Mail Order Bride- Winter

by Sierra Rose

  “Ben. Ben—knew—?”

  Hannah was feeling almost dizzied with trying to assimilate all these new facts. Like grasping puzzle pieces, one at a time, putting them in order so that, completed, everything fit. Her agitated gaze roved the room—or what she could see of it—as if seeking an escape.

  “Hannah. I’m sorry,” said Gabriel in low tones, reaching out to take her hand.

  She slapped him away. Only then did he see the tears in her eyes. “You led me on. You lied. You—you made a fool out of me!”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I could never do that. It was fate you picked me. Neither one of us could have ever predicted that. Don’t you realize—I love you, Hannah!” Stress tightened up his muscles, and he choked a little, then coughed. A sip of lukewarm tea helped clear his throat to continue in a rush, “Goldang this infernal bandage!”

  At that her defenses weakened, and, worried, she urged him to ease up, slow down.

  “Hannah, I want so much to come over and pull you into my arms and never let you go. I wanna spend every day, every single one of ’em with you! Do you hear me, Hannah? I love you, my dearest one, and I want you to be my wife!”

  “I never thought a man I knew in this town could love me,” she whispered. Then, shaken, she covered her face with both hands and began to weep.

  “Why not? You’re beautiful and have a compassionate heart, and you make me laugh.” Gabriel understood now that, no matter his own feelings for this glorious Burton gal, he had done so much damage. How could he repair the hurt he had caused?

  Blundering, he pulled himself upright, shifted his chair, and moved so that he could sling his good left arm around her shuddering shoulders and hold her close.

  Even through the bulky bandages, Hannah could hear his steady heart beating, feel the warmth and shelter of his big frame, sense an air of utter safeguarding adoration emanating from his every cell. It was enough, as she slightly relaxed, to let her rest her head against his hard collarbone, and begin to revel in what marriage to this man might mean.

  “Sssh, Hannah. Hush now, darlin’. It’ll be all right.” He let her cry on for a few minutes, soothing and comforting, then murmured, “Just wanted to make sure you’d be mine, sweetheart. Can you say—do you feel anything for me a’tall?”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “What, Hannah?”

  “You old—codger.”

  A push away from his half-embrace sent him reeling, curling up like a shrimp around the half-healed wound. “Ah. Oh. Ow, ow, ow. Dagnabbit. Horse feathers. Ods Bodkins!”

  Instantly she was struck by contrition. “Oh, Gabe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you all right? Did I do any harm?”

  “Only to my—innards. Can we call it quits now, and make up? That’s always the best part.”

  Silence for several long minutes, while a few voices were raised in the kitchen at the other end of the room, and dishes clattered. Someone slammed a pot onto the stove. It was nearing time when the restaurant doors would be opening, and diners be invited in.

  Suddenly, all barricades between them toppled, as both exchanged steady gazes; each might have been sharing insight into the other’s very soul.

  “You really—truly—honestly...”

  Smiling tenderly, he took her hand in his. This time she did not pull away. “Hannah Burton, I love you, and I always will. I hope you feel the same way about me. But I’d like to hear it.”

  “Oh, Gabe.” Tears again, of burgeoning happiness. “Yes, I think about you too. I wondered what it would be like to have you hold me and share a life with you. I do love you. You’ve captured my attention from the very first minute we met. But I pushed anything I felt to the back of my mind because I didn’t want to get hurt. But I’m ready to take the risk. Because you are worth it. And you’ve shown me that. You are the handsome doctor everyone talks about. And I didn’t think I deserved you. And then, we didn’t get along at first. I thought a marriage between us would never work. And then, things changed. And I noticed you, Gabe. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I fell in love with you. That’s why I was so torn, don’t you see? Wondering what to do about my mail order groom.”

  Once more he managed to reach into his pocket. “I bought this while I was home in Atlanta, my little lambkin. I hope it fits.”

  While she was wondering what else he could have possibly shoved into that capacious inside compartment, he opened a tiny box. Nestled into the black velvet interior lay a ring that someone might have dreamed of. It was made of gold, and set with one perfect center stone that shot brilliant purple flames far and wide. Holding her fast, he slipped the beautiful bauble over her finger, so that both could admire the way it looked in the light.

  “An amethyst—my month’s stone,” she said wonderingly. “Gabe, how did you know?”

