if you can pet him. And what his name is.” She shook the robe over her son, tucking him in snugly. Her teeth began chattering, too.
“It’s Frosty,” Amelia volunteered as the sleigh jerked to a start and Frosty was off, bounding on his long legs through the sheltered part of the street, as gleaming white as the snow.
“Wow,” George breathed as the animal gained momentum. “We’re in a real sleigh, Ma. Being pulled by a real horse.”
“Haven’t you been in a sleigh before?” Amelia asked curiously, a few strands of reddish-blond hair escaping her knit cap to curl around her adorable face.
“We owned work horses for the farm long ago,” Mercy said quietly, her chest tightening at the memory. Some of the daylight seemed to drain from the sky, and she lifted her chin, determined not to let the disappointments of the past shadow this new future. “We put runners on the wagon box in the winter. That was before my husband passed on, when George was too little to remember. Those were our last horses.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Amelia seemed flustered, as if that hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting.
Leave the past where it belongs, she reminded herself. “So that’s why this is so exciting for us. To be whisked to church instead of walking through the snow. And we’ve never been in finer company.”
“I can’t wait for everyone to see you.” Amelia bumped Mercy’s elbow gently, a show of connection. “Look, we’re already turning down Second.”
“I can see the steeple!” George called out.
“Will your father be meeting us?” Mercy asked quietly as they drove along, straining to search through the crowd of tethered horses and vehicles along the street in front of the church. It looked as if men gathered there, talking amiably. Although she already knew Cole wasn’t one of them.
“Pa doesn’t go to church anymore.” Amelia shrugged, falling silent, as if there was more to the story.
Sensing sadness there, suspecting it was because of the loss of Amelia’s mother, Mercy gave her a silent nod of understanding. Sometimes a broken heart simply had to find his own way.
“Look at that palomino!” George shouted, his voice high-noted with glee. “It’s the most golden horse I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s the horse I like the most.”
“I can see why.” Mercy straightened George’s cap, which had gone somehow askew, to keep his ears warm. It seemed every handsome horse her boy saw became his new favorite. “Eberta, I’m so glad you’ve come with us.”
“No worries. One thing I don’t miss is Sunday service.” Eberta pulled Frosty to a stop at a vacant spot at the block-long hitching post. “Are all those curious eyes getting to you?”
“Why, are people looking at me?” She pulled her attention away from the men and horses, where Cole Matheson was not, and realized it was true. A circle of ladies, standing off to the side of the walkway, studied her.
Shyness washed over her and she stared at the edge of the buffalo robe feeling terribly alone. She’d been prepared to meet so many new and unfamiliar people, but she hadn’t realized how at ease she’d expected to feel with Cole at her side. Not that she needed a man to lean on, goodness no, but the companionship would have felt nice. Somehow she felt terribly alone.
This was the way a marriage of convenience was, she reminded herself. And, more importantly, it was no different from how her first marriage had turned out, in the end. She pushed back the buffalo robe, folding it up for later use.
“Hi!” Amelia called out to the crowd, standing up to wave. “This is my new mother, Mrs. Mercy Jacobs, but by Christmas she will be Mrs. Matheson. And this is George.”
“Hello.” A friendly woman stepped forward, her blond hair tumbling out from beneath her stylish bonnet. Her smile looked familiar. “We met in the dry-goods store briefly. I’m Molly.”
“Yes, so good to see you again.” Like a sign from heaven, the sun chose that moment to peer between the thick mantle of clouds, smiling down on the wintry world. Mercy felt the brightness and warmth brush her cheek like an angel’s touch, and it was the assurance she needed. Everything was going to be all right. “Are you here with your family?”
“See those twin girls over there?” Molly smiled at Amelia, who was hopping down from the sleigh, and nodded toward the corner of the yard, where a bunch of little girls were lying back down in the snow, making snow angels. Two identical girls with black braids hopped to their feet to admire their work. One wore green, the other blue. Molly sighed happily. “Those two are mine. Nothing but trouble, and I’d say they’re about your little boy’s age.”
“They’ll be in school together, then.” She watched over George while he climbed from the sleigh and into the deep snow. He wasn’t interested in the girls. He had eyes only for the horses. “Are you happy with the teacher here?”
“Why, yes, we’ve been most blessed with Miss Young. She’s a fine teacher,” Molly said, enthused. “I’m sure you’ll love her. My girls do.”
“That’s a relief to know.” Yet another one of her many worries alleviated. Mercy’s smile felt wider, her spirit lighter. She glanced down at her son, who was standing half behind her, and then at Amelia, who reached out to proudly grab her hand. Such a tight grip, such a big need. Mercy prayed she could be everything the girl hoped for in a mother. What if she failed? Her chest ached at the thought; she was already in love with the girl.
“Hello, Eberta.” Another woman came over, waving to the older woman.
“Howdy there, Felicity.” Eberta gave the knotted rein a testing yank and, satisfied, trudged away from the hitching post. “How is that family of yours?”
“Wonderful. Tate’s business is growing by leaps and bounds, and Gertie is keeping me busy.” The cheerful, beautiful woman patted her midsection gently, her condition hid delicately by the drape of her fine wool coat. “Four more months to go until this one arrives.”
“You’ll be even busier then,” Mercy found herself adding, pleased when Felicity shared a smile with her. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. We are so happy.” Felicity glowed with the truth of that statement. Mercy had never seen the like of the genuine joy and love that radiated from her when she glanced toward a dark-haired, impressive-looking man standing with the others, leaning on a cane.
True love. Mercy could feel the power of it like the sun warming the world. Once, she’d hoped for such a thing with Timothy, God rest him. Heaven knew how hard they’d tried. A touch of sadness crept in and she pushed it away. At least with Cole she would have no such disappointments, even if she would not have true love.
Who needed true love, anyway? She took George by the hand, thankful for him and Amelia—for her children. While the women chatted, leading the way down the shoveled pathway toward the open door of the church, the sunshine seemed to follow them, laying a golden path at their feet. Sign enough, she told herself, even if she felt a little lonely for more.
“That’s my best friend and her ma!” Amelia pointed out, gesturing toward a horse and sleigh pulling to a stop in front of the church. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come, Mercy. We’re going to invite all of them to our wedding. And I’m glad you came, too, George.”
“Uh, me, too,” the boy said, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the men and horses. Mercy realized why, now that she took a more careful look. It wasn’t just the horses that had captured his attention, but the men with their sons at their sides. Fathers.
Knowing she wasn’t the only one wishing Cole was here, she gently squeezed George’s hand.
“That’s our house.” Amelia jabbed her arm to the