The Sweetest Mail Order Bride (Sweet Creek Brides Book 1) (9 page)

“Caleb? I thought that was you.” Katherine bustled out of the dry goods store, a package in her arms. “You look like you’ve had a long day.”

“And it isn’t over yet.” He wrapped his fingers around the banister and stepped onto the wooden planks of the walk. “Looks like you’re shopping.”

“Yep. Grabbed me some yarn while it’s on special. Going to knit up some socks for your father. I don’t know what he does to go through socks so fast, but it’s a travesty.

“It’s a good thing he has you, Katherine.”

“Don’t I know it. What would he do without me? Walk around with holes in his socks, that’s what.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “That mail-order bride of yours is staying home with him so I can get some errands done. You know he tends to do bad things like get up and work in the barn if someone doesn’t keep a strict eye on him.”

“I know.” Clementine. Just the thought of her obliterated everything from his brain. She stirred up all types of feelings he didn’t dare try to acknowledge. Because then he would have to admit he wasn’t as in control of his emotions as he claimed.

“You take good care of my father, Katherine. I hope you know how much you mean to all of us.”

“Oh, pshaw, don’t try and get me off the subject with all kinds of flattery.” She hiked up her chin like a general, ready to have her way. “What about your girls?”

“What about them?” He leaned back against the rail. “They’re doing fine with Hattie. Hattie’s wonderful with them.”

“Hattie’s not the problem. She’s wonderful. But children need a mother, especially those two.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why especially my twins?”

“They’re out of control. Don’t think I didn’t hear about the pony on the boardwalk, trying to get inside several businesses. I heard Pumpkin ate Effie’s lamp in the lobby.”

“Not true. Pumpkin didn’t actually get her teeth around it.”

“Believe me when I say that a mother’s influence would change all that. It’s time to be honest here. There isn’t one woman in this town who would be willing to take on those two, but Clementine isn’t afraid. She cares about those girls. That is a rare thing. A wise man wouldn’t be turning his back on her.”

“I’m not turning my back on her. I gave her money.”

“She came here to love you. From where I stand, she’s the only one willing to do it. You should snatch her up and marry her before another man on her list decides to do it instead. And then where will your girls be?”

“But I don’t want to get married.” He’d said it before. Clearly it didn’t hurt to say it again. “Remember the other conversations we’ve had about this?”

“Yes, but that was before Clementine arrived. Now that she’s here, your thoughts aren’t turning to matrimony at all? Even a little bit?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“But she’s really beautiful.”

“Beauty is not the best reason to marry someone.” He’d made that mistake with Lena.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Katherine gave him a sympathetic look. “We’re having fried chicken and baked beans for supper. That’s your favorite.”

“You know how I feel about your fried chicken.” Caleb uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the banister. “Not to mention your molasses baked beans.”

“Then why don’t you and the girls come over? You know your father may not have much time left on this earth.”

“You’re trying to use guilt on me?” He reached over the railing and snagged his medical bag from the seat of the buggy. “Not a bad idea, since it’s working.”

“I’m serious about your father.” She squeezed his arm. “Bring the girls. Spend some time with him.”

Ominous words. Caleb could only nod in agreement as he hauled open the shop’s front door. He’d given that same advice to seriously ill patients more times than he could count.

“Mrs. Clementine!”

Startled, she looked up from her work in Jeb’s kitchen and dropped her spoon. Buttermilk splattered out of the bowl and onto the counter. Gracie and Hope pounded across the wood floor and into sight, adorable in their matching lavender calico dresses and braids. Wait a minute, they looked far too innocent. What were they up to?

“We’re so glad to see you!” Gracie dashed toward her.

“We missed you all day.” Hope ran toward her, too.

Before she knew it, both girls had wrapped themselves around her waist, holding on tight in a sweet, crazy three-way hug. Overcome, she wrapped her arms around them both. There was no possible way she could hold her heart back now. Love for them burned like a star in the sky. So, so bright.

“What are you two doing here?” She brushed Gracie’s bangs out of her eyes, and then Hope’s.

“We’re here for supper!” they chorused.

“I didn’t know you were coming. What a great surprise.” No wonder Katherine asked her to cook for a few extra people. She’d said Jeb’s oldest son would be coming to supper. Funny how she hadn’t said a single word about Caleb’s girls attending. “Does this mean your father is coming, too?”