  “That your birthday is February 28th? Toldja, honey, I know a lot.” The smugness was back, in force; he had just won his lady and he wanted to crow about it, all over town. And probably would, later on—if his physical condition would permit. “Look, I won’t be a hundred percent ready to perform my marital duties by then, but whatddya say we plan our weddin’ for that date?”

  “You don’t want to wait until—well...”

  “Nope. It’s taken me too long and too much effort to catch you. Sure don’t want you gettin’ away. Uh—I’ve already talked to the Reverend, and he happens to have that day free, and Camellia ain’t due for another six weeks or so, and Molly’s housewarmin’ ain’t comin’ up till the middle of March, and—”

  Hannah burst out into a gurgle of delighted laughter. “Oh, you are soooo well-acquainted with my sisters! Yes, Gabriel, I will marry you on February 28th. I think I can even make all my preparations by then. It will be—” she caught her breath, “—wonderful—!”

  “Ha.” His face positively glowed with radiance, and he thought his heart would burst. “And you and the cats will come make your home with me at that time?”

  “We will. I wouldn’t dream of leaving those cats behind. They’ve seen me through many an unhappy night.”

  “Now it’ll be my turn,” he said roughly.

  And then, before she could realize what he was about, he made his move on her. Half-laid up he might be; there was nothing wrong with his other working parts. An eager nibble at her throat, her earlobe, her cheekbone, until he found her mouth.

  It was a kiss beyond belief, what Hannah could never have imagined, and it sucked all the breath from her lungs and drew all the blood from her outer extremities. Worse, it left her wanting more. And more. An instant’s dazed thought reminded her, This is what Camellia meant; before she went under again.

  “—Gabe...” she barely managed to pant, when he finally released her.

  His eyes, as he took in her very satisfactory response with a great deal of male pride, shone green as an Irish sea. Oh, this would be a marriage full of spirit and battle, an adventure sparked by intensity and tussle and endless times of passion—in the parlor, in the office, and, most of all, in the bedroom.

  “Yes, darlin’. Can we get married tomorrow?”

  “Whatever—whatever you—so desire...” Hannah felt drugged by need and want and would, at this moment, agree to almost anything. “Gabe.”

  “Yes, darlin’,” he repeated, wishing he could immediately clasp and explore all the places that would soon be his, knowing he dared not. “What is it, my dearest, the love of my life?”

  “Gabe, do you suppose we might have dinner now? I’m awfully hungry, and I think I need some sustenance before we carry on from here.”

  “You know this is the happiest day in my life, right?”

  “It’s the happiest day in my life too. I’ve never felt joy like this.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Epilogue

  NO STORY WOULD BE COMPLETE without taking time to tie up all the loose ends.

  And the Burton gals, all four of them, had, like so many other pioneer
women, quite a story. In their trek to Turnabout, Texas, they brought with them a sense of their great undertaking: clear-eyed courage, and confidence, and determination. The circumstances of their lives needed to be changed, therefore, they would make changes.

  Dr. Gabriel Havers and his pink-cheeked sweetheart, Hannah, were married in the sanctuary of the Church of Placid Waters on February 28th. Even given so little notice, attendees packed the pews full; no one could really tell which individual wore the broadest grin or the brightest beam: the groom, the bride, or the Rev. Martin Beecham. It didn’t matter that the new husband sported a sling for the ceremony, or moved carefully and rather stiffly; he was still able to frankly, lustfully, kiss his new wife, in front of God and everybody.

  For the time being, it was determined (a mutual decision) that Hannah would stay on at the newspaper. She really did enjoy her job; also, so she claimed, Mr. Crane and Corny would miss her terribly if she weren’t there.

  They had barely settled into Gabriel’s home / office—cats and all—when the date for Paul and Molly’s housewarming arrived. Half the town showed up (at least, the respectable half) per invitation, and the remaining half (not so respectable) took turns wandering in and out. By March 18th, the weather was finally corresponding to its calendar, and a sunny week prior to the event had allowed plenty of cleaning and preparation. Windows could be open, and doors left wide.

  Fortunately, not enough insects had spawned yet to demand the same entrance for fun and frolic.

  In the middle of her party, Paul called out for silence so that Molly could make an announcement. In conjunction with the Rev. Beecham, Molly said, pulling him forward to share the credit, she was forming a charitable organization called “The Least of These,” which would serve to give aid to children, whether orphaned or not, for clothing, food, shelter, and education.

