Mail Order Mistletoe (Brides of Beckham Book 17) (3 page)

"While you work, tell me what made you decide to be a mail order bride.  That's not something every pretty young lady just gets up and does."

Once Meg started talking, she couldn't seem to stop.  She told about working hard to get her teacher's certificate, and how proud she was.  Then she talked about her first school, there outside Beckham.  "The children were mostly well-behaved, but there were these four children from one family..."  Meg realized she had a captive audience, and she detailed every prank the children had played and every fight they'd fought.  When she got to the part where the oldest of the demon horde had laid the
Grooms' Gazette
on her desk, Gertie gasped.

"I've never heard of such horribly behaved children.  I hope you got your ruler out and took that boy to task!" Gertie said, fire in her eyes.

"I considered it, but he was seventeen.  He was at least six inches taller than me, and he was used to farm chores.  He would have hurt me!" 

Gertie shook her head.  "It's not right that you were expected to deal with children like that on your own.  What did the parents say?"

"I never could get them to come in and talk to me.  I considered going to their house after school, but quite frankly, I was afraid to."  Meg shook her head.  "I never thought I'd admit that I was afraid of my students, but I was.  And I could only imagine the parents being much worse.  I mean, they were the ones allowing them to run wild that way."

"I don't know what you'd have run into there.  So you went to their older sister?"

Meg finished up her story and sighed.  "I haven't even had the courage to tell my parents that I'm off to North Dakota to marry a complete stranger.  I know they wouldn't be pleased with me."

"No, they probably wouldn't.  Why I'd be furious with my daughter for doing the same thing, even though I was a mail order bride myself.  It just doesn't seem like something my daughter should do.  Back then it seemed the ultimate adventure.  I don't know how safe it would be in today's world."  Gertie frowned.  "When you get to North Dakota, and you meet your Lars, you send me a letter straight away so I know you're there and you've arrived safely, and he hasn't hurt you or anything.  I don't want to get home and worry about you nonstop."

"I promise!"

Gertie immediately wrote her address on a piece of paper, giving it to Meg.  "May I help you make something?" she asked, eyeing Meg's project.

Meg shook her head.  "I only brought enough fabric for one apron to work on.  I should have gotten more."

"That's all right.  We can chat while you work."

By the time Gertie got off the train six days later, Meg had not only finished the apron, she had written long newsy letters to her parents about what she'd done and she had written each of her siblings.  She had read two books and spent many hours staring out the window.

As Gertie's stop was called, Meg got to her feet, hugging the older woman tightly.  "I'm so glad I got to know you.  I will write as soon as I know he's not planning on murdering me in my sleep.  I hope you don't mind having a pen friendship with me."

"Mind?  I insist!  You're a special young lady, Meg.  Don't let anyone ever tell you differently." 

Both women had tears in their eyes as they parted ways.  A woman who had watched the two of them for a couple of days from the vantage point of the seat across from Meg, asked, "Was that your grandmother?"

Meg laughed.  "She's my new friend I met just before we got on the train in Massachusetts."

"I could have sworn you were related by how close you were." 

"We were strangers a few days ago."  Meg frowned.  "I feel like she's always been a part of my life now, though."

Chapter Three

Lars sat in his wagon, waiting for the train to arrive.  He was nervous, and he didn't want to be.  There was no reason at all for him to be nervous when he didn't plan to have feelings for the woman.  She would be a partner of sorts, a woman to keep his house, cook, and warm his bed.  Emotions were unnecessary between them.

She'd said her name was Margaret, but he had no idea what she was like other than that.  He hoped she was pleasing to the eye as well as a good cook.  A good cook was more important at that point.  He'd lost a great deal of weight since his wife had died. 

He frowned as he thought of Olga, thrusting her from his mind.  He couldn't think of her when he was about to meet his new wife.  It wasn't right, no matter what the relationship he would have with his new bride.

The train pulled up and he strained, trying to see his new wife.  Only three people got off the train, two women and a man.  The man took the older woman by her elbow and led her off, leaving a young slender woman with long dark hair and dark eyes standing alone on the platform. 

Lars jumped down from the wagon and approached her, watching her closely to see if she seemed to be looking for someone else.  He stopped in front of her, his heart in his throat.  "Margaret?" he asked.

Meg looked up at the man in front of her, liking what she saw.  His hair was a darker blond than she'd expected from a Norwegian man, and his eyes were a slate gray.  "Yes.  You must be Lars."

"Ja.  I'm Lars."  His voice was heavily accented with Norwegian.

"It's nice to meet you, Lars.  My friends call me Meg."

"Meg," he said, trying her name out for himself.  He'd gotten used to thinking of her as Margaret, so Meg seemed awkward.  "Well, Meg, let's drive to SunSet and we'll meet the preacher there."

