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

Mr. Blake was not derailed easily. He pulled something from his pockets. He held up two sprigs of handsome green leaves bearing small white berries. A tiny bow of thin velvet ribbon added a festive touch. He grinned widely. “Think of this gift as a wish and a prayer for your happy marriages. For your first kisses on Christmas Day with your new husbands.”

“It’s mistletoe!” Maeve exclaimed, surprised.

“Oh, thank you.” Mercy accepted hers, touched by his thoughtfulness. She wished to say more but he’d already touched his hand to his cap and moved on to help an elderly lady with her valise at the end of the car.

“Bless you, Mr. Blake.” Maeve quickly pinned her spray of mistletoe to her collar. “I appreciate the thoughtful wish.”

“And you’ll have mine, too.” Mercy gave Maeve a brief hug. “My prayers for you won’t cease.”

“Nor will mine for you.” With that, Maeve grabbed her young daughter’s hand. Little four-year-old Violet was adorable with her dark auburn hair, cherub’s face and violet-blue eyes. She looked up at her mother expectantly. Maeve appeared grim as she stepped into the aisle. “Be happy, my friend.”

“You, too.” She knew how Maeve felt—hollow, knowing that Mr. Blake’s wishes for them could not come true. A business arrangement did not a real marriage make. She hugged Maeve and said goodbye to Violet, and they were gone, traipsing down the aisle.

Lord, please grant her happiness in her new marriage, Mercy prayed. Somehow.

Her stomach clenched as she settled back into her seat. Soon, it would be her turn to step off the train and meet the man she’d agreed to bind her life to. She smoothed George’s flyaway blond hair with her hand. That cowlick always stuck straight up, regardless of what she did. Love for her boy filled her heart.

He was the reason she’d accepted this mail-order situation. Regardless of the type of man Cole Matheson turned out to be, if he was a good father to her son, she would be content. She would endure any disappointments silently and be grateful for a convenient marriage, one without love.

* * *

“Hurry, Pa! We’ll be late for the train.” Amelia’s voice echoed through the dry-goods store, rising above the rustle and din of Christmas customers filling the aisles. The tap of her impatient gait struck like a hammer in uneven raps through the store as she skirted knots of customers and arrowed straight for him. “You promised, Pa. You said you’d keep an eye on the time.”

“It’s been a busy day.” Cole Matheson looked over the top of his reading spectacles, pausing in tallying up Mrs. Lanna Wolf’s purchases. He frowned at his daughter. “I haven’t heard the train whistle. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s four o’clock.” The thirteen-year-old skidded to a stop in front of the counter, her apple cheeks pink from running, her strawberry-blond hair threatening to escape her braids, strands tumbling loose to curl around her face. She looked as if she’d been playing outside with the boys again, with chunks of snow melting in her hair and her blue flannel dress wet in spots. She gestured toward the clock on the wall. “The train’s late and so are you. C’mon, we’ve got to hurry.”

“I have to finish helping Mrs. Wolf,” he said sternly, for all the good it did. Amelia was used to his ways and wasn’t troubled by them. “Now politely apologize to Mrs. Wolf.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Amelia bobbed in a quick curtsy. “But my new mother is coming on the train today, and Pa isn’t nearly as excited about it as I am.”

“Why, this is wonderful news. I hadn’t heard.” Lanna Wolf smiled gracefully, apparently not troubled by the child’s behavior. “Congratulations to you both. What a happy thing to have happen right before Christmas.”

“It’s my Christmas present,” Amelia was quick to explain. “It’s the only gift I’ve asked for every Christmas for three Christmases in a row, and this year I finally wore Pa down. All I had to do was mention how I needed a ma on account of one day soon I’ll be needing a corset, and that did it. It changed his mind on the spot.”

“I suppose it would.” Lanna laughed, seemingly unaware he’d turned two shades brighter than a beet.

“And she’s really nice. I read every one of her letters and even wrote her two. She answered them both. I think she’ll be a really good ma.” Amelia released a dramatic, satisfied sigh. “It’ll be the best Christmas present ever.”

For his daughter, at least. Cole slipped his glasses higher on his nose and squinted at the column of figures. He doubled-checked his addition and gave Mrs. Wolf her total.

“Just add it to my account, please, Cole.” Lanna settled her warm winter hat on her elaborate knot of hair. “Can you deliver this all by supper time?”

“My delivery boy will do his best.” He scribbled a note to the boy on the slip, letting him know that Mrs. Wolf was a priority customer. “Hard to say with the storm moving in.”

