Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) by Cindy Caldwell

and help with the twins, she certainly deserved better than a soda on her wedding day.

Chapter 11
    M ichelle sighed as she folded her wedding dress on the chair. The root beer had dried on the bottom of her skirt, making it stiff and sticky, but she had no doubt that she’d be able to clean it. When she’d made it for her wedding, she’d taken time to make sure that it would be beautiful for her special day, but also something she could wear again--and she knew she would.
    She changed into a comfortable day dress, one she’d bought with the money Anthony had sent. She and Josephine had done what she thought was an admirable job of spending as little as possible to purchase what Anthony had listed, and she fingered the skirt of one of her favorites. She’d thought maybe it was a bit fancy at the time, but clearly Anthony had plenty of money and while she didn’t think she could ever give herself permission to freely spend money--she’d grown up poor and had never had enough--she did tingle with excitement that she might be in a position to help others less fortunate.
    She crossed to the window, her gaze falling on the tree-lined drive and the piles of fallen leaves. Mattie and Missy were still piling leaves up and jumping into them, sometimes spreading their arms wide and dropping straight, falling into a deep cushion of crimson and yellow, the other giggling as the leaves puffed into the air and settled back down, ready for another round.
    The cool glass felt good on her forehead. It hadn’t been a very long walk back, but long enough for her to be glad to remove her heavy coat when they’d reached the Robbins’ Nest.
    She laughed as the twins both leaped into a pile of leaves together and crashed to the ground, giggling. She hadn’t had anyone to play with when she’d been their age--well, actually hadn’t been able to play much at all. Her father died suddenly when she was about their age, and her mother had had to start working at the factory as a seamstress.
    She hadn’t seen much of her mother after that, but her heart warmed as she remembered the times that she did see her. Her mother had made it a point to make supper every night and afterward, she’d sit next to Michelle, quietly teaching her how to sew.
    “It’ll come in handy for you someday, my love,” she’d said as she smiled at Michelle’s little hands struggling with the needle and thread.
    On Sundays, she accompanied her mother to church and then later around to visit friends, sometimes in the poorest neighborhoods in Lawrence--poorer, even, than her own. As she got older, she noticed that her mother would leave every Sunday with full bags of mending and come home with them full of different clothing, all needing repair. It wasn’t until Michelle was almost a teenager that she put two and two together, and realized that the items of clothing she’d been sewing in the evening with her mother had been returned the following week to their owners--no longer with holes in the knees or elbows, and sometimes with a new bit of lace, her mother spending what little extra she had to help the people she knew needed it most.
    She’d been flooded with this memory as she and Anthony had walked home through a park in the middle of Corinth. As they’d strolled, her arm through his, a group of children caught her attention as they climbed one of the several trees in the park.
    She’d gasped as one of the young boys fell--granted, from the lowest branch and no harm was done. But she’d thought of her mother when he’d stood and looked down at his knee, his eyes wide.
    A younger boy hung by his arms then dropped to the ground, kneeling down to look at the offending hole in the other’s pants.
    “Uh-oh. Ma’s gonna have your hide, Jake,” he said, speeding off when Jake tried to swat him. She watched them until they reached the end of the park and turned a corner.
    “Did you see that?” she’d said to Anthony, who she thought had been watching