His Most Suitable Bride (9 page)

She worked into the wee hours of the night, revising her words until she had them exactly as she wanted them.

The next morning, with very little sleep behind her, she woke groggy and out of sorts. Born on a ranch, she’d never been able to sleep past dawn. She rose with the sun and dressed for the day in her olive-green muslin gown. Thankfully, Mrs. Singletary hadn’t raided her wardrobe completely.

Glancing down at herself, Callie admitted the color was drab, the fit unnecessarily large, and for the first time in years, she felt uncomfortable in her own clothes.

She missed wearing the bold colors the widow insisted she don, the ones that brought out the color in her skin.

This sense of dissatisfaction was the widow’s doing, as was the wave of rebellion that urged Callie to dress in clothes that highlighted her assets.

Ah, but today was her day off. She planned to spend most of it in the kitchen at Charity House, the orphanage Marc and Laney Dupree had created for children of prostitutes. Boys and girls no other institution would take were welcomed into a loving, safe home and given a solid Christian upbringing, thereby breaking the cycle of sin in their lives.

Callie loved spending her free time with the orphans, many of whom weren’t strictly orphans but rather children with mothers who worked in the local brothels. Though indirectly, Callie had a personal connection to Charity House. All three of her older brothers had married women either raised in the orphanage or formerly employed there. Megan, Annabeth and Molly were kind, God-loving women.

Her brothers had chosen well.

Exiting her room, she nearly toppled into Mrs. Singletary. “Oh.”

Hands on hips, the widow lowered her gaze over Callie’s dress. “You are determined to defy my superior sense of style.”

Callie wasn’t in the mood to defend her clothing choices this morning. She gave a tight, and slightly embarrassed, sigh. “It’s my day off. What does it matter how I dress?”

Mrs. Singletary released her own aggravated puff of air. “You are proving most difficult, Callie Anne Mitchell.”

“That is not my intent.” With exaggerated dignity, she lifted her chin. “I’m helping out Laney Dupree in the Charity House kitchen today. We’re teaching a few interested girls how to bake pies. It’s a messy business and I don’t mind getting wayward ingredients on this particular gown.”

“That explanation is perfectly—” Mrs. Singletary shook her head in amused annoyance “—reasonable.”

Callie swallowed a triumphant smile. “I know.”

“I had hoped to discuss Mr. Bennett’s requirements for a wife with you at some point today. Perhaps together we can make some sense out of his list,” Mrs. Singletary continued. “I find his preferences are really rather—”

“Uninspired?” Callie suggested.

“Completely.” The widow gave a little shake of her head. “Why, any number of women in town could fit his requirements.”

Callie nodded in agreement. If she thought this would end the discussion, she was wrong.

Mrs. Singletary seemed determined to say her piece. “Although the bulk of the task will fall on your shoulders I believe my input will increase your success. Especially as you design your initial list of suitable candidates for him to review.”

“You have suggestions?”

“A few.”

Callie remained silent for several seconds. If she refused the widow’s input would Mrs. Singletary make a
few suggestions
to Reese on her own?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Callie didn’t dare take that risk. “We could discuss this when I return from my afternoon at Charity House.”

“That will be fine.” The widow started down the hall then quickly turned back around. “I am determined to see Mr. Bennett happily settled before Christmas.”

“As am I.” Finally, something they agreed upon, and probably the last for many days to come.

Chapter Nine

A
s he did most Saturday mornings, Reese exited the ridiculously large house he shared with his father and turned in the direction of Charity House. At this early hour the sun hung low, a big, fat orange ball against the blue, blue sky.

The sweet, lilting music of birds singing from their tree branches accompanied him on his short journey to the orphanage, a leisurely stroll that amounted to the equivalent of two city blocks in town.

Alone on the streets, Reese’s mind wandered over several pressing concerns, eventually landing on last night’s conversation with Mrs. Singletary and her companion. He’d meant what he said when Callie had pressed for a reason behind his bride search. He wanted children. As many as it would take to fill the house and turn the rambling old mansion into a home.

Growing up, Reese had secretly craved a large family. He would have settled for just one sibling, either a brother or a sister. Unfortunately, a week after his seventh birthday, his mother had succumbed to a fever and then died a week later.

His father had never remarried.

Looking back with the benefit of age, Reese wondered if he’d married young with the idea of filling his nursery as quickly as possible. Even at eighteen, he’d been ready to start a family. Miranda hadn’t been quite so eager. The one time he’d brought up the subject, she’d laughed the idea away, claiming it was far too early in their marriage to talk about children.

Dark memories threatened to drag him into the past where only hopelessness and sorrow resided. He refused to surrender on this beautiful Saturday morning. The story of his life with Miranda, and the crippling grief he experienced after her death, belonged to his younger self. The man he was now had his entire future ahead of him.

Endless possibilities abounded.

The rewards of marrying again far outweighed the risks. Of course, he still needed to find a suitable woman to marry. A tiny, little, insignificant detail he’d put in Callie Mitchell’s care.

He stopped at the street corner and inhaled slowly.

