Rescuing The Preacher (Christmas Rescue Series Book 1) Read online

  She was dancing and crying at the same time. It made his heart swell. He looked at Rose who nodded. “Yes, you can.”

  He put her down inside the door and Grace ran to Rose. “Mama,” she said. “Mama, Mama, Mama!” Her little face was red and blotchy, but it was apparent she was beside herself with joy.

  “Your Mama will live with us, Grace. She won’t go away again.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  Grace began to sob and her tears flowed once more.

  Matthew had no idea their marriage would affect her in this way. Or that not having a Mama had meant so much to her.

  Rose squatted down and opened her arms. Grace ran into them and hugged her as though there was no tomorrow. She held on for dear life, and Rose stood, bringing the overwhelmed child up with her.

  She indicated for Matthew to join them and he did. He’d never had a group hug before, but it was amazing. Electricity zinged through him, and he didn’t want it to end.

  Clara suddenly began to wail, and Rose put Grace’s arms around his and lifted the baby up, bringing her into their family circle too.

  Today became one of the best in his recollection. This moment was a memory he would not easily forget.

  Chapter Seven

  It had been a difficult day, to say the least.

  The children were now sound asleep in bed, and it was the first time Rose had sat down for any length of time. Between bathing and feeding the two girls, and putting them to bed, she was now exhausted.

  There had been no time for talking with Matthew, and indeed, if there had been, the conversation would not have been private.

  Personal conversation seemed to be a thing of the past.

  “Tired?” Matthew pushed the unburned wood to one side, and scooped up the ashes. She’d never seen him do it before; probably because she’d never been here this late at night.

  He turned and tipped the ashes into a metal bucket kept by the fireside.

  She yawned at his words and stretched herself out. “I am a little.” She watched as the muscles across his back rolled along his body, and quickly averted her eyes. “It seems rather strange being here this late.”

  He looked over his shoulder at her. “It does. But I’m glad you’re here. I hated having to send you away each night.”

  It was the first time he’d made such an admission and Rose wondered if she should read anything in it.

  He stood and dusted his hands of the ash, then reached for the lantern. “Shall we?”

  It was the first time Rose had given the sleeping arrangements a thought. As they stepped out of the sitting room, she realized there was no spare bed. Perhaps she could bunk in with Grace?

  His hand crept up her back as they headed toward the master bedroom at the back of the house. It felt nice, and a shiver went down her spine.

  “Where am I to sleep?” she asked quietly, glancing at him. The lantern sent all sorts of shadows dancing across his face.

  She watched as he swallowed then licked his lips. “About that, Rose,” he said softly. “You’ll have to sleep with me.”

  Her steps faltered. “With you?” The words came out almost as a squeak, as she tended to do when nervous.

  “It’s alright, Rose. We are married.” He held her a little tighter and continued down the hall. “I promise not to touch you...like that.” He averted his eyes, as though it was something he didn’t want to talk about.

  She didn’t want to either, but was glad he’d clarified the situation. It was after all, a marriage of convenience.

  Mrs Armstrong had retrieved her carpetbag and it sat keenly on the bed, reminding Rose exactly where she was, and what she was doing here.

  She opened it and retrieved her night gown. It was made from the best cotton money could buy – of course. Father wouldn’t allow anything less. The material was soft and white, and was hand embroidered around the collar. She pulled it up to her cheek and rubbed the soft garment across her skin.

  It was an indulgence, she knew, but it wasn’t like she’d gone out and bought it since she’d arrived. This had been one of her favorites, which is how it ended up being packed to begin with.

  She pulled out her hairbrush and the rest of her meagre belongings. If Mother and Father could see her now, they’d have conniptions. The Preacher’s house was smaller than their guest house. But to Rose it had become her home.

  “Hang your belongings in the wardrobe.” Matthew opened the door, and she noticed the empty space. It had obviously been his former wife’s side of the wardrobe. And now it was hers.

