Laurel: Bride of Arkansas (American Mail-Order Bride 25) Read Online Free
Author: Carra Copelin
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Family Life, Western, Short-Story, Massachusetts, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, Bachelor, goals, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, Philadelphia, society, stranger, victorian era, tornado, Arkansas, Forever Love, Single Woman, farmer, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Threats, Two Children, Common Ground, Wife Deceased
future husband.
She’d always put a lot of stock in first impressions, and so far, Mr. G. Benning, or Griffin, or Griff, seemed very nice. He seemed to be of strong character and a little bit nervous, which was sweet. He was handsome, not an ogre with a single eye, bulbous nose, or thin lips. As a matter of fact he had quite pleasant brown eyes, both soft and kind, and a mouth that took her to thoughts a proper young lady had no business thinking about.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she stood, opened her bag, and retrieved her face cream to remove some of the grime and grit, and her favorite sachet. She also removed the lace and eyelet blouse she’d packed at the last minute. It had seemed silly and frivolous at the time, but now she would wear it for her wedding dress. A few minutes later, she viewed her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were naturally a soft deep pink, so she didn’t need rouge and she’d bitten her bottom lip to plump it up, but she looked pale. A quick pinch to her cheeks for a subtle blush and she pronounced herself presentable. She only hoped her groom thought so, too.
***
Griffin left Laurel sitting on the porch swing while he went inside the parsonage in search of the preacher.
“Brother Waggoner?” He walked to the office where he’d found the preacher on his previous visit, and knocked on the partially open door. When he entered the sparsely furnished room, he called out, “Owen, are you here?”
“Yes, Brother Benning, come in.” The middle-aged preacher stood behind his desk putting on his black coat. “I’m assuming, since you’re here, a marriage ceremony is taking place?”
“It is, if we’re still on your schedule.”
“That you are. I’ll go let Tildie know.”
“Thank you, Owen.”
Griffin retraced his steps to the porch where he’d left Laurel. She was still on the swing gently rocking back and forth, fanning herself with her hand. The weather was warm for October, and he’d thought she’d be cooler outside with even a small breeze than to take her inside the oven-like house. Rain would help the temperature considerably, but they were in the middle of a drought that didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.
Joining her on the swing, he let her know what was happening. “The preacher will come get us as soon as he’s ready.”
“All right, excuse me.” She stood and walked to the corner next to the railing around the porch.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing. I’m just . . . tired, I suppose. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m sure you are. I’d planned on dinner at the hotel restaurant, but if you’d like, we can go straight to the hotel after we’re married.”
“Oh, here you are!” A woman with salt and pepper hair and an ample bosom swept over to them from inside the house and pulled Laurel into a hug. The fragrance of vanilla surrounded her. “You must be Laurel, I’m Matilda Waggoner, Owen’s wife. I don’t think you’ve met him yet, he’s finishing up something in the office and will be ready soon for the ceremony. Come with me, dear, we’ll go into the kitchen and have some tea while the men get all the paperwork filled out. I can’t wait to get to know you, call me, Tildie, by the way, everybody does.”
By the time the woman stopped talking long enough to catch a breath, Laurel was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty cup in front of her. She smiled. She knew nothing about this Tildie, but she liked her.
“So tell me, dear, did you just get in this morning?”
“Yes, on the eleven—”
“The eleven o’clock, yes, that’s the one. Always on time, don’t think I ever remember Titus running late.” Tildie poured hot water from the kettle into the tea pot and reset the lid. After she set the kettle on the stove, she joined Laurel at the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve invited some guests over after the ceremony to meet you.”
“Tildie, that’s nice but a lot for one
She’d always put a lot of stock in first impressions, and so far, Mr. G. Benning, or Griffin, or Griff, seemed very nice. He seemed to be of strong character and a little bit nervous, which was sweet. He was handsome, not an ogre with a single eye, bulbous nose, or thin lips. As a matter of fact he had quite pleasant brown eyes, both soft and kind, and a mouth that took her to thoughts a proper young lady had no business thinking about.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she stood, opened her bag, and retrieved her face cream to remove some of the grime and grit, and her favorite sachet. She also removed the lace and eyelet blouse she’d packed at the last minute. It had seemed silly and frivolous at the time, but now she would wear it for her wedding dress. A few minutes later, she viewed her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were naturally a soft deep pink, so she didn’t need rouge and she’d bitten her bottom lip to plump it up, but she looked pale. A quick pinch to her cheeks for a subtle blush and she pronounced herself presentable. She only hoped her groom thought so, too.
***
Griffin left Laurel sitting on the porch swing while he went inside the parsonage in search of the preacher.
“Brother Waggoner?” He walked to the office where he’d found the preacher on his previous visit, and knocked on the partially open door. When he entered the sparsely furnished room, he called out, “Owen, are you here?”
“Yes, Brother Benning, come in.” The middle-aged preacher stood behind his desk putting on his black coat. “I’m assuming, since you’re here, a marriage ceremony is taking place?”
“It is, if we’re still on your schedule.”
“That you are. I’ll go let Tildie know.”
“Thank you, Owen.”
Griffin retraced his steps to the porch where he’d left Laurel. She was still on the swing gently rocking back and forth, fanning herself with her hand. The weather was warm for October, and he’d thought she’d be cooler outside with even a small breeze than to take her inside the oven-like house. Rain would help the temperature considerably, but they were in the middle of a drought that didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.
Joining her on the swing, he let her know what was happening. “The preacher will come get us as soon as he’s ready.”
“All right, excuse me.” She stood and walked to the corner next to the railing around the porch.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing. I’m just . . . tired, I suppose. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m sure you are. I’d planned on dinner at the hotel restaurant, but if you’d like, we can go straight to the hotel after we’re married.”
“Oh, here you are!” A woman with salt and pepper hair and an ample bosom swept over to them from inside the house and pulled Laurel into a hug. The fragrance of vanilla surrounded her. “You must be Laurel, I’m Matilda Waggoner, Owen’s wife. I don’t think you’ve met him yet, he’s finishing up something in the office and will be ready soon for the ceremony. Come with me, dear, we’ll go into the kitchen and have some tea while the men get all the paperwork filled out. I can’t wait to get to know you, call me, Tildie, by the way, everybody does.”
By the time the woman stopped talking long enough to catch a breath, Laurel was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty cup in front of her. She smiled. She knew nothing about this Tildie, but she liked her.
“So tell me, dear, did you just get in this morning?”
“Yes, on the eleven—”
“The eleven o’clock, yes, that’s the one. Always on time, don’t think I ever remember Titus running late.” Tildie poured hot water from the kettle into the tea pot and reset the lid. After she set the kettle on the stove, she joined Laurel at the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve invited some guests over after the ceremony to meet you.”
“Tildie, that’s nice but a lot for one
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