A Beekeeper for Christmas Read online

  Book #25 in Spinster-Mail-Order Brides

  TOC

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  About Author Kimberly Grist

  Thank you For Reading

  Copyright © 2020 Kimberly Grist

  .

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the author.

  ASIN: B08BFJBP5M

  Dedication

  ~o0o~

  This book is dedicated to Beekeepers everywhere.

  Gracious words are a honeycomb,

  sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

  - Proverbs 16:24

  Copyright © 2020 Kimberly Grist

  .

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the author.

  ASIN: B08BFJBP5M

  Prologue

  Counting Stars Children’s Home – Collier, Tennessee – December 23, 1891

  Light flooded in from the double windows and cast a warm glow on the split-log floors. The fire crackled from the massive stone fireplace. Twenty-seven-year-old Bethany Brady knelt beside a wooden crate filled with dozens of infant-sized rag dolls dressed in caps and gowns of soft flannel. She ran her finger along a rosebud mouth skillfully embroidered in pale pink.

  Mrs. Shelby, the matron of the orphanage, pressed an open letter to her chest. “There are enough dolls for all the young girls, and we can set aside several for others who come to stay with us throughout the year.”

  “Such beautiful stitching and each of the dolls are unique. The timing is perfect, just in time for Christmas.” Bethany lifted a package wrapped in brown paper. A faint aroma of lavender teased her senses. Mrs. Shelby’s skirts rustled, and her boots made quick taps behind her. “That must be the scented soap and lace-edged handkerchiefs for the older girls.”

  The orphanage’s matron pointed at a paragraph and handed the letter to Bethany. “Memphis Rose, her fiancé, and his family made everything. Read it out loud for me, please. I don’t know where I laid my glasses.”

  Bethany smoothed the paper and read.

  Mike’s family has a tradition they call “Christmas in Action.” Each year they meet as a family and contemplate things to do for other people in the community. The idea is to do them in secret, which adds to the fun. This year they included you, my family at the children’s home, to the list.

  I look forward to hearing about the children’s reactions to the dolls and playthings. Mike’s mother and the women’s auxiliary group included scented soap and handkerchiefs for the older girls.

  “They were already excited about the tree and the possibility of receiving a candy stick. I don’t imagine many of them ever received a gift before.” Bethany met Mrs. Shelby’s watery smile and turned her attention back to the letter.

  One of my favorite Christmas memories over the years is decorating the tree. I especially enjoy helping the children create ornaments from scraps of paper, holly, and pine cones.

  Bethany glanced at the seven-foot Fraser fir her grandfather and some of the older boys from the orphanage brought into the dining hall this morning. Already the room was filled with a forest fragrance, evoking warmth and comfort. Numerous women from the community set scraps of paper and ribbon on the tables, preparing for an afternoon of decorating. Others were arranging haystacks around a makeshift manger scene.

  “Creating ornaments is one of my favorite things too. I also enjoy singing carols and watching the children act out the Christmas story. I wish Memphis Rose were here to help with the nativity play. I have the hardest time trying to convince the little ones to follow instructions.”

  “Although it may be more challenging, your idea of having the younger children participate this year is a good one. I’m excited to see you put ‘Christmas in action.’” Mrs. Shelby’s dimple appeared with her smile.

  Bethany pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to calm a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting. “I don’t know why it makes me so nervous. The volunteers in attendance are supportive, and the children will love seeing the little ones participate.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself. Try and relax and enjoy it. Speaking of which, I’m excited to see your reaction to the next paragraph. Such a wonderful surprise.”

  Bethany turned her attention back to the letter.

  Mrs. Montgomery also bakes gingerbread cookies to hang on the tree. She has included her family recipe along with spices, flour, and sugar in a separate box marked to the attention of the children’s home’s creative cook, Magnolia.

  “When Memphis told me she was going to Texas to marry a man she never met, I thought she’d lost her senses. I’m happy things have worked out so well for her. It sounds as though she’s marrying into a wonderful family.” Bethany returned the correspondence to Mrs. Shelby, then reached for the hammer to remove the lid off a smaller crate.

  “There was no doubt in my mind she was making the right choice. Michael and Tennessee Montgomery have a wonderful family.” Mrs. Shelby’s eyes sparkled, and her cheeks pinkened. “When I was a girl, I developed the biggest crush on Memphis Rose’s soon-to-be father-in-law. I tried all sorts of things to get him to fall in love with me, but he only had eyes for my friend, Tennessee. They have seven children. Memphis Rose will marry their oldest son tomorrow on Christmas Day.”

  Bethany used a claw hammer on the corners to pry the lid off the crate. “Memphis Rose’s new mother-in-law stole your beau?”

  “Yes, I mean, no.” Mrs. Shelby laid her hand over her heart. “She didn’t steal him from me. He was only a passing flirtation. Besides, if I married Michael, I would never have met my Joe. He was a wonderful husband.”