  She had kept remarkably quiet about these plans, this Burton gal who gave the impression of wanting nothing but pleasure and amusement for the rest of her married life. Her sisters were not surprised, only calmly accepting. Molly had always found a new cause to take up; this one was her idea, entirely, and it was to be hoped that a goodly number of her guests would join in as members.

  It was a shining moment for Molly Winslow, who had drawn upon her own background to understand the needs of this particular situation, and she was proud that so many residents volunteered to get this not-for-profit off the ground.

  The recovered doctor himself had, amazingly, surreptitiously offered a sizable donation for this worthy cause.

  At 7:00 a.m., on Palm Sunday, April 2nd, an eight pound baby named Cole Benjamin Forrester made his appearance after twenty-three hours of labor. The last eight were such an ordeal for the agonized mother that, toward the end, when her husband was allowing his hand to be nearly broken in half by her grip, she had screamed at him to go away.

  “Far away, and don’t ever return, because I never want to see your horrible ghastly face—or any other piece of you—again!”

  Of course, as soon as everything was finished and cleaned up, and she was rested and comfortable once more, and her blanketed son had been placed in her arms, she changed her mind. Gabe had had to reassure the crestfallen new father that such a reaction was not uncommon.

  “Don’t worry your head about it, my friend. She had a tough delivery, it’s true, but everything is normal and in its place. I have no doubt that, in another year or so, I’ll be back here, doin’ the same thing, with Cam doin’ the same thing, and we’ll listen to her shriekin’ again that she’s gonna chop off your male parts.”

  Such was life.

  Over the past few months, Letitia had cut her teeth on a number of more complicated medical cases, one being that of her grateful employer. Her medical studies would continue, and she would work with Gabe as needed. Reese was perfectly content with this arrangement. He was busy enough himself at the Mercantile, since Jimmy Dunlap had happily transferred to the newer store in Manifest, and Reese was now assistant manager.

  It must be reported that, with a great deal of nudging from Ben Forrester, as mayor, and another great deal of arm-twisting by Linus Drinkwater, as one of the town’s most influential citizens, Abigail Fitzsimmons did assume the vacant seat on Turnabout’s town council. Plenty of naysayers (mostly narrow-minded males) made their opinions known, loudly and vociferously, but somehow the votes came in her way.

  The celebrations for this first in the history of the little metropolis began at The Rouge (most cultured), continued at The Ruby Slipper (middle-of-the-road acceptable), and went on from there to The Calico Belle (least respectable). Linus, so proud of the lady in his life to pop every button, funded the first two of these affairs. He didn’t really want his name associated with the third.

  It was sometime toward the end of April, when Hannah was deciding whether she wanted to be involved full- or part-time in her horticultural business, that she discovered her husband was quite well-to-do. No, not just well-to-do. Wealthy enough to buy this town, and several others just like it. Insanely, obscenely rich.

  “Don’t yawp, darlin’,” Gabe advised her, upon this startling announcement. “You look like a freshwater bass, about to snap up some bait.”

  “Lovely comparison. I do believe the bloom is off the honeymoon.”

  With his bullet wound completely healed by now, he had done significant credit to his staying powers in the marital bed. Immediately he had swooped down upon her to prove himself once more. “Don’tcha believe it, Hannah, love,” he told her huskily. “That ain’t never gonna happen.”

  Gabriel had, apparently, inherited a substantial estate, built on cotton and bourbon, from his maternal grandfather; and another, smaller, amount when his father had passed on, shortly before the War’s end. The knowledge that a fat bank account provided solid foundation for whatever the newlyweds did, or wanted to do, was immensely reassuring to Hannah, who still occasionally felt a shiver when the memory of her last few years of privations returned to strike her.

  The money didn’t change their lifestyle, however. It was merely a safeguard. It could buy nice things, if necessary; or ease the way for someone similarly afflicted.

  But Hannah’s first order of business was a personal one.

  She hired a carpenter (named Noah Carpenter, new in town), who needed employment to support his wife and three children. She gave him specifications and directions.

  And he promptly began assembling planks of oak wood, to be planed and sanded and put together in beautiful oiled and varnished splendor.

  Within weeks a brand-new spiffy hand-made bench had been installed at the curb of every block in town.

  These Burton gals.

  The End