“Yes, it has the feel of a blizzard out there,” Lanna agreed while his daughter bounced up and down in place with her “hurry, Pa” look. “Blessings on your new marriage, and Amelia, I’m so happy you’ll have a new mother. What are the odds, I wonder, that she knows what she’s getting into?”

“I’ll behave, I promise.” Amelia’s sweet, heart-shaped face shone with earnestness. Amelia was a good girl, but she was rambunctious, regardless of how much she tried otherwise. Perhaps a prim and proper mother’s influence would help curb that.

It was his only prayer. Mercy Jacobs came across in her letters as quiet and sensible, and heaven knew that was exactly what his daughter needed. Curbing Amelia’s unladylike behavior was the true reason he’d agreed to marry a complete stranger. Every woman he’d approached in town either laughed at his convenient marriage proposition or gaped at him with horror.

At least he hoped Amelia was the reason those women had looked at him that way.

“I’ll take over, boss.” Middle-aged and efficient Eberta Quinn bustled over in her sensible brown frock. “I’ll finish wrapping Mrs. Wolf’s packages.”

As Lanna hurried off to her next shopping errand, other customers piled in. They all had that hungry look, since Christmas was a handful of days away. Cole frowned, debating. “It’s getting busy. I don’t want to miss an opportunity for a sale. I should stay. Maybe—”

“No,” Eberta scolded him, shaking her head. “I know it’s a good time for business, but if you don’t meet that lady at the train, what will she think? It will make a bad impression.”

“This is a marriage of convenience.” He’d been clear about that in his advertisement and in the many letters he’d exchanged with Mrs. Mercy Jacobs. “She’s hardly expecting a bouquet and courting words. She’d likely appreciate a friendly greeting. Perhaps you could do it.”

“Pa.” Amelia stepped in, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him as if she wasn’t surprised by this at all. “For once, leave the shop to Eberta. This is really important.”

It wasn’t the shop he cared about as much as the fact that he wasn’t so good at relationships. On this side of the counter, he understood his role. He felt comfortable with it. Greeting customers, totaling up purchases, helping people find what they were looking for. This was a transaction he understood.

His true worry that he would disappoint Mercy Jacobs, the woman who’d traveled so far with the heartfelt promise to love his daughter. What if she was secretly hoping for some semblance of a real marriage? What if she’d been wishing for a man capable of loving her?

His heart had been broken so long ago, and he couldn’t even remember when it had been whole.

A whistle sounded in the distance, faint through the walls of the shop.

“It’s coming! We need to hurry.” Amelia’s much smaller hand crept into his. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet my new mother.”

She held on so tight, the way she used to do when she was small.

It was a reminder that she was still a little girl, that while she’d grown tall and slender, she absolutely needed the woman who would be getting off that train.

* * *

“Angel Falls, next stop!” The conductor’s friendly voice boomed through the car.

A frantic flutter of heartbeats tapped against her sternum. Mercy drew in a slow breath, trying to steady her nerves. This was the moment of truth. When she discovered whether everything Cole Matheson had written about his town, his daughter and himself were true. Her palms went clammy as she worried for her son. How would George feel if Mr. Matheson wasn’t the man he claimed to be?

She smoothed down the boy’s flyaway cowlick, willing it to stay down for a good first impression. Just trust in the Lord, she told herself. Trust the feelings and the signs that have brought you here.

“Look, Ma!” George went up on both knees, struggling to get a good view as the train started its slow descent on the town. “There’s horses in that field. Horses.”

“So I see.” She leaned in, love in her heart for her son, daring to hope for him. “Look at them run.”

“They’re racin’ the train. Wow.” George pressed his nose against the glass, hungry to lap up the sight of the majestic creatures in shades of blacks and browns galloping against the snowy-white world. His boyish shoulders lifted up with satisfaction. “What if those are Mr. Matheson’s horses? What if one of ’em will be mine?”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She let her son dream, her sweet good boy, giving thanks for the man who’d promised to give George one of his horses and riding lessons. Everything George had been dreaming. Her throat closed up tight. She needed to believe Cole was a man who kept his promises. Her late husband, Timothy, had meant well, but he hadn’t been so good with that. She hoped history wasn’t about to repeat itself.

A touch on her sleeve caught her attention. The conductor stood there, smiling down at her, his gray hair peeking out from beneath his cap. “I’ll get your satchels for you, ma’am. You have your attention full with your fine son.”

“I’m gonna learn to ride like a real cowboy.” George beamed, his grin ear to ear, his button face flushed pink with pleasure. Why, she’d never seen his navy blue eyes so bright.

She didn’t know what she’d do if Cole Matheson let him down. Tears burned behind her eyes at the thought and she smiled weakly up at the conductor. “Thank you, Mr. Blake.”