  Mrs. Shelby brought the correspondence closer to her face and squinted. “But I will say Michael Montgomery was the most handsome man I’ve ever met. He could do no wrong until he fell in love with my best friend. But that’s a story for another day. Let’s see what’s in the box for the boys.”

  Bethany gave the corners another whack, then lifted the lid and gasped at the assorted packages. She untied the string and unfolded the brown paper containing hand-painted spinners, whistles, and cup-and-ball toys. “The boys will love these.”

  “Memphis Rose’s fiancé and his brothers made the playthings for the boys. The other packages must include hand-carved animals. Isn’t that the sweetest thing? The Montgomery men must take after their father. He was always whittling things.” Mrs. Shelby reached for another package.

  “If I could pick only one thing, I’d have a difficult time choosing between the cup-and-ball and the top.” Bethany held a spinner painted in bright colors in her palm.

  “Memphis Rose’s intended has several brothers of marriageable age. I’ve corresponded with their mother over the years and feel I know them well. One of them would make you a fine husband, I feel certain.” Mrs. Shelby posted her hands on her hips. “What did I do with my spectacles? I received a letter and two more applications you should consider.”

  Bethany’s mouth twitched. “Your glasses are on top of your head. But I don’t
think—”

  “Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I did that. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the gifts and the holiday that has me rattled. Which reminds me—you will never guess who sent in more applications. You could have knocked me over with a feather.” Mrs. Shelby placed her glasses on the tip of her nose and retrieved another envelope from her apron pocket. “Go ahead, try, and guess.”

  “I have no idea.” Bethany shook her head and grinned. “I’m somewhat afraid to ask.”

  “After all these years, the very man we’ve been discussing all morning, Michael Montgomery, sent me a letter.” The orphanage matron moved closer. “He wants me to help match two more of his sons. Even though a few young women would make excellent candidates, you were the first person I thought of.”

  Bethany swallowed. “You thought of me first? Mrs. Shelby, there are so many young women here who would leap at such an opportunity.”

  The orphan matron placed her hands over her cheeks. “I have a wonderful idea. Let’s write to Memphis Rose and ask her which brother she thinks would be right for you. Or, if we want to make a game of it, we can ask which one made the top you keep staring at, and we’ll go from there.”

  “No. I mean, thank you, but no.” Bethany gulped. “I’m happy with my life here and couldn’t imagine leaving my grandparents to marry someone I’ve never laid eyes on.” Bethany stared at the wooden top painted yellow with green stripes. What type of man would bother to create a toy for a young boy he didn’t know? “Although they certainly sound like a wonderful family.” Besides, Memphis Rose is beautiful and smart. Why would a talented, handsome man ever be interested in me?

  “What’s the harm in playing along with me for a moment? When I was a young girl, my friends and I did all sorts of things, trying to get a clue about who we might marry.” She tapped her finger along her lips. “Tennessee and I did the daisy test over and over again. Another one was the apple peel test.”

  “The apple peel test?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Shelby demonstrated with her hands. “You peel the apple, then throw it over your shoulder. When it lands, the letter it forms is the first initial of the man you’ll marry.”

  Bethany tilted her head back and laughed. “Did it work?”

  “Goodness no. But it was a lot of fun.” Mrs. Shelby passed her the letter. “You don’t have to decide anything today, but I’d like for you to consider the opportunity. What harm can come from just writing to the man?”

  ***

  The spicy aroma of ginger and clove combined with the rich scent of cinnamon and sweet molasses, filling the air in the dining hall. Bethany placed her hand on her throat. Her gaze wandered toward the older girls labeling gifts and placing them under the tree. The Fraser Fir stood proudly in the corner. Several volunteers assisted the school-age children in arranging their handmade ornaments and hanging strings of popcorn from its branches.

  Bethany, her grandmother, and other volunteers worked all day assisting the orphanage cook in preparation for the Christmas celebration. Dozens of freshly baked gingerbread cookies sat ready to hang on the tree. Soup and sandwiches were prepared and ready for tonight’s meal after the nativity play. The menu tomorrow would include turkey and dressing with assorted vegetables.

  Tomorrow morning, the children would awaken to the most elaborate celebration of their lives—most of it provided by their former teacher and now mail-order bride, Memphis Rose Griffin’s new family.

  “I envy Memphis.” Bethany’s friend, Magnolia, appeared carrying a tray of gingerbread men strung together with red ribbon.

  “I do too.” Bethany sighed.

  “I’m going to ask Mrs. Shelby to help me find a match. If I can be half as happy as Memphis Rose seems to be, I’ll be satisfied.” Magnolia nodded toward the string of cookies. “Help me hang this batch, will you? You can reach further than I can.”

