Their Mistletoe Matchmakers. Keli Gwyn
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that determined look in Lavinia Crowne’s chocolate-brown eyes spelled trouble.
“I was clear in my letter. Father sent me here to—”
“What letter?” He hadn’t received one.
“The one I mailed the day we set sail. Didn’t you get it? I understood the Pony Express to be quite reliable.”
“Where did you send it?”
“To your hotel in Marysville.”
He nodded. “It would have arrived there when I was here in Sutter Creek. I asked my clerk to forward everything. The letter’s probably on—” he swallowed “—on Jack’s desk.” Two months had passed, and yet he still had a hard time saying his brother’s name without a stab of pain.
“I s-see.” She was rubbing her arms and clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.
“We can talk later. You need to get out of those wet things. I’ll get some water heating so you can bathe, and then I’ll see about stretching a tarpaulin over the shed before it gets any wetter inside.”
“Wh-what happened to the shed?” She rushed to the window overlooking the backyard. “Oh! The branch destroyed a good bit of the roof, didn’t it? That’s too bad.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it once the storm’s past.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t inside. I was g-going out there to get more kerosene.”
“I’ll bring some when I come back.” He moved closer, attempting to capture her attention, but it remained riveted on the storm’s damage. “Do you need anything else before I go?”
She twisted a mud-coated curl around her finger. Her parted mouth and glassy-eyed stare gave her the look of someone who was lost. “I never thought about death much until I lost my mother. First Maman and now Pauline and Jack. Life’s a fleeting thing, isn’t it?”
He wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, so he waited to see if she would continue. Thankfully, she did.
“Do you miss them?”
“I do.” He stared out the window, remembering the last time he’d seen Jack and his doting wife. It had been a hot September day. They’d been sitting on a blanket in the shade of that very oak tree, having a picnic lunch with the children. Laughter had flowed as freely as the lemonade.
“My brother and I had our differences when we were younger, but once we got a few years on us things improved. Pauline helped smooth Jack’s rough edges. She tried to help smooth mine, too, but according to her, I’m a—” he formed quotation marks in the air “—‘diamond in the rough.’” The memory of her saying those words in that playful way of hers made him smile. He turned to find Lavinia gazing at him, a look of wonder on her lovely face.
“I’m glad you got to know her. She was w-wonderful. I m-miss her so much it hurts.” She dragged in a shuddering breath, blew it out and squared her shoulders. “I should get changed. It wouldn’t do for the children to see me looking like this.”
“They were happy, Lavinia.”
She nodded, but her attention was on her soiled dress. “Yes. You’ve mentioned that before.”
He had—ten years ago. She hadn’t believed it then, but if she did now, it might bring her some comfort.
“I’d better see to the tarpaulin. Be sure to bolt both kitchen doors so you have your privacy. I’ll come in the front and entertain the children when they arrive.”
She spun to face him, her chin lifted in regal fashion, all business once again. “That’s not necessary. Gladys can see to them until I’m ready.”
Lavinia’s clipped dismissal didn’t sit well with him. He was the children’s uncle, and he knew them far better than she did. At least she cared about them—unlike her father. Paul Crowne had shown no interest in them, a fact that had grieved Pauline greatly. How could a man ignore his own grandchildren and deprive their only aunt of the right to visit them as he had? Pauline would have loved to have seen her sister again. From what she’d said, Lavinia had begged their father to allow her to come to California repeatedly, only to be met with his steadfast refusal.
Henry chose not to challenge Lavinia. He could clarify things later, once she was clean and dry.
He headed to the shed and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He tacked a tarpaulin in place, a task that took longer than expected due to the brisk wind.
There. He put down the hammer and checked for leaks but found none. That should keep out most of the water. Once the rain stopped, he would see to the repairs. He grabbed the kerosene tin and hurried toward the house. The children should be home soon, and they’d give him those delightful hugs that threatened to turn him into a pile of mush.
He’d arrived in California back in ’52 just in time to welcome his nephew into the world. The surge of emotion that had come over him when he held the squirming, squealing bundle of boy for the first time had nearly bowled him over. If being an uncle brought such joy, he could only imagine what it would be like to hold his own child one day.
His smile faded. To become a father, he would have to find a wife. Not an easy task. When he’d first set foot in the Golden State, men had outnumbered women nine to one. There was now one woman for every five men, but only a small fraction of those females were God-fearing ladies. An even smaller fraction were single. Of those suitable ladies who had come, even fewer had stayed.
Life in California wasn’t easy, but it certainly wasn’t boring. Each day was an opportunity to meet new people, experience new things and increase one’s knowledge. Pauline had been a rare breed, supporting her husband’s dreams and wholeheartedly embracing life out west.
Finding a courageous, spirited, supportive woman of God like his late sister-in-law had proven to be a challenge. He’d tried, but the handful of ladies like her that he’d met had been snatched up before he could say competition. The one time he’d believed that he’d forged a friendship with an eligible lady, she’d headed back east, offering him only a cursory goodbye.
He’d surrendered his dream of having a family to the Lord. Due to the steamship accident that had claimed the lives of Jack and Pauline, he had one now. Ever since losing their parents, Alex, Marcie and little Dot had turned to him for love and support, and he wouldn’t have it any other way—even if it meant putting down roots. Those three youngsters meant the world to him.
The sound of childish chatter sent Henry hurrying up the front steps, taking them two at a time. Despite his eagerness, he slipped inside as quietly as possible, yanked off his gloves and removed his rain-soaked coat and hat.
He opened the door to the parlor and stepped into the room. “You’re back, I see.”
“Uncle Henry!” the children cried in unison.
The two girls flew at him. Six-year-old Marcie flung her arms around his waist and gave him a sound squeeze. Four-year-old Dot grabbed hold of his thigh and wrapped her feet around his ankle. Eight-year-old Alex followed at a leisurely pace, attempting to look more mature than his sisters.
Henry ruffled Alex’s hair and stooped to kiss the top of Marcie’s head. She released Henry, and he took off in a lurching trek across the parlor with Dot still clinging to his leg. Her giggles filled the room.
A throat cleared. He turned toward the noise. An older woman with folded arms and a frown stood in the doorway. He hobbled over to her with Dot in tow and held out a hand. The housekeeper stared at it with a curled lip. Memories flooded in of others hesitating to shake his hand, Lavinia among them. He dropped it to his side and offered her a smile instead. “You must be Gladys. I’m Henry.”
“So I heard. Lavinia said you’d shown up and pulled that tree off her. I can’t believe you kept the poor dear talking as long as you did. Her teeth were chattering something fierce when we got back from the school.