The Sweetest Mail Order Bride (Sweet Creek Brides Book 1) Page 2

  “I see that now.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She wasn’t sure how successful she was.

  “How far did you come?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his billfold.

  Money. It was a sensitive subject. Especially after all she’d been through. How could she accept cash from him now that she knew the truth?

  “It’s my problem, not yours,” she assured him. She had gotten used to handling problems on her own. “I’m the one who took the risk in coming. You are not responsible for this.”

  “But my daughters are.”

  “They only wanted a mother. There’s no faulting them for that.” She held up her hands, refusing the wad of greenbacks he held out to her. It wouldn’t be right. She rescued her valise from the boardwalk. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Blake.”

  “You can’t walk away from me like this.” He straightened his broad shoulders. “Not without accepting something for your trouble. The journey here had to be costly.”

  The wind ruffled his dark hair, scattering it beneath the brim of his hat. A spark of awareness snapped within her—as sweet as comfort, as friendship. But it was best not to open that door to her heart. “I would appreciate advice on a reputable place to stay in town. Ideally, a place that might be hiring?”

  Had he heard the waver in her words? His gaze swept hers with startling intimacy, as if he was looking deeper into her than she wanted him to go. There was a lot of disappointment she tried to hide from him. Not to mention her broken heart, in need of healing. She hoped he could not see that.

  “Come with me.” He jammed the money into his pocket. “I think I know a place.”

  “Thank you.” She accompanied him across the dusty street, spotting a boardinghouse sign swinging in the wind. If they needed help, then she could work for her room and board while she figured out what to do. Could she be that lucky?

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you were expecting.” Caleb tipped his hat against the sun, the movement innately masculine. He looked more like a cowboy than a doctor, yet despite his brawn, there was a gentleness to him. “You know I can’t marry you.”

  “Of course. You don’t need to explain.” She stepped into the shade of the covered boardwalk. They were at the boarding house. Her journey—for now—was at an end. “Don’t worry about me, Dr. Blake. Life never works out the way you expect. I learned that lesson long ago.”

  “Yes, so have I.” Sadness glinted in his blue eyes. “Of course, this time things may have turned out better for you. You might not have been happy as my wife.”

  “True, but I suppose I could have done worse.” She smiled at him as he opened the door for her.

  Delicious scents from the dining room made her stomach growl. She flushed, hoping he hadn’t heard it. “Goodbye, Dr. Blake.”

  “Goodbye, Miss—?” He waited, as if he wanted to know her last name.

  “Parks.” She could have pointed out that she wasn’t a “miss” but didn’t. That was a long story, and she didn’t want to open the door on her sad past. Looking forward, that’s what she intended to do. “It was a pleasure meeting you and your wonderful girls.”

  “They aren’t so wonderful,” he insisted, but the love warming his voice said otherwise.

  He tipped his hat, nodded with respect and walked away, leaving her alone as the door drifted shut behind her. Shafts of golden sunlight seemed to frame him, following him as he disappeared from her sight.

  Her heart sighed, as if it sensed that he could have been the one.

  -Chapter Two-

  Caleb scowled. The hot day wasn’t putting him in a better mood. With every mile he drove on his afternoon rounds, he thought of what the girls had done. He’d left them at school, but he couldn’t get Miss Clementine Parks out of his head. He’d felt her sorrow—very much like his own—and once felt, he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t unfeel it.

  “Good afternoon, Doc!” Evan McDowell waved from his fields.

  “Howdy there, Evan.” Caleb tipped his hat as he drove by. The cornstalks waved in the wind as he drove along the road to town.

  And his mind went right back to the woman. Miss Parks was incredibly pretty with blond ringlet curls and a delicate, oval face. She wouldn’t have trouble finding a husband for real this time—but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about what his girls had done.

  “Hi, Caleb!” A passing driver called out from his wagon’s front seat.

  “Good afternoon, Daniel.” He waved to his older brother. “Have you seen Pa lately?”

  “No, our father wasn’t home when I stopped by.” Daniel kept driving. “I’ll be out of town for a few days.”