  “I should be offended, but other than Mrs. Shelby, everyone in this room has a longer arm span than you do.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so sensitive about your height. It seems to be more advantageous than not.” Magnolia leaned closer and spoke softly. “I wish you’d reconsider Mrs. Shelby’s offer. Are you truly content to stay here for the rest of your life?”

  “I have my grandparents to think about.” Bethany tied the ribbon on a branch and reached for the next strand of cookies.

  “Let me appeal to you as a beekeeper. What would happen to the honeybees if they never left their hive? Besides, your grandfather would support your decision. He wants you to be happy.”

  “My grandmother wants me to be happy too.”

  “She has a funny way of showing it.” Magnolia huffed. “If she made one more disparaging remark about why you’re still unmarried, I was going to smack her with my wooden spoon.”

  Bethany giggled. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that then.”

  “Mrs. Shelby would be mortified that I would consider such a thing, but honestly—” Magnolia’s voice broke off as the sounds of giggles and children’s feet tapping along the wooden floors, drew everyone’s attention toward the doorway. Tiny angels and shepherds hopped up and down, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to begin. Claire, a two-year-old dressed in a white robe and wearing a halo, held Bethany’s grandmother's hand.

  Bethany blinked rapidly at the sight of her grandmother’s petite frame whispering to the youngsters. A former teacher, her grandmother had the knack of gaining even the youngest child’s attention. She inclined her head toward the group. “I came to terms with the fact that I’m not the sort of person anyone would be interested in pursuing. I’m content to stay here and do what I can to help at the children’s home.”

  Mrs. Shelby tapped a wooden spoon on a tin cup. “Children and guests, may I have your attention, please? If you will, please take your seats. We have a special treat for you this evening. Miss Brady has been working with our two, three, and four-year-old children who will be presenting our nativity play.”

  Bethany joined the group and whispered to two of her students dressed in robes and head coverings. “When the matron begins to read, walk slowly and sit down in front of the manger.”

  Four-year-old Charlotte, dressed to play the part of Mary, pulled on Bethany’s skirt. A lock of hair, the color of ginger, peeked from under her head covering. She motioned with her thumb toward her partner, dressed as Joseph. “He’d better not hit me with his stick.”

  Bethany bit her lip to hide a grin. She whispered. “Go ahead, you two. George is going to walk with his staff carefully. Aren’t you, George? As soon as everyone is in place, I’ll join you, and we’ll sing just like we practiced.”

  Mrs. Shelby reached for her Bible and headed to the center of the room and read: “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. And everyone went to his own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.”

  Bethany let out a breath when Charlotte and George walked amicably toward the manger and took their positions.

  The orphanage matron continued, “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”

  Everyone applauded while the other children dressed as angels and shepherds entered. Joseph stood, staff in hand behind Mary, who held a cornhusk doll wrapped in strips of cloth. Two-year-old angel, Claire, snatched the baby and cried, “mine.”

  Bethany took her place hurriedly and positioned her dulcimer in her lap. She cleared her throat, trying to gain Charlotte’s attention. Taking her role as Mary seriously, the young girl’s face was flushed. She stood hands on hips glaring, while the would-be angel removed the strips of cloth.

  George lifted
his head covering and moved closer. “You don’t want Baby Jesus to get cold, do you?”

  Wide-eyed, Claire shook her head. She grabbed the cloth, then swung herself and the doll into the manger. Bethany tilted her head back and laughed. Then ignoring her grandmother’s glare, began strumming her instrument, leading the children in singing “Away in a Manger.”

  Chapter 1

  “Bees tell each other where nectar is by performing a "waggle dance."

  – Miss Bethany Brady, Beekeeper and Substitute Teacher,

  Counting Stars Children’s Home – Collier, Tennessee – January 1892

  Standing in a former surveyor’s cabin, delegated to the orphanage years ago, substitute-teacher Bethany Brady lifted the window to take advantage of the cool breeze. Her mouth twitched from her students’ buzzing sounds while holding their mouths to their arms. How do teachers keep the children occupied on a daily basis? Thank goodness, I’m only responsible for the morning session.

  Removing her beekeeper's hat, she hung it on a peg on the log walls and placed the smoker on her desk. Encouraged by the orphanage matron to incorporate her beekeeping skills into her lessons, Bethany’s attempts to keep the students interested in the lesson were apparent. Whether or not they were learning anything was another matter.

  Bethany glanced toward the black-painted wooden wall serving as a chalkboard, upon which was written in neat script, ‘What can we learn from honeybees?’ She turned her attention to the children, sitting in double-seated desks, in various stages of mirth. “Excellent job creating a buzzing sound. The rapid wing movements from bees create the vibrations, which causes a similar sound and is another way bees use to communicate with each other.”

  Six-year-old Beulah raised her hand. “The other way is by dancing, right, Miss Brady?”