Janet Tronstad – Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set: Her Christmas Family / Christmas Stars for Dry Creek / Home for Christmas / Snowflakes for Dry Creek / Christmas Hearts / Mistletoe Kiss in Dry Creek (страница 22)
Maeve followed Violet’s finger. Mercy and her son were knocking on the train window to get their attention. They were on their way farther west to Angel Falls, where Mercy’s future husband waited for them.
“My friend,” Maeve said by way of explanation to Noah as she lifted her arm in a wave. She and Mercy had said their farewells on the train and Maeve hadn’t expected a chance to do so again. They’d promised to write, but she was glad to see her friend’s face.
“We don’t have time,” Noah said impatiently.
“Go-odbye,” Violet stuttered as she whispered and waved shyly.
Maeve stood up straighter. Her daughter’s trouble with speaking, like the nightmares, had started after seeing her father stabbed to death. Her late husband had taken Violet to some waterfront bar, telling her to stay in the corner, and then he’d sat down and proceeded to be inappropriate with a young lady whose irate father had found them and confronted him. The two men had fought, a full brawl breaking out that had involved the other patrons, and it had all ended badly for her husband. Maeve grieved that he had died, but a larger part of her blamed him for making her a widow.
The train had started rolling again, and Maeve gave another wave and smile to Mercy. When her friend was out of sight, she turned back to Noah.
“Ready?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response, but started moving toward the steps that led down from the railroad platform.
Maeve gathered Violet closer and hurried to follow him.
Just then a young woman ran past them and into the arms of a man standing on the far side of the platform. His whoop of joy made it clear he’d been expecting her. He even took the woman in his arms and kissed her.
Violet stopped and stared at them. “Is she a bride, too?”
“I don’t know,” Maeve said, her lips pressed together, wondering how she was going to explain to her daughter that not all marriages were filled with happiness.
She had tried to stop the conductor on the train from talking about how wonderful it was going to be when she and Mercy met their respective husbands-to-be. The conductor had even brought by sprigs of mistletoe for the two mail-order brides. He’d said the mistletoe was for their first kisses on Christmas Day with their new husbands.
Maeve looked at Noah out of the corner of her eyes. He didn’t look as if a green sprig would tempt him to kiss anyone. His face was as foreboding as the storm clouds. He’d stomped down the wooden steps and stood on the snow-covered street, looking toward the west.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
If he was troubled about something, then she didn’t want to approach him about the baby.
“Just that we’re late,” he said as he turned to her. “The clouds coming in look worse. And now the clerk in the mercantile should be coming back from his noon meal and I don’t see him.”
“Oh, well, that’s—” Maeve stopped. He had a frown on his face, but he didn’t appear overly angry. If she didn’t tell him now, when would she?
She took a deep breath and glanced down because she couldn’t bear to watch his eyes as she said what she had to say. “Maybe he has a baby at home and is taking a moment to rock the wee thing. The little ones can be sweet, don’t you think? Makes us all wish we had one.”
She realized she had to see him to judge his reaction so she looked up at him.
“He’s not married,” Noah responded as he stood there, his eyes bland as they watched hers curiously.
“Oh.” She looked at his eyes and waited a moment longer.
His green eyes didn’t darken even with the clouds overhead. He showed no sudden spark of understanding.
Finally, his eyes broke away from hers.
“The clerk’s life is his own that way,” Noah mused idly as he stared down the street again. “No one to answer to.”
He sounded as if he envied the man. Maeve didn’t know what to say to that, but she apparently didn’t need to say anything as her future husband continued on.
“Of course, he’s not responsible for taking care of a bunkhouse of men so he might not understand how important it is for us to get our order in for supplies.”
“Working men need to eat,” Maeve agreed cautiously. Noah had been clear that he wanted a cook for a wife. She kept trying not to let that dismay her. Many marriages started out with less. She wished he had smiled at the thought of babies, though.
