by Kit Morgan
“Because I might be married,” Olivia stated.
“That’s one reason,” Ma said quietly. “And until we’re sure whether you are or not, it wouldn’t be fair to you or to George to …”
A knock on the door and Doc Brown stepped in. “Good morning, Ma. Good to see you.”
“You’re lucky to see me at all after the dancing I did last night.” Ma fanned herself.
Doc Brown laughed. “Hello again,” he told Olivia. “Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out a few things.”
Olivia smiled at the doctor before turning back to Ma. Again, she had to agree with her. And again, she didn’t have a clue how she’d get through the next few days without losing her heart to George Johnson – if she hadn’t already.
* * *
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” George asked Warren.
“If he won’t listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to Doc Brown,” Warren stated for the third time.
George put his hat on and gave Mrs. Ferguson a quick nod of farewell. They’d wanted to speak to her niece before they saw the doctor. Thankfully Grandpa had gone to Hank’s for a cup of coffee, but now it was time to fetch him and head to Doc’s. “I think that little gal really did see someone.”
“It’d be better if Ottilie hadn’t. If this Albert is real, then we have a stranger prowling around the farm.”
George stopped short. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s all right, you were a little preoccupied last night.”
George smiled. “I suppose I was.”
Warren chuckled. “I knew you had it bad.”
George shrugged as they started down the street. “What do you know about her?”
“No one knows any more than you do, cousin. Including her. Who knows when she’ll get her memory back?”
“She’s a wonderful, intricate puzzle I want to solve.” George laughed at his own simile. “Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to her.”
“That’s all well and good, but you won’t have long to solve it,” Warren pointed out.
“Because I’m returning to Oregon City?”
“Why else?” Warren put his hand on George’s shoulder. “Just be careful. She might remember who she is, and the person you met last night might disappear.”
“Nonsense. I’ve heard about these things. People lose their memory but not their personality.”
“But what if this isn’t that?” Warren asked.
George nodded. “Your concern is duly noted, cousin. Thank you.”
Warren removed his hand. “Good. Now let’s go get Grandpa and see Doc Brown.”
After collecting their grandfather, Warren and George escorted him to Doc and Millie’s place. Olivia and Ma Hughes were just leaving when they arrived. George greeted Olivia with a bright smile. “Good morning. Have you recovered from last night’s festivities?”
She smiled back. “Yes, I’m faring rather well. You?”
“I think I ate too much pie toward the end, but I’ll live.” Her cheeks went pink and George’s chest warmed in response. “Well, it’s nice to see you again. Are you leaving soon?”
“Yes, as soon as we can,” Ma said. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us. Are you leaving today?”
“No,” Warren said. “We thought we’d make the trip in one day if possible.”
“What about the baby?”
“Alston will be fine. If we think we need to stop at Gunderson’s we will, but then we wouldn’t arrive until Christmas day.”
“That would be all right.”
“The weather seems good,” George pointed out. “I’m sure we can make it in one day.”
“If you don’t, we’ll understand and look for you on Christmas.” Ma glanced between George and Olivia who had locked gazes again. With a sigh she took Olivia by the arm and escorted her toward the door.
Olivia shook herself as if she’d been under a spell and smiled at George. “I look forward to spending the holiday with you and your family, Mr. Johnson.”
“I look forward to it …” Warren and George said at the same time. George laughed. “We do as well.”
Grandpa, meanwhile, stood off to one side, a silly grin on his face. Doc Brown stepped into the room and shook his hand. “How are you doing, Samuel?”
“Okay, Doc. I guess I’m next.”
“Are you?” Doc Brown said.
“Of course I am. Don’t think I’m not smart enough to know why my grandsons brought me here. They think I’ve gone to cloud-cuckoo-land.”
“Have you?” Doc Brown asked with a smile.
“No. I sure haven’t.”
Doc motioned to the hall. “Then come sit and tell me all about it.”
Grandpa looked at Warren and George. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” He followed the doctor down the hall and disappeared.
Ma shook her head. “Warren, if there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
“I don’t think there’s much any of us can do,” Warren said. “But we’ll see what the doc has to say.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s best.” She took Olivia’s hand again. “Come along, child, let’s get ready to go home.”
Olivia took one last look at George. “Merry Christmas.”
George stared longingly back. “Merry Christmas, Olivia. I’ll see you soon.”
She sighed, smiled and left the office.
“George …,” Warren warned.
“Oh, hush.” George kept staring at the door.
Warren rolled his eyes, went to a nearby chair and sank into it. He wondered if any of this would end well.
Ten
Olivia, Charity and Ebba stepped back to admire their handiwork. “I think this is the prettiest tree we’ve ever decorated,” Charity said.
Benjamin entered the parlor, went straight to his wife and put his arm around her. “You ladies have outdone yerselves. Who’s gonna put the star on this year?”
Charity kissed him on the cheek. “You are.”
Olivia twisted her hands in front of her, caught herself at it and put them behind her back.
