The Gift Of Twins. Gabrielle Meyer

Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Little Falls, Minnesota

      October 15, 1858

      Reverend Benjamin Lahaye was usually a man of patience, but tonight he felt like a caged bear, pacing up and down the room. He stopped in front of the fireplace and placed another log on the blazing flames to give himself something to do. When he stood, he glanced out the window at the raging blizzard and started to pace again.

      The new schoolmaster, Mr. Emery Wilkes, should have arrived on the stagecoach hours ago, but the temperature had dropped steadily all day and an unseasonable snowstorm came out of nowhere. Maybe the stagecoach driver had stopped to find shelter. At least, that’s what Ben hoped. He’d hate to think the schoolmaster was stuck in a snowdrift, freezing to death.

      A knock sounded at the front door, bringing Ben’s worries to rest.

      He sprinted across the room to the front door where a lantern sat on a table near the window. He kept it lit every night to welcome friends or strangers who might need a warm home, a listening ear or a bit of counsel. Tonight, the lantern would welcome the first male schoolteacher to Little Falls—a much-needed change after the three previous female teachers had all married before their contracts were fulfilled. In a town that boasted over two hundred bachelors, women were in high demand. As a school board member, it had become a tiresome task to refill the position, so Ben had been adamant about hiring a man. He’d also offered to let the new schoolmaster board with him, since he lived alone.

      Ben opened the door, a smile at the ready. “Welcome, Mr.—”

      A young woman stood on his front porch, shivering and hugging her body as she blinked up at him with snowflakes clinging to her long lashes. Her cheeks and nose were pink, making her blue eyes more brilliant under the light of the lantern. “H-hello,” she said through chattering teeth. “A-are you Reverend Lahaye?”

      He stood there, speechless at the sight of her.

      “I’m M-Miss Wilkes,” she continued as a shiver moved through her body. “Th-the new schoolteacher.”

      She couldn’t be. He’d reviewed the application himself. It had clearly said “Emery A. Wilkes.”

      She stared at him for a moment, a frown creasing her brow. “Y-you are R-Reverend Lahaye, aren’t y-you?”

      He finally found his voice. “Yes.”

      “May I—I come in?” She took a step toward the warmth of his home. “I—I’ve never been s-so cold in m-my life.”

      Where were his manners? He couldn’t let her continue to freeze on his front porch. He opened the door wider and let her come over the threshold. “Yes, of course, come in.”

      She moved past him and shook out her full skirts, snow falling to the ground in a perfect circle around her gown. “Is there s-someone to help with my l-luggage? The driver p-practically tossed me off the s-stage in his quest to find suitable lodging.”

      He looked out at the swirling storm where three trunks sat haphazardly collecting snow. Ben couldn’t very well bring her trunks into the house—what would people think? But he couldn’t leave them out there to get buried, either. If he did, they might not dig them out until spring. “I’ll see to them.”

      He grabbed his coat off the hook and slipped it over his shoulders, his mind whirling with unanswered questions. “Go on over to the fireplace and warm yourself.”

      Miss Wilkes didn’t wait for a second invitation, but walked to the fire and extended her hands to the heat, closing her eyes with a sigh.

      Ben stood for a minute, his confusion mounting. Who was this little bit of a thing and how had this mistake happened? Nowhere on the application did it hint that Emery Wilkes was a woman.

      He stepped into the biting wind and hefted the first trunk onto his shoulder. It was surprisingly heavy, and he suspected it was full of books. He brought it into the house where the ring of snow was now melting into a puddle.

      He dropped it to the ground and shoved it to the side. As soon as he had a place for her to go, the trunks would need to leave. But where would he take her? The Northern Hotel? It seemed the best place, though it could be dangerous trying to get there in this storm. He’d known people lost to wander in the blinding white, freezing to death without finding shelter. Maybe he’d take her to the Coopers. They were his closest friends and they’d never turn away a young lady in need. Their house was full, but it had been fuller.

      He contemplated his choices as he brought in the other trunks. When he finished, he closed the door against the frigid wind and stood for a moment to shake off the snow. Miss Wilkes had removed her coat and bonnet and pulled a chair up closer to the fire, her back to him.

      Firelight danced and flickered over her face as she surveyed his home. Her gaze went to the mantel where he kept his snowshoes from his circuit preaching days, reminding him that God’s plans were not always his own. Next, she looked toward the piles of books he had stacked on the floor. The stories had been his boon companions these three years, and he suspected that if her first trunk was filled with books, then she fully understood why he had so many.

      She must have sensed him, because she stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you for bringing in my things.” Her voice had an eastern ring to it that he didn’t hear often. It reminded him of Mrs. Ayers, the woman who had raised him when his father had abandoned him at the mission in Pokegama when he was six.

      “It was my pleasure.” Ben slipped off his coat and hung it on the hook, uncertainty in his movements. What would she say when she learned about the mistake?

      The young lady looked around the parlor, an uncomfortable smile forming on her pretty face. “It’s awfully quiet. Is Mrs. Lahaye at home?”

      Ben took a tentative step into the room—but paused. “There is no Mrs. Lahaye.”

      Her smile fell and she took a step back, putting the chair between them. “No Mrs. Lahaye?”

      “I think there’s been a mistake.”

      She swallowed, her gaze darting around the room as if mapping out her escape. “What kind of a mistake?”

      “You’re not who we expected.”

      She frowned, her expressive eyes filling with dismay. “What do you mean?”

      “Are you Miss Wilkes of Springfield, Massachusetts?”

      “Yes.”

      “Miss Emery Wilkes?”

      “Yes. Miss Emery Anne Wilkes of Springfield, Massachusetts.”

      Ben groaned. “We thought you were a man.”

      She let out a relieved breath. “Is that all? It’s an honest mistake. I was named after my maternal grandfather, Emery Anthrop, though my parents have always called me Emmy.”

      He took another step toward her. “But you don’t understand.