Cole winced, wondering what refined Mercy Jacobs might be thinking of that. Determined to protect his daughter and to keep her from seeming unladylike, which she was and which he had to believe Mercy could change, he bolted forward.
“Cole.” Mercy faced him, fastening the power of her unguarded gaze on him.
He stumbled. He’d never seen anything as genuine and sincere as the hope and silent plea in those navy blue depths. Feeling inadequate, he extended his hand. “Mrs. Jacobs.”
Maybe it was too formal. She seemed surprised for a moment. She squared her slender shoulders, a little bit guarded, and reserve crept into her gaze. As if he wasn’t meeting expectations.
He winced, as she wouldn’t be the first woman to size him up and react the same. He cleared his throat, attempting to sound hospitable. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“It is.” She looked a little nervous, just as he was, and faced him directly. “I have to say the town is charming, and as for Amelia, well, she’s obviously everything you said she was.”
“Beware, I may have left out a few key pieces of information about my daughter.” He shrugged, feeling more awkward than he could remember being in a long while. “Just thought I should warn you.”
“Pa! I can’t believe you said that.” Amelia whirled to face Mercy. “Really, Pa has this old-fashioned notion that girls can’t do anything that boys can do.”
“I didn’t say that you can’t. Only that you shouldn’t,” he corrected.
“I think this is going to be interesting.” Holding her son’s hand in hers, Mercy smiled. She extended her free arm to his daughter and drew her in against her side, as warmly as her real mother should have done.
Amelia beamed, gazing up at Mercy Jacobs as if she’d hung the moon and all the stars.
This was so much more than he’d ever hoped for. The woman was not only caring, but just as prim and proper as he’d deduced from her letters. Her blond hair was tucked up behind her brown hat, every strand in perfect place. Her brown wool coat, while showing a lot of wear, was in good repair, buttoned to her throat. The toes of her polished albeit patched shoes peeked from beneath her skirt ruffle. But it was her face that told him the most about her, the wholesome goodness shining from her, the cautious set of her mouth, the demure way she lowered her gaze from his. The concern she showed for her son, the caring she extended to Amelia.
A lump rose in his throat, and he was ashamed of giving in to his feelings. It was simply too much to bear. Mercy Jacobs had lived up to her word.
Now it was his turn to live up to his.
“Hello, George.” He knelt down so he was eye to eye with the quiet boy who’d been studying him beneath the brim of his cap. Cole held out one gloved hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since the first time your mother wrote me about you.”
“You have?” The boy gulped, surprise and hope flashing in his eyes. Shy, the boy blushed, searching for words, perhaps not knowing what to say next.
Cole sympathized with the kid. He knew what it was like to be without a father. He knew what it felt like to look at a man and wish more than anything he could be the father you needed. With a grimace, Cole closed the door on his memories, the ones from after his mother’s marriage, of the disillusionment and fear he’d felt at the hands of his stepfather. He choked up, vowing little George would never know such things.
“I’ve wanted a son all this time,” he told the boy. “I work long hours in my store so I don’t have as much time as I want to ride my horses. If I teach you to ride, like I promised, will you help me out by riding them for me?”
“Uh-huh.” George vigorously nodded his head, a world of hope filling him up, showing his dreams.
“Good.” Cole had dreams, too, ones he’d been trying to hold back. He loved his daughter with all he had, but he’d wanted a bigger family. Daughters to protect and care for, sons to teach and share his love of horses and inherit his store. Not knowing how to say these things, he reached out and gripped the boy’s shoulder. The childish 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.