Had he made the right decision? Handing over such an important task to the sister of his former fiancée instead of relying on Mrs. Singletary’s guidance?

The widow’s arguments for the switch had certainly been sound. Though he didn’t fully understand why Callie had agreed to help him find a bride, she
had
agreed. The deed was done.

The course set.

Instead of second-guessing his own actions—or Callie’s—Reese crossed the street and focused on the moment, the here and now, prepared to enjoy his day at Charity House.

He passed through a sunbeam warming the cobblestones at his feet. The temperature was perfect for playing outside. Perhaps he would talk some of the children into an impromptu game of baseball, a favorite of the orphans.

One block later, he arrived at the orphanage. Charity House was an uncommonly grand structure, even for this posh neighborhood. Puffy white clouds moved rapidly through the sky above the sloping roof of angles and interesting turrets, the Colorado blue a perfect backdrop for the three-story structure.

With its stylish modern design and perfectly manicured lawns, Charity House looked nothing like an orphanage. Fitting, since many of the children weren’t true orphans. Laney and Marc Dupree had created a safe, loving home for the abandoned boys and girls whose mothers often chose their unholy professions over their own offspring.

Did the children realize they lived in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Denver? That the gas lamps sitting atop poles at every street corner were of the highest quality? That the other mansions marching shoulder to shoulder in elegant formation along the lane housed some of the wealthiest families in the West?

What did it matter, as long as they were happy and safe?

Pleased he could play his part, small as it might be, Reese unlatched the wrought-iron gate and strode up the front walk.

Marc Dupree exited the house. Dark-haired and clean-shaven, the owner of Charity House wore a gold brocade vest and matching tie, the kind a banker or even Reese himself would wear for a day at the office.

Laney Dupree joined her husband a moment later. Petite and fine-boned, she was as beautiful as her home. She wore a simple pale blue dress with a high lace collar today. Her mahogany-colored hair hung loose, framing her stunning face with long wavy curls.

The couple clasped hands and approached Reese as a single unit. A gnawing ache twisted in his stomach. Reese and Miranda had never had that close, unspoken connection. He’d loved his wife desperately, with the unbridled passion of youth, but now, he wondered.

Would they have settled into a mature marriage, one full of contentment, comfort and peace? Or would they have continued living on the edge, all but laughing at danger and taking unnecessary risks with their lives?

He would never know.

The couple separated and Laney pushed slightly ahead of her husband, her smile radiant and full of welcome. “Good morning, Reese.”

“Laney. Marc.” He nodded to both individually, then dug into his coat pocket and produced the bank draft he’d brought with him. “For Charity House.”

Laney reached out before her husband could and took the money. She looked down at the amount. “Oh, Reese, this is especially generous.”

“It’s from my father and me.”

“Still...” She trailed off, her gaze full of silent gratitude.

“You do good work here, Laney,
important
work, work for the Lord.” Reese didn’t always understand God’s ways, but he didn’t deny that the Lord’s hand was on Charity House. “I wish I could contribute more.”

“You do plenty, not only with your money, but with your time.” She folded the bank draft and handed it to her husband. “Thank you, Reese. And, please, pass on my gratitude to your father, as well.”

“I will.” Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he turned to Marc. “It’s a beautiful day. What do you say we put together an impromptu baseball game?”

The other man’s smile came quickly and easily. “Great minds think alike. I already sent most of the children outside. They’re in the backyard picking teams as we speak.”

On cue, Reese heard laughter floating on the light breeze.

“Come on.” Marc gestured for Reese to follow him and Laney up the porch steps. “We’ll take a shortcut through the house.”

They entered through the main parlor. Everywhere Reese looked he saw order and charm, comfort and beauty. He found the attention to detail admirable. But it was the smells of home that tugged at his heart.

The tangy aroma of soot from the fireplace mingled with lemon wax from the floors and furniture. That sweet, homey bouquet, as well as the scent of baking pies, transported him back to his childhood, when his mother was still alive.

An unexpected bout of longing captured him, longing for a home and a family of his own, for a comfortable, settled life with a good woman by his side. The sensation came fast and hard, digging deep, slowing his steps. For a painful moment, the loneliness in his soul spilled into his heart.

His gut roiled.

Then he heard a familiar female voice, followed by a soft, throaty laugh.

The storm brewing in him calmed.

His senses unnaturally heightened, Reese became aware of additional chattering and giggles from young, girlish voices.
The sound of family.
He breathed in slowly, the scent of apples and cinnamon filling his nose.

The smell of home.

A sense of inevitability pushed him forward. When he stepped into the Charity House kitchen, his gaze sought and found Callie. He had one coherent thought—
her.

She’s the one.

He shoved the disturbing notion aside before it could take root.

* * *

The moment Reese’s gaze locked with hers, Callie’s lungs forgot how to breathe. The ability to communicate failed her, as well, though she couldn’t think why. She knew Reese spent time at Charity House, she’d seen him here before.

Yet, somehow, his presence today felt different. New and special.

Life-altering.