But not quickly enough. “Something wrong?” Ebba asked.
“Nothing. It really is a beautiful tree.” It was at least ten feet tall, almost reaching the ceiling, and they’d needed a ladder and chairs to reach the topmost branches. It would definitely take one of the men to put the star on. Her heart warmed even as she felt the sting of despair. She didn’t understand the odd mix of emotions and brushed a tear away.
“Olivia,” Charity said. “Are you all right?”
Olivia nodded. “I think so. I don’t know why I’m crying – there’s no reason for it.”
Charity left her husband’s embrace and went to her. “Maybe it’s reminding you of something?”
“I have no idea what.”
Ebba too went to Olivia and gave her a hug. “I hope those are happy tears.”
“I hope so too,” Olivia said. “But to be honest, I don’t know.”
Harlan entered the room. “Is something the matter?”
“Olivia might be remembering something but she isn’t sure,” Ebba said.
“Is that true?” he asked Olivia.
“I don’t know,” she groaned, stepped out of Ebba’s embrace and walked toward the tree.
Harlan and Benjamin exchanged a glance. “I got an idea,” Harlan stated, joining her. “You know, since Doc Brown said to give it time to get your memory back …” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Back home in Clear Creek, we got a doc that’s kind of special. I was thinking of maybe taking you there to see him.”
Olivia stared at him in shock. “But Mr. Hughes, you don’t need to go through all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble if I’m gonna visit anyway – which I do from time to time. Besides, maybe you’ll start getting your memory back. What could it hurt?”
“What’s this?” Benjamin said. “Ya plannin’ a trip, Harlan?”
“What’s this about a trip?” Daniel asked as he entered the parlor. He stopped and stared at the tree. “Wow.”
“Indeed.” Harlan grinned. “Now that the tree’s decorated, how about some cookies? I wouldn’t mind a snack before supper.”
Olivia went to the window, pushed the curtain aside and stared outside. “Do you think they’ll come?”
Charity joined her and peered out as well. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be here in time for supper.”
Olivia turned from the window. “And if they don’t show up today?”
“They’ll get here in time for supper tomorrow. Guaranteed.” Harlan chuckled. “Now if you ladies don’t mind, I’m gonna mosey on into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of coffee and wait for you to bake me some cookies.”
Ebba put her hands on her hips and laughed at him. “We already baked cookies!”
“And hid them from me,” Harlan countered. “Now tell me where they are or I’ll have your husband tickle you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Ebba shot back.
Daniel lunged toward her. Ebba slapped his hands away with a squeal of delight and raced out of the room, Daniel hot on her heels.
Olivia laughed. “Never a dull moment.”
“True,” Harlan sauntered off.
Olivia turned to Charity and Benjamin with a smile, but they weren’t smiling back. They were staring at her like she was a stranger – an unwanted one. “Is … something wrong?”
“No.” Benjamin brushed past her, heading for the kitchen.
Olivia watched him go, then turned back to Charity. “What was that about?”
Charity went to a chair and sat. “You’ll have to excuse Benjamin. Really, you’ll have to excuse all of them.”
Olivia sat in the chair next to it. “What do you mean?”
Charity opened her mouth, paused, and finally said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Olivia thought a moment. “Did something happen at Christmastime to this family? Something … tragic?”
“No, not around Christmas. Not that I know of.”
“Then what is it?”
Charity shook her head.
Olivia could tell the woman had backed herself into a corner, but didn’t understand why. “Charity …” She stopped as something outside caught her eye. “Oh mercy! They’re here!”
“What?” Charity turned to the window. “My goodness, how did they get here so early?” Both women hurried out onto the porch. Olivia waved at the Johnsons as she hurried down the steps.
George greeted her with a wide smile. “Good afternoon!” he called as Warren brought the wagon to a stop. He hopped off the seat and went straight to Olivia. “Surprise.”
“How did you manage to get here so early?” Charity asked. “We weren’t expecting you for a few hours at least – if not tomorrow.”
Warren set the brake and climbed down. “George insisted we leave at the crack of dawn.”
“And so we did,” Bernice handed Warren the baby. He in turn handed him to George so he could help Bernice down.
“Are we there yet?” Grandpa said as he sat up in the wagon bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Well I’ll be, we are.”
Olivia and Charity laughed. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Johnson!” Charity said.
“Thank you,” all three men replied.
The women laughed again as the rest of the family began to spill out the front door. “Land sakes, Warren,” Ma said. “How hard did you drive that team of yours to get here?”
“Not too hard. George insisted we leave extra early.” Warren winked at his cousin. George just laughed.
Calvin laughed too and arched an eyebrow. “And I take it Christmas eve supper wasn’t the only thing that got you on the road early?”
Ma smacked him on the back of the head. “Calvin!”
He rubbed the spot. “Sorry, Ma.”
Everyone looked at George and Olivia, who were staring at each other in adoration, not even trying to hide it. Ma put a hand on her stomach and sighed. “Well, unload and come inside before you catch your death.” She glanced at the sky. “If my guess is right, it’ll snow tonight.”