“He’s in the parlor talking with Grandpa.” Gracie went up on tiptoe to peer at the sugar cookies cooling on the racks. “We’re real hungry.”

“Yeah, real hungry for a cookie.” Hope gripped the counter staring longingly at the baked goods. “It sure would be nice to have one now.”

“Are you kidding? You’ll spoil your supper.” Clementine grabbed a dishcloth and cleaned up the spilled buttermilk. “You two will have to wait until dessert.”

“You made so many cookies.” Gracie smiled hopefully. “That’s more than we can eat—”

“—are some of ‘em for Pumpkin?” Hope finished.

“Yes, I made some for Pumpkin.” Clementine set the cloth aside and picked up her spoon. “And plenty for two girls I know.”

“Good, cuz we love cookies.”

“Especially your cookies.”

“I did say in my letters that I’d bake for you when I came.” She wasn’t one to shirk on a promise. “How did you do in school today?”

“Good.”

“Real good.”

“Any catastrophes that I should know about?” She gave the dough a few more stirs.

“Well—” Hope hedged.

“It depends on what you say is a catastrophe,” Gracie admitted.

Adorable. Clementine did her best not to let them see her smile. “Did you cause trouble in class today?”

“We didn’t mean to.”

“The bee found us.”

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Should I feel sorry for the bee?”

“It buzzed in through the window.” Gracie hung on the edge of the counter, bouncing up and down. “It could have flew over to anyone in the whole school.”

“But it flew over to us.” Hope bounced up and down, too. “It wasn’t our fault.”

“It doesn’t sound like it at all.” Clementine sprinkled flour on the nearby cutting board. “You can’t be responsible for what some bee decides to do.”

“It zipped around my head!”

“Mine too! I was sure it was gonna sting me!”

“So what did you do?” Clementine grabbed the bowl and turned the dough onto the floured board.

“I grabbed my slate and swung as hard as I could.” Gracie stopped bouncing up and down, looking as serious as a judge.

“Boy, did that bee go flying.” Hope shook her head, her braids bobbing. “It hit the stove pipe and bounced right off it like a marble. And then it hit Mavis Pruitt right in the bun.”

“The left one,” Gracie confirmed. “She got stung there and had to go home.”

Right in the middle of laughing, a tingle telegraphed down her spine. Awareness spread across her skin. She knew who had entered the room even before she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes focused on the man standing in the doorway. Caleb.

“Never a dull moment with you too.” He rested one wide shoulder against the doorframe. “I should have known Katherine had a motive in inviting us. What are you doing here, Clementine? You’re cooking for everyone?”

“Well, I offered to relieve Katherine for the night and prepare a meal for your father. But it’s funny how the number of mouths to feed has mysteriously grown.” She gently patted the dough. “I didn’t know it included you.”

“Who else is coming?”

“I thought both of your brothers.” She folded the dough over, patting it again. Little poufs of flour rose up, clouding the air.

“Not my brothers.” He scowled, shaking his head. “What was Katherine thinking? I should warn you ahead of time about Daniel—”

“He’s the oldest?”

“Yes. He’s not the easiest man to get along with. Just prepare yourself for a lot of frowning.”

“I can handle frowning.” She gathered the edge of the dough and squeezed off a small handful. Best to keep her eyes on the biscuit making and off the handsome doctor.

“We call him Uncle Grumpy.” Gracie’s earnestness was charming.

“Cuz he’s grumpy,” Hope explained. “All the time. He growls like a bear—”

“—and then we scream and run—”

“—before he catches us and roasts us over the fire!”

“I didn’t know your uncle was part bear,” Clementine quipped, arranging the dough lumps on the baking sheet. “I’ll be careful around him. I don’t want to wind up being roasted, too.”

“He goes like this!”

“Yeah, like this!” Both girls threw their arms up, hands over their heads, imitating an attacking bear. Gracie’s elbow collided with the baking sheet. Hope’s elbow hit the cutting board and biscuits and dough went flying.

“Girls!” Caleb shouted, launching off the doorway, already knowing he was too late to do anything but watch the baking sheet hit the floor. The cutting board smacked to the ground a few seconds later. Dough tumbled everywhere. Flour rose up in a white chalk cloud.