Noah gestured across the street to the general store. “We’ll have to hurry. We don’t have time to do much looking around. As it is, I’ll have to ask the boy who works there to bring most of what we order out in his wagon after the storm. And the preacher will be at the church soon.”
With that, Noah turned and held out a hand to help her down the steps. Then he gestured as if to lift Violet down to the street, but Maeve said she’d do it. Once she had her daughter next to her, she pulled the girl close and faced them both in the right direction.
As they walked across the snow-covered street, Maeve convinced herself there was something reassuring about the man. He might not be friendly, but he was clearly used to taking care of others. Besides, his gruffness would likely go away when he got to know her and Violet better.
She hoped she was right as she pushed back her fears.
Maeve felt the wind stop again as Noah stepped up onto a wooden walk that was in front of the mercantile. He stomped the snow off his boots.
Frost outlined the window that looked into the establishment. Various items were right inside on a table. Maeve’s breath caught when she saw a doll in a red dress lying near a flowered teapot.
She had no money for presents, not even for Violet. The girl had wanted a doll like the one in the window ever since she’d been able to crawl. Months ago, Maeve had decided her daughter would finally have her wish this Christmas. Her husband had been making money—he’d told her he’d gotten some work at the waterfront—and Maeve had been putting in extra hours as a scrubwoman.
She almost had enough saved up for a doll when everything turned upside down. She’d been fired from her job because the lady of the house didn’t want “that man’s widow” working for her any longer, even though all Maeve ever did was scrub the floors and do the heavy washing. She was given no references when she was told to leave. She’d finally bought a newspaper and read the awful things people were saying about her late husband. And about her.
People said that she had known about her husband’s scheme to seduce rich young women and then threaten to expose them unless their families offered up a fair amount of money. The reporters even speculated that she had some of that money left and creditors came to her door demanding payment on her late husband’s debts. They showed her papers he had signed for gambling debts and she’d been unable to pay them. She didn’t know what her husband had done with the money he’d forced from the families. Likely, he had gambled it away. The only thing he had ever given her was the odd coin here and there that he added to their savings for the doll.
They’d been destitute when Noah’s letter had come with the train tickets.
“Pretty,” Violet whispered and pointed. The doll had auburn hair and blue eyes like hers. “What’s her name, Mommy?”
The blanket no longer kept the cold away. Maeve shivered, but she noticed Violet didn’t hesitate in her speech at all, not when talking about the doll.
“Hush now,” Maeve said quietly. “The doll doesn’t have a name.”
“Oh.” Violet breathed in dismay. “Doesn’t she have a daddy to love her?”
Maeve almost broke down. As unfaithful as her husband had been, he’d always charmed their daughter. He told her he’d named her for his favorite flower, the most delicate, beautiful blooming plant in the whole world. The truth was, Maeve had discovered at his graveside, Violet had been the name of one of his several lovers. He must have thought it was quite the joke to name their daughter after a woman he had been free with since before he married Maeve.
“The doll doesn’t care about love,” Maeve told the girl, her words more harsh than she intended. Her heart had been broken all over again when her husband’s lover had confronted her that day, demanding to have a token of him for a remembrance, preferably something with a precious stone that she could pawn.
Maeve forced her face to relax and smiled reassuringly at her daughter.
Violet didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything more.
Maeve looked over at Noah, hoping he hadn’t been listening. He was reaching for the doorknob and didn’t seem to have been paying any attention to them. She was relieved.
“Maybe they’ll still have a doll like that next Christmas,” Maeve whispered finally, softening her voice and offering her daughter what hope she could. The girl nodded solemnly and Maeve resolved to put together a sock doll for Violet for Christmas. It wouldn’t be the beauty in the window, but her daughter would have something to hug as she went to sleep at night.
* * *
Noah stomped the snow off his boots as he opened the wide door leading into the mercantile. It was darker than usual inside because of the coming storm, but it was warm. The place smelled of coffee, and he saw a new barrel of pickles sitting on the floor by the counter. Bright bolts of cloth were on a shelf to his right. Cans of peaches and bags of dried beans were to his left.