The Sweetest Mail Order Bride (Sweet Creek Brides Book 1) (3 page)

So he took them straight home.

“I’m sorry.” The shopkeeper behind the counter shook his head stoically. “We aren’t hiring just now. Maybe you want to try next door.”

“I will. Thank you.” Hiding her disappointment, Clementine made her way around the pickle barrel to the mercantile’s front door. She felt the curious eyes of the women shoppers standing in line, perhaps wondering who she was. She kept her head down and stepped outside.

We had to save Mrs. Clementine.
Little Hope’s words came back to her as she stepped out onto the boardwalk, making her smile. That was just the sweetest thing, wasn’t it? It was hard not to adore those girls.

Setting her chin, she made her way to the tailor shop next door. A stern, exacting looking man in a perfectly fitted black suit looked up from his sewing behind a wooden counter.

“Are you by chance hiring?” she asked.

“What skills do you have?” The rather dead-looking man pressed his lips together until they disappeared.

Clementine wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen anyone that pale before. “Well, I know how to keep books. My father was a tanner and I helped him with the accounts.”

“I’m not interested. I keep my own books.”

“I see. Well, I am a fine seamstress. I used to work as one.”

“Did you make your dress?” He eyed the outfit she wore. Nothing fancy—she could see by his expression that he thought so too.

“I did.” She wished her best calico dress she’d put on to meet Caleb and the girls didn’t have a patch on the skirt. “I do excellent needlework, I can baste faster than anyone and make perfect buttonholes.”

“I could use someone doing piecework for me, but I am not looking to hire a woman.” The way he looked down his skinny, pale nose at her, it was clear he meant she did not meet his rather high fashion standards.

Let down, she nodded cordially. “Thank you for your time.”

Well, that was another no. She’d just keep going until she found a yes. She stepped out onto the boardwalk and breathed in the warm summer air.

“Hello, there.” A woman somewhere in her twenties, near to Clementine’s own age, came to a stop in the walkway. “Am I wrong, or did I see you walking with Dr. Blake earlier?”

“He was only showing me to the boardinghouse,” Clementine hedged, knowing how fast rumors could spread in a small town. “I had just gotten off the train.”

“So there’s nothing sparking between you and our handsome doctor?”

“Certainly not. I don’t know the man.” That was the honest truth.

“Well, I’m terribly relieved. I heard rumors he may be writing away for a bride—my father is the postmaster—so of course I wondered. Since he’s quite handsome.”

Clearly this woman held a candle for the twins’ father. “I doubt I’ll see him again. I can’t say there would be any reason to.”

“So good to know. I’m Philomena, by the way. Pickings can be slim in a small town, and you can’t blame me for keeping an eye on the eligible bachelors.”

“Of course not. Have a good afternoon, Philomena.” She nodded politely and headed toward the next shop.

“You don’t want to go in there.” Philomena called out a warning. “Mrs. Kravitz owns the millinery. She’s an odious woman. Worse than the tanner.”

“Truly? That would be hard to top.”

“But Mrs. Kravitz achieves it, believe me. If it’s a hat you’re interested in, I can recommend the dress shop across the way. Here, let me take you and introduce you.”

“That’s kind of you.” It really was. “But I’m not looking for a hat. I need a job.”

“A job. That’s harder to find than a hat.” Philomena bit her bottom lip, thinking. “I wish I knew if someone was hiring. You should check the newspaper office. They might know.”

“That’s a great suggestion. Thank you.”

“Then come with me.” Her new friend gestured and took a few steps down the boardwalk, only to come up short in front of a grandfatherly looking farmer dressed in blue overalls and a red checked shirt.

“Howdy there, Miss Philomena.” He lifted his straw hat up in a friendly manner. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve come to fetch this lovely lady.”

“Well, I can see the rumors might be true after all.” Philomena winked, squeezed Clementine’s hand warmly. “Don’t worry, you and I are bound to meet again. We available woman have to stick together. If you need anything, just tell Aunt Effie—or Mrs. O’Hurley to you. Bye!”

“Goodbye, and nice to meet you.” She waved, her pulse skipping a beat because she suspected she knew who the older farmer was. “Mr. Blake, Caleb’s father.”

