Mail Order Bride: Fall (Bride For All Seasons 3)

It wasn’t until the meal was over and Ben was leisurely finishing his third cup of coffee, before making a move to return to the mercantile, that Letitia broke her news. She had considerately, deliberately delayed until every course seemed to be resting comfortably on the path to digestion and the couple was in an agreeable mood.

No matter. With the very first words, all went awry.

It probably would have been easier, Letitia reflected on another sigh, had she called the whole family—and Doc—together at one time, stated her case, and then let everyone duke it out.

“I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS,” Ben grumbled, pushing back his chair to begin pacing the width and length of the kitchen. Another similarity to the doctor: brothers under the skin. “I never signed on to be responsible for so much ballyhoo. My own wife, sure; and whatever she gets herself involved in. But sisters, too? And three of ’em, no less! No, sir, I just ain’t cut out to run a whole dad-blamed flock of scatterbrained females!”

“I beg your pardon!” Camellia’s ears perked up. At that moment, she couldn’t tell for sure with which one she was most irritated: her husband, for his insensitivity, or her sister, for her impetuosity. Actually, it might be a toss-up.

“Uh.” The head of the household came to a screeching stop. “Now, darlin’, y’ know how I get when things upset me. B’sides, we ain’t talkin’ about us. We’re talkin’ about Letitia, here.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said levelly. “But we’ll have a private conversation later on when we can talk about us, what do you think?”

“Uh.”

Fascinated, Letty watched while the tips of Ben’s ears turned beet-red and the furrows cut into his lean cheeks deepened. Amazing what a talent for management her eldest sister had hidden away all these years. In moments of stress, Camellia brought her errant husband to heel as easily as one lightly touched spurs to the flank of a restive stallion. And yet, he seemed quite content to let her slip the bit between his teeth and the bridle over his head.

She only hoped she might enact the same effortless restraints over her own husband, should a situation so warrant.

Of course, she had yet to learn how the lure of the kitchen, combined with the charms of the bedroom, might effectively sway any man’s opinion in his wife’s favor.

“And you, young lady.” Camellia turned the full force of that brilliant blue gaze upon the girl inwardly writhing in her seat. “Kindly explain yourself.”

That was the look she and Molly had earned, time without measure, during their irrepressible preadolescence when caught in some mischief. Attaching their mother’s pearl bobs to the reluctant ears of a carriage horse, for example. Or rifling through, at the precocious age of seven, their mother’s wardrobe for the most fantastic bits of lace and flummery ever owned, which could be used for imaginative play in the muddy court yard. Or being tempted to climb a ladder, accidentally and invitingly left behind by workmen, onto the stable’s roof—and getting stuck there by panic and tears.

Wait a minute.

She was no longer a child, to walk in fear of her sister’s wrath.

“I’m no longer a child,” she calmly informed Camellia. “I’m capable of choosing my own course, thank you very much, and of making my own decisions.”

Mutiny! First Molly, the adored youngest, and her disastrous determination, and now Letitia. No wonder that Camellia felt her maternal authority slipping away. In but the flash of an instant she thought, Fine, then, so be it. She had other fish to fry.

“Very well.” She began to gather plates and silver haphazardly together, with a clink and a clatter. “You’re all grown up. Then I shall simply wash my hands of any repercussions resulting from this mad venture.”

Quailing a bit, Letitia began to back track. “Well, but—no, I didn’t mean that—”

“Will I be allowed inside the church when you proceed with your wedding plans?”

“Oh, Cammy, please don’t take it this way. I wasn’t trying to cause you upset.”

Serene as a Madonna, she rose and turned toward the sink. “Goodness gracious, I am hardly upset. Just wishing to know my limitations, that’s all.”

But her slow, stiffened movements gave those words the lie. Even though this show of independence might be a natural and understandable progression of events for anyone seeking to slip free of childhood’s restraints into adulthood, Letitia realized that her sister had been hurt.

Only those of similar character have the power to unerringly strike where the most harm can be done. Who knows us better than a close family member—father and son, mother and daughter, and so on—with whom we share the most personality traits? Their worst feature is, oftentimes, our worst feature. And who better, then, not only to thrust out and stab home the knife of discontent, but to twist and turn it, for good measure?

Ben snorted. As so often happened, his spurt of temper had blown in as quickly as a thunderstorm and as quickly blown out again. While he might rant and rage over some crucial issue, his flare-ups were usually short-lived. Within a few minutes, the threatening clouds would be gone and the skies sunny once again. It was an admirable quality, to be angry—and then to let it go, without grudge.

“Camellia is just worried about you,” he said, and, surprisingly, approached to lay both his hands on Letitia’s shoulders from behind. A definite show of support! “But she ain’t mad. I reckon you’d oughta tell us more about this fellah—what you know, anyways. Then we can size him up when he lands in town.”

Deep relief washed over the prospective bride, leaving her limp and hollow-boned in her chair. “I don’t want to make you late for work...”

Laughing, Ben reseated himself across the table. “Honey, you forget, I own the place. Reckon I can decide when I go back. C’mere, Cam, my love. Let’s try to talk things over with calm heads.”

“Easy for you,” sniffed Camellia, too proud to bend just yet. “You’re not the one who has had to bail this family out of trouble on every occasion known to mankind.”

“Cam.” Just a hint of reproach could be heard in the cajoling male voice, as he reached out to draw her in. “You don’t want trouble betwixt the two of you. Get over here.”