There was so much emotion in his eyes, eyes still locked with hers. She recognized that haunted look, the hint of vulnerability in his stance.

How she wanted to go to him, to comfort and to soothe, as one kindred soul to another.

She didn’t have that right.

Regardless of their budding friendship, they were barely more than acquaintances. And as of last night, Callie was tasked with the job of finding him the perfect woman to marry. A woman who would have the sole honor of loving him into eternity, who would provide him with the children he wanted and create a home for them all.

The massive kitchen suddenly felt too small, too hot. Callie shoved a strand of hair off her face with the back of her hand.

Reese shifted to his left, splintering the tense moment, and their disturbing connection.

A moment later, Marc Dupree moved into view. Laney pushed past both men and moved to stand next to Callie. The other woman’s presence gave her the strength to battle the rest of her control back into place.

She forced a smile. “Hello, Reese.”

“Hello, Callie.”

She could think of nothing more so say.

Reese wasn’t exactly verbose himself. In the fractured silence that hung between them, he studied the chaos she and the half-dozen girls surrounding her had managed to create since she’d arrived.

“We are making pies,” she said unnecessarily and perhaps a little defensively, as well. She’d always been a messy cook.

Until now, she hadn’t realized just how messy.

“I enjoy pie.” Reese sniffed the air. “Especially apple pie.”

One of the girls giggled into her hand.

Reese winked at her, whereby her giggles turned into a fit of giddy laughter. This seemed to open the floodgates and the rest of the girls moved in around him, chattering over one another in an effort to gain his attention.

He was clearly a favorite among the assembled group. Callie understood why. With his wide smile and casual manner, he responded in a way that surely made each girl feel as though she were the most important person in the room.

Watching him now, in this setting, with the animated girls surrounding him, he was so easy to like.

He’d be just as easy to love.

Callie jerked back from the thought.

“All right, girls, that’s enough.” Laney nudged and pushed until she was in the center of the mayhem. “Let’s give poor Mr. Bennett room to breathe, shall we?”

“We’re heading outside to supervise a baseball game,” Marc announced, dropping a glance over each girl. “Any of you want to join us?”

After sharing a brief glance with the others, the oldest spoke up for the rest. “We’re making pies for supper tonight and are only halfway to our goal.”

Callie smiled at the girl. At barely thirteen, Laurette Dupree was Marc and Laney’s only natural child and already a beauty. With her mother’s thick mahogany-colored hair and her father’s steel-blue eyes, she was bound to break the hearts of many unsuspecting men one day.

“Since I’m also a fan of apple pie, we’ll leave you to your work.” Marc gestured for Reese to follow him out the back door.

The two men fell into step with one another.

Halfway through the kitchen, Reese stopped, turned back around and moved in beside Callie. He stood so close she could smell his spicy masculine scent over the baking pies.

Lowering his voice for her ears only, he voiced an odd request. “Don’t leave until we have a chance to talk.”

Though his words could be construed as a command, the tone he used was soft and engaging and made her stomach pitch.

“If that’s what you want,” she practically croaked. “I’ll be sure to find you before I head back to Mrs. Singletary’s.”

“Splendid.” He stepped back, smiled ruefully, then continued on his way.

Unable to take her eyes off his broad shoulders, she followed his progress as he retraced his steps. Confused and a little shaky, a sigh worked its way up her throat. The man made her feel things, things she’d never felt before, not even when she’d thought herself in love with Simon.

The moment he exited the house, several girlish sighs followed in his wake. Clearly, he had female admirers in this house.

Unable to censure herself a moment longer, her sigh joined the others. A mistake. She could practically feel Laney’s gaze slide over her.

Callie kept her expression blank, tried to appear nonchalant. But she was hit with a wall of nerves. Had she just given herself away?

Far too perceptive for her own good, Laney leaned in close to Callie’s ear. “
That
was certainly interesting.”

Aware six pairs of eyes had swung in her direction, Callie busied herself with pouring another cup of flour into a large mixing bowl. “Don’t read too much in to what you think you saw,” she warned Laney, as well as herself. “Reese and I have agreed to become friends.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She didn’t expand, but rather attempted to change the subject. “How many pies are we short after that last batch?”

Laney eyed her for a long moment. “We need six more, seven if we want to bring one over to Pastor Beau and his family.”

“Seven it is.” Callie dug her fingers into the dough, giving her friend a meaningful stare before rolling her gaze over their wide-eyed, attentive audience. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Laney relented with a brief nod.

The next hour was spent mixing dough, rolling out pie shells and cutting apples into small wedges. The girls giggled and laughed their way through the process.

Not until the last pie was baking, and her helpers were cleaning up at the sink, did Laney pull Callie aside.

“You like him,” she said without preamble, keeping her voice low. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I mean.”

Callie gave a weighty sigh. “Of course I like him. I like all my friends.”

“Oh, really.” Laney parked her hands on her hips. “So, you and Reese—”

“There is no
me and Reese.
”

“Not from where I was standing. In fact—” Laney’s lips curved upward “—you two looked very comfortable with one another.”