Five Brides by Eva Marie Everson

Author:Eva Marie Everson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical
ISBN: 9781496406781
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2015-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Even reversed, the words stirred something inside, like a God whisper in her ear.

Joan returned her gaze to the young uniformed officer and picked up the form. “Do I just fill this out?”

“Yes, ma’am. But you can take it with you. Bring it back on Saturday.”

Joan started for the door, but not before getting the final word. “And just so you know . . .” She focused her eyes on his. “I’m an American.”

What would have been Magda’s lunch hour had nearly come and gone, and so far, Barry Cole hadn’t bothered to even call the number on her résumé. The one that corresponded to the phone in the hallway.

She’d listened for the ring since returning home, hardly moving from the living room chair nearest the door. But the phone never rang.

“You’re crazy,” Inga said before huffing down the hall to her room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Magda hollered back, just as a knock came at the front door.

She whirled out of the chair, stumbling over her slippered feet, then grabbed the handle and jerked the door open. Barry Cole stood there facing her, framed by the door and draped in his overcoat.

“Mr. Cole,” she breathed out.

“Magda—Miss Christenson.”

“What are you doing here?” She took a step forward, forcing him to take one back, then another until they stood in the center of the narrow hallway.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

She pointed to the outside door. “Let’s go stand on the sidewalk,” she said.

“Can you tell me,” he began when they were halfway up the steps, then paused until they reached the open sidewalk. “Can you tell me why you left? Did I say something to offend you?”

She crossed her arms against the chill in the air. He immediately removed his coat and draped it around her. “Mr. Cole,” she said, shivering in spite of the warmth from his body within the fabric. “You’re a married man. Why would you ask me to dinner? Even to discuss my manuscript, which is something I dearly want to see published, but not . . . not with that price tag.”

His eyes widened as he looked around, as though an answer to their dilemma might come dashing down the street and leap into his arms. “Married? Is that what you think? You think I was asking you out for ulterior motives?”

“Well, you are married.”

“No—I—” He looked down at his hand, to the band of gold gleaming in the post-noonday sunlight, filtered by the cold. “This,” he said, flashing it at her. “I never . . . I never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Miss Christenson, my wife . . . my wife has been . . . my wife died some years back. She contracted meningitis when Deanne was seven and Douglas was nine. She died within a week.”

Magda’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh, Mr. Cole. I’m so—I didn’t know. I—” She thought over the things he’d said about his wife several months ago. That she sang like an angel. That the photo of them and the children had been taken years previous.

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