"How far are we from SunSet?" Meg asked as he took her two carpet bags and carried them toward a wagon. 

"It's about an hour drive, and then we'll drive another two hours to get to my house."

"I see."  She really would be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no one but him for companionship.  She wondered idly if he had a pet she could talk to during the day.  All the way there, she'd been worried about the kind of man Lars was. She got there, and she worried about loneliness.  Would she be able to stand being alone so much?

He put her carpet bags in the back of the old farm wagon, before helping her up onto the seat.  He ran around the wagon and took his spot beside her.  "After I sent the letter, I worried that you would get it too late to be on that train," he said, looking for something to talk with her about.

"I had less than twenty-four hours to get ready, but the timing was really good.  My last day of my job was the day before I left."

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, sitting so primly with her hands folded in her lap.  She'd been on a train for seven days, and she still looked fresh.  How on earth had she managed that?

"Was your journey pleasant?"

"It was good, and I was dreading it.  I met a woman old enough to be my grandmother at the train station in Beckham before I left, and we sat together.  She told me stories, and I told her about my students and about coming out here to marry you.  We're going to be pen friends."

"Do you like writing letters?"

She shrugged.  "I do.  I have several people I'll be corresponding with regularly.  It brings my friends to me from far away."

He considered that for a moment.  "I should probably spend more time writing to my family back in Norway.  They would enjoy hearing from me, but I work long hard hours.  It's hard to have energy at the end of the day."

"Well, some of the things you've been doing for yourself, I'll be able to do instead.  It will be a bit easier, I think."

"Maybe."  He drove on in silence, not really knowing what to say.  He didn't really want to get to know her well.  She was going to be a very small part of his life.

Meg tried to come up with something to say, but nothing came to her mind.  Lars seemed to be a man of few words.  She didn't know if she liked that or not.  Instead of talking, she stared out at the endless prairie.  There were few houses, and none together.  There weren't really very many trees.  It was beautiful, but very different than Massachusetts.  She missed the ocean already.

Finally, after a long period of silence, she saw a few houses clumped together.  "That's SunSet," he said.  Nothing else, just the name of the town as he drove toward it.

Meg wondered if she was crazy to go through with this wedding.  Maybe she should run once they reached town, but he'd spent a lot of money to get her there. And really?  He was a good looking man with impeccable manners.  They didn't have much to say to each other, but they were strangers.  Why would they?

Lars stopped the wagon in front of the small church where he'd attended services a few times with his wife, Olga.  He shook his head, banning her from his mind again.  The preacher, Pastor Green, was expecting them, and they needed to get a move on.

He walked around the wagon and helped her down, feeling how tiny her hand was in his.  She was a tall woman, but he was a very large man.  Taller and broader than most, and even though he'd lost weight, he still weighed at least half again what she did. 

"Pastor Green is expecting us."

Meg took a deep breath, trying to still her nerves.  What was she thinking marrying this stranger?  "All right."  She forced a smile, wishing he were at least a bit more personable.  The few words they'd exchanged told her nothing about him.

He led her into the church, and she saw the preacher standing at the front talking to an empty room.  Practicing his sermon, most likely. 

"Pastor Green, this is my bride, Margaret.  I told you to expect us this afternoon?"

Pastor Green, an older man who had more hair on the sides of his head than on top of it, smiled at Meg.  "Are you ready to be married to this crazy Norwegian?"

Meg smiled.  "I think so."

Pastor Green laughed.  "I wouldn't be sure either if someone wanted me to marry Lars."  He picked up his Bible and faced the two of them.  "Let's get started."

The wedding vows were kept short and sweet, and Meg heard herself answering when she was supposed to, but she had no idea how she managed.  When it was over, the pastor said Lars should kiss his bride.

Lars looked at her skeptically, wondering if she'd run if he brushed his lips across hers.  He leaned down and very gently touched her lips with his, and she stared at him afterward, as if she had no idea what she'd just done. 

He ignored her skittish look for a moment and turned back to the pastor.  "Thank you, Pastor Green.  We appreciate your time."

Taking Meg's hand, he led her across the street.  "I've requested enough supplies for a month be waiting for us at the mercantile but there's a diner here.  It's not much, just three tables, but they serve good food.  If you're hungry, we'll grab some food before we get our supplies and get on our way."

Meg nodded, following him into the building.  They took a table to one side and someone came out to them.  "You want beef stew or fried chicken?" the woman asked.

Meg was surprised by only two choices.  "Beef stew please."  She was hungry and a good stew sounded so much nicer to her than something greasy.  Normally she didn't mind, but after so long on trains when all she had were the sandwiches sold there, she was hungry for some real food.

Lars nodded.  "Make that two please."  After he'd ordered, he looked down at the table where Meg's hands rested.  He should probably hold her hand while they ate, but it would seem forced.  "I'm glad you went through with it."

