Read Online Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) by Debra Holland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debra Holland
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Montana, Western, Short-Story, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, disaster, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Forty-One In Series, Practical, Life Planned, Perfect Husband, No Choice, Imperfect Man
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I do love playing matchmaker.” She shifted the baby to one arm, came to Frey, and tugged on his shirt so he’d lean down. Going on tiptoe, she placed a lavender-scented kiss on his cheek. “All the best to you both,” she said, her blue eyes bright with tears.
Frey found himself warmed by the gesture and his friend’s approval.
Trudy started to take a seat in the front pew, hesitated, and glanced around. “Where’s Anna?” she asked, her voice rising.
He tilted his head toward the altar.
She rolled her eyes. “I should have known. Anna Evelyn Flanigan.” Her voice remained low to not wake the sleeping baby in her arms, but her tone sounded sharp. “Come out from under there this instant!”
“Yes, Mama.” Anna’s sweet face peeped out, the altar cloth draped over her head like a veil. She crawled forward, dragging her rag doll, and then stood and ran to her mother.
Mrs. Flanigan smoothed the child’s dark curls and straightened her dress. “Good thing Mrs. Norton would not allow a speck of dust to linger in here, or you’d be dirty already.” She pulled the child onto the seat of the pew, keeping an arm around her.
The notes of “Blest Be The Tie That Binds” sounded from the piano.
This is it! Frey turned his attention to the back of the church. His bride entered on Seth’s arm. A lump the size of a brick cemented into his throat, and he couldn’t even swallow. He hadn’t known what to expect, and he’d assumed Grace would wear white like his sisters had for their weddings. But instead, she was a vision of blue and gold, in a gown that looked fit for a princess. Pride in her appearance swelled in his chest.
Although some of her blonde hair was pulled back, the rest fell into long ringlets. Wispy curls framed her face. The pale blue of the dress made her eyes vivid. But what expression is that? Do I see sadness in her gaze?
The thought bothered him. Fear or nervousness he could understand, but not sadness. The brick in his throat grew heavier, and Frey realized there was so much he didn’t know about the woman he was about to wed.
The notion poked at his pride. I want no wife full of sadness.
I might not be what Grace expected, or even wanted, but I intend to put a smile on her face every day.
CHAPTER SIX
Grace walked beside Trudy from the parsonage to the church, holding the bunched-up material of her skirt to keep the fabric off the dirt—not at all the usual discrete ladylike lift of a hem, careful not to reveal a glimpse of ankles.But with the parsonage tucked toward the rear of the church, she figured no one would see her dress hitched up to her calves.
Without the original panniers or the adaptation for a hoop, the wedding gown was several inches too long, adding to the fullness of the skirt. She had to walk with a small forward kick, to avoid stepping on the hem. She’d originally planned to raise the hem, but after Grace learned she’d be marrying a large man, she realized any of their daughters would probably be tall. So she left the length alone, not wanting to add unnecessary alterations to the antique fabric.
The new black button shoes she wore seemed incongruous with the elegance of the gown. She wished for dainty evening shoes like the pair she’d eyed in the store in Lawrence before reluctantly moving on to more practical footwear.
At the entrance to the church, Grace lowered her skirt and exhaled, taking a moment to absorb the sensation of wearing the heirloom gown. A wave of nostalgia made her wish her parents were there to see her. As a young girl, she’d often demand they tell the story of their wedding. She not only enjoyed hearing the tale but also how the memory kindled the love between her normally reserved parents, and she’d bask in the reflected glow.
Trudy handed Grace the bouquet of roses and chrysanthemums and busied herself with fluffing out the sides and back of the skirt. “This dress is exquisite on you. I hope someday you and Frey arrange to
Frey found himself warmed by the gesture and his friend’s approval.
Trudy started to take a seat in the front pew, hesitated, and glanced around. “Where’s Anna?” she asked, her voice rising.
He tilted his head toward the altar.
She rolled her eyes. “I should have known. Anna Evelyn Flanigan.” Her voice remained low to not wake the sleeping baby in her arms, but her tone sounded sharp. “Come out from under there this instant!”
“Yes, Mama.” Anna’s sweet face peeped out, the altar cloth draped over her head like a veil. She crawled forward, dragging her rag doll, and then stood and ran to her mother.
Mrs. Flanigan smoothed the child’s dark curls and straightened her dress. “Good thing Mrs. Norton would not allow a speck of dust to linger in here, or you’d be dirty already.” She pulled the child onto the seat of the pew, keeping an arm around her.
The notes of “Blest Be The Tie That Binds” sounded from the piano.
This is it! Frey turned his attention to the back of the church. His bride entered on Seth’s arm. A lump the size of a brick cemented into his throat, and he couldn’t even swallow. He hadn’t known what to expect, and he’d assumed Grace would wear white like his sisters had for their weddings. But instead, she was a vision of blue and gold, in a gown that looked fit for a princess. Pride in her appearance swelled in his chest.
Although some of her blonde hair was pulled back, the rest fell into long ringlets. Wispy curls framed her face. The pale blue of the dress made her eyes vivid. But what expression is that? Do I see sadness in her gaze?
The thought bothered him. Fear or nervousness he could understand, but not sadness. The brick in his throat grew heavier, and Frey realized there was so much he didn’t know about the woman he was about to wed.
The notion poked at his pride. I want no wife full of sadness.
I might not be what Grace expected, or even wanted, but I intend to put a smile on her face every day.
CHAPTER SIX
Grace walked beside Trudy from the parsonage to the church, holding the bunched-up material of her skirt to keep the fabric off the dirt—not at all the usual discrete ladylike lift of a hem, careful not to reveal a glimpse of ankles.But with the parsonage tucked toward the rear of the church, she figured no one would see her dress hitched up to her calves.
Without the original panniers or the adaptation for a hoop, the wedding gown was several inches too long, adding to the fullness of the skirt. She had to walk with a small forward kick, to avoid stepping on the hem. She’d originally planned to raise the hem, but after Grace learned she’d be marrying a large man, she realized any of their daughters would probably be tall. So she left the length alone, not wanting to add unnecessary alterations to the antique fabric.
The new black button shoes she wore seemed incongruous with the elegance of the gown. She wished for dainty evening shoes like the pair she’d eyed in the store in Lawrence before reluctantly moving on to more practical footwear.
At the entrance to the church, Grace lowered her skirt and exhaled, taking a moment to absorb the sensation of wearing the heirloom gown. A wave of nostalgia made her wish her parents were there to see her. As a young girl, she’d often demand they tell the story of their wedding. She not only enjoyed hearing the tale but also how the memory kindled the love between her normally reserved parents, and she’d bask in the reflected glow.
Trudy handed Grace the bouquet of roses and chrysanthemums and busied herself with fluffing out the sides and back of the skirt. “This dress is exquisite on you. I hope someday you and Frey arrange to
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