Jillian Hart

Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides


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feel of him, small and vulnerable, filled Cole’s heart. Just filled it.

      Good to know at least there was room for dreams to come true, even at this time in a man’s life.

      “C’mon,” he said to the child, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you out of this cold. Look, it’s starting to snow.”

      “It’s real snowy here.” George let go of his mother, gazing up at her as if to ask permission.

      “Stay where I can see you.” She nodded. “Don’t run ahead.”

      “I won’t,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’ll stay right beside my new pa.”

      * * *

      George placed his hand in the man’s much larger, stronger one. Seeing those capable fingers enclose around her son’s gave her the courage to let him trail ahead of her. It wasn’t easy letting go, trusting a man she didn’t know well with her son’s heart. But Cole seemed to take the responsibility seriously as he led the boy across the platform.

      “You have to see the place we fixed up for you.” Amelia surged ahead, holding on tight. “There are rooms Pa rents above the store, but he kept one for you and George. Temporarily, until you get married. It’s got everything you’ll need in it. Me and Eberta, she works for Pa in the store, we got the prettiest things we could find.”

      “That sounds wonderful. I can’t tell you what that means.” She tapped down the stairs, checking on George’s progress. Already he was tripping along the boardwalk alongside Cole while tiny airy snowflakes danced in the air around him. She turned back to the girl, her soon-to-be daughter, and drank in all her wonderfulness. Strawberry-blond hair, enthusiastic blue eyes, a faint trace of freckles across her nose. Her zest for life was refreshing. “I’m so happy to be here with you, Amelia.”

      “I know! That’s just how I feel, too.” The girl’s grip tightened, as if she never intended to let go.

      Affection welled up, unexpected and instant. Just like that, she felt a mother’s bond to this child. As if God had meant for them to be together, as if He’d sat in His kingdom knitting their kindred hearts together. Gratitude filled her as she headed down the boardwalk, making her eyes blur.

      “That’s the post office right there.” Amelia pointed across the tidy street. Snow was shoveled into piles against the base of the boardwalk, keeping the way clear for shoppers. A horse and wagon rolled by with a rattle. “There’s the milliner’s shop.”

      Mercy blinked against the grateful tears, bringing the town into focus. Colorful awnings protected the boardwalk from the snow, cheerful front display windows advertised presents and Christmas decorations adorned front doors and hitching posts. Garlands and wreaths and Christmas trees lit by tiny little candles.

      The snow fell harder now, driven by a brisk wind. It clouded her view of George ahead, casting him in silhouette. Little boy, hand in hand with a big man. His new pa. Gratitude rushed up so strongly, her eyes blurred again.

      Be everything you promised to my son, she asked, watching the faint, impressive line of Cole’s broad shoulders. Please.

      “There’s Grummel’s Barber Shop.” Amelia danced ahead, pointing across the street. “Right next to Lawson’s Mercantile. We get our groceries there. Oh, and this is our store.”

      “Matheson’s Dry Goods.” Mercy tilted her head back to read the sign swinging in the wind. Icy flecks of snow tapped her face as she squinted at the long bank of front windows belonging to the shop.

      My, she’d never expected a man who advertised for a mail-order wife to be prosperous. Her jaw dropped at the size of the building, at the tasteful displays of fine products behind the glass and the expansive, impressive oak counter spanning two sides inside the store. A merry bell jangled as Cole opened the door.

      “Eberta and I decorated the windows. Didn’t we do a good job?” Amelia tugged her across the threshold, through the door Cole held for them.

      “Yes, it’s lovely. I love the way you decorated the Christmas tree.” She breezed past him, aware of him watching her carefully, aware of a sort of sparkle in her heart as their sleeves brushed. Just for a moment, just for an instant, and it was gone. She stumbled after Amelia, breathless, not sure at all what had happened.

      “You must be Mercy.” A kindly plump woman circled around the counter, her salt-and-pepper hair tied sternly back into a strict, no-nonsense bun. She wore a brown dress with no adornment, but a friendly smile chased away any impression of sternness. “I can’t tell you how good it is to meet you. This has been a long time coming in my opinion. If there’s anything this one needs, it’s a mother’s guiding hand.”

      “I’m not sure how guiding I’ll be, but I’ll do my best.” Mercy took the woman’s offered hand, squeezing it warmly. When she looked into those dark eyes, she saw a friend. “You must be Eberta.”

      “Yes, and no matter what that man tells you, I am more than capable of running this store without him.” The elder woman arranged her pleasant face into a schoolmarm’s glare. “Yes, very capable indeed. Cole, what are you doing back so soon? I thought you were taking the rest of the day off.”

      “There’s thirty or so more minutes left of the business day.” Cole closed the door with a jangle of the overhead bell, swiping snow off his hat. “It is the busy season.”

      His casual shrug belied his true feelings, or so Mercy suspected. She untied her hat, snow sifting to the floor, watching the man. Here, in the lamplight, she could see things she hadn’t been able to spot in the shadowy gloam outside. The deep lines radiating from his eyes, the sadness in them, the air about him as if he’d given up on hope entirely.

      She recalled what he’d written in his letters. He’d told her his heart had been broken long ago. He had only pieces of it left to give, but he would give what he had to George.

      She’d taken that to mean there were no pieces left over for her. And that was fine. George was what mattered here. She wasn’t exactly sure why that made her sad.

      “That man, it’s all about work with him.” Eberta waved her hand, dismissing him, in the way of a good friend. Caring warmed her voice, softened the scowl she sent him. “We’ll see if you can change that, Mercy. In my opinion, it would be an improvement.”

      “So you’re telling me this man needs to change for the better?” She couldn’t help teasing, keeping her tone gentle and soft, so that perhaps he would understand. “I suppose that’s true of every man, but I’ve vowed to accept Cole as he is.”

      “Bad decision,” Eberta quipped, bustling back behind the counter when a customer approached. “Don’t you think, Mrs. Frost?”

      “Absolutely.” A lovely blonde lady nodded emphatically as she set her purchases on the counter. “Goodness, my Sam was a disaster when I first met him. He took a lot of training up.”

      “Funny.” Cole’s face heated, turning bright red. “I seem to remember Sam was just fine to begin with.”

      “A man would say that,” Mrs. Frost teased as she pulled several dollar bills from her reticule. She rolled her eyes, good-naturedly. “If only they could see themselves from a woman’s perspective. Mercy, is it? I’m Molly. So glad to meet you. Something tells me you are exactly what a certain someone needs.”

      “Hey, you can say my name,” Amelia spoke up sweetly. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings. I know I’m incorrigible. Pa tells me all the time.”

      “Incorrigible?” Mercy noticed the way Cole winced, and also the fond look the customer, Mrs. Frost, sent the girl. She liked the sense of community here. She liked the friendliness these people had for one another. It chased away more of her anxieties. Whatever was ahead, Cole was clearly a man others thought well of. She winked at Amelia. “No one mentioned incorrigible in their letters.”

      “I did warn you there would be surprises.” Cole looked terribly