Mistaken Bride. Renee Ryan

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      Chapter Five

      Two. More. Days. Bridget thought she might go mad from the wait. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Rose of Rose’s Boardinghouse was friendly enough. She’d offered Bridget and Nora a place to stay until they discovered if Laird’s house was theirs free and clear. But sitting in someone else’s front parlor and sharing tea with a roomful of strangers, many also from Ireland, wasn’t how Bridget wanted to spend her first full day in America.

       The decor didn’t help matters. The room was too ornate, the wallpaper too bold, the furniture too fragile. Taking tea in here, where she was afraid she might spill and ruin the brocade upholstery was—well, not something she wished to endure.

       She decided to take a walk instead. She needed to be alone. To think. To plan. And, God forgive her, to worry. With their money running low, she and Nora would have to find jobs soon. But how many prospects were available in a town this size? Surely not many.

       With nothing but her depressing thoughts to keep her company, Bridget allowed herself a moment to wallow as she made her way down the boardinghouse stairs. Five steps out she’d remembered God’s faithful promise: Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.

       It was a good reminder. So she handed her concerns to the Lord as best she could and made her way around the tidy square. Birds sang a happy tune, the smell of fresh grass and wildflowers wafted on the air, children laughed in the distance. A horse whinnied.

       Her heart was already feeling lighter. Oh, the worry was still there, working into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach, but she was able to shove it aside momentarily and focus on her new home.

       What treasures awaited her here? Bridget couldn’t wait to find out. She quickened her steps, and stopped at the small building on the opposite side of the church.

       The general store wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but it beckoned her forward all the same. Once she pushed through the door, the pleasant smell of spices and lavender filled her nose. The aroma was followed by the scent of grain and oats and—she sniffed—licorice.

       There were no other customers that she could tell, only astonishing amounts of merchandise. Bridget swept her gaze across barrels of dry goods, past the sacks of flour and shelves filled with kitchen utensils, canned goods and so much more. The store seemed to have every item imaginable for sale. She noted a counter that not only had jars filled with colorful candy but all sorts of children’s toys. One whole row was dedicated to an array of dolls.

       Delighted, Bridget decided to start there and work her way through the rest of the store at her leisure.

       Her feet slowed, hesitated, then stopped altogether. She wasn’t alone in the store after all. Two small children studied the shelves of toys in complete silence. They had their backs to Bridget and were huddled close together, hands joined, bodies pressed side by side. By their size, Bridget decided they were somewhere between three and four years old.

       A range of emotions sped through her, concern foremost. Their little bodies were unnaturally still as they stared upward.

       Why weren’t they fidgeting? Or looking for trouble? Or reaching for the toys they wanted?

       Why did they seem so solemn?

       The urge to gather them close and comfort them surprised Bridget, especially since she hadn’t yet seen either of their faces to determine if her impressions were correct. They could simply be well-behaved children.

       Where were their parents?

       She looked over her shoulder. Nobody else seemed to be in the store. Concern took hold.

       But then the little girl angled her head and reached up to pull one of the dolls free. Her hand fell short of its goal. The little boy whispered something in her ear then attempted to help her, but his arm was too short, as well.

       Bridget couldn’t stand back and watch any longer. She approached the two with slow, careful steps.

       “Hello.” She plucked a doll from the shelf, one with a porcelain face behind a cloud of silvery-blond hair and clothed in a lovely, pale blue dress trimmed with white. “Is this what you wanted?”

       The child’s eyes widened. She didn’t move right away, as if afraid to touch the doll, but then she reached out and skimmed a fingertip along the sleeve.

       While she carefully inspected the doll’s clothing, the boy watched. Bridget took the opportunity to study both children. They had the same color hair, a soft ginger, the same striking features and the same arresting blue eyes. These two were clearly related to one another.

       No, not just related. Their similar size and nearly identical features, if a bit more delicate on the girl than the boy, indicated they were twins. They were as darling and as sad as she’d suspected.

       The look in their eyes captured her sympathy. This time the feeling was so strong she nearly pulled them into a comforting hug. She didn’t, of course. Such a bold move might scare them.

       Yet as Bridget continued looking at them she realized they reminded her of someone, someone she couldn’t quite place in her mind.

       She stretched the doll closer to the child. “I’m sure it’ll be all right if you hold her awhile.”

       The girl’s gaze darted over her shoulder then back again. Finally she reached out and took the doll.

       At the same moment the boy took a step to his left, away from Bridget. She gave him an encouraging smile but didn’t make a move in his direction.

       Shifting from one foot to another, he blinked at her with large, round eyes.

       Bridget lowered to her knees and placed her hands flat on her thighs. “My name is Bridget.” She kept her voice soft, her tone gentle. “What’s yours?”

       She directed the question at both children, but the little girl chose to answer.

       “I’m Olivia.” She tugged on the doll’s dress with tentative fingers. “And that’s my brother, Caleb.”

       “Well, Olivia and Caleb, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

       “You talk funny,” Caleb said, scuffing his foot back and forth on the floor in a nervous gesture.

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