  “See you when you get back.” He called over his shoulder.

  Daniel waved, continuing on down the road and saying nothing more. Well, Daniel wasn’t the talkative sort.

  The toll of the school bell carried on the wind. Caleb could see the steeple above the copse of cottonwoods along the road. The countryside gave way to the cluster of houses at the edge of town. His chest felt tight. He wasn’t looking forward to talking to his girls about what they’d done.

  As he negotiated the streets, his thoughts returned to Miss Parks. Had she settled into her room? Had she found something to eat? He’d heard her stomach rumble. He’d read the need on her face.

  “Doc! Good day to you.” Mrs. O’Hurley lifted a hand in greeting as she waited to cross on the street corner. “How are those girls of yours?”

  “Trouble.” He reined to a stop.

  “I knew that. They always are.” The jolly woman smiled. “I heard they got you into big trouble this time.”

  “You mean Miss Parks, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and how heartbreaking for her. That sweet, pretty woman expected to have herself a man and a family and start a new life.” Mrs. O’Hurley tisked at him. “The poor disappointed lady.”

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could see right away what the boardinghouse owner was thinking. “You know I expect you to bill me for her room and board. I was late for my rounds, so I didn’t take the time to speak with you before.”

  “Your father already talked to me. I heard about how sick little Tommy Buford is. Of course you had to go. He’s quite serious. I hope he’s doing better. But now that you’ve seen to him, what are you going to do about Clementine?”

  Good question. He glanced down the road. The schoolhouse was just in sight and so were his twins. Newly released from the building, they charged down the street, running with a gang of same-age boys.

  “Your girls could benefit from a mother’s influence.” There was nothing subtle about Mrs. O’Hurley. “Dear Clementine seems to like them, which is a miracle in itself! Maybe you ought to snatch her up before a wiser man does.”

  “Are you saying I’m not a wise man?” He arched a brow, unable to resist lightening the moment and hopefully changing the course of the conversation.

  “If you don’t do right by that woman, you’ll be the sorriest man I know. I might take my switch to you.” Mrs. O’Hurley winked before moving on. “Here come your girls.”

  And clearly she wanted to be gone before the twins arrived.

  It pained him, but he understood why. He wasn’t happy with them either.

  “So,” Gracie hopped up onto the buckboard seat next to him. “Will you take us to see Mrs. Clementine?”

  “Yeah, please, Pa?” Hope gave her best wide-eyed look as she settled down next to her sister. “We really wanna say we’re sorry.”

  He didn’t believe that. Not for one minute.

  “You two have done enough damage for the day.” He did his best to not sound too harsh. “Not another word from the two of you. Do you hear?”

  “But, Pa, what about Mrs. Clementine?” Gracie’s enthusiasm dimmed. Her brightness faded.

  “Yeah, Pa. I bet she’ll make a real good ma.”

  “That’s enough.” He said it gently, because he knew how the girls
felt about getting a mother. They’d been talking about it, wishing for it, trying to match him up with every unmarried woman in town—even the sixty-year-old spinster.

  Gracie sighed.

  Hope sighed.

  Neither of them said another word. He snapped the reins, sending his horse, Ed down the road and around the parked buggies and wagons full of mothers picking up their children. It was hard to miss the wistful looks on the girls’ faces as they saw all those mothers.

  He had to be practical. That was the best thing for the girls in the long run. They couldn’t keep setting their hearts on something that was never going to happen. Life wasn’t about daydreams, and love couldn’t be wished to life like in a fairy-tale. He’d protect them if he could, but life was hard. Love was even harder.

  “One more thing. You know I’m not going to marry Miss Parks. You’re not to bother her again. Do you understand?”

  Two little girls nodded. Two little girls joined hands, together in their misery.

  They were hurting, he knew. He didn’t see another way around it. He was a confirmed widower—never to try the rocky road of marriage again. Once had been enough. His girls had to learn to be more realistic. He just didn’t know how to help them.

  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!” Mill
ie 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.”