  At least her clothes weren’t still hanging there.

  “I gave all her belongings to those in need, Rose. You needn’t concern yourself.” Her head shot up. He had an uncanny knack of knowing what she was thinking.

  “I, I don’t have much. I had to leave most of it behind.”

  “What happened to you, Rose,” he asked. He’d never broached the subject before. Perhaps thinking it was none of his business. But now things were different.

  She stayed silent and he held her hand. “Perhaps one day you’ll trust me enough.”

  He suddenly let go of her hand, and took one of the gowns from her, hanging it up for her. Reaching for another one, their hands brushed, and they both stopped, staring into each other’s eyes.

  His hand curled around hers, then suddenly he let go as though he’d been burned, and turned away.

  “I can do it,” she said. “You must be tired.”

  He nodded then left the room, and she heard him enter the bathroom, so took the opportunity to change while he wasn’t there.

  She felt awkward, as if she didn’t belong here, although she knew she shouldn’t. She’d had the run of this house for some weeks now, and knew it like the back of her hand.

  Except this room.

  She’d never ventured in here since it was Matthew’s room, and she had no right to be there.

  She felt that way now too.

  Gingerly, she reached down and turned back the eiderdown. Her hands explored the mattress. It felt nice. Not too hard and not too soft. Rose hoped she could sleep in this strange bed. She’d only just gotten used to the bed at Mrs Armstrong’s house.

  She sat on the edge, and it felt comfortable.

  Matthew strolled in and glanced at her. “Alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer but went to the other side of the bed and sat down. He began his evening prayers.

  Rose quietly made her way to the bathroom and prepared herself for the night’s sleep. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered how she’d ended up here. At the preacher’s house, as the preacher’s wife.

  It was greed, as it always was.

  Jonas Hanson had obviously offered her father a big ransom for his young daughter. Worse still, her father had accepted. The thought was enough to make Rose feel ill.

  She reached up and pulled the pins out of her hair, then brushed it out. She couldn’t help but yawn, and made her way back to the master bedroom.

  Thankfully Matthew was sound asleep. She had a reprieve. For tonight at least.

  * * *

  Her eyes fluttered open, and Rose knew it was early morning. Likely around dawn. As she tried to climb out of bed, a large hand gripped her around the waist, and it was all she could do to stop from screaming.

  She slowly turned in the bed and saw Matthew lying there, his eyes closed, his face relaxed. She’d almost forgotten the activities of the day before.

  How that was possible, she would never know.

  She’d always seen him as her employer, and not really thought of him as a man. Now that Matthew was her lawfully married husband, that was beginning to change.

  She stared into his face. He was handsome in his own way. She didn’t know exactly how old he was, but figured he must be at least thirty. Maybe more. One of these days she’d ask him.

  His slightly too long brown hair was ruffled from the night’s sleep. It made her smile. He was always
so perfect – perfectly dressed, perfectly polite, perfectly everything. This was the first time she’d seen anything out of place on him.

  She liked it.

  His mouth opened slightly and she noticed for the first time his lips. His mouth was the perfect size for his oval-shaped face. And right now she wanted to lean in and kiss those perfect lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Not only would it wake him up, but he’d think her a hussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

  “Mama! Papa!” Grace ran into the room and jumped on the bed between them. She wore a huge grin.

  Matthew’s eyes opened in fright.

  “Really, Grace?” Rose asked her quietly. “You woke your Papa.” Grace’s chin quivered, and she pulled her new daughter into an embrace. “You must be more gentle next time.”

  “Good morning.” He continued to lay on the pillow, and looked very happy with himself. Like the cat who stole the last of the cream.

  As if on cue, Clara began to wail. “When will she stop doing that?” Grace asked, exasperated.

  “Very soon. It’s time Clara was eating some regular foods.” Matthew raised his eyebrows in question. “I’ve been reading up on it. She needs to be weaned off the bottle full-time and have some solids introduced.”