Meg's gaze met his, hers full of surprise.  "You didn't think I would?"

"I wasn't worried about it until you arrived, but you seemed so nervous."

"I just traveled halfway across the country to marry a stranger.  I'm entitled to be nervous."  Why couldn't he see it was a normal reaction?

"I understand that.  I meant what I said in my letter." He knew his wedding day wasn't the time for this discussion, but he needed her to understand.  "I'm never going to love you."

Meg took a deep breath.  She hadn't expected him to be so blunt.  "I hope you know I'll do everything I can to change your mind about that.  I don't like the idea of a loveless marriage."

"Why did you marry me then?" he asked, confused.

"There was no one else in the paper who appealed to me.  You did.  I figured if I couldn't change your mind, then I deserved a loveless marriage for thinking I should."

"Well, I want to be clear about what I'm looking for from you."  He didn't know how to respond to what she'd said, so he'd just go on with the discussion. "I want someone who will keep my home clean, cook meals, and keep me warm at night."

Meg nodded, having expected that last part.  "You'll give me some time to get to know you first?"  She knew she was asking a lot, but she needed it. When she'd answered his advertisement, she hadn't realized she would, but he intimidated her a great deal.

He frowned.  "I wasn't planning on that.  We're married.  I have rights."  He didn't need just a cook and housekeeper.  He had physical needs, and as his wife, it was her duty to take care of them.

"One week is all I ask.  I want to know you a bit better.  I want to feel comfortable with you before I—let you do that to me."  She fumbled over her words, very embarrassed to be having this conversation with him.

"Let me?  You're my wife. It's your duty."

She took a deep breath.  "I realize that, and I plan to fulfill that duty.  But I'd like a little more time to get used to you before we do that."

"I suppose a week won't hurt me," he said grudgingly.  "But no longer than a week.  And during that week, I plan to kiss you whenever I feel like it."

"I—whenever you feel like it?  What if I'm busy?"

"What could you be doing that was more important than kissing your husband?"

She envisioned removing a roast from the oven and burning them both.  "You won't do it when I'm holding something hot?"

He laughed.  "I won't endanger either of us to kiss you.  I'm not a stupid man."

Their food arrived and was slid in front of them. 

"I don't think you're stupid.  I think you were very smart to warn whoever came here to marry you that you had no intention of ever loving her.  Most women would have been scared away."  All
intelligent
women would have.

"Well, you weren't, and I'm glad.  I need a wife.  I can't spend another winter alone."

"Is that the main reason you wanted a wife?" she asked.  "Companionship?"

He shook his head, not willing to lie to her.  "I want a son.  I want sex.  I want decent meals.  In that order."  He knew his words were blunt, and he watched her to see if she'd run off.  They were married, but an annulment would be easy at that point.

She sighed.  "I see."  Getting this man to fall in love with her would really be a challenge.  It was a good thing she adored challenges.  She took a bite of her stew with a grin.  He wasn't going to know what hit him.

*****

After leaving the diner, they stopped at the mercantile where the owner had a small tower of supplies stacked.  "I didn't get just your usual this month, Lars.  I went with everything a newlywed couple usually needs."

Lars nodded.  "Thanks, George.  I appreciate it."  He looked over at Meg.  "This is my new wife, Margaret.  Meg, this is George."

Meg smiled and nodded.  "It's nice to meet you."

"I look forward to seeing you for the monthly supply orders."

Meg frowned looking out on the prairie.  "What if the snow is too deep to come out?"

"We'll bring the sleigh," Lars said.  "You can stay home if it's too cold for you, but I can't miss my supply runs.  I have George put in extra in case I'm a week late due to weather, but we can't go much longer than that."

Meg wondered what would happen if they were trapped out on the prairie with no food, but she didn't ask.

Lars seemed to read her mind.  "If we were stuck out there, I would hunt for food.  There's always something to shoot, or I would kill one of our milk cows if it got terribly bad, though I'd prefer not to."

"I see.  So there's always a plan if something goes wrong."

"Of course.  I've lived here for eight years now.  I know what I'm doing.  Mostly."

George laughed at that.  "He knows pretty well how to keep alive."

When the wagon was loaded, Lars and Meg left town and headed toward the farm.  "It's about two hours from here.  You can sleep if you need to."

She shook her head.  "That's all I did for the last twenty-four hours on the train after my new friend left."

"What was your friend's name?" he asked.  He wouldn't get to know her any better by asking her about the stranger she'd made friends with on the train.  That would give them something to talk about without bringing them closer together.

Meg told him everything she knew about her new friend, Gertie, as they drove.  "I wish she didn't live so far from here.  She is a kind woman, and I'd love to learn more from her."