“Did you hear that, Olivia?” George said.
Ma made a show of clearing her throat.
“I mean, Miss Bridger? If it snows, we’ll have a white Christmas.”
“Doesn’t it snow where you come from?” Ma asked.
“Some flurries this time of year. But Oregon City has a much milder climate. Few white Christmases there.”
Ma headed for the porch steps. “Well, you’re getting one this Christmas. Now come inside and warm up.”
Olivia helped Bernice with the baby and ushered them into the parlor while the men unloaded the wagon. “Can I get you some coffee?” she offered.
“Could you? I’m frozen clean through.” Bernice set Alston on a chair and began unwrapping him.
Olivia laughed as the baby kicked and squealed at his mother. “He seems a happy sort.”
“Oh yes – he’s much warmer than I am. But I’m sure he needs changing by now.”
“You can use my room if you’d like,” Olivia said. “It’s the first one on the right at the top of the stairs.”
“Thank you, I will.” She lifted Alston, grabbed a small sack she’d brought in with her and headed for the stairs. “I won’t be a moment.”
“Take your time. When you come back down we’ll have coffee and cookies waiting.” Olivia headed for the kitchen, where Ma, Harlan and Ebba were busy pouring cups of coffee and putting cookies on plates.
“Where’s Bernice?” Ma asked.
“She went upstairs to change the baby.” Olivia reached for a cup. “I think I’ll take this to her. Poor woman is frozen half to death.”
“You do that, child.” Ma waved her away.
Olivia grabbed some cookies as well and headed upstairs, sensing everyone’s eyes on her as she left. She wondered what kept drawing their attention. Were they hoping something would trigger her memory? She did too, but with the Weavers it was different – as if they were waiting for something to happen and were nervous about it. But why would it be?
She set the thought aside as she hurried upstairs to give Bernice her coffee and cookies.
* * *
Supper consisted of stew and biscuits – the big dinner would be tomorrow, Christmas day. Olivia did her best not to stare at George throughout the meal but still managed to catch glimpses here and there. Several times she caught him looking at her with a quirky smile on his face. She smiled back twice, noticed Ma watching them and refrained after that.
She wanted to take the older woman’s advice, but was finding it impossible. George filled all the little holes in her heart, making even her memory loss insignificant. How he did it, she didn’t know, but she liked it. He made her feel comfortable, peaceful, like she’d found what she’d been looking for after a very long time.
“Please pass the biscuits, Olivia,” Ebba said.
Olivia handed her the bowl, Ebba took one and passed the bowl to Daniel, who took two. All the Weaver men were hearty eaters. Olivia smiled at the thought and took another bite of stew.
“This is delicious, Mrs. Weaver … I mean, Hughes,” George said.
“Like I told you before, just call me Ma,” she said. “Makes things simpler for everyone.”
“Ma it is, then,” he said. “These biscuits are light as a feather.”
Charity smiled. “Thank you.”
“You made them?”
“Yes. But Ebba made the stew.”
He looked at Olivia, smiled again and her cheeks grew hot. She suspected he wanted to sample some of her cooking tomorrow. Little did he know her culinary skills were limited – she’d discovered that over the last few days. She might manage some cookies, but pies and other holiday fare were beyond her ability. Ebba was baking a ham,
Bella was making some sort of Italian dish – ravioli, she called it – and the rest of the women were handling everything else.
No, she knew little about cooking, and little about making presents. She’d wanted to give the Weavers something for taking her in and caring for her, but all she was discovering were the things she couldn’t do: cook, sew, bake for the most part, mend. What sort of life had she led before?
One thing she did have was a nagging feeling of desperation, which hadn’t truly left her since she woke up at the Gundersons’ stage stop. It was always lurking around the edges of her mind and heart. But why? What happened? She’d obviously been traveling somewhere when the Weavers found her, but where?
George patted his belly. “That was wonderful.”
“Yes, very good, ladies,” Warren added.
“It’s nice to have a break from cooking,” Bernice said. “But you’ll let me help you tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure how much help we’ll need,” Ebba said. “Charity, Bella and I can handle most of it well enough.”
“Then you’ll let us help with the children, at least?” Olivia asked. She felt a twinge of apprehension, and wondered if she was inept at child care too. Well, she’d done well enough so far with the kids …
Ebba smiled. “That’s always welcome. Bella will especially like that. So will Rufi.”
Olivia smiled in relief. At least she’d have a job to do. She looked around the large dining room table. Calvin, Bella and their family were eating at their own house, as were Samijo and Arlan. All of them were coming to the main house later for dessert and to allow the children to each open a present. The rest they would open tomorrow after morning chores were done. The younger children could hardly wait. The babies were too young to understand what was going on but would still have fun.
She was looking forward to tomorrow, but dreading it as well. She felt bad not having anything to give the family. All she could offer were two working hands to let them use as they saw fit while she was there.