  He slid out from underneath the blankets and headed for his clothes. It felt strange seeing her employer in a nightgown. Only he wasn’t her employer anymore. He was her husband.

  Rose had to constantly remind herself of that fact. It seemed like a dream, but it was indeed true.

  She pulled back from Grace and forced herself out of the warm bed. It had been very comfortable, and for that she was very grateful.

  Grace jumped down, and Rose made the bed with the child’s help. “This will be our special job every day, Grace.”

  You’d have thought she’d told her daughter she was taking her to the circus, she was so joyful. If nothing else, she’d learned over the past weeks it didn’t take much to make this little girl happy. She’d endured so much sadness in her short life, and Rose was overjoyed to be part of the reason for the change in her.

  She knew a lot had changed over the past weeks, not only for her, but for Grace who needed a mother-figure in her life. Now, thanks to Mrs Stapleton, she had not only a mother-figure, but a mother.

  She took the girl by the hand and led Grace to her room. “Since Clara has stopped bellowing for now, let us find you some clothes. Can you dress yourself?”

  “Yes. I’m a big girl.” Grace grinned at her, but Rose had her doubts. Regardless, she pulled some clothes out of the cupboard and laid them on the bed.

  “Of course you are. Get dressed while I see to Clara, then we’ll get breakfast.” As if the timing was perfect, Clara began to wail again, and Rose headed to her room.

  “Oh dear, Clara,” Rose said, almost gagging at the smell. “Let’s get you out of that soiled diaper and cleaned up, then we’ll get you fed.”

  She filled the bowl from the jug, and gave Clara a quick wash. “You must feel better now.” Lifting the baby, she rested Clara against her shoulder and headed for the kitchen where she found her husband.

  “Can you take her while I dress?” She passed Clara over. “That book I’ve been reading says she should be sitting up by now.”

  “Should we be worried?” He looked very concerned. “Perhaps the doctor should check her over.”

  Rose filled the kettle with water, before leaving the room. “Let’s try and help her to sit up first, then if it doesn’t work, we can take her to be checked.”

  She came back a short time later, and Clara followed her every move. It wasn’t lost on Rose.

  She was the one who’d been feeding and changing her most of the time, and so she’d become Clara’s carer in the child’s mind. It was only natural she’d come to see Rose this way.

  She handed Matthew a warm bottle of milk. “If you can feed her, I’ll make breakfast.” He complied and she set about doing what she’d intended all along, only without the audience.

  “Scrambled eggs with bacon this morning. And toast.”

  She set about her tasks. By the time the bottle of milk was empty, the food was ready. “We’ll need to get a high chair for her soon. Once she’s sitting up, Clara can join us at the table.”

  “There should be one in the store-room from when Grace was a baby.”

  “I didn’t see one there.” Rose set her husband’s food in front of him, and took the baby.

  “It’s covered with a sheet. I’ll pull it out later.” He got stuck into his breakfast. “This is delicious,” he said between mouthfuls.

  Rose placed Clara back in her crib where she knew she’d sleep for a while.

  She’d learned a lot from that book, and now that she’d taken on the role of mother to the two girls, would begin to wean the baby out of her many sleeps.

  “Is there anything I need to do today – as the preacher’s wife, I mean?” Rose asked quietly as she ate her own breakfast.

  Matthew glanced up from his coffee. “Don’t stress over it. You’ll have time to settle in – a week at least I should think. The Ladies Auxiliary will contact you when they’re ready. They’ll be pleased to have your assistance.”

  He drank down the last mouthful, then pushed his chair back. “I’ll light the fire in the sitting room, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  He hugged Grace, then walked over to Rose. He gently held her arms, then leaned in to kiss her. The closer he got, the more she anticipated his kiss. His lips were an angel’s breath away from her mouth when he glanced up at her, then suddenly changed tack and gently kissed her on the cheek.

  He quickly left the room without a word.

