Christmas Mail Order Bride - A Historical Mail Order Bride Novel (Western Mail Order Brides: Book 1) (19 page)

“What are these?” she asked.

“Oh, those!”
Matilda examined the articles appreciatively. “I was wondering what happened to those! Those are our stockings! This is George’s, this is mine, and that one is Anders’s.”

“But they’re beautiful!” Penelope cried. “I don’t think I’ve seen needlework this fine before. It looks European.”

“Do you like them?” Matilda smiled. “I made them.”

“What?!”
Penelope gasped. “You can’t have! They look like they were made by a machine! The stitches are so fine, and so even! It doesn’t look like the work of human hands!”

“Yes, I made them,” Matilda asserted. “I made my own when I was betrothed, and I made George’s after I married him. I made Anders’s stocking when I was expecting him.”

“It’s too bad we won’t be able to use them,” Penelope observed. “I so wished to give you all Christmas gifts, and now it’s too late. All the shops in town will be closed by now. I will regret that, even if we enjoy everything else.”

“We can still hang them up, and we can still use them,” Matilda declared. “You can use Anders’s, and Caleb can use George’s. It’s only fitting, since you are both the next of kin to both of them. It makes perfect sense! We’ll hang them here, by the parlor fire, in a proper row, just like a real family. There,” she pinned the t
hree stockings in place. “That looks marvelous, doesn’t it? We’ll have to find something else to use for Janet. I hope she won’t be offended if we have to use an old sock!” Matilda indulged in another carol of laughter that rang through the creaky old house like the song of a dozen birds. Penelope found herself choked with unshed sobs, but they were sobs of joy and relief, not of grief.

“But what will we stuff them with?” Penelope complained. “We don’t have any gifts. We don’t even have anything to put under the tree!”

“Of course, we do, dear,” Matilda patted her gently. “We have the gifts of each other. I’ve already given my gift to you, and that was the truth about Caleb. In fact, I think that’s about the best gift I could give to us all. We can all enjoy it together. You must admit, it’s a very fine gift!”

“Oh, it’s the best gift I ever received!” Penelope snuffled through her tears. “It’s the best Christmas ever!”

“Quite right!” Matilda clapped her hands. “Now, come on! Let’s go help Janet in the kitchen with the baking. I understand you were quite enjoying yourself with her when Anders came in and spoiled everything. I always loved doing the Christmas baking. The smells are the best smells of the whole year! I almost regretted taking Janet in, because I loved that part of the holiday so much, and after she came to work for us, I just had to sit in the parlor while she got to do everything!”

Penelope found herself infected with Matilda’s laughter, and the two hurried off to the kitchen like children rushing off on an adventure. They spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, helping Janet with the baking and the
preparation of supper. By the time suppertime came around, their dresses and faces and hair were so coated with flour and butter and molasses that they both had to go upstairs to wash and change their clothes. Their faces glowed with a ruddy health and happiness not seen in the West dining room since the earliest days of its occupation. Caleb joined them at the supper table, looking very spruce in one of Anders’s old suits, his dark hair combed back from his angular face and a tie knotted at his shirt collar. Matilda and Penelope regaled Janet with demands to join them also, but she steadfastly refused to leave her place as housekeeper. She did, however, consent to join them in the parlor after supper, where they reminisced about Christmases past and speculated about their future.

Caleb sat next to Penelope on the couch. “This is the first Christmas I’ve spent in a house,” he remarked.

“Me, too,” Janet put in.

“Well, it won’t be the last,” Matilda declared.

“I hope not,” Caleb rejoined. “It’s mighty nice. I’ll admit that.”

“And in the future,” Penelope maintained. “
we’ll give each other gifts. That’s the best part of Christmas.”

“Which part?” Caleb asked.

“Why, watching everyone else open the gifts you’ve given them,” she replied. “Seeing the joy and the love in their faces, and then later, when you see them using and playing with the gifts—it’s like getting a gift yourself. I once knitted my cousin, Bartholomew, a hat. He didn’t seem all that interested at the time, but he wore it every day for the rest of the winter, and every winter after that, until it disintegrated into a woolly fuzz. Every time I saw him wearing it, I had a little thrill of satisfaction, and I knew I had given him something that he really wanted and needed. I got as much enjoyment out of that hat as he did.”

“What’s the best gift you ever received for Christmas?” Matilda asked.

“Why, this one, of course!” Penelope laughed.

“It certainly is a good one,” Caleb acknowledged.

“I feel the same way now,” Matilda put in. “When I see the two of you together, I feel as happy for the two of you as I do for myself. You two belong together, and I’m thrilled that I could bring you together. You both deserve it.”

“It’s a miracle,” Penelope gushed. “It’s like a dream come true!”

Caleb took Penelope by the hand and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. West.”

THE END

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Customer Review.
“ A good story with everything in it, happy sad, romance, everything. Characters were easy to envisage and they kept you rolling along with them sharing their experiences. Recommended. “ K Masters

When Maggie Lucas (mail order bride) leaves Boston for Virginia City, Nevada, she's anticipating a marriage of convenience and life in a new home with a man she's never met. That's more than enough change, in her view. What she doesn't expect, is to find that home threatened as both the market for silver and the Comstock Lode mines themselves dry up and her new husband faces foreclosure. She also doesn't expect to fall in love with the new state, the people in it – and her new husband.

©
2013 by
Kate Whitsby

All Rights Reserved.   No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names,
places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.