A BRIDE FOR HEDDWYN (Songbird Junction, book 2)
Can a sister who’s lied to everyone find truth with the wrong man?
Secrets are everywhere…
From the moment she met her sisters in a Qu’Appelle Valley orphanage, Oriole has rewritten her past to protect her present. Now Lark is married, Wren is lost, and Oriole is on a mission to find Wren before their cruel and controlling troupe manager does. In order to succeed, she must cling to her lies and evade the only man she ever let come close, the beguilingly talkative Llewellyn brother who deserted her without a word.
Second chances are few…
From the moment he first heard Oriole sing with her sisters in a Cheyenne saloon, notoriously scatterbrained Heddwyn Llewellyn’s desire to change gained focus. Until tragedy struck. To protect his brothers and sister, Heddwyn turned his back on love and the only woman who’d ever riveted his attention—all while refusing to talk to him. Now, after two years apart, Oriole’s finally back in his life and so is a shot at redemption.
The Songbird Sisters’ quest for freedom may have reunited Oriole and Heddwyn, but it’s also tearing them apart. Her sadistic troupe manager is more than happy to maim and murder to get his money-making musicians back. Can two hearts always on the run finally stand still long enough to save each other and their love too?
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STEAM LEVEL: Sweet
STORY LENGTH: A novella (161 pages)
STORY CONNECTIONS: Includes characters (such as reader-favorite Grandpa Gus Peregrine) featured in my Noelle, Colorado, Christmas stories: The Calling Birds (set in 1876) and Robyn: A Christmas Bride (set in 1877).
REVIEWS
- “A splendid cast of characters…a book that will be re-read over and over again.” ~ Crystal Crossings
- I loved this couple. Heddwyn is perfect for Oriole and she for him.” ~ Cheryl P.
- “Throw in a cute puppy, a troop of gypsies, & meddling family, and the charming adventure is complete” ~ Michelle R.
- “Mayhem, both funny and heart warming.” ~ Betty R.
- “Fun and exciting.” ~ Lynn T.
- “A well written journey of love and family, I thoroughly enjoyed it.” ~ Leanne
EXCERPT
Denver, Colorado
January 1878
The church bells rang for Lark and her husband, but they’d never ring for Oriole. Unlike her sister, Oriole couldn’t depend on love, and no one could depend on her. All she could do was run from her past and present, which included the dangerously distracting Welshman who kept glancing over his shoulder and insisting they needed to talk.
About what he’d yet to say. She wasn’t waiting to find out.
Leaving was her best way to save her other sister, Wren.
She must escape the wedding party departing the chapel. In the midst of these six different and not always harmonious voices, her silence grated the loudest. She didn’t belong. She was out of tune. Stretched too tight. A strum away from breaking her row in their four-string procession.
First came the newlyweds, followed by the groom’s sister and her husband, then the groom’s two brothers, and finally her—held in check by the arms of two well-meaning but meddling old-timers. Mrs. Fitzgerald mistakenly believed she was Oriole’s grandmother while Gus Peregrine insisted that everyone call him grandpa whether they were related or not.
Little white lies and full out falsehoods. They grew like weeds. Around her and inside her. When they’d met at the missionary orphanage, Lark and Wren told her their recently deceased mothers were Cree and their fathers were Irish fur traders they’d never met. She’d yearned for sisters. Being different made most people shun her, so she’d assigned herself the same history.
One of her first lies in a long list.
A sudden gust kicked up snow in her face. A reminder that today’s mild-for-January weather could turn at any time.
“Horsefeathers,” Gus muttered as he struggled to keep his beloved flat cap on his head and his ample beard out of his mouth. “Can’t wait to move this shindig inside.”
When Oriole clutched his elbow to steady him, Mrs. Fitzgerald patted her hand. She thinks I need help as well. The grande dame hadn’t stopped giving orders since Oriole entered the lady’s music shop a week ago, searching for Lark and Wren.
“Our celebration needs a céilí. And you, my dearest, must play for us. We’re all eager to hear your violin.”
“It’s not mine.” She strove to squash the waver in her voice. She longed to hold the instrument. How could she not? It’d been part of her life for more years than not. “The violin is yours now.” Or at least it is until I find Wren.
The shop owner shook her head so vigorously her expertly styled—and controlled—cloud of white hair appeared in danger of falling. “Fiddlesticks. You cannot turn your back on your birthright or your talent.”
“No one has to do anything if they don’t want to.” Brynmor’s verdict rang loud and clear from the front of the line.
When Lark thanked him, Oriole silently did as well. Her sister was in excellent hands now. For this, Oriole admired Brynmor. And abhorred him too. He hadn’t set out to end their tight-knit sisterhood, but he had.
She now had nothing but her quest to find Wren, while Lark had…everything.
Lark held fast to her husband and the gift he’d given her a few hours ago—Lark’s favorite instrument, a hurdy-gurdy. “It’s been a long day. All I want is to rest before we catch the train home.”
Home. What an odd word. Neither of them had used it except in vague reference to the area where they’d been born, the Qu’Appelle Valley far to the north. Lark and Wren had always spoken fondly of their mothers and their households. So Oriole had done the same. Another lie.
Lark’s new home was Songbird Junction, a tiny train stop on the line to the mountain mining town of Noelle—where the couple who walked behind Lark and Brynmor lived.
“I’m keen to get home too.” Max Peregrine kissed the crown of his wife’s curly red hair.
“And back to work,” Robyn teased with an easy smile that shone the brightest for her husband. “You never stop.”
“That’s because I get to spend my days working with my wife and my nights—”
Robyn’s laughter and her palm pressed over Max’s mouth cut him off. They’d wed on Christmas Day and now ran the Noelle freight office. An equal partnership made possible because after the Llewellyn siblings’ parents died, the three brothers had raised their sister to work with them as wagon drivers.
Heddwyn and Griffin completed the line, walking behind Robyn and in front of Oriole.
“Livin’ so far apart is foolish,” Griffin snapped. “I’m only toleratin’ it ’cause it might help us find Wren.”
Although Griffin was the youngest of the Llewellyn brothers, he was also the biggest and the only one with a temper that he struggled to control. She hoped Wren never had to go near him because her tiny sister would be terrified of a gruff giant like Griffin.
“Lark and I will search the area around Songbird Junction,” Brynmor said.
Robyn nodded. “Max and I will do the same in Noelle.”
“Best get a move on then,” Heddwyn added in a rush. “And get where we all need goin’.”
Despite the conversation, everyone continued to behave in a maddeningly laidback manner, except for the man who’d had the last word.
Heddwyn Llewellyn. The charming but scatterbrained brother whose mesmerizing blue eyes she strove to avoid. He could never keep out of other people’s business or stay still. He kept running his hands over his closely cropped auburn hair or his clean-shaven jaw—every time he glanced at her, the damsel in distress.
The charity case he’d only recently promised Lark he’d help. When they’d met two years ago in Cheyenne, he’d watched Oriole for different reasons.
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THE SONGBIRD JUNCTION SERIES
Welcome to Songbird Junction, where Welsh meets West in Colorado 1878. The journey to find a forever home and more starts here.
Brynmor, Heddwyn, and Griffin Llewellyn are three Welsh brothers bound by blood and a passion for hauling freight—in Denver, where hard work pays. Lark, Oriole, and Wren are three Irish-Cree Métis sisters-of-the-heart bound by choice and a talent for singing—in any place that pays.
Book 1 – A Bride for Brynmor
Book 2 – A Bride for Heddwyn
Book 3 – A Bride for Griffin (Apologies for the delay. I’m still working on finishing this story.)
