Mail Order Mommy. Christine Johnson

go into the parlor. Amanda couldn’t seem to move.

      She finally found her voice, squeaky though it was. “I’m sure it’s all right with Garrett if you join us.”

      Pearl waved off that idea. “I have to get to school.”

      “Me, too,” Amanda squeaked. “The little ones will need help with their coats and boots. Then I’m supposed to read to them.”

      The school operated out of the building that served as a church on Sundays, until a new schoolhouse could be built.

      “I’ll be fine until you arrive.” Pearl turned to Garrett, who was still just inside the front door. “I wondered if you might build us something for Christmas.”

      He hesitated, clearly wary. “What?”

      “We can talk after you get done with work, or you can ask your brother. Roland knows exactly what I have in mind.”

      “I, uh, I suppose I could, as long as it’s not too difficult. It’s only three weeks until Christmas Eve.”

      Pearl’s mischievous smile meant she had something up her sleeve. “Oh, it’s nothing too terribly fancy. Besides, you’ll have help, and I know just the person.” She then glided off.

      Amanda didn’t want to be alone with Garrett in the parlor. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She wanted to be alone with him, but only if he was able to look at her and speak with her. Since he’d gone silent again, that didn’t appear likely. Nevertheless, the parlor was more private than the front hall. She entered and sat down in her favorite chair, a lovely stuffed one with dainty legs and a flowered tapestry seat. Judging from the toppled pillow, Fiona had chosen the sofa. Amanda would not make that mistake.

      Garrett followed her in but didn’t sit. He stood across the room, staring out the window. Amanda waited for what seemed like ten minutes, but he said nothing. At last she could stand it no longer.

      “I wonder what that was about,” she mused. “Pearl didn’t say anything to me about building something for Christmas.”

      “She didn’t?” He turned toward her, brow furrowed.

      In spite of his burly build and ruddy cheeks, Garrett had an endearing boyish quality that tugged at her heart. The poor man had suffered terribly, losing his wife in a tragic accident, yet he endured, his faith unshakable. That more than anything terrified Amanda. Garrett Decker was a man of God. Could he see the shame hidden deep inside her?

      She forced a smile. “She didn’t. I have no idea what she wants you to build.”

      He scowled and turned back to the window.

      Amanda waited for him to say something. The silence was beginning to unnerve her. After ignoring her the last few weeks, he certainly wasn’t going to ask for her hand. If only he realized how much his children needed a mother, but apparently even Sadie’s letter hadn’t changed his mind. If he offered Amanda a marriage of convenience, she would accept, but that appeared unlikely.

      He sat in the chair opposite her on the other side of the room and continued to twirl his cap between his hands. Even now he said nothing. Her head spun with possibilities. As seconds dragged into minutes, she could no longer bear the suspense.

      “You wanted to speak with me?” she prompted.

      He nodded and finally looked up, a pained expression on his face. “I, uh, haven’t been fair to you lately.”

      He wanted to apologize?

      She gathered her wits. “A lot happened.” The fire.

      “Don’t make excuses for me.” He looked up, but not at her. “You see, I’m still grieving my late wife.”

      Amanda nodded and fixed her gaze on her clasped hands, the knuckles white. She flexed her fingers, but it didn’t relieve the tension.

      He cleared his throat. “But that’s not why I’m here. The fact is that circumstances have put me in a difficult situation.” His gaze wandered to the samplers on the wall. “I—that is, we—plan to move to a house. The children and I.”

      “I see.” Though she didn’t. Why did this involve her, unless he was going to propose a marriage of convenience?

      “Roland and I have managed the cooking and cleaning since, well...you know.”

      She drew in a sharp breath and captured his attention. Heat flooded her face. Was he going to ask the impossible? Her mouth grew dry, and she wished for one swallow of that unpalatable tea.

      He looked down at his cap again. “Yes, well, once my brother marries, he’ll be, uh, preoccupied. So I thought it best that the children and I move. I’ll ask for a house when I accept the position as chief shipwright for the schooner Mr. Stockton is having built.”

      “Congratulations.”

      He nodded. “It’s not all settled yet. I have to meet Mr. Stockton in a few minutes. So that’s why I, uh...”

      Amanda waited.

      His lips began to form words before backing off. He twirled the cap again and heaved a tortured sigh. “There’s no way around it. I—that is, we—will need a housekeeper.”

      A housekeeper! No wonder Fiona had stormed out of the parlor.

      Though disappointed, Amanda couldn’t afford to pick and choose. She needed an income. Garrett was offering a position, doubtless one that paid enough for her to afford a room. Moreover, keeping house meant she could take care of Sadie and Isaac. It wasn’t marriage, but it would keep her in Singapore.

      “Do the children know they will be moving?” she asked.

      He shook his head. “I didn’t want to tell them until everything is set. I need to speak to Mr. Stockton in—” he glanced at the clock “—in ten minutes. I’d be much obliged if you would consider the position. I will pay you, of course.”

      God did answer prayer, though certainly not in the way Amanda had hoped. She needed a paying job, and Garrett was offering just that.

      “I accept.”

      “You do?”

      Was that hope she saw in his eyes?

      “We should go over the details. For instance, when would you expect me to work? I can’t live at the house, naturally.” Her cheeks must be as red as a summer sunset.

      “Of course not.” His expression confirmed that had never been his intent. “I assume you’d stay here and, uh, keep house and whatnot during the day.”

      “I help out at the school.”

      “That’s right. I forgot.” He scrubbed his auburn locks. “On weekdays, you can clean after the school day ends, but I’ll need you every day to take care of my son and daughter. Make supper.”

      Make supper? Amanda gulped. She had no idea how to cook. Maybe Mrs. Calloway or Pearl could give her lessons before she began. “When would you need me to start?”

      “Monday, if all goes as planned.”

      That gave her the weekend to learn how to cook. “So soon?”

      His mouth ticked. “I want to move out early to give Pearl time to set up the upstairs lodging the way she prefers.”

      “That’s very considerate.” That took away her idea of asking Pearl to teach her to cook. She’d have to ask Mrs. Calloway. “You will have the house ready by then?”

      “We’ll move the furniture this weekend. I was hoping you could help with the cleaning.”

      “Now?”

      “Next week would be fine.” Finally, his gaze landed on her, filled with such gratitude that her heart nearly stopped. “Thank you. This is a big help.”

      It wasn’t marriage or even courting, but it would