“Guilty as charged. I meant to meet you at the train with the girls, but my horse threw a shoe. Just plain bad timing. And call me Jeb.” He hooked his thumbs around his overall straps. “I hope you can forgive me for not seeing you to the boardinghouse myself.”

“That’s entirely understandable. Horses throw shoes often enough.” She couldn’t help liking the slightly pudgy, round faced, white-bearded man. He seemed to be what anyone would want in a father—relaxed, warm, and trustworthy. Just like “Caleb” had been in all those letters. She arched an eyebrow at him. “But I have one tiny issue with you.”

“Just one?” He grinned at that, breathing unusually hard for the leisurely walk. “And just tiny?”

“I’m being sarcastic here.” She laughed, she couldn’t help it. “Maybe the joke is on me. I wanted a fresh start so badly.”

“There’s been no joke.” Jeb’s assurance was kind. He stopped in front of one of the shops and held open the door. “You were in a bad situation. I wanted to make it better. And may I say, I’m entirely glad I did. You’re as sweet as you seemed in your letters.”

“Sweet?” She shook her head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s been a long time since someone’s cared about you.” His gentle words hit her heart.

She blinked against the tears suddenly stinging her eyes. She stared down at the worn toes of her shoes. One needed patching again.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking the girls and I don’t care, because we do. Now move along, I can’t stand here all day holding the door open. I’ve got things to do.”

Her vision had cleared so she stepped inside the storefront, realizing instantly that it was a diner. The lunch crowd had thinned out, the tables were mostly empty save for a few stragglers who chatted over delicious looking meals.

“It’s not fancy, but the food’s good. Hey, Millie!” He waved to a frazzled looking woman clearing tables. “We’ll take two specials.”

“Coming right up, Jeb!” Millie disappeared into the back with a basin of dirty dishes, leaving Clementine with a sinking feeling.

She had ninety-seven cents left from her traveling money, funds she’d carefully budgeted for her meals on the train so she could buy the twins a piece of pie at the—well, at this diner, she realized, spotting the display of tasty looking pies. “Caleb” had written of this place.

“Come sit down by the window so we can get to know each other.” Jeb seemed to think there was nothing wrong—not one thing—namely the fact that his son didn’t know anything about her.

“I don’t think I should, Jeb.” She said the words kindly, because it was easy to see what had driven the man to fake being his son in those letters. Sorrow clung to the older man’s face. Sadness was etched into the lines and wrinkles. “Your son doesn’t want to marry me. You had to know he wouldn’t.”

“That’s why I had to meet you at the train, now this is all wrong. Let me make it right.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Hear me out so you’ll understand.”

“I already do.” She wanted to leave, but clearly they did need to talk. Putting aside her fears and worry about what she was going to do now that she was here, she sat in the chair he offered. “I’ll stay on one condition. You cancel that lunch order, for me anyway.”

“Sorry, not gonna happen.” Jeb circled the table to sit across from her. Sympathy shone in his eyes, as blue as Caleb’s. “I know what you’ve been through, missy. I read in your letters how hard you’ve been struggling since your husband’s death. I read every word of those letters you sent.”

Her chin went down, unprepared for the weight of the past. Its bleakness hit her like an avalanche, threatening to bury her. She struggled against it. “You love your son. That’s why you did this. You want him to be happy.”

“That’s right. Guess I didn’t need to explain anything after all.” Jeb’s grin chased the sorrow from his face, but not from his eyes. “This family had a hard row to hoe after the diphtheria came. It stole my wife from me and took my oldest son Daniel’s fiancée. We almost lost Caleb and the girls too.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She stared down at her reticule she was wringing with both hands and set it down on the empty chair next to her. Illness and death. Small pox had taken her husband and year-old son years ago. The grief rose up. It wasn’t easy to push it back down. “You didn’t write about that in your letters posing as Caleb.”

“You had to remind me of my transgression, didn’t you?” Jeb leaned back as Millie approached with two large plates and set them on the table.

Clementine stared at all that food—food she could not pay for. Surely this cost more than the coins she had.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Millie set a pot of coffee on the table before padding off.

Clementine’s stomach growled, and she blushed.

