Christine Johnson - Mail Order Mommy

“Who could that be at this hour?” Pearl mused.

The women looked to the men, who both shook their heads.

“Perhaps a visitor came in on the mail boat,” Amanda suggested. If only it could be her long-lost brother, but the lumberjack who fit his description had reportedly left the area for work further north.

“More likely it’s your fiancé,” Fiona said to Pearl.

Amanda noticed a burst of color infuse her friend’s cheeks and a sparkle light her eyes. She dearly hoped Fiona was right, but fear niggled at the back of her mind. What if Garrett had come to propose to Fiona? What if it was an unwelcome caller like Hugh Bellchamp? Surely he would not follow her here from New York. She had told no one where she was going, just that she had left to marry someone on the “frontier.”

She set down her fork, unable to eat.

“It wouldn’t be Roland,” Pearl noted. “He would be busy with the mail and any merchandise for the store that came in on the mail boat.”

A knock sounded again.

“I don’t think Mrs. Calloway heard it.” Pearl began to rise.

Amanda set aside her napkin. “I’ll get it.”

“Sit down, girls.” Mrs. Calloway bustled past. “I’m on my way.”

That left the five of them in silence. The men shoveled food into their mouths. The ladies ate quietly, listening for a clue as to who had paid a call. Amanda picked at the food, unable to stomach one bite.

The dining room was situated fairly close to the front door. Given the force of the knock, Amanda expected to hear the caller’s voice. For the longest time, she heard nothing. She looked to Pearl, who shook her head. Even Fiona hadn’t heard a thing, and her hearing was more attuned to the softest nuances than theirs. For long minutes, only the clink of forks on china serenaded them. Then Mrs. Calloway’s booming voice broke the quiet.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” The man’s irritated voice was unmistakable. Garrett.

Amanda stared at the poached egg, its yolk spilling onto the plate. Who had he come to see? Her or Fiona? Or was he here about something that had happened at the mill? She looked to the men, who didn’t appear to care that their supervisor was at the door.

“Well, then, take a seat in the parlor,” Mrs. Calloway said. “I’ll ask her to join you.”

Her?

Amanda’s nerves tensed as the ladies looked at each other. Amanda held her breath, hoping against hope. Let it be for me. Please, let Garrett be here for me.

Mrs. Calloway’s footsteps drew near. A second later she poked her head into the dining room. “Miss Fiona, you have a caller.”

Amanda’s hand trembled so much that she had to set down her fork. Her ears began to ring. She drew another deep breath and pressed a cool hand to her throat. Pearl shook her head, as if to say it couldn’t possibly be what she feared, but Fiona had just said that Garrett was ready to propose.

Fiona smiled triumphantly. “Tell Garrett that I will join him in a moment.”

Dread wove around Amanda’s heart. She raised the teacup to her lips, but the tea tasted like wash water. With a trembling hand, she set the cup down.

Fiona checked her hair to make sure it was in place, while Mrs. Calloway headed back in the direction of the parlor.

Amanda choked out, “You’re not going to meet him at once?”

“A gentleman ought not call at this hour. He can wait a moment or two.” Fiona inclined her head toward Amanda. “It’s best to let them know that you are in control.”

Amanda was far from in control. At any moment she might faint dead away.

At last Fiona dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. The moment she made a move to get out of her chair, the man seated closest to her hopped up to help her from the table. Amanda’s heart sank even further. Fiona had a way of attracting every man’s attention, while she only attracted the wrong sort.

Fiona swept from the room, and the men followed, a cinnamon roll in each hand. That left Amanda alone with Pearl.

“It’s over then,” Amanda whispered. “He’s chosen her.”

Pearl slipped a piece of paper from between the covers of her record book and slid it across the table. “You have one advantage that she will never have.”

In a glance Amanda could tell that it was one of the student papers that Pearl had collected yesterday. The children were to write about what they most wanted for Christmas. Pearl had supplied her own stationery for the assignment, so each paper looked more like a letter. The signature on this one made Amanda catch her breath. Sadie. Garrett’s daughter.

The words drove a knife through her heart.

Can Jesus bring a nu mama? Mis Mana pleez.

This time she could not stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. That poor little girl had lost her mother in a tragic accident nearly two years ago. That she wanted a new mama was understandable. That she wanted Amanda made her heart ache. Amanda wanted that, too. How she wanted to be Sadie and Isaac’s mother, but wishing didn’t make things true.

“It’s too late.” Amanda pushed the assignment back across the table to Pearl.

Pearl placed it inside the record book again. “I showed it to Roland last night. He said he would tell his brother after the children fell asleep.”

“He did?” Hope blossomed. Could Garrett have called on Fiona this morning to break off their attachment? “Do you think it’s possible that—”

“Hire me?” Fiona’s screech carried into the dining room and cut off Amanda’s thought. “I am not hired help.”

Footsteps raced down the hallway and stomped up the staircase. A door slammed.

Pearl’s eyebrows lifted even as a grin teased her lips. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

Interesting was not the word Amanda would have used. Shocking. Startling. Completely unexpected. Hire Fiona? What on earth for?

Amanda looked to Pearl for answers. “Why would they need a woman at the sawmill?” Not to mention that Fiona would never ever work in a sawmill.

Pearl pressed a napkin to her face, clearly trying to hide the fact that she was laughing.

“What is it? What do you know that I don’t?”

Pearl shook her head, but she didn’t pull the napkin from her face. A giggle sneaked out.

Amanda heard the front door open, and she instinctively rose. Garrett had come here this morning needing help, and Fiona had outright refused. He must be devastated. Amanda glided to the hallway.

Garrett stared back at her, his gaze stormy. He whipped the cap off his head and crushed it in one hand. With his hair sticking up at a boyish angle and his expression anguished, he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

She tried to take it all in. Garrett wanted to hire Fiona? Not marry her? What had changed? Whatever it was, Amanda felt the tension slip from her shoulders. He looked so uncomfortable standing there, like a boy whose dreams had been crushed. Her heart went out to him, and she took a step in his direction.

He backed up.

She tried to speak, but only a croak came out.

“Miss Porter.” He shoved the cap on his head, flung open the door and left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Garrett stood on the boardinghouse porch and drew in a deep breath of the icy December air. Stockton wanted an answer by nine o’clock, when they were to meet in the hotel dining room. The night before, the mill owner had asked Garrett to head up the building of a new ship, a schooner, that would bear Stockton’s name. Instead of slicing logs for other men to use, Garrett would build a sailing ship. The chance to create sparked something inside him. It didn’t hurt that the new position also came with a substantial increase in wages.

It also meant much longer hours.