

  “Lady, I beg you, please relieve the man of his suffering,” a man dressed in a posh suit said, looking at his watch.

  Before she could stop him, Philippe swung both legs over the railing, grabbed ahold of a dangling rope, and made his way down to Dante’s waiting arms.

  “Philippe!” Oh, that boy! “Captain, do you have a rope ladder?”

  “Aye.” He snapped his fingers and a crewman grabbed one that was already tied to the bulwarks and tossed it over the railing.

  “Abilene, hold on to my neck and don’t let go.” She hoisted the girl in her arms and slowly made her way down. The scratchy rope bit into her palms. The ship rocked. The ladder swayed. Abilene’s harried breathing filled Caroline’s ears as the girl’s grip tightened on her neck. “It’s all right, ma chère.” But it wasn’t all right. Caroline glanced down at the boat bouncing in choppy waters at least ten yards below them. And froze.

  “Hold on,” Dante shouted. “I’m coming to get you.”

  Hungry water lapped against the hull, reaching for Caroline. She could do this. She didn’t need to be carried like some child. A wavelet struck. The ship careened, groaning, and the ladder slapped the hull. Pain throbbed through her fingers. Her sweaty palms slid on the rope. Her foot slipped, and she knew it was all over. She and Abilene would plunge into the icy water and drown before anyone could save them.

  But instead of water, she fell against Dante’s thick chest. He wrapped one arm around her and Abilene and inched down the ladder, his warm breath wafting over her neck. “I’ve got you. Now and forever.”

  Later that night as the Bounty rose and plunged through the ebony sea, Dante brought Caroline, Philippe, and Abilene on the foredeck where they could sit and watch the stars.

  “There’s so many of them!” Caroline exclaimed with delight as she tossed blankets over the children.

  “And they all twinkle!” Abilene added, plopping to the deck.

  “Look at that one.” Caroline took a seat beside Dante on a crate and pointed to a particularly bright one in the eastern sky.

  Philippe tightened the blanket around his neck. “Is that the star that led the wise man to baby Jesus?”

  Dante threw a coat over Caroline’s shoulders. “It must be. It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it?”

  “Will it lead us to Him, Mama?” Abilene asked.

  “No need,” Dante answered. “He already lives in our hearts, pumpkin. And He will never leave.”

  The ship careened over a wave, spraying them with a chilled mist. The children gripped the deck and laughed then settled to gaze back up at
the stars.

  Caroline’s eyes met his, so full of love and admiration, he gulped down emotion before he made a fool of himself. “You sold your vineyard to redeem my ship.” Dante still could not believe it. “That was all you had.”

  “It was to be your Christmas gift.” She gave a lopsided smile and reached for his hand. “But you sold your ship. I can’t believe you sold it. It was so important to you.”

  “How else could I provide for my family, save the vineyard, and”—he raised his voice so the children could hear—“buy Christmas gifts?”

  “Christmas gifts!” Both squealed and turned around.

  Grabbing the sack he’d brought on board, Dante untied the rope, feeling a bit like Santa Claus himself. “What have we here?” He pulled out a porcelain doll dressed in a lustrous silk gown and gave it to Abilene.

  For a moment, she merely stared at it, her eyes wide and sparkling like the stars above. Then she took it in her arms and embraced it like it was her own child. “I love it, Papa!”

  His heart near bursting, he peered into the sack again. “Now, what is this?” He pulled out a leather whip and handed it to Philippe.

  “Wow” was all Philippe said as he grabbed the whip and began to unravel it. “Thanks! Mama, look at this!”

  “But you must keep it coiled on the ship,” Dante said. “I’ll teach you how to use it when we reach land.” Philippe nodded, and Dante gave Caroline a reassuring glance. “It will be okay.”

  “Merry Christmas, Papa!” Both children said as they began playing with their gifts.

  “Merry Christmas,” he replied.

  “There’s something else in your bag.” Caroline’s voice was teasing as she pointed to the sack.

  “Is there?” He scratched his head and peeked inside. “I do believe you’re right.” Reaching in, he pulled out a box containing a bonnet, the latest fashion from Paris and quite popular among high-society ladies—or so he’d been told by the woman at the millinery.

  And apparently—if the look on Caroline’s face was any indication—she’d been right.

  “Oh Dante.” She opened the box and caressed the silk ribbon, seeming about to cry. “I can’t believe you bought this for me. And here I thought you’d abandoned us.” She dabbed the corner of her eye.

  Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her eyes to his and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Never.”

  Their gazes held for several seconds, several magical seconds, during which Dante thanked God for such a precious woman and vowed to make her happy the rest of his days.

  “Where are we going, Papa?” Philippe looked up from fingering his whip.

  Dante shrugged. “I thought perhaps Veracruz to see my father. He has a merchant business he’s been begging me to join. That is, Señora Vega, if you’ll come with me?” He brought Caroline’s hand to his lips for a kiss.

  “Señor Pirate, I will follow you anywhere.”

  MaryLu Tyndall, a Christy Award finalist and bestselling author of the Legacy of the King’s Pirates series, is known for her adventurous historical romances filled with deep spiritual themes. She holds a degree in math and worked as a software engineer for fifteen years before testing the waters as a writer. MaryLu currently writes full time and makes her home on the California coast with her husband, six kids, and four cats. Her passion is to write page-turning, romantic adventures that not only entertain but open people’s eyes to their God-given potential. MaryLu is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America.

  The Gold Rush Christmas

  by Michelle Ule

  Dedication

  For the adventurers who sailed to Alaska with me: Robert, Christopher, Jonathan, Nicholas, and Devin; and for the one still awaiting adventure: Michael

  I sent messengers unto them, saying, I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you?

