“Yes, it is.” Mercy glanced behind her to the two children tucked into the backseat, bundled beneath warm furs to keep out the evening’s chill. “How could it be otherwise? Tonight we become a real family.”
“The best Christmas present ever,” Amelia declared.
George wearing his new suit, nodded enthusiastically, too overcome to speak.
Yes, this was the best Christmas present. Joy warmed her up, chasing away the icy winds and the snow drifting down from the heavens. She smiled at the man seated beside her, who took her hand in his.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his tone rumbling with caring, with the kind of regard she’d never dreamed of finding. He chuckled. “We can delay a few more minutes, if you’re feeling nervous.”
“Not nervous. Not at all.” How did she begin to describe the way she felt? The moment when he’d walked through the door yesterday, his shadows gone, his heart whole and healed and shining in his eyes, she’d felt her world shift. Her soul had come alive as if for the first time. They’d decorated the tree together as a family. They’d laughed, they’d joked, they’d been closer than ever. And still were. “I can’t wait to become your wife.”
“I can’t wait, either.” His hand engulfing hers squeezed gently, letting her know he meant every word. His gaze fastened on hers, full of promise of a future made new. She saw the years roll by, laced with their children’s laughter, with love and togetherness. There would be more babies, happy memories to be made and above all, the devotion and tenderness of a man who loved her with all the depths of his heart.
Just the way she loved him.
“You kids go on inside,” Cole said with a wink. “I want to say a few things to your ma before we go in. There won’t be a chance, what with all those people Amelia invited to our wedding.”
“And they’re all waiting for you, Pa,” Amelia reminded him as she tossed off the robe. “C’mon, George. This will be mushy, anyway. We don’t want to hear it. Besides, there are some boys your age in the church, I’m sure. I’ll introduce you. They like to sled, too.”
“Okay!” George said, bouncing into the snow with her. “I’m hopin’ Santa brings me my own sled.”
“I have a good feeling he will,” Amelia answered, heading off in the snow at his side.
“We’ll have to see about that,” Cole said, rolling his eyes, although he knew Mercy had already chosen a sled from the store for George. It seemed he was going to have to learn to live with the sledding.
But as he gazed upon his remarkable wife-to-be, he didn’t mind. All he could ever want was right here. He folded back the robe and helped her down from the seat. The children ran ahead, leaving them behind in the darkness and snow. It drifted down like grace, like hope, and he could feel the change in his heart, the awareness of the grace he’d been too broken to feel. It was everywhere around him, sweet and saving and renewing. He was thankful it had renewed his heart. So very thankful.
Mercy had done that, too. He turned toward her, the calm places in his soul filling. She looked beautiful tonight, as a bride should, in a fancy green hat, bundled up warmly in her new gray coat and matching scarf and mittens. She took his breath away. She was his heart.
“What did you need to say to me?” she asked as he shook out Frosty’s blanket and covered him with it. Not one to be idle, she tethered the gelding to the hitching post, granting him several nose pats in the process.
“Oh, the usual thing a man says to the woman he’s about to marry.” He shrugged, bending to secure the buckle beneath Frosty’s belly. “This is a big step we’re about to take.”
“Yes, I’ve been certain about you from your first letter. I saw how much you loved your daughter, how glad you were I had a son.” She looked vulnerable with the snow tumbling all around her, airy and sweet, like little pieces of heaven. “But I never dreamed it would be as good as this.”
“Me, either.” Done with his task, he patted Frosty’s shoulder and turned toward his bride. Emotions—hope, faith, joy—filled him, but one outshone all the others for it was the most important of all. He drew her close, brushed snowflakes out of the wisps of gold framing her dear face. That emotion rushed through him without end, without limits. “I love you, Mercy.”
“I love you.” She gazed up at him, affection deepening her blue eyes, unmistakable and true. “I will always love you.”
“Not more than I will always love you.” He offered her his arm. “Let me escort you to the church. If you’re ready to marry me, that is.”
“I’d run if the walkway wasn’t so icy.” She looped her arm in his and they took off together, marching toward the light and merriment, to friends gathered to celebrate their marriage. Their real marriage. Not one of convenience. Not one of duty.
But of love. That was the best gift of all. Bliss filled her as she climbed up the steps and into the shelter of the church’s foyer, with Cole at her side. How wonderful he was, holding the door for her, helping her with her coat, hanging it up for her, gazing at her as if she was his greatest blessing.
No, bliss was too small of a word for what she felt, and for what waited her as his wife.
“What’s that?” Cole asked, gesturing toward the sprig of mistletoe pinned to her dress collar, tied with a thin red ribbon. “It looks like mistletoe.”
“Yes, it is.” She thought of the train conductor, Mr. Blake, and his kind wishes. Wherever he was, she wished him well. And as for the dear friend she’d made on the journey to Montana Territory, she prayed Maeve had found the same kind of unexpected happiness, that God was writing a happy ending for her and her daughter, too.
“Well, if that’s mistletoe, you know what we have to do next.” Mischief flashed in Cole’s blue eyes as he gathered her in his arms. Just the two of them, alone in the vestibule, haloed by lamplight and serenaded by the happy sound of festive conversations ringing in from the sanctuary. He leaned in, his gaze sliding to her mouth. “We have to kiss. It’s a rule.”
“Not more of your rules,” she laughed, already going up on tiptoe.
“From now on,” he said, gazing down at her with love. “I have only one rule. I intend to make you the happiest woman ever.”
“Too late. I already am.” She rested her hand on his chest, felt the thud of his heartbeat, slow and sure. “Merry Christmas, Cole.”
“Merry Christmas, my love.” He cradled her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her.
Her pulse went still as their lips met. His kiss was pure sweetness, the kind of fairy-tale kiss that promised happily-ever-afters and love everlasting. When it ended, she had tears in her eyes and forever in her heart.
* * * * *
Welcome back to my third novella with fellow author and good friend, Janet Tronstad. We had such a great time writing our previous mail-order-bride stories, how could we not do it one more time? We met in Missoula, Montana, on a sunny September day to discuss, brainstorm and create the ideas for our stories. What a fun time we had! Once again, our heroines meet on the westbound train and become friends while riding the rails, wondering how their lives will turn out as mail-order brides. My heroine, Mercy, has decided to accept a convenient marriage, one without the chance of love because of her young son, George. He wants a father so badly and Cole Matheson, her husband-to-be, is very much looking forward to having a son. The problem? Cole has no heart to give her, for his has been shattered by