“This is my treat, dear.” Jeb grabbed the roast beef sandwich, took a big bite and chewed. “Hmm. Good. Now, we need to work together to form a plan to make Caleb fall in love with you.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.” She gave a small laugh. “I should be furious with you. In fact, I think I am.”

“But a kind woman like you, she puts others first. Don’t think I couldn’t read between the lines in those letters you sent. You care about us now, what happens to the twins especially.” Jeb wiped his mouth with his napkin and took another bite.

“So you manipulated me by having me fall in love with the girls because you knew how much I wanted to be a mother again.” Yes, she should be mad at him. She should hit him upside the head with her sandwich. “But I know what grief feels like. I can’t truly fault you. Maybe because I’m grieving too. This was supposed to be my new chance for a family.”

“It will be.” Jeb set down his sandwich to upend the two cups on the table and filled them with coffee. “I’m doing this for you too, Clementine.”

That hurt. Her eyes burned.

“You’ve been alone for so long. You’ve gone too long without someone to watch out for you. A pretty lady like you deserves to be cared about.” His eyes turned sad. “If my Velma were alive today she would have said to help you. I brought you out here, and I’m responsible for you. I’ll treat you like my own daughter, and that’s why you won’t be going around to any more stores looking for work.”

“I need a job if I want to have a roof over my head. It’s just a fact of life.”

“You have me now. I’ll take care of you.”

Wasn’t that sweet? She accepted a cup of coffee and reached for the sugar bowl. “I didn’t come here to let someone else support me. Not even you, Jeb. I earn my way.”

“Don’t argue with me, missy. And don’t make the mistake of thinking I fibbed in those letters I wrote you. The more I got to know you, the more I came to care about you. You’re going to be my daughter by marriage, and my heart is sweet on you. Look at you with those blond curls and that sweetheart face. You’re just the daughter Velma and I always wanted to have.”

“Now you’re killing me.” His words meant so much, tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them back but they came anyway, overflowing. She dabbed at them with her napkin, feeling foolish for craving so hard the kind of family ties he offered her.

But this wasn’t a fairytale. Storybook endings weren’t often possible in this life. She had to be practical.

“Are you okay there?” Millie came over with an extra folded napkin.

“I’m fine.” It was just being caught between the wishing and the disappointment, in the lost dream. She took a moment to dry the last pesky tear. There was nothing left to do but to make the best of it.

She gave Millie a watery smile and took a sip of her coffee, determined to change the conversation. She would ask Jed about his life with Velma. True love always made a wonderful story.

Hours later, Clementine stood in the lobby of Mrs. O’Hurley’s boardinghouse. The clatter of pots and pans echoed through the main floor from the kitchen, where supper was being made. Tasty aromas scented the air as she spotted the town’s weekly newspaper neatly folded on an end table by the front window.

Excellent. She’d take a look and see if there were any job openings listed. Going from one shop to the next hadn’t exactly been encouraging. She fought a sense of defeat as she grabbed the newsprint and eased into one of the overstuffed chairs. Did she write to the only other man who’d answered her advertisement and see if he was still interested in her?

Her chest tightened. She bowed her head, skipping over the news. She turned the pages until she spotted the classifieds.

Suddenly the front door swung open with a bang. The Blake twins bounded into the lobby with bouncing brown braids and swirling red calico skirts. Gracie skidded to a stop in front of her. The area rug caught beneath her shoe and she tripped.

Goodness!
Clementine dropped the paper, reaching out to try to catch the girl. But Hope leaped to the rescue by grabbing her sister’s arm and saving her.

“Mrs. Clementine!” Gracie recovered and swiped a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Pa figured that we’d find you here.”

“Yeah, cuz you live here now.” Hope hopped to a halt beside her sister. “Well, for now. Cuz pretty soon you’re gonna be our ma.”

“Is that so?” She folded up the paper, charmed. Utterly charmed. It was like seeing double, staring at the cute little girls—little girls she’d come here to love. Her heart stirred. It was impossible to hold back that affection. “I’m pretty sure your pa doesn’t feel that way.”

“Grandpa says he doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

“But we do.”

The twins smiled, flashing their adorable dimples. With their fringe bangs and twins braids, they looked like sweet, innocent dolls.