  NEHEMIAH 6:3

  Chapter 1

  August 1897

  Port Orchard, Washington

  “Here’s the last quilt.” Samantha Harris brushed tears from her eyes and tossed her heavy gold braid over her shoulder.

  Mrs. Parker sighed as she folded the wedding ring quilt into the final crate. “I remember your dear mother stitching the quilts on the veranda. She tucked a prayer for your future husband and Peter’s future wife into each stitch. I’m sorry she’ll never learn who they are.”

  Peter grinned. “I’m sure Samantha can find a husband in Alaska territory.”

  “I’m hunting for Pa, not a husband.”

  “Maybe you’ll find both.” Peter set her indigo carpetbag with the luggage. “Alaska’s a land of golden opportunities. We’re throwing off civilization’s shackles and sailing to a territory of unlimited prospects. I’m ready to go.”

  Mrs. Parker frowned. “You’re like your father—never satisfied. You’ve always wanted to be somewhere else. How your mother fretted over your rash schemes.”

  Samantha glanced at her twin as she set her father’s carved candlesticks on the quilt. She stuffed in the last two feather pillows, sprinkled dried lavender on top, and spread a clean sheet over them. Peter nailed on the lid. The Parkers would store their few remaining possessions.

  “Look how your sister taught at the Port Orchard School the last three years. She never complained about taking care of your mother while your father…” Mrs. Parker hesitated.

  “Shared the Gospel with the Indians?” Samantha grabbed the heavy crate, which also contained her mother’s cherished china, and carried it to the door with Peter’s help. She heard the Parkers’ horse clopping up the road with a cart.

  “I don’t know what she saw in your father. An itinerant preacher who itched to preach to ruffians even after Port Orchard became civilized. He got his travels, but your mother paid a pretty penny for them. She wouldn’t approve of your taking Samantha off to the wilderness. You should be ashamed of yourself, Peter Harris.”

  “I’ll return next year to attend the University of Washington.” Samantha hoped her brother’s promises and her mother’s dream would come true. “But we need to find Pa first.”

  Reverend Parker entered carrying four Bibles under his arm and gripping a letter in his hand. He scowled at Peter. “Muscular Christianity sounds like your idea.”

  “Sir?”

  “You challenged Miles, didn’t you? You told him to abandon his books for action. Are these not your words?”

  Peter stood at attention. Samantha froze.

  “According to this, my son left seminary just short of his ordination exams.” Reverend Parker shook the letter. “He wants to explore his faith in practical ways and take his chances in the Klondike goldfields. He’s headed to Alaska, and we are not to discourage him, only pray.” Reverend Parker offered the Bibles. “If so, he’ll need these extra Bibles.”

  Mrs. Parker gasped.

  Samantha advanced on her brother. “Did you invite him to come with us?”

  “Miles wants to be a preacher. Miners have spiritual needs. I told him Alaska could prove his calling to ministry.” Peter set the Bibles with their luggage.

  “You talked Miles into going to Alaska? He’s…” She chose her word carefully. “He’s clumsy!”

  Reverend Parker read aloud. “Don’t try to stop me. I prayed and believe this is God’s direction for my life right now. I love you. Tell Peter and Samantha I will see them in the north.”

  “Where would he obtain the money?” Mrs. Parker clutched her throat.

  Reverend Parker examined the letter. “He borrowed funds from a friend. Miles purchased his provisions in Seattle and mailed this letter from the docks before he sailed.”

  “Sailed?” his mother cried. “Who would have loaned him so much money?”

  Samantha squelched the urge to strike Peter. “You didn’t!”

  Samantha watched two men lift her mother’s prized pump organ onto the cart. She gulped a sob as she recalled Mama sin
ging and playing hymns, particularly on nights when they missed Pa.

  Peter cleared his throat. “That’s done. Let’s say goodbye to Mother.” They walked up the dirt road to the cemetery.

  “What were you thinking inviting Miles?”

  “How could we go on an adventure and not take our third musketeer? We need him.”

  Samantha sighed. “You know what he’s been like the last couple years. He’ll propose again.”

  Peter snorted. “He loves you. You just don’t appreciate him.”

  Samantha swatted at Queen Anne’s lace. “His head is so full of God—not that there’s anything wrong with loving the Lord—he misses obvious things. Alaska could kill him.” When they were growing up, pudgy, bespectacled Miles was always falling out of trees, getting stung by bees, or tripping over his own feet.

  Peter stopped. “He’s shorter than you. That’s the real reason you turned him down.”

  She stomped her foot. “That’s not true.”

  “You’re six feet tall, Sam. Your chances of finding a guy tall enough to suit you are slim.”

  “I’m five-eleven and a half.”

  He laughed. “You’re still taller than most men. But maybe giants like us live in Alaska.”

  Samantha shut her eyes and counted to ten, like Mama always advised. She lowered her voice to soften her anger. “You told me we sold our household goods to pay our way on the steamship and for our supplies. I signed over my bank account to cover unexpected travel incidentals. Are my savings funding Miles’s trip?”

  Her high-spirited brother turned his blue eyes away. The cheekbones above his beard turned pink.

  She smelled the damp Washington soil and the decaying rot of soggy plants as the summer day dwindled to dusk. “Please tell me the truth.”

  “I promised to find Pa,” Peter said. “Once we find him, you can stay with him through the winter and Miles and I will go to the Klondike. I’ll reimburse you. You’ll only lose one year. I’ve waited my whole life for an adventure beyond this little town. If I had to sit at that desk in the lumber mill one more day I’d go crazy.”

 

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