“Oh no!” Coughing, Gracie waved her hands in front of her face to clear out the cloud.

“The biscuits!” Hope’s voice rose high, full of distress.

Caleb skidded to a halt, hands fisted, jaw tight. His daughters—his adorable twins—stood there in the middle of chaos once again.

As the flour cloud dissipated, their dismayed faces came into view. And so did Clementine’s. Flour dust clung to her gold curls like a skiff of snow. She stared down at the mess at her feet. Would she yell? Would she scold the twins?

Fearing the worst, he watched Clementine draw in a slow breath, as if taking in the scene. She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I see how disasters happen around you two.”

“We’re sorry, Mrs. Clementine.” Gracie’s bottom lip trembled.

“Yeah, real sorry.” Tears pooled in Hope’s eyes.

“It’s just a little dough. Nothing to get upset about.” She cupped the side of Gracie’s face with one hand, and swiped away Hope’s tears with the other, gazing down at the twins with what looked like a mother’s love.

That hit him hard. Caleb cleared his throat, scooped up the baking sheet and cutting board. Flour powdered the air again as he set both on the drain board. “I’m not sure the dough can be saved.”

“There are worse things than ruined biscuit dough.” Humor layered her words. “At least it wasn’t the fried chicken.”

“Or the beans,” Gracie spoke up. “That would be a big mess.”

“Or both.” Hope gave a sniffle. “Are we still gonna get the cookies, Mrs. Clementine?”

“Yes, and why don’t you girls just call me Clementine. No more Mrs.” She moved to the stove, over the lumps of dough on the floor and right by him.

Every cell in his body froze. Somewhere in his dazed mind, he knew he should pick up the dough and clean up the rest of the mess, but he couldn’t seem to move. Mainly because she filled his vision. Clementine. Turning the chicken in the fry pan, talking to the girls. She was pure compassion.

“We’ll help, Pa.” Gracie bobbed to the ground, scooping up one big mound of dough.

“We can make some more.” Hope grabbed up the lumps that were never destined to become baked biscuits. “We’ve helped Hattie before—”

“—so we know how to do it.” Gracie plopped the dough on the counter and smiled sweetly.

Hope deposited her handfuls of dough too, although both little girls were now sticky.

And floury.

“I can’t think of anything more fun than the notion of baking with you two.” Clementine put the lid back on the fry pan. “But supper is practically cooked. We don’t have enough time to whip up more dough, but we have plenty of food anyway.”

“Are you mad at us?” Gracie wiped her sticky hands on the front of her dress, doing her best to use her wide-eyed, innocent look.

Yeah, he knew that look so well.

“Definitely mad. Can’t you tell?” With a wink, Clementine grabbed the potholders. “Now, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Yes!”

“Can you carry the pitcher of milk into the dining room for me?” She gestured to the breakable glass pitcher sitting on the small round table by the back door.

“Yep! I can do it. I won’t spill a single drop!” Eager to help, Gracie dashed across the room, planted her sticky hands on the pitcher and hefted it from the table. A big white splash of milk hit the front of her dress like a wave. “Oops.”

“At least you didn’t get any on the floor.” Clementine opened the oven door and rescued the bean pot. “You all may as well go with her to make sure she gets to the table all right. Hope, grab the butter dish, would you? Thanks.”

Hope rushed to comply, scooped the butter dish off the table and the lid wobbled, but didn’t fall to the floor.

He spied a dishtowel, grabbed it and knelt down to deal with the dough and flour mess on the floor.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Clementine glared down at him. Now that she’d set down the bean pot, metal tongs were in her hand. She waved them at him. “That means you too, Doctor.”

“I should at least help clean this up.”

“Not in my kitchen, you don’t.” She flashed him a smile before whipping off the fry pan lid and removing the chicken piece by piece. “I don’t know what type of ship you’re used to, but I run a tight one. Go spend time with your family. They’re waiting for you.”

He opened his mouth, but heaven help him, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Any word that came to mind was not appropriate. Amazing. Incredible. Perfect. He wanted to stay but he was afraid of what he would feel if he did, so he left the room.

Katherine was sitting at the table like a guest, next to Pa at the head of the table. The girls were running around the dining room, laughing for some reason. Jeremiah stalked in, grinning as if he didn’t have a care in the world, followed by Daniel, who scowled darkly.