  Her face tingled, but Rose was disappointed. As his wife, she’d expected him to kiss her more intimately. It was his right to do so, and she couldn’t figure out why he didn’t.

  “Why did Papa kiss you?” Grace asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Because Papa and I got married yesterday. I’m your Mama now, remember?” Grace nodded so she continued. “So now Papa is allowed to kiss me, and hug me, just like he does to you and Clara.”

  “Oh. Alright.” And then she continued eating, her curiosity satisfied.

  Matthew put his head around the door. “I’m off now. The fire is roaring.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can kiss Mama now,” Grace said, then filled her mouth again.

  Rose and Matthew stared at each other, then began to laugh.

  Her life had changed dramatically, but Rose wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time she could remember, she was happy. Truly happy.

  And she knew she was making a difference. If not to Matthew, certainly to the two girls who now had a Mama.

  Chapter Eight

  It was chilly outside, and Rose dressed the girls in their warm coats and gloves, then headed out for a quick stroll.

  The creek had become Grace’s favorite place to visit, especially when she was able to pick blackberries, so they spent a little time there. Rose watched her like a hawk, ensuring she didn’t go close to the water.

  They visited the Mercantile on the way home to pick up a few small necessities. Believing Mrs Stapleton to be the cause of their forced marriage, Rose was reluctant to go inside, but she would have to do it sometime. She slowly opened the door, and saw Joe was stacking shelves, so pushed the door wider.

  “Hello Mr Stapleton,” Grace said, skipping toward the store-owner.

  “Hello little one,” he said cheerfully, then turned toward Rose.

  “Good morning, Miss Charleston.”

  Her head shot up. Perhaps he was genuinely unaware of her change in marital status. “It’s Mrs Barnabas now, but like I’ve said before, call me Rose.”

  His eyes opened wide, and he stood staring until he realized what he was doing. He scratched his head, then tugged on his apron, apparently not knowing what else to do. “When did this happen?”

 
“Yesterday.” She wasn’t going to volunteer anymore information than was absolutely necessary. And she certainly wasn’t going to accuse his wife of over-stepping the mark, as she surely had. Rose was almost positive of it.

  “I have a Mama now,” Grace offered, a huge grin on her little face.

  Joe leaned down to her level. “That’s wonderful,” he said, then straightened up again. “What can I do for you, Rose?”

  She gave him her small list, and waited while he collected them up for her. She was making Apple and Cinnamon Muffins this morning. She knew Matthew would enjoy them, and so would Grace. They were having hearty vegetable soup for luncheon, and it was already on the stove cooking.

  Rose was enjoying her new life in Dalton Springs, particularly her new role as a mother.

  “Here you are, Rose.” Joe handed the items over, as well as a small wrapped package.

  She looked it over, not recognizing the item. “What’s this, Joe? It’s not something I asked for.” She brought it up to her nose – the aroma was delightful.

  He grinned. “It’s a small gift. For your wedding. From the missus and me.”

  “Oh! Thank you, Joe. That’s so very kind of you.” She opened the packaging to discover a cake of perfumed soap. Rose’s heart soared. What a lovely thing to do.

  Mrs Stapleton put her head around the door. She scowled when she saw Rose standing there. “Congratulations are in order,” Joe told his wife. “Rose and the preacher got hitched.”

  Rose watched as a smirk appeared on the older woman’s face, then quickly disappeared. She was right – it was Mrs Stapleton! What a nasty thing to do. But Rose, being the good Christian woman she was, didn’t retaliate.

  “Congratulations Mrs Barnabas.” There was no suggestion of joy in her voice, but Rose detected a hint of arrogance.

  “Thank you for the gift,” she said, all sweetness in her voice.

  Bertha’s eyes opened wide, then she stormed out of the room. Rose felt a tad guilty for riling the woman up, but there was also an element of satisfaction.

  “Thanks again, Joe. Now we